A lighter look at the news

  

Well, colour me perplexed. Our Prime Minister, Keir Starmer, has resigned. Not because the people who elected his party in a landslide demanded it and not because the people forced him out, but because his own party demanded it. His own party forced him out.  And so, the game of Prime Minister's Musical Chairs has started. 

Will it be Wes Streeting? The man who got the ball rolling and got most of the nation scratching their collective heads and googling his name. What those people saw, was someone who looked like a cross between an altar boy and Piers Morgan. No thank you, seemed to be the general consensus.

It appears, most likely, sexy shorts Burnham will be our next Prime Minister. The man who the media told us may have a chance to win Makerfield in the recent elections there, although Reform had a very good chance of winning except Restore would probably divide the vote.

Turns out, no such thing happened. For all the hand wringing caused by the media,  Britain's Poundland Trump, Farage, and his party, were no competition at all and Andy Burnham won in a landslide.

I don't know about you, but I am so fed up of this need for immediate gratification. The impatience and criticism of a leader, especially by the media, before they have had a chance to create noticeable change, grates on my last nerve.

The hysteria created by the media, gets pounced on by sanctimonious politicians who are concerned for the welfare of the people. Not as much as they are concerned for their own personal welfare and the welfare of their egos, of course. 

There is no denying that Starmer was a tad robotic and, dare I say, boring. But we have had a charismatic Labour Prime Minister. Remember Blair? He charismatically convinced us that Iraq still had weapons of mass destruction. A war was started based on those invisible weapons.

The leader across the pond is said to be charismatic. Colour me perplexed once again because I cannot see it. Apparently, only specially chosen people can see it.

It is true that the only time Starmer caused us any amusement, was when he called 'hostages,' 'sausages.' I'd rather smile at a slip of the tongue from a boring leader, than cringe at the ignorant and cruel humour of certain other leaders.

Well, it looks like it won't be long before hot pants is in the hot seat. There is however, some disagreement in the party, as some want a swift transition to Andy Burnham being made the PM and others want a leadership contest. 

Either way, you can be sure of one thing. It won't be long before these same people, led by the media, will commence their now familiar demand for a change in leadership and the whole Prime Minister's Musical Chairs will start all over again.

Last week, the G7 leaders met up in Evian where the water flowed freely. I am sure some important things were achieved (and I am not being sarcastic at all) but it all got overshadowed by what I can only describe as The War Of The Poses.

It featured Donald Trump (there's a surprise) and Giorgia Meloni, Italy's Prime Minister. It started with Old Mad Donald claiming that Meloni had begged him to pose for a photograph with her. (He failed to mention if she had tears in her eyes whilst doing said begging.)

This incensed Meloni. She retaliated that it did not happen and that Italians never beg. Which, unsurprisingly, led to Trump resorting to his usual mud slinging. Meloni was up to the task and retaliated in kind. And so, The War Of The Poses continues...

Until next time, try and keep it light. 

 

 

   

 

A look at the news

 

Unfortunately, I am starting my blog with news that is anything but light.

Almost anyone would agree that losing a child is probably the worst nightmare for any parent. What I imagine can only make that horror worse, is losing that child at the hands of another human being. 

That is what so tragically happened to Henry Nowak's parents in December, 2025. The person responsible for Henry's murder has now been given a life sentence, with a minimum term of 21 years. 

No one would blame his family, if , after the release of the police body cam, they had called for vengeance. But they didn't.  This is what Henry's father said in front of the cameras: I don't want his death to be used to create further division, hatred or tension. We want his death to make our streets safer for everyone. 

That plea, apparently, got lost in translation by a politician whose name rhymes with 'garage.' So pure, so cold, so intense was this politician's rage, he deployed an industrial sized fan, turned it to its highest setting and flicked it on, in what one can only conclude, was an attempt to ignite flames of division, hatred and tension, thereby going against the precisely expressed wishes of Henry's father and family. 

As if that wasn't bad enough, the vice-president from across the pond, has X-creted a post on the social media platform formerly known as Twitter. I am not going to quote his entire post, suffice to say he blamed massive invasion of migration for Henry's death. 

The man responsible for Henry's death is born in Britain, making him British, just like Vance's wife was born in the US, making her American. I am sure the Yale Law School graduate and best selling author is more than aware, that if wasn't for migration, he would not have met his wife and she would not be carrying their fourth child.

But then, why let the truth get in the way of a good anti-migration, divisive post on social media. 

Perhaps Mr Vance should concern himself with other worries, like his president falling asleep during meetings. The cameras have caught President Rip Van Wrinkle catching forty winks during meetings, when even a couple of winks from the previous president would have been mercilessly mocked by him. Maybe Lady Karma is working on behalf of 'Sleepy Joe.'

There are, of course, several excuses made on his behalf, one of them being that he isn't actually sleeping, he is merely resting his eyes. I shall now return the favour by offering unsolicited advice.

Paint a couple of eyes on Dozy Don's eyelids, so that the next time he 'rests' his eyes in public, people will be none the wiser. I am sure it will work. He has gotten away with far less believable fabrications.

Thankfully, he did get called out recently, during a Meet the Press interview given to a reporter in a barn - quite apt because he started braying like a donkey when she refused to let him get away with his usual top ten hits from his Fabrications Hit Parade, including his no.1 hit, 'The Elections Were Rigged', which hasn't left the charts since 2020.

His idea of providing evidence, was to say that he could see (as in vision see not water sea - not many people know the difference) what was happening. When she insisted that it couldn't pass for evidence, his face started to change colour. It went from burnt orange (he appeared to have dabbled with a new shade of orange that day) to dark pink to red - so many shades of red, shades of red the likes of which, no one had ever seen before.

He then resorted to doing what he always does when he doesn't have an answer to a question asked by an intelligent woman; he called her crooked. She refuted that, saying that she was not crooked. Since his face was at the dark pink stage at that time, I would've given anything for her to have said Quiet Piggy instead. He then pulled out his next go to insult. He said that she was either crooked or stupid -another word for dumb (with a 'b' - not many people know that either.)  

I am not sure what was in the falling rain water that day but the reporter, Kristen Welker, dug her heels in. Not long after, the mist that matched the colour of his face, descended.  With a Let's call it quits, I've had enough he made a lumbered attempt to flounce off, saying Thank you darling, have a good time. 

I know that it is asking too much of Ms Welker, after all, she'd shown more courage and determination than all the other reporters to date, but I do wish she'd replied You are welcome sweetheart. Have a lie-down now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Confessions of a Windmill

 

I'll start with a confession. I am not actually a windmill, I am a wind turbine. But the person I am going to talk about, calls us windmills. I guess he has a very low intelligence quotient.

It was a normal day by the shore in Aberdeen. The sun wasn't shining but it wasn't raining either. My friends and I were chilling -  just shooting the breeze, so to speak.

But then, we got wind of a developing situation (that's how we usually get our news). Our arch enemy, a man whose name I cannot bring myself to utter (hint: the first three letters of his name rhyme with 'Con'), was crossing the pond to visit his golf course. In other words, President Flotsam was going to Jetsam across the pond.

We hoped that it was just a rumour but alas, it was true. The day arrived and we saw him in the distance. We were paralysed with fear. We'd heard that he had once queried whether a hurricane could be stopped by a nuke. None of us were taking the risk. The only blades that moved were those of the tall grass nearby.

However, when I could bring myself to cast a cursory glance at our Don Quixote on steroids, he was just a hunched over old man with a silly hat on his head. Nevertheless, we did not move our blades, for fear of drawing attention to ourselves. Apparently, his hatred for us is because we kill birds and make annoying sounds. (He's a good one to talk).

Unfortunately, keeping still was a losing battle. While we could easily handle the strong North winds, we were unable to withstand the hot air that emanated every time President Flotsam opened his mouth to speak. Despite our best efforts, our blades started to move reluctantly, in a desperate attempt to disperse the hot air and the accompanying odour (which leads me to suspect that the hot air was not just emanating from his mouth).

Fortunately for us, he was distracted by the people with cameras and note pads, shouting questions at him - the name Epstein seemed to come up quite a lot (not quite sure why they were bringing up The Beatles' manager after all this time). But then again, maybe they were not asking about that Epstein because the name seemed to trigger him so much, that a convoy of golf carts were summoned and they drove away to the accompaniment of Memories from the musical Cats. Apparently his favourite musical is 'Cats', yet he claims to hate us because we kill birds. 

As he drove away, our blades, in unison, hummed 'The Windmills of Your Mind'. How we howled with laughter for the rest of the evening (some might've called it our Stormy revenge.)

We saw him on two occasions after that. One was in the evening when he appeared at the entrance of his resort, flanked by the Prime Minister of the UK, Keir Starmer on one side and his wife on the other. (Keir Starmer's wife, not Mrs Flotsam). 

Poor Mrs Starmer looked like a wax work from Madame Tussauds. