A lighter look at the news

You know the question, 'how do you know a person is vegan?' and the answer -  'they tell you five minutes after you meet them?' Well, I beg to differ.

I differ because it does not take me five minutes, and frankly, I am surprised that it takes anyone that long. Usually you can see them coming a mile away, head and shoulders above the rest of humanity, floating on their moral high ground, halos intact.

Now, I don't wish to stereotype any group of people but for some reason, I presumed that vegans would perhaps lack a sense of humour (or should I say, a funny bone).

Turns out, I was wrong. Recently, they petitioned a village in Dorset called 'Wool', to change the name of said village to 'Vegan Wool'. 

Now don't be embarrassed if you haven't heard of 'Vegan Wool' - not too many people have. 

However, because their cup runneth over with concern for all of God's creatures, big and small, they have also volunteered to give each household in the village a blanket made out of hemp, cotton or banana bark (bet you hadn't heard of that either).

I don't envy the Woolites (soon to be Vegan Woolites). However are they going to make their minds up with the choice on offer?

'Will hemp be a bit scratchy?' they might ask themselves. Or,  'Cotton may be smooth but will it be warm enough?' And, most importantly, 'what the hell is banana bark?' 

This could well be a slippery slope to further demands. They may well wish us to ask Baa Baa Black Sheep if it has any Vegan Wool.

As if Baa Baa and co. doing look confused enough most of the time, we are going to perplex them even further.

A few weeks back there appeared to be a chink of light at the end of the long, dark Brexit tunnel. It has taken such a long time for that chink to appear but tragically, it may or may not last - the operative word being 'May' - who like the light,  may or may not last.

Personally, I blame the whole sorry saga on the person who came up with the name Brexit. At the time, I said that it sounded like a remedy for constipation. I was wrong.

It turned out to be more like a cause for constipation - the longest and most painful one in history. And, we all know what prolonged constipation can result in - piles.

I am going to resist the temptation to name those piles after the sterling men and women involved in the Brexit talks. After all,  I am no Boris Johnson.

Mind you, if I was, he would have the honour of the first one being named after him (if one dishes it out, one has to be able to take it Mr. J).

Until next week, try and keep it light!