Boris fucked but will survive. I'm dreaming of a white Brexit

4 Dec 2016 at 20:45

am not sure what is more terrifying about Bozo, his interchangeable, multi dimensional views, or his complete lack of preparation. On Marr this morning he floundered over Aleppo and sank without trace over our role in targeting bombing sites for the Saudis in Yemen. The Foreign Office is a Rolls Royce operation who know how to brief their ministers with precision. It is now being driven by a Robin Reliant driver. Lack of intellect is not the problem, but sheer bloody laziness is unforgivable. His answers to Marr was like me at the despatch box pissed out of my skull at the Oxford Union. And I have done that a few times. But I am not the Foreign Secretary. I just tour the airwaves winding up the Brextards, not world leaders and their ambassadors. To watch him being cross examined by Keir Starmer was cringeworthy. He hadn’t a clue. Worse, he didn’t care. Crack a few jokes, wink at Andy and blunderbuss the viewers with vacuous sound bites is his modus operandi. The Foreign Office are in despair. Downing Street is in meltdown. They regularly brief against him. Cabinet ministers openly make jokes at his expense. The novelty act is over. He is a dangerous embarrassment. The Honey G of the cabinet who has not yet been given the boot. And he won’t be. Well, not just yet. Only when he ceases to be a serious threat to May. He was put there to fail. And at least at that he is a success. His foot mouth in history will be to explode in a mushroom cloud of glorious triviality.

I haven’t made my mind up as to whether May is a political genius or just bloody lucky. It doesn’t matter. Politics is achingly predictable. The experts warn us of the horrors of a hard Brexit. The Mail and the Express go ballistic. The judges interpret the law on triggering article 50. The Mail and the Express go intercontinental ballistic. But …….. there has been a change in tack. The only big beast on Brexit, David Davis, has read the runes. The punters, who may think Johnny Foreigner is nicking their jobs, wives, sisters and shagging the royal corgis don’t like the idea of their living standards plummeting. So deals will have to be done. I’m looking forward to a white Brexit.

But aren’t the Brexiteers shoved into cabinet simply because of their sheer awfulness just……..awful? Priti Patel must be a Stephen King creation. She still believes in the free movement of capital punishment. There is a chilling certainty that every time her arachnid mouth opens a baby dies.

And dear old Moggy? Yes, I know he’s not in the cabinet and never will be. But for someone who was once a national treasure the nation asks when he can be reburied. The poor fellow has gone tonto over Brexit.

But the May honeymoon is over. Richmond was horribly predictable. Sleaford less so. I predict a small Tory win. The tectonic plates are shifting. Farron may be a bit of a tit but don’t underestimate him. In the dreary backwaters of local government they have been making significant gains. And, dear God, don’t make the Tory mantra a warning that voting Lib Dem is a wasted vote. It isn’t. They made a good fist of responsible government. And Labour? Totally fucked……for the time being.

What will be interesting is the soft Brexit vote on the Tory back benches. They were terrified of their constituency associations. Now they will begin to wobble. Do I vote for article 50? The sensible answer is yes. But with strings attached. The strings are pretty simple. Some freedom of movement of workers (everyone forgets that’s what the Treaty of Rome says) and access to the single market.

Many years ago we at PUNCH predicted that David Davis would one day become Prime Minister. Alright, it was after a very refreshing lunch. But……I don’t think it will happen. On the other hand it could. Nevertheless, he is now a very big beast indeed. His alliance with May and Hammond? Top gear.

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Trump and his freak show will make America Grate

12 Nov 2016 at 11:36

As a fully paid up member of the elite, Westminster bubble, liberal, Bremoaning scumocracy some of you might be surprised at my views of our EU leaders reaction to the Trump presidency. Incompetent, patronising, arrogant and a shining beacon to why most of them are unsuited to diplomacy. Any fool knows that Trump is hopelessly out of his depth, a bigot, a loudmouth and is to foreign affairs what a Black and Decker chainsaw does for circumcision. But it’s best not to remind him. Pious lectures about an EU that only exists in the Disneyland of the addled mind of Juncker is like poking a grisly bear with a sharp stick tipped with itching powder. And for God’s sake Merkel remember that grandpa Trump was a German called Drumpf. Fete the Donald, flatter him (he loves it) and then send him on Bunga Bunga party groaning with pneumatic Romanian girls with big tits. You will have made a friend and ally. Mercifully our Foreign Office got it right. Precisely the right tone and May was rewarded with a Thatcher analogy which is always a great headline in the Mail. And I suspect Trump would be fascinated to meet Bozo in the same was as anyone would like to stare at a dog in a tuto that does hand stands. Anyway, they have an awful lot in common. With a bit of luck he might adopt him as some sort of mini me pet.

In many ways grandpa Drumpf was even more of phenomenon than the new President. He made his money out of barbering, brothel keeping and the gold rush. He died at the age of forty nine leaving the equivalent of $600,000 Oh, and he married a woman named Christ. So Trump’s gene pool bubbles away like a witches caldron of testosterone, adrenaline and nitroglycerin.

After the initial horror of his election I am not quite so depressed, admittedly not a very high bar. His acceptance speech was gracious, magnanimous and on the cusp of being Presidential. He is not going to wreck Obamacare but tweak it. And he raises a fair point about NATO. It is quite wrong that America pays 75% of the cost. Our allies must pull their weight. But he has to make it clear to Putin that NATO does mean NATO. That we will protect any member who is attacked. Also encouraging is that he has promised to built up America’s armed forces so Putin won’t be under any delusions that Trump will be a walkover. In many ways their ruthless, narcissistic, megalomaniac similarities might make the world a marginally more safer place.

Heaven knows what he is going to do about Mexico and the Muslims. I wonder if he thinks that Muslims come from Mexico. Or that Sinai is just the plural of sinus. But his most important task is to try and heal a bitterly divided society. Banning abortion would not be a helpful start.

So much depends on his administration. Newt Gingrich really is an awful old man. Sarah Palin beyond despicable with a gene pool where nobody would fear drowning. These people will really make America Grate.

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Who will defend the High Court Three? Welcome to British mobocracy. Pitchforks provided.

8 Nov 2016 at 09:21

What dreadful little lickspittles to the Mail and Telegraph this government has become. You would have thought that over the weekend May and Truss would have had paused for reflection and whilst lauding a free press condemned them for personal attacks on the judiciary. Not a bit of it. They care more about a few cheap headlines than the erosion of the rule of law. When Igor Judge, the last Lord Chief Justice, appeared on Newsnight last night and reminded us that the Lord Chancellor has a statutory obligation to protect the judiciary and that Truss’s statement was ’ a too little too late and not a lot’, ministers should sit up and listen. Not a bit of it. They sat up and begged for a Dacre Bonio. And Rees Mogg’s reputation as great Parliamentarian diminishes by the the day. Does he not realise how chilling his words were yesterday when he warned that there may be a time when ‘judges need to be held more firmly into account?’ By whom? Parliament? The people?

There is a chilling resonance with the Mail’s front page ‘Enemies of the People’ headline and the German newspaper headline in 1933. Six judges are pictured under the banner ‘Enemies of the people get out of the way of the German People’s will.’ And now the slimily creepy Farage is threatening to lead a March of 100,000 of his goons to the Supreme Court. Welcome to British mobocracy. Pitch forks will be provided.

The only Brexiteer with any substance to openly support the judges is Gove. He described the the High Court Three as, ‘brilliant thoughtful wise and decent men…their judgement deserves respect.’ I miss the old boy. He may be unstable as a Russian nuclear reactor, less trustworthy than Iago and a more accomplished stilettor than Brutus, but he was a great Lord Chancellor. He cleaned up Grayling’s carnage. He threw a lifeline to a drowning legal profession and built bridges with the judges. Because he genuinely believes in the rule of law and the independence of the judiciary. Truss is finished. Not through incompetence, one can forgive that in ministers. But through cowardice. There will be a time in the near future when she will have drinks with the Master of the Rolls and the Lord Chief Justice. She won’t be able to look them in the eye. They will treat her with Arctic courtesy. This is what happens when you put a career politician in an ancient and sensitive great office of state. May should job swap her with David Liddington at the earliest opportunity. A decent man who has always been undervalued. And Javid? Another careerist greaser and chancer. A self made man who worships his creator.The writing is on the wall for him too.

The trouble with the referendum result is that the people are now mouthing the words of Michael Caine in the Italian Job, ‘you were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off.’ I don’t think that they voted to blow the whole van up. And there lies May’s dilemma. She has to do tough negotiations the the EU. She has to make them believe that Brexit will happen, which at the moment they don’t. Of course Parliament has to be consulted over the mood music rather than the brass tacks of negotiation. They have a right to decide whether we want the benefits of the single market or not. There is a message here. Every time there is talk of hard Brexit the pound and the markets tumble and every time there is talk about soft Brexit both lift. But Parliament alone must decide this. And one way or another eggs will be broken. May will have to make the most difficult decision that any Prime Minister has to make. She has a straight choice between party and country.

May is beginning to realise that controlling immigration to an acceptable level (whatever that might be) is nigh on impossible. To be fair as Home Secretary for the last seven years she probably knows this already. The price for a trade deal with India is more visas. A tricky one to sell back home. A tricky one for the EU too. That is why a trade deal with India fell by the wayside. But now it appears that much heralded Canada deal which was nearly scuppered by the Walloons could have the kibosh put on it the by the Dutch.

There is a lot of dangerous talk about rushing through a resolution (wrong in law) or a one clause Bill (right in law but wrong in head) to rubber stamp our exit. Worse, if this fails call an election. Well, Parliament doesn’t like to be ridden over roughshod. And neither do I. This government is not exactly a beacon of competence. To ask us to trust them and them alone to steer us though the most difficult decisions since Suez is an ask too far. Some of us just might consider fighting such an election as independents.

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Who will stop this vile abuse of the judges? Where is the Lord Chancellor who should be defending the rule of law?

5 Nov 2016 at 07:14

The government would be very foolish indeed to pick a fight with the judges. It undermines the rule of law. Parliament makes the law and judges interpret it. They are impartial, fair and incorruptible. They do not enter the political arena, nor should they. They are the guardians of our freedoms against an over mighty executive. Remember the super gun case where the government was prepared to let three innocent men go to prison? Parliament didn’t lift a finger. It was the judges that saved them.

The hysterical reaction by the far right about them being out of touch and trying to obstruct the will of the people is incomprehensible. They didn’t issue an unprompted edict that Parliament must trigger Article 50. They tried a case and ruled on the law. That’s what they do. And anyone who has studied law to even GCSE level knows that only Parliament can overturn a law. Parliament is Sovereign. The logical extension of the government’s case is that once a general election is won every manifesto promise can be enacted by a prerogative order. Parliament needn’t be consulted at all. They can all bugger off to the Bahamas for five years. This, of course, is barking mad. It is legislation which would make Mugabe, Putin and Erdogan proud. We British people like our freedom and would fight to the death to avoid a legislative dictatorship.

Judges at Court of Appeal and Supreme Court level are highly trained academics. They are not out of touch. So entrenched is their freedom to operate without fearing pressure from the executive that they can only be removed by an order of both houses. It was almost comical to read the MAIL’s attempt at discrediting the three judges who made the ruling. The Lord Chief Justice is in favour of freedom of the press, upholding the rights of parliament and is impatient with lawyers who waste taxpayer’s money on frivolous applications. His sin was setting up a body to improve EU laws. The bastard.You’d have thought that Dacre would be inviting him over for dinner. Another fellow is a gay which means he must be a Remainer and the third was in Tony Blair’s chambers. Clearly a communist. What a wicked bunch. But there is a serious point here. Why is Liz Truss, the Lord Chancellor, silent on this vile abuse of judges? Her job is to protect them. Oh, of course, sod supporting the rule of law, just be nice to the fruit loops.

But what really troubles me is that Downing Street is not so much lurching to the right as just lurching. There is no deftness of touch. Things are blurted out without a thought for the consequences. Was it deliberation or shooting from the hip that the PM’s spokesman let it be known that May was confident of a successful appeal? Why? On what basis? It’s just to keep the fruit loops happy. Why did her conference speech clearly undermine Mark Carney? And rather than publicly support him Downing Street distanced themselves. It was only when they realised that he might decamp that they panicked and love bombed him. This sort of behaviour is mindbogglingly inept. Why? Because they want to keep the fruit loops happy. But they never will be happy unless they get what they want. Which is everything. May really has to get a grip. This government is giving in to ratchet bonkerdom.

And what about the loose talk about an early general election? Admittedly it does not come from Number 10 but it is gaining traction in the predictable press. Now this is playing with fire. On what basis would the Tories go to the country? Hard Brexit? The cabinet and the party are split on this. And every interviewer will ask the same question of what does it mean. Nobody knows, not even the government. So it would be an election in a vacuum. It is also playing with fire. Most people have forgotten Ted Heath’s 1974 elections. The country was in the grip of the unions and particularly the miners. The basis of going to the country was Who Governs Britain. The electorate concluded that if the government didn’t know then it was time to have another one. May has to get a grip or else the wobbling wheels will fall off.

And what on earth is Mogg up to? This man who is always silkily banging on about the rights of Parliament is now screaming for a thousand new peers to push Brexit through. And Redwood? John may be wrong on most things but he does have a brain the size of a planet. He rebuked the judges for ignoring an election pamphlet. Oh, sod the law. Let’s govern by pamphlet. Fruit loopery which would make a green grocer’s eyes water

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Gove is up to his old tricks with the eyes of Caligula and the mercy of Nero he wants to destroy Carney

22 Oct 2016 at 15:32

Poor Michael Gove. I’m getting rather worried about him. I expect to see him sporting a pony tail and a gold earring and buzzing through the streets of Westminster on a Harley Davidson or perhaps drifting into Spearmint Rhino for some ersatz flattery. I am not a psychiatrist, but I have occasionally read the weird ramblings of Liz Jones which I suppose gives me the equivalent of an NVQ in mid life crisis. It seems an eternity ago that he went the full throated bleating, blood soaked Halal of the Tory leadership abattoir . I miss the old boy appearing on our breakfast screens with dynamite strapped to his Marks and Sparks drip dry no iron jim jams. But before he finally pulled the pin he entertained us with a political killing spree taken from the Charles Manson playbook. I had thought that Mother Theresa had scattered his ashes on unconsecrated ground. But no, the Gover is back with a vengeance. And I use those words advisedly. With the flashing eyes of Caligula coupled with the mercy of Nero he has set his sights on the destruction of Mark Carney. Remember him? That little traitor (and a Canadian to boot, the bastard) had the nerve to say that he didn’t take orders from politicians. How dare he? Who does this imperious Ming like figure think he is? Governor of the independent Bank of England? Well, little Johnny Foreigner will be packing his bags on on the first steamer to Canuck land where he can eat all the candles he wants with his Eskimo chums. We’ve had enough of his project fear lies. The economy is booming, the pound never stronger and great countries like North Korea, Nigeria and Zimbabwe are beating down our doors to do trade deals. And soon that greasy little Belgian fellow Juncker will be eating his words. Or is he a Luxembourger? Who cares? These wanky little countries are all the same. Make no mistake they need us more than we need them. The British people have spoken in the largest democratic show of common sense, wisdom and clarity in the history of democracy namely that: all Eu counties will have to speak the Queen’s English as their first language, each year on Freedom Day the chair of the Commission will present Her Majesty with as many sacks of gold that our English Parliament determines appropriate, that it is treasonable for any British company to trade within the Single Market. So none of this shrilly shally around May. GET ON WITH IT.

What is so depressing about the Brexiteers is that they don’t do magnanimous. They want revenge. They want to airbrush out of history those who have a different view from their own. It is deeply unpleasant and just not British. The trick is to try and persuade May not to renew his contract or so undermine him that he slips out of the back door with his tail between his legs.

This is a time for courage and Sadly May hasn’t been showing too much of it lately. It is appalling that there have been no words of support for Carney from Number 10. If she lets him go the fruit loops will demand someone who will do their bidding. And even if someone does step into Carney’s very big shoes he will be branded a stooge.

May has opened far too many unnecessary battles on too many fronts. It’s time she took a grip.
Yet the time for Carney to be rely worried is if Gove offers to run his campaign. It would be game over.

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May must learn the lessons of history and bring Hammond into her inner circle. If not this government will be a smoking wreck within months

19 Oct 2016 at 08:18

If you want a playful analogy of the government’s position on Brexit you could do no better than revisit that wonderful movie, ‘who framed Roger Rabbit’. Half the characters are real people the rest are loony tune cartoon characters. Somehow they become interchangeable. A crazed Judge Doom has an obsession to destroy the Toons and we only understand why when it is revealed that he is a Toon himself under heavy disguise. Roger Rabbit is the star performer. A wacky show off Toon who has a passion for the the voluptuous, but darkly manipulative Jessica Rabbit. One of the the problems that Roger has is that he has no self control and cannot resist becoming wildly wacky. Judge Doom flushes him out of hiding by repeating the music hall knock. ‘Knock, knock, a knock, knock……’. until a half crazed Roger has to reply..‘knock, knock’. And the game is up.

Watching Bozo at the despatch box is like watching the inner turmoil of Roger Rabbit. Bozo wants to be statesmanlike, but it’s impossible for him not to show off. He tries to resist it and fails miserably. Yesterday it was speaking Marks Brothers Italian. The time before it was encouraging people to demonstrate outside the Russian embassy, which pretty stupid because you are not allowed to. If only he had an opposite number of wit and dexterity rather than the clunkily dim Thornberry, whom could tease out Bozo’s inner rabbit. But what has astounded me is the way that his Brexit supporters parroted the ludicrous line that his ‘semi parodic’ piece in favour of the EU was perfectly normal. I’m sure Abraham Lincoln wrote two pieces for his local paper, one in favour of freeing the slaves and another warning of the economic consequences. Oh, how he must have agonised. I give Bozo less than a year to explode in a mushroom cloud of off message tomfoolery. It will probably be at the time he realises that Brexit is an unworkable disaster and wants to jump ship pinning the blame on Fox, Davis and May and setting himself up to have another crack at the leadership.

But Bozo is a minor distraction compared to a potential disaster that is brewing gently in the corner. Philip Hammond. There is a golden rule in politics and it is this. If a Prime Minister falls out with their Chancellor over a major policy issue both are doomed. It was the beginning of the end of Macmillan when Peter Thornycroft resigned and for Thatcher when Nigel Lawson flounced off. And it was a former Chancellor, Geoffrey Howe, who finished her off. As for Blair and Brown? I am not a psychiatrist nor do I have the time to indulge in that psychodrama. Cameron was much more canny. When Osborne was being briefed against and the teenage scribblers were calling from his head, Cameron drew him even closer. They even shared an office. Cameron understands history? Does May?

When the Treasury and ‘friends of the Chancellor’ (which is code for him) say there is no question of him resigning, it is a very clear warning shot that something is very, very wrong. She has to involve him at every level of decision making. She is deeply unwise to rely on a tiny coterie of unelected advisors. And quite wrong to assume micromanagement of all government policy. It just won’t work. Hammond is neither personable nor charismatic and has the personality of a Nissan hut. But he is a powerful voice of reason. If she loses him she is finished.

Hammond needs to reassured, nurtured and brought into the inner circle. If she doesn’t this is a sore that will fester and burst. It is what the Brexiteers want. If it happens this government will be a smoking wreck in months.

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May has until the IDS of March to come up with a credible Brexit plan then she must allow Parliament to be sovereign and vote

14 Oct 2016 at 08:46

Well, the great ship of state sails on at full speed ahead. The captain is in her chair but her navigators are nowhere to be seen. But she has instructions from her shareholders set a course to an unknown destination known as the promised land. Nobody has worked out where it is. Every now and again a navigator briefly appears on the bridge. ‘What progress Davis?’ she barks.
‘We are so close. Just get there quickly. Have faith.’
By now the sunny skies have turned cloudy and their is something beginning to appear on the horizon. Is it the promised land or the rocks? Dorsal fins are circling the ship. Are they sharks or dolphins? The crew are muttering mutiny and are looking lovingly at the lifeboats.If the shareholders are sending us to certain death shouldn’t we have some say in which course to navigate? If our instructions are flawed don’t we have the right to save the ship and crew from destruction?

It is pretty obvious that Britain is on a collision course with reality. The warnings given to us by business and the financial sector are slowly coming to fruition. Prices are beginning to rise because of a weak pound and inflation will soon gnaw at the rotting bones of our economy. There is talk of us reaching parity with the dollar.

This morning we were warned by Tusk that there will be no special concessions for Britain. ‘There will be no cakes on the table’. We are either in the single market or out of it. No deals. Tariffs will slaughter our exports and food prices will rise. Any fool knows that if we are forced to trade under the WTO rules that in as inevitable as night following day.

But I don’t want another referendum. I want the Brextards to be given every opportunity to deliver their promises. I want them to go right up to the line. I want them to come before parliament and explain what they have achieved and then I want parliament to do what it is paid for. To decide.

I would be amazed if the Supreme Court did not rule in favour of parliament having the right to decide whether to trigger Article 50. It is settled law that referenda are merely advisory. It is settled law that one parliament cannot bind another. It’s called sovereignty. If the government is defeated, if May decided to call an election over it the electorate wouldn’t miss out. They would decide the issue of whom they want running a government.

But would May really want to risk going to the people on something so unpredictably dangerous? When people see their living standards fall, lose their jobs and face a decade of uncertainty they might just vote for change. Surely Corbyn or Farron can’t be as bad as the destruction of our economic base? It would be different if May could give us some evidence based answers. She can’t. It’s not her fault, but there will be a time when people will expect straight answers and not a leap of faith.

Corbyn played a master stroke by making Keir Starmer shadow Brexit minister. He is incisive, charming and bright. He will be in the spotlight and centre stage of the whole debate. He will make a very powerful name for himself. I know this is early day’s fantasy, but a party lead by Starmer would be a serious force to reckon with. I suspect that IDS was so unpleasant towards him shows the true fear Brexiteers have of him. For a genuinely decent guy to gradually turn into an arrogant condescending bully has quite shocked me. His boorish behaviour towards Farron on Marr last week was a disgrace.

So the high priests of Brexit have until March to come up with a workable plan. If they can people like me will support them. If they can’t then May is going to have to be courageous and say that this nonsense must stop and put it to a vote. The stock markets will go through the roof, the pound will recover and she will win a stunning mandate in 2020 as the woman who had the guts to save Britain.

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Breaking news.....Hunt gets a dressing down by May

30 Sep 2016 at 08:05

Theresa May’s unblinking eyes surveyed the gothic gloom of her study. She is seated in a steel replica of the Game of Thrones throne, generously donated by the Hinduja brothers. She is dressed entirely in black, resembling an Ann Robinson without the Botox. On her lap is a growling, dribbling bulldog. She tightens the studded collar whispering, ‘quiet Hannan, soon you will be fed.’ On her desk resting on an ancient bible is a battered Webley revolver. The room is littered with glass jars filled with a brackish liquid which in the eerie glow of the candlelight reveal the severed heads of Ken Clarke, Anna Soubrey and an assortment of faceless blobs. In pride of place bolted to the wall is a garish portrait of Geoffrey Boycott. The heavy iron clad door creaks open and a tall Rasputin like figure in flowing robes enters. A smoking brass ball of incense is swung on a chain in his left hand and a long rope attached to a mysterious shape in the other.
‘And who have you brought me today Nick’
‘Yow wanted to see the Health Secretary mistress’, he Brummied.
‘Ah, Jeremy’, she purred. ‘No need to get off your knees. Have you read the Times this morning?
’Oh, the Lesbian mum runs off with the sperm donor story? Er, tax relief for hedgehogs perhaps?’
‘No you fool. The “cut size of puddings says Hunt, story.” This is causing me grief. I had Soames weeping on the phone to me this morning. He is a broken man. And Boris is incandescent with rage. He becomes physically unwell unless he gets his muffin. Worse, Keith Vaz becomes quite unpredictable unless he has a regular supply of spotted dicks. Why didn’t you let me know of this nanny state policy?
‘Well, I did try to text you’.
’ how many times have I told you text it means text it you fool. Remember if this is to become a nanny state only I will be the nanny’.

The Rasputin like figure tugs on the rope. ‘Yam to take him away mistress? This ain’t giving the babby a frock and pinny.’
‘Oh get him out of my sight. And bring me Fox, you’ll find him in the cellar with the chief whip. It’s time he learned to play Brexit roulette.’
‘Brexit roulette mistress?’
‘Oh, it’s a bit like the Russian version except all the chambers are loaded.’
‘And mistress? That picture of Boycott has to go.’
A look of horror turning to anger spread across the prime ministerial visage.
‘Never, never, never over my dead…..’
‘But mistress it’s by Rolf Harris.’
Suddenly klaxons and sirens filled the air followed by an eerily calm announcement, ‘warning, warning doctor required at Prime Minister’s study.’
‘Nick,’ groaned May, her eyes swivelling and tongue lolling.‘Not fucking Fox.’

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Primark's knob, Street Porter's shame & my sacandalous behaviour on a train

25 Sep 2016 at 13:25

I haven’t made up my mind which is more shocking, Brooks Primark trying to copywrite photos of his todger or Janet Street Porter having to pay a former lover to give back a Polaroid of her performing a ‘sex act’. For those not in the know this is Fleetstreeteese for a blow job. It’s really quite a terrifying thought as Janet is blessed with a set of gnashers that could core an apple through a tennis racquet. The recipient of her favours must have ended up with a willy like a skinned rabbit; a bridge too far. At the very least the photo the Bobbitized little thing should been donated to the Royal College of Reconstructive Surgeons to be passed round at their Christmas drinks party.

I have never understood why people take photos of their cocks. It is quite widespread I am told. But it is bound to fall into the wrong hands. MPs are always flattered by the number of followers they have on social media. They think it is a sign of their importance. To a certain extent it is. The the press are not interested in the fact that they have just opened a school, visited a hospital or their thoughts on the war in Syria. We just lay in wait for that drunken rant that appears after midnight at party conference or the accidental favouriting of a porn site. Poor old Primark will never stop those pictures appearing. He can’t disinvent them. And he has just given a long forgotten story legs or I suppose texticles. How does he classify them? ’Primark’s penis at ease…..standing to attention….in the cold…..poking out of the Paisley Jim jams?’ Some old boy is going to have to go through the lot and catalogue them. Of course we won’t be entitled to see them, which is good news for the splendid Rod Liddle who is kept up at night with ectoplasmic nightmares of the Primark todger floating Casperlike though his bedroom ducking and diving like Marley’s ghost. But the little chap will be described in great detail to ensure what precisely we aren’t allowed to see. It will be a field day for lawyers and create quite a lot of subpoenas envy I fear.

But thank heavens there was no social media nor camera phones when I was an MP. There is one event that still sends shivers down my spine and turns my bowels to water when I think about it. I was on a train my way home after a refreshing dinner and was trying to read my Evening Standard but was being constantly interrupted by a couple of rather pissed girls who recognised me.‘Please let me read my paper in peace,’ I begged. ‘Alright then, just give us your autograph’. Well, that was an easy one.‘Of course,’ I benignly smiled whipping out a biro. Then to the squeals of their delight I realised I had fallen into a trap. ‘On our tits!!!!’ they giggled as they lifted their tops. And, do you know, I did. The thought of it.

Although not quite in the same vein let us turn to a knob to end all knobs, a prince within the Kingdom of the knoberatti, a testosterone fuelled bundle of blubber where women of a certain age swoon at the sight of the sizeable bulge in his wallet. Well, Paul Hollywood’s wallet is now bulging to the tune of £7 million. I can’t say I blame him for jumping on board Channel 4’s Great British Rake Off. He is only fifty and you only get that chance of a pot of gold once in a lifetime. But the MAIL has already made him a pantomime villain alongside Sir Shifty Green. ‘Greedy Rat’ coupled with a photo of a greedy looking Hollywood. Actually, I feel a bit sorry for him. But I suppose you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few egos.

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May's humour is no laughing matter and what happens if the infinite improbability drive is engaged

17 Sep 2016 at 12:28

I wonder how long it will be before Tory backbenchers will be whispering over large gins how much they miss David Cameron. He was one of those rare beasts; a politician comfortable in his own skin. Like Blair he commanded the Chamber with a mixture of arrogance and charm. Sometimes he would lose his rag. But when you have Peter Bone, Bill Cash, Nadine Dorries and Andrew Brigden who think that being on your side means behaving like political Millwall supporters, it’s a minor miracle that he didn’t leap from the despatch box and throttle them. He also made an effort to roam the bars and dining rooms to chat up his backbenchers. Even the most bird brained want the thrill of boring a comatose constituency audience of his last pearls of wisdom to the PM. But it didn’t always work. One SPAD from the Amish wing moaned to me over dinner how patronising Cameron was to them at a drinks do. ‘He actually thanked us for all our hard work’, he squealed in horror, a vein doing a tango on his forehead. Perhaps Cameron should have just told them to fuck off and die.

Theresa May is a rather a different personality. She is more of a laugh than Thatcher, but that bar was never set very high. But my heart sank when May made it a virtue that she wasn’t someone who would roam the bars and dining rooms. Worse, that she didn’t gossip about colleagues. Well, if she didn’t gossip she certainly had her Beria collecting information about them. The May team never forgets nor forgives those who have briefed against their mistress. That is why Gove will never ever return to the front bench. So she relies heavily on her convivial PPS George Hollingberry to charm and reassure the troops. Anyone who has had to have the police called twice in the night to a birthday party to tell them to keep down the noise can’t be all bad. Unless you live next door. However, those who are in public office and are either anti May or sleep walking through their jobs, beware. She has appointed a Snitch Finder General (actually a retired colonel) who will shortly present madam with a list of those to be culled.

If I was in Team May I wouldn’t be too worried that she is pretty awful at the despatch box. Yet. Thatcher was terrible to begin with, but after a few years she used PMQs as a personal entertainment to torture and pummel her opponents. But that was after she had won two elections, a war and enjoy large simpering majorities, which works wonders for self confidence. May should just come to terms with her limitations and turn them into strengths. She is not a natural wit, so cut out the dreadfully laboured attempts at humour. It’s not a good idea if you are a magician to keep pulling dead rabbits out of a hat. Just play it straight. Be yourself. Alright, you were elected not just because you weren’t that ghastly Loathsome woman but because you are competent, steely and know what you are doing. Have a few one liners up your sleeve, but Mrs May please no more jokes as I fear for the health of parliamentary sketch writers. Already attendants have instructions to remove ties, belts, shoe laces and ropes with nooses from the poor dears. At last Wednesdays PMQs poor Quentin Letts was found in a catatonic trance, his Mont Blanc frozen in the air, not even able to finish the t in twat.Nothing could shake him out of it. Only a cunning Patrick Kidd managed to briefly bring a flicker of light back into his eyes by whispering that Dacre had cleared last month’s expenses. But as soon as he heard May promise to defend Christmas he went out like a light. We may never see him again.

But then there is the other George, the Young Pretender Osborne. He is the last surviving big beast. He is not going to sit back and allow his legacy to be trashed. And he is still brimming with ambition. If she tries to water down the Northern Powerhouse or HS2, there will be serious repercussions. She would be very, very wise not to make any more of an enemy out of him. She may be a ‘bloody difficult woman’, but he is a professional assassin with an impressive kill rate.

What I find so confusing are the mixed messages coming out of No10. There were briefings that Hinckley C was to be reviewed for cost and security reasons which are actually valid concerns. But that just pissed off the Chinese and put into jeopardy the trade deals that we are grovelling for. Now it appears that we are going ahead. And what is the position on HS2? The chief executive read the runes and did a runner. This is a hell of a lot of investment and all the job implications that flow from it. If it’s going to be scrapped for heaven sake make a decision and tell us. But it would be a gift for Labour. And I see that Liz Truss has announced the green light for a British Bill of Human Rights. This wizard idea has had more comebacks than Frank Sinatra. It will, of course, never happen as civil servants have warned every Justice Secretary that it is unworkable, meaningless, bollocks. But she has to go through the motions before it is thrown back into the long grass.

And then there is Brexit meaning…….‘er, um, can I phone a friend?’ Nobody has a clue. They know what they want and deep,down they know that they have as much chance of getting it as the Eagle sisters winning a gold in the coxless pairs. I wonder how long before the penny really drops.

When you walk into Downing Street there is a heavily guarded door on the right. If you manage to get through security you will find an enormous vault. And inside protected by criss cross of laser beams, poisonous snakes and a pool of crocodiles is a big red button marked Article 50. A few have broken in and tried to press it. A dreadful little man called Dyson who so strongly believes in Britain that he moved his work force to Malaysia in solidarity keeps on trying. The rest are a sad bunch who are always being sectioned. One day someone might just press it just for fun or Bozo fall onto it after a good night out. But what will happen? Nobody really knows, I suspect that it will be like the Infinite improbability drive in the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Let me explain for those not in the know. When you press the button an incredible range of highly improbable things can happen. Known effects include the the creation and spontaneous upending of a million gallon vat of custard, the transformation of a couple of nuclear missiles into a sperm whale and a bowl of Petunias and turning a number of people into penguins.

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