A lighter side of the news

Remember those days when we lived in bubbles? Every household was a so called 'bubble' and we were not allowed to mix with other bubbles. We were warned that if we did, that spikey, invisible menace called covid-19, would burst our bubbles and we would be doomed!

How terrifying is that? So, for our sake and for the greater good of humanity, we faithfully followed our Government's strict guidelines.

Indulge me, as I further jog your memory to when Matt Hancock was our Health Secretary. He earnestly implored us to stand or demurely walk, at least a metre, preferably two metres, from the person in front of us. Alright, I exaggerated, he didn't use the word 'demurely' (it was implied).

Mr. Hancock was then caught playing that non-demure sport called 'Tonsil Hockey', with a married aide. Alas for him, he wasn't very good at it. He was caught cheating and he also scored at least two own goals - he lost his wife and he lost his job. Not sure if he lost Mrs Bonas as well. Not sure if I care. Not sure if you care. If you do, try Google.

When the furore died down, we thought that was it. But it turns out, that wasn't it. 

While weddings that took months to plan, were being cancelled, milestone birthday parties were being celebrated over Zoom and people were being buried/cremated with only their immediate family (those family members were deprived of comfort or support from extended family and friends), the staff and residents of No. 10 were partying.

Apparently, they worked so hard at those 'Thou shalt not do this' and 'Thou shalt not do that' guidelines, the poor dears had no choice but to decompress with booze and sitting on each other's laps.

Boris, of course, tried to bluff his way out of it but it did not work. There was an enquiry and he was fined. He still did not resign. Finally (talk about not taking a hint), his Chancellor, Rish told him to 'Go fish' and so did Health Secretary, Sajid Javid. It was bye, bye Boris time.

Which now begs the question, who is going to replace Boris? Will it be Richie Rish or will it be Brazen Hussy, Trussy? It may even be Cruella Suella (as a fellow person of Goan origin, I apologise). Unfortunately, I can't think of a rhyme for Jeremy Hunt, so I'll leave it there.

We could, of course,  ask Boris himself, but he's probably hanging from a zip wire somewhere, trying to endear himself to the British public once again.

We could also ask the lady in red but she is so enjoying herself (and Craig David) at this very legal party, it would be rude to interrupt.

Meanwhile, across the pond, Elon Musk and Donald Trump, are having a war of words (the tarsal bones in Shakespeare's 16th century boots must be quaking). 

Given Trump's limited imagination and vocabulary, it won't be long before he is reduced to mocking Musk's name. Something along the lines of 'Elongated Musk-ing tape'. 

Who am I kidding? Considering his previous unimaginative nicknames ('Sleepy Joe', 'Crooked Hilary'), my bet is either 'Junk Car Elon' or 'Rusty Rocket Elon'. Either way, both men deserve each other.

Side note to one of the men: for a couple of million quid, I will be happy to come up with retaliatory nicknames for the former Tweeting Tangerine (there's more where that came from).

Finally, I am happy to let you know that I have managed to come up with a rhyme for Jeremy Hunt - 'The Blunt Hunt'. Phew! I thought I was losing my touch.

Until next time, try and keep it light.

 

A lighter look at the news

Prince William was in a spot of bother this week. He and Kate, visited an Ukranian Cultural Centre in London and during a conversation, he made an observation, alluding to the fact that it felt very alien for there to be a war in Europe.

In 1999, one of the most used words in my 3 year old daughter's vocabulary was 'Kosovo'. She obviously picked it up from the television and from listening in to our conversations. She knew it was a place where something dangerous was happening. How do I know? Well, one day in a fit of pique, she suggested that I pack a suitcase and go to Kosovo.

If I recall, it was because she wasn't getting her way over something. Turned out to be a double defeat - she still didn't get her way and I did not pack my suitcase and go to Kosovo.

My daughter is 25 years now and I believe William is 39 years old.

Someone needs to be on hand with smelling salts when they tell him about the two World Wars.

Does anybody know what's happened to the Inquiry into the social goings on at No. 10 Downing Street during lockdown? 

At the time,  Boris Johnson would appear on our screens at 5:00pm, like a modern day Moses, minus the burning bush but with a tablet of commandments:

'Thou shalt honour and pay heed to thy Saviour (me).'

'Thou shalt only promenade with a single friend and promenade six paces to the side or behind thy friend.'

'Thou shalt not invite thy friends into thy dwelling..'

'When thou enters thy dwelling, thou shalt wash thy hands whilst singing a song of praise to celebrate thy birth, even if it is not the day that thou usually celebrates thy birth.'

After this tedious list of instructions (which were important at the time), Moses walked off, turned into Boris, laid his tablet down and boogied with his staff. To be honest, I don't know if there was any booging or Boris dancing involved. But it has come to light that there was a whole lot of socialising and drinking.

Meanwhile, at those briefings, we also had to listen to Matt Hancock give his two bit worth. He then went off to meet his two bit worth, to practise tonsil hockey. At least he managed to adhere to the 'meet just one friend at a time' rule, even if they then went on to practise the opposite of social distancing.

Where politicians are concerned, sometimes fact is more surreal than fiction.

Going back to the Ukraine crisis, I feel that in a short time we know quite a lot about Zelensky. Not so much about the other guy.

I learnt that Zelensky is a brave leader, who has chosen to fight alongside his people, instead of seeking refuge in another country. That he is a family man with a wife and two children. That he can boogie (but knows the right time to do so - pay attention Boris). That he was a comedian. And most importantly, that he can rock a pink suit.

About the other guy, I know that he has a penchant for riding horses bare chested. He sometimes flexes his pecs - one pec at a time - while riding on said horse (poor horse) and he always keeps a helipad distance between himself and whoever he is meeting with.

I've read somewhere that there are people who are already fast forwarding to the possibility of a Hollywood film being made about these two. When I read that, I wondered what they would call the movie. 'War of the Vlads' sounds like an obvious choice, but the UN would not approve because apparently they do not want it to be called a war. Somehow 'Conflict of the Vlads' does not quite ring a bell.

Maybe something along the lines of a James Bond film. One of the two Vlads could be Bond (no guesses who) and the other could be the villain (once again, no guesses who). 

Instead of a pussycat, the villain could have an orange lapdog. The lapdog would be living his best life, sleeping contentedly on his masters lap, with just one flaw  - from time to time he would bark, 'It was a rigged election' before sinking back into his master's lap.

I think, 'From Russia Without Love' could very well be a blockbuster in the making.

Talking about the orange lapdog. He had a wonderful suggestion, worthy of a genius five year old.

His suggestion was that the US should put Chinese flags over Fighter jets, bomb the s**t out of Russia, say China did it and sit back and watch.

I think he should go back to his 'Person, Woman, Man, Camera, TV' lessons. He seems to have lost the couple of grey cells that helped him remember that sequence.

Until next time, stay well.