A lighter look at 2019

It is the penultimate day of the year and I wouldn't want to make light of it on a personal level, so all I'll say is... thank goodness for celebrities (and Prince Andrew).

Gemma Collins (or the GC as she likes to call herself) took part in 'Dancing on Ice', a program that I choose not to watch. Even so, I was forced to read headlines about her diva tantrums. Until pride, literally came before a fall.

That certainly would qualify as the most 'ouch' moment of the year.

I am a bit conflicted whether to award the next person with the 'biggest knucklehead' of the year or the 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' lesson of the year, and since I hate conflict, he that goes by the name of Jussie Smollett, shall be awarded both.

Imagine being a relatively successful actor and deciding that you deserve more and hatching a plan to get the more of everything that you think you deserve.

Unfortunately, there was just one flaw in his plan - it needed more brains. 

Hiring extras that are known to you and paying them with a cheque that has your name on it, is the opposite of a cunning plan.

Needless to say, the career of Smollett is now gonnett.

Another person whose career took a self inflicted nose dive this year, is Prince Andrew.

Like Mr. Smollett, the Grand Old Duke of York, also had a grand plan.

He would redeem himself by giving an interview to the BBC.

It is fair to say, he didn't just shoot himself in the foot. He shot himself in both feet, one toe at a time.

He certainly gets a clutch of awards. One would be for 'worst alibi' of the year.

'I went to Pizza Express in Woking that evening'. Impressive. I remember going to Pizza Express three months ago but do I remember the date or the time? Sadly, not.

But then again, one is royal, so a trip to Pizza Express and rubbing shoulders with the hoi polloi may well have been traumatic enough to stick in one's memory for a lifetime.

I wouldn't be surprised if one had demanded a decontamination wash down after the trip.

Maybe that's how one remembers where one was that evening but one doesn't want to say, lest one comes across as snooty.

He also gets an award for 'most deluded opinion of oneself'.

Talk about not seeing the wood for the trees, his honourable highness doesn't appear to see the wood or the trees.

What gets me, is that most of us (who live in the real world), have enough self awareness to realise when we've made jackasses of ourselves.

Not Prince Andrew. He informed Mummy that the interview went swimmingly well, until the entire nation informed her otherwise. 

One then had to issue a P45 to one's own son.

The judges on Strictly Come Dancing this year, decided to bestow 10s like so much confetti being flung by over enthusiastic (and slightly inebriated) guests at a wedding.

Except for Craig Revel Horwood. However, he doesn't get an award for being the most sensible judge on a reality show. 

He gets the 'foot in your mouth' award, for complimenting Anton du Beke on his wig, glasses and fake teeth...except Anton's teeth were (and still are to the best of my knowledge) very much his own.

The 'dancing queen' award is most certainly Tay May's.

She has now danced out of No 10 and may well be available to take part in Strictly Come Dancing next year.

If that happens, Anton du Beke (and his authentic teeth) will almost certainly partner her.

I could go on, but I won't. 

I think there is enough here, no matter what sort of year you've had, to make you feel slightly better about yourself.

Until next year, try and keep it light.

A lighter look at Christmas Cards and letters

If you are of a certain age, you may remember the first time your family received a Christmas card that didn't feature the traditional Nativity scene or a Christmas tree or even a Robin red breast (that quintessentially native bird of Bethlehem). 

Instead, you opened the envelope to find the Browns, or perhaps the de Silvas, grinning at you from their bespoke family portrait card.

At some point, the senders of such cards, came to realise that there wasn't anything festive about a family posing for a nondescript  photograph.

So, with precise planning, they donned on Christmas hats in August and posed in front of a plastic Christmas tree, so that their perfect  Christmas cards were all printed and ready to be unleashed on unsuspecting family and friends, by early December.

Unfortunately, it did not stop there. 

Someone looked at their family Christmas card and despite all of them looking giddy with happiness and grinning like a tribute band to the Osmonds, they wondered how on earth would cousin Jenny know that their Bobby had been accepted into the 7th best University in the country.

(A point they were particularly keen to drive home, as Jenny's son had dropped out of Uni the year before).

