The Clacton by-election has taken place and, alas, the optimists among us are a tad disappointed. Our guy, Count Binface did not win. Instead, predictably, Count Spinface won. Or did he? Mr Bombastic thought he had come up with a masterstroke of a plan when he resigned, thereby triggering a by-election.
In his deluded mind, he thought that if he triggered a by-election and won, the investigation into the 5 million pounds that he had received but had not declared, would be halted.
What our Poundland Trump did not envisage, was that the main political parties would politely decline to get roped into his idiotic plan. They did not put up any candidates for him to compete against. Kudos to them.
As a result of their non-participation (Gandhi would be so proud), he had to compete with the aforementioned Binface and 30 odd (emphasis on odd) candidates. In other words, a big circus tent of his own creation.
So, the by-election took place, and the stage was set to declare the winner. Well, cometh the hour, but the man did not cometh. The Bin cometh. The 30 odd candidates cometh but the main man did not cometh. One could speculate as to why the man did not cometh.
Did the man not cometh because he was worried that he may be defeated by the Bin? Did he not cometh because he was worried that, even if or when he won, he would have to shake hands with his main competitor, the Bin? Did he not cometh because there would be no defeated Labour candidate to gloat over? No Conservative or Liberal Democrat to smirk at?
One can only deduce that the man of the people did not cometh because he was too chicken. Count Binface ended up with1/3rd of the votes, so the chicken politician, despite his victory, ended up with egg on his face (Et tu Brutus?)
In my opinion, Count Binface is due for a title promotion. I hear that his Majesty has withdrawn the title of 'Duke' from his bro, so he could bestow it to our Binface. A much more worthy recipient, in my opinion.
It is heartening to note, that despite the people of Cluckton (oops) voting for their man, the Parliamentary investigation as to why the MP did not register the 5 million donated to him by his billionaire pal, carries on.
So, for the next Reform Conference, when their leader, Chicken Little, walks on stage to declare that the sky is falling (Brussels! Foreigners! Immigration! Migrant Boats!The Establishment!) he should do so to the tune of The Birdie Song. Andrea Jenkyns can once again don on her sequinned frock and do some back up dancing.
Talking about chickens, an incident has recently come to light involving President Poulet from across the pond. Apparently, when he was due to fly to London from Turkey after the NATO summit, there was a possible Iranian threat to the Air Force One plane. So, he was asked to play switcheroo with planes.
He dug deep into the acting skills he acquired during his 7 second appearance in Home Alone 2 and nonchalantly ascended the plane stairs. He then, equally nonchalantly, descended the stairs on the other side and got loaded into a food cart and wheeled out of there.
Many people are saying that they heard shouts of Flight! Flight! Flight! Alas, there are no witnesses as to whether his fist was raised. However, considering the mode of transportation, I imagine that there was a streak of tomato ketchup slashed across his cheek.
The original flight took off, minus the handful of disembarked passengers. The other passengers that were on that flight, were none the wiser of the threat. But, fear not. according to President Poulet, he actually flew on the plane that was at a greater risk of an attack.
If you believe that, I have a red hat to sell to you. But I guess you probably already have at least half a dozen of those (among your collection of gold trainers, watches, coins, a bible, NFTs...)
Until next time, try and keep it light.
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