Also, how would the recipient know that Dad had received a 'huge' promotion at work and that the youngest family member, Matilda, had been made captain of the girls' lacrosse team. 

Not to mention the fact that they, in their family home,  had hosted 81 dinner parties (Mum Maureen was such a dab hand at throwing these soirees) and had received 43 overnight guests,who would certainly, and individually, be named - not that one was looking to be lauded, or shown gratitude or anything crass like that.

And so, was born, the annual 'Christmas letter'. 

Three double sided A4 sheets from Uncle Caetano, waxing lyrical about his family, in painful, eye watering detail, and suddenly you find your Mum looking at you with the withering look of a let down and immensely disappointed Mother.

Nowadays, the 'keeping in touch to let you know how fabulous we are' letters have blissfully been confined to history, as Uncle C and his ilk have moved on to the 24/7, 365 days a year, preening platform, otherwise known as social media.

The family photo Christmas card hasn't disappeared altogether but seems confined to the rich, famous and photogenic, like the Cambridges.

This year for the Christmas card, they rolled out that most festive of all modes of transport.... a motorbike.

There's William sitting astride the bike holding little Louis in front of him. (Not sure why I emphasised 'little', one would hardly expect a big Louis to be sitting in front of the future monarch).

Kate is leaning ever so gently towards him, with one hand on the handle bars to the right.

A psychologist might have a field day with that but I am no psychologist, although I suspect the invisible hand of Granny is on the handle bars to the left.

George and Charlotte are standing in the side car. 

There you go, I have painted a verbal picture for you. If you want to see the actual pic, just use google.

Then there's the American royal couple and their family. The West/Kardashians, all assembled and sitting beautifully on the staircase of their family home.

They magnanimously decided to share their Christmas card pic with the world (it is the season of giving after all), so that their millions of followers could fawn.

Unfortunately, the fawning was accompanied by gasps of disbelief as accusations started to fly, that North West (the child, not the direction) had been photoshopped into the picture.

Mum Kim admitted that it was true. Apparently, North West was having a day. 'Does she usually have nights?' you might ask.

To which, I would say, 'Don't be silly'. She was having a mood, a strop, throwing a tantrum, doing a Mariah Carey - take your pick.

Anyway, North walked off (not sure which direction, could've been South).

But then, the next day,  North had another change of direction and wanted to be in the pic.

Mum Kim promptly said yes. Probably to avoid North having a week or possibly a month.

What surprised me most about the pic, was that Chicago (the child not the city), was sitting on her dad's lap, holding a cookie, not a pizza. Rare missed opportunity there.

Never mind, there's always Easter. They can congregate on the staircase again and Chicago can hold a slice of a certain brand of pizza...unless she chooses to have a day.

Until next time, try and keep it light and if you can't, indulge and have a fabulous festive season!

A lighter look at the news

I'm not sure if you've heard of Aldi's 'Kevin the Carrot' plush soft toy. I won't be surprised if you haven't because I hadn't either.

It's a phenomenon that has completely passed me by, up until now. Well, being generous of heart I have decided to share it with you, along with my incredulity.

It all started in 2016, when in their Christmas ad, the supermarket Aldi decided to put Kevin the Carrot as the main support act to turkey (since we are naming food, let's call it Tallulah)  on the Christmas table. This incensed Russel sprout (understandably so).

The ad ended with Kevin powering Santa's reindeer and his sleigh (with him in it of course) which is no mean feat (not that I am fat shaming good old Santa).

In 2017, Kevin met Katie (I've never seen such long lashes on a carrot). Yes, Kevin stayed true to his race - no pretty Penny Parsnip for our Kev. Katie batted those impossibly long lashes at him and he turned to mush.

Fast forward to 2019, and Katie appears to have morphed into the Marge Simpson of the vegetable world, although I am happy to say that the lashes are still lush. Don't ask me about the mechanics of it all but they have produced three baby carrots.

Not sure if their names begin with 'K' as well but if they do, it makes them the KKKKK klan of karrots. 

In the meanwhile, the passing years have only served to embitter Russel Sprout further. Who can blame him? He gets to be feted (I exaggerate) one day in the year before fading into oblivion for the next 364 days. 

His vendetta takes a turn for the worse as he and his gang of Leafy Blinders (flat cap and all) try to attack Kevin.

It ends with Kevin singing 'Let me entertain you'. Personally, the only thing I would entertain is a cardiac arrest if a carrot shot up on my plate at the Christmas table and belted out a Robbie Williams song.

Now for the part that has me incredulous. There is an absolute craze for the plush soft toy versions of these characters. A three foot Kevin sells for £19.99.Why would anyone want to cuddle a three foot carrot is beyond me. In fact the whole thing is beyond me.

Apparently, people (mostly parents) have been queuing up for hours waiting for Aldi shops to open, so that they can merrily push and shove each other in non-seasonal fervour to acquire these toys.

Personally, I feel a little sorry for Russel Sprout. Kevin and Katie do appear to be a trifle smug. Maybe it's because even little humans like them, which is not a boast most vegetables can make.

They are popular all year round, so I don't think that they should be stealing the limelight from poor old Russel Sprout on that one day of the year that he gets to shine (once again, I exaggerate).

It's too late now, but bearing in mind that the Leafy Blinders were unsuccessful this year, perhaps Russel Sprout can recruit Rod Bean to help him next year. 

That's your new character for next year sorted Aldi. I am open to a show of gratitude by way of a hamper (I am nothing if not persistent). Please don't feel obliged to include any of your plush soft toy vegetables in it, although on second thoughts, they apparently go for six times the retail price on ebay........

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter look at Edgar the dragon

The Christmas season has officially started in the UK. It's not even Advent yet, you may well think. I may well think the same thought but silly us for thinking that our thoughts matter. Far be it for me to be cynical but I think (amazingly I can have more than one thought at a time) it's our wallets that matter.

Nowadays, Christmas is dictated by the Gospel according to John Lewis.Yes, John Lewis have released their annual, much anticipated, Christmas advert. 

There are some over dramatic people who say that these days, people complain about everything. I hate to admit it but in this case, I think these over dramatic people are right. 

Apparently, not everyone is happy with the advert. Which is fine, not everybody has to be enchanted by the antics and disasters of a cute fire breathing dragon called Edgar.

However, the nature of the complaints makes me want to join that cute dragon and breathe a little fire myself.


One woman asked the question, 'why am I ugly crying at 9:40 in the morning?' I don't know love, why were you ugly crying at 9:40 in the morning? 

Maybe a question to ask your therapist, particularly since you managed to look at the time through your flood of tears. A word of advice though, don't go too near the dragon, you may well do more than ugly cry, little miss snowflake.

Than there is the irate Mum who complained to John Lewis that her 2 year old daughter sobbed and was distraught that the dragon had caused 'Olaf' to melt.

Apparently every snowman in the world is now called Olaf (Frosty thanks you Disney) and they NEVER melt.

Something tells me, twenty years from now, this little girl is going to ugly cry at 9:40 in the morning in the middle of November.

Don't worry Edgar. Some people still love you. You can't help breathing fire, just like some people can help ugly crying.

Incidentally, John Lewis apologised to the little girl and promised to discipline Edgar by putting him in the naughty corner. Brave talk, considering he has the potential to burn the house down.

Then all of John Lewis would be ugly crying.

The best (also the worst) came from the person who complained that there was no solution at the end. Perhaps the people could come together to fire proof the town, was the suggestion they made (I kid you not).

Shame you can't get people to fool proof complaints.

Note to John Lewis : Would not refuse if you feel obliged to send me one of your lovely Christmas hampers to say thank you. Would not ugly cry if you didn't either.

Until next week, try and keep it light. 

A lighter look at Brexit

Today is the 31st of October, 2019 and by his own prediction (and in his own words) Boris Johnson should be found dead in a ditch. That is what he had said (or promised) would be the case if he asked for a Brexit delay.

Well, he may not be dead in the ditch he dug for himself, but he certainly is in the ditch, furiously back peddling his way out. 

His boast sounds quite hollow now and makes the nick name Bo Jo a bit redundant. Brag Zit sounds more fitting.

Anyway, the new deadline is the 31st of January, 2020. So the Brexit Boogie continues. A new deal in, a new deal out because the MPs have shaken it all about. 

They'll do the Brexit Boogie until the 31st January, then turn the PM around to ask for another deadline and continue dancing until that deadline. Brexit on repeat. That's what it's all about.

However, there is a general election in December. Things might change then. And pigs might fly. Politicians may start serving the people rather than themselves. Donald Trump may stop tweeting. The list is endless. 

Who knows? I don't have a crystal ball but if I did, it probably would have shattered by now, from stress, boredom, frustration... once again the list is endless.

In the meanwhile, I shall wear a helmet and a face shield if I venture out this evening. 

There are predictions of scarily dressed little rioters demanding sweets and flinging eggs if their demands are not met👻.

Until next time, try and keep it light! 

A lighter look at the news

It is an established fact that Denmark is one of the happiest countries in the world. 

Unfortunately, their happiness took a little nose dive today, as Donald Trump declared (via a tweet of course) that he is no longer visiting the country in two weeks time.

The Danes are crushed. They had all their demonstrations planned. And, since it's not yet the 31st of October, they even borrowed blimp baby Trump from Britain, in all his nappy glory, safety pin intact, to fly high during the Orange one's visit.

                                                          

Now, it's as if that safety pin has been used to burst their bubble, as Trump has declared (via a tweet of course) that he is postponing his visit. 

                                                    

Apparently, he expressed a wish to buy Greenland and the Danish Prime Minister said, 'No way' and Trump stubbornly said, 'I don't want Norway, I want Greenland.'( I am guilty of a little paraphrasing).

So, like his counterpart, blimp baby Trump, he's had a tantrum and refuses to visit their country. 

I wonder if Trump had even heard of Greenland before he was due to visit Denmark. 

I suspect while planning his visit (that is, if he plans at all), his beady eye caught the name 'Green'land and thought, 'So much potential... so many golf courses' and immediately made an offer to buy it, ignoring the fact that there was no 'for sale' sign in the first place.

On a serious note, can someone please check his fake tan spray. I am concerned that the fumes are slowly turning his grey matter into a rusty orange.

Mind you, if the reason he wanted to buy Greenland was literally because of its name, than he might be tempted to put in an offer on Epstein's Virgin island. 

Until next time, try and keep it light!

The world has gone barking mad!

The bride wore a close fitting white dress and a white fabric rose on her head. Yes, it was on her head - not tucked behind her ear or pinned to one side. It lay on top of her head, almost like a separate entity, at least five times the size of the head it was supposed to adorn. 

Waiting for her was the groom - her dog. That's correct, it's not a typo. I didn't mean to type God, as in adored fiancee. 

A dog - that's  who she was marrying. 

Unsurprisingly, the groom (goes by the name of Logan) looked miserable and was probably there purely out of loyalty to his mistress (soon to be his wife). Also, despite the impending nuptials, since he is a dog, I don't think he had a choice, poor thing.

The bride walked down the 'aisle' with TV presenter Eamon Holmes, who was giving her away. He should have walked her in the direction of some medical professional and given her away there, but of course he didn't. The exploitation of woman and dog continued live on daytime TV.

Someone sang a song, someone else (apparently a Love Island contestant) was the 'best man' (highly debatable) and yet another person 'officiated', where ridiculous vows were made (don't ask), bracelet and ring were exchanged (once again, don't ask) and they were declared 'dog and woman' (talk about stating the obvious).

This does give one pause for thought. Note, I've resisted the temptation to say 'paws', I just don't think it's punny (oops!). Seriously though, how low does one stoop to get viewers/publicity?

Did the producers think it was funny and since it involved a dog, people would think it cute and go 'awwww'? If they did, they definitely barked up the wrong tree (apologies again).

What about the 'bride'. Apparently, she married her dog because she could not find a good man (can't imagine why). I'm not taking her side, but perhaps that rose on her head was blocking oxygen supply to her brain.

She didn't look as if she was fully present (to put it politely) and ITV should know better from their past experiences.

I will now get off my soap box and call it a night - I don't want to feel ruff tomorrow morning :)

A lighter look at the news

Oh dear....France wants to pass tech taxes on some American internet giants and  it has enraged a certain someone, who has turned a deeper shade of orange (if that's possible).

Gone are the days when L'orange giggled like an excited school boy with a crush, as he linked arms and basked in a bromance with Macron.

Their bromance appears to be as dead as that symbolic friendship tree they planted when Macron visited the US.   
                                          

                             
As usual, when anything irritates Trump, he lashes out, saying  something scathing about the person/country.  So, unsurprisingly, he had a dig at French wine.

He said, and I quote, "I've always liked American wines better than French wines .....even though I don't drink wine. I just like the way they look."

I am going to go linguistically Anglo-French here and say 'oh dear, sacre bleu, sugar and mon dieu.'  Do we laugh or do we cry?

If you were expecting something slightly stronger like 'sheeet' or 'merde', you ought to know better by now. I keep my blog clean, just like (apparently) Trump keeps his liver.

So (surprise, surprise) he likes things just because they look good. Hmmmmm, wonder how Melania feels about that? 

To answer my own question, 'should we laugh or should we cry?' I vote that we should laugh (with relief).

Can you imagine what his 2 am tweets would be like if he was bladdered? Doesn't bear thinking about.

If the Obamas thought for a minute that they were now safe from his interference, they were sadly mistaken.

L'orange has demanded that there be an investigation into their estimated $65 million book deals. 

As the teletubbies would say, 'Uh oh!' I think the green monster is taking over the orange monster. 

I think the closest L'orange has come to encountering any sort of book, was that magazine that (allegedly) a certain Stormy person was asked to roll up and spank him on the bottom with.

And he had to pay for the privilege!

Until next week, try and keep it light.

A lighter look at the news

It is  official, like him or loathe him, Boris Johnson is now the Prime Minister of Britain.
                                             

Guess who was 'deeelighted' by the news? You guessed it -  Donald Trump of course.

He praised Boris for all of ten seconds, calling him a 'good man', before he made it all about himself.

'They call him 'Britain Trump' over there' he proclaimed. Actually, no one calls him that over here, simply because no self respecting Brit would call him 'Britain Trump' - that's just bad English.

'Britain's Trump' or 'British Trump' perhaps but even then, I have not heard anyone say it except when they are quoting Trump himself.

In typical Trump fashion (read deluded) he assumes that even if someone does say it, they mean it as a compliment (someone needs to tell him what happens when you 'assume' things). 

Obviously, no one has had the courage to do so, because he went on to make another annoying assumption - 'they like me over there.'

Since he is so fond of three worded chants ('send her back', 'lock her up') -here's a chant he might understand - 'no we don't. 

I know of only four people in Britain who like him: Piers Morgan, Nigel Farage, Boris Johnson and that awful woman whose venomous tweets Trump is very fond of retweeting.

Sorry if you are wondering who she is but my digits will literally go on strike if I move them to type her name and give her the oxygen of publicity.

Also, going by social media, I find it puzzling that some people across the pond appear to think that we are now in the same boat.

'Now you know how it feels' and 'You can no longer make fun of us' appeared to be the general consensus.

Actually, for the moment, the jury is out on that one. 

After all, BoJo was gracious enough to 'pay tribute at the fortitude and patience' of Theresa May and since he actually has appointed his very own 'squad' in the Cabinet, he is hardly likely to urge them to 'go back' to their countries.

Sorry guys, you'll just have to wake up and smell the covfefe.

Until next week try and keep it light....and stay hydrated.

A lighter look at the news

From time to time, I may come across a person and think to myself, 'they really can't tell their a**e from their elbow'. I guess you're shocked - you didn't think I was judgemental did you?

Nothing about my blog gave it away. 

Anyway, I confess to thinking this on more than one occasion, where the supposed leader of the free world is concerned.

Except, I suppose, in his case, it's more 'can't tell his thumbs from his mouth' (or a**e, same difference).

However, I'll admit I was wrong. It appears, he actually can't tell his kidneys from his heart. 

During a recent speech, he said, and I quote, 'the kidney has a very special place in the heart.'

And, just in case you thought he meant it as an idiom, he was actually thumping his heart as he said it.

One can take consolation in the fact that at least he knows where his heart is located.....even if he thinks it's being fondly cradled by his kidneys.

From one narcissist to another, Gemma Collins, who apparently has a new reality show that is about to air (why????), appears to be fashioning herself as a nature lover, who hugs trees.

Poor, poor, trees. They take in our carbon dioxide and nourish us with fresh oxygen and what do we do? We inflict Gemma Collins on them.

Apparently, she is shown in a clip, wrapping her arms around the trunk of a tree and whispering 'nature'.

I would give anything for the tree to whisper 'attention seeking human' back at her.


She then had the audacity to go on instagram and ask if anyone else hugs trees or if it is just her.

I know her brand is being 'thick' but even she has to know that she hasn't discovered the hugging of trees.

I am furious on behalf of all tree hugging hippies and Prince Charles. 

However, I have to confess that a part of me is a tad tickled at the first case of cultural appropriation within a race that I have come across.

Going back to the potential scriptwriter for the fourth season of The Handmaid's Tale', also known as the President of the United States, despite his diatribe against the four congresswomen of colour, he claims that he does not have a single racist bone in his body.

I am quite sure the man speaks the truth. I am quite sure he doesn't have a single racist bone in his body. I am sure all the bones in his body are racist.

Mind you, that would be hard to prove. I think even a skilled surgeon or indeed an archaeologist, would be hard put to dig out any bone in his body, surrounded as they are, by all that racist blubber.

Going back to his, 'if you are not happy, leave and go back to your country' jibe at the congresswomen, I wonder why he hasn't looked closer to home.

The last time Melania smiled in public was when she met Pope Francis and the two tittered at the girth of her husband, with the Pope asking her if she feeds him Slovenian nut roll (apt) 'potica'. 

One would assume since she hasn't cracked a smile since then, she is not happy. So perhaps he should busy his little hands and help her pack, not forgetting to pack this item of clothing.

Until next time, try and keep it light! 

A Lighter look at the News

Goodness me, I can't remember the last time I was so engrossed and yet so torn between sports channels. First there was the Wimbledon tennis.

Roger Federer played like a well oiled machine with an unbreakable serve.

This of course, frustrated Novak Djokovic, as he is arguably the best ever returner of serve. Did that bother Roger? Apparently not, as unperturbed, the cool Swiss carried on.

But then again, Djokovic is world no.1 and when it mattered (particularly when Roger had two championship points on his serve) he dug deep,  caught up and eventually won in a fifth set tiebreak.

I haven't bothered to wax lyrical because waxing of any lyrics to describe this match would not do it justice. You had to watch it....but how? when England were on the other channel making their own piece of cricketing history.

Oh dear Lord(s)!!!! First they tied, which then brought on the 'Super Over'. I swear, somewhere in the UK, there should be a theme park that names a ride after it.

Palpitation creating, blood pressure raising, nerve wrecking but ultimately thrilling (not so much of the latter if you are a New Zealand fan) this roller coaster of a Super Over was the absolute, ultimate dream.

As if that wasn't enough, somewhere in the midst of all this, Lewis Hamilton had his sixth British Grand Prix victory!

What an amazing sporting day it has been except for this unsporting (to put it mildly) tweet I came across from someone who calls himself the Leader of the most powerful democratic country in the world:

'So interesting to see 'Progressive' Democrat Congresswomen, who originally came from countries whose governments are a complete and total catastrophe, the worst, most corrupt and inept anywhere in the world (if they even have a functioning government at all), now loudly ... and viciously telling the people of the United States, the greatest and most powerful Nation on earth, how our government is to be run'.

Three of these four non-white women were born in the US and the fourth became a US citizen at around 17.

A cocktail of vitriol, racism, xenophobia and misogyny.....reads like the perfect script for a fourth season of Handmaid's tale.

Until next week, try and keep it light.












Well, someone had to

A lighter look at the news

Please don't judge me when you read this, but I will miss Theresa May not being our Prime Minister. However, if judge you must, I assure you I have two very good reasons (at least that is what I tell myself).

Firstly (and most importantly) I shall miss not writing about 'Tay May'as much in my blog (Bo Bo Jo doesn't have the same ring to it) and secondly, I shall miss not seeing her bust those dance moves on the world stage. Horrified fascination doesn't come around very often, you know.

Anyway, Boris Johnson is apparently set to be Britain's Prime Minister. Yes, the man whose appearance suggests that he has just wrestled with a grizzly bear and who has the diplomacy of a sledge hammer, may well be chosen as the next Conservative Leader and thereby, our Prime Minister.

To be fair, I have watched Boris with horrified fascination on one occasion, when he was left hanging on a zip wire.

He should have been left hanging there but alas he wasn't and alas, he is set to be PM. This of course will make our friend across the pond, clasp his little hands with glee.
(Promoters of the word 'alas' may send their cheques directly to me).

During his recent visit to Britain, Donald Trump suggested that Boris would make a fabulous Prime Minister. Really, no one was asking for his two bit worth. But then again Piers Morgan may have been asking, which is the same difference.

After said visit, Trump went back to the US very satisfied with himself, convinced that he 'came' (more's the pity) he 'saw' (only what he wanted to see - apparently mistaking the jeering crowds for cheering crowds - and not seeing baby Donald blimp that aliens in outer space have spotted and are talking about) and he conquered (not really - unless you count that chinless wonder Piers Morgan, but please don't).

In one of his recent tweets, Trump spoke about meeting the Queen and the Prince of Whales! Words fail me, but this is the image that came to mind.

An underwater scenario of Donald Trump meeting the Prince of Whales.

                                                                                                           

You know how you sometimes have a really stupid idea and you are very aware of how stupid the idea is, so you bury it in the deep dark recesses of your brain, where it never sees the light of day?

Well, someone recently had one such idea but unfortunately the person was as stupid as the idea, so it saw the light of day and a few equally stupid people agreed and it has gained a tiny bit of momentum.

So now, these people are demanding the right to have Straight Pride Parades and have even come up with a Straight Pride Flag. Excuse me for a second while I giggle in disbelief.

What sort of banners are they planning to have at their parades, one wonders. 'Allowed to legally marry since the institution was invented?' or 'Came out as straight to my parents at 14?' or 'I can go anywhere in the world and not be arrested for my sexuality?'

I'll come straight to the point (pun intended, I'm afraid) - there is just one word for these people - knuckleheads. I think that will make a perfect banner for any straight pride parade they choose to organise and participate in.

Until next week, try and keep it light.

A lighter look at the news

The West-Kardashian union has produced another offspring and as with their other children, this child too has a very 'unique' name.

Now, in case you have been on an expedition to the Himalayas, in search of yourself and have only just returned to civilisation, let me enlighten you on the unique name of this child - Psalm.

No, you are not hallucinating - that really is the child's name and no one would blame you if you want to rush back to the Himalayas.

Personally, I am a little concerned for their child named Chicago. They named their first child North, which is a lighthearted play on their surname - West (lucky child gets to share a name with a compass - North West).

The second child and the latest one are called Saint and Psalm, a not-so-playful nod to their father's Christ complex. But poor Chicago - she gets named after a windy city.

The UK has gone through its ritual annual humiliation at the hands of the rest of Europe. I am not talking about Theresa May making another futile attempt to win over Juncker and friends. I am talking about Eurovision.

As usual, we ended up at the bottom. I have said it before and I'll say it again - we could send Adele and Ed Sheeran to sing a duet and we would still end up at the bottom of the pile.

At least before, Ireland would throw a few pity points our way but since Brexit, Ireland has turned a cold shoulder. In fact, I would go so far as to say Ireland's shoulder is so cold, one would get frost bite just from touching it.

Even that most European of all countries, Australia, fares a lot better than the UK and turns its back on us as well.

You knew that there is no hope for the UK whatsoever, when that poor man's (and woman's) Kojak, the San Marino contestant, and his intellectually stimulating song, 'Say Na, Na, Na' raced ahead of the UK.

Well, if you insist Mr Kojak, I will say 'na, na, na.'

Madonna turned up to perform and one wishes she hadn't. She brought along her diva act and unfortunately, she also brought along some duff notes.

Never mind, we all have a year to recover before it all happens again.

Until next time, try and keep it light!

A lighter look at the Royal birth

Congratulations to the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, they have had their baby - a beautiful boy.

I wonder what the 'hate brigade' have got to say for themselves now. It amused me no end that they actually accused Meghan of faking her pregnancy.

There were claims that she staged her pregnancy and wore a prosthetic bump when out on engagements. 'I slowed the speed down and there is literally no bump', one troll claimed.

'Yes', a slow second cousin to the first troll commented, 'someone in the crowd asked her 'where did your baby go? Busted!' they gloated.

The only thing busted I am afraid are their minds because if there is one thing you can't fake, it is a pregnancy. You can fake many things (ask the Orange One across the pond) but when it comes to pregnancy, there is an expectation that a baby is produced at the end of nine months.

But then, baby Archie was so snugly swaddled and sleeping so peacefully in his father's arms, the haters are probably convinced it was a doll Prince Harry was cradling. 

'What about the fact that when the baby was born, Harry was so excited and thrilled he could barely contain himself', one might venture to ask these half wits.

'Acting lessons from wifey no doubt', they will probably claim. 'Did you not see the supporting cast (two horses) in the background?'

I really wouldn't put it past their very limited, tiny hate-filled collective brain cells to think that.

Some in the media also got the right royal hump, as the announcement that Meghan had gone into labour, was swiftly followed by the announcement of the birth.

They expected, no doubt, to spend hour upon tedious hour, outside Windsor Castle, pondering, commenting and imagining all sorts of scenarios for the child in eye watering detail.

They didn't get that and felt cheated. Awwww dee dums. Never mind the endless articles the tabloids publish with half truths and in some cases, absolutely no truth at all.

One imagines that right thinking people will realise that a lot of what one reads in the tabloids is pure speculation but while watching goggle box yesterday, I was rather surprised to hear one of the goggle box women, when watching the news say, 'Oh they've said it is a boy, I thought they said that were going to treat the child as gender neutral'. 

They said no such thing. The tabloids speculated and people took it as gospel truth.

Nevertheless, despite all the silliness around them, when Meghan and Harry came out with their baby, to introduce him to the world, she looked fab in a white dress (brave woman), a post partum baby bump still visible (not sure where Kate puts hers, after her babies are born). Harry looked as delighted as he had two days before when the baby was born and Archie decided to sleep through the whole thing...clever boy!

Until next time, try and keep it light!

A look at the News

While the world watched with dismay as the Notre Dame Cathederal in Paris burned, the Rhodes Scholar that is Donald Trump, decided to give this unsolicited advice by way of a tweet (of course).

"So horrible to watch the massive fire at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. Perhaps flying water tankers could be used to put it out. Must act quickly!"

10:39 AM - 15 Apr 2019


Needless to say, the French experts were appalled. 'Non, non', they cried, 'ze whole structure could be destroyed if we follow zis crappy advice.' (As you may have guessed, I've taken the liberty to paraphrase).

Melania Trump however tweeted,

"My heart breaks for the people of Paris after seeing the fire at Notre Dame Cathedral. Praying for everyone’s safety,"

A perfectly sensible and sensitive tweet. Makes one wonder what on earth attracted her to her billionaire husband.

For someone who can't tell his origins from is oranges
(ref.the link below), it's rich that he chose to tell experts how to do their job.

https://youtu.be/qUPsNgmXR7M

After viewing this, all I would say is,

'So horrible to watch the orange ball of hot air speak. Perhaps elocution lessons, or better still, duck tape to shut it up. Must act quickly!'

If you are a Game of Thrones fan, and you are enjoying the final season of GOT, here is a very special gift for you from the man himself (yes, he really is the gift that keeps on giving).

In this case of course it is a different sort of GOT show- Gall of Trump.

Hope you have an Easter filled with Joy and Peace. I won't tell you to try and keep it light, not with all that chocolate around!

























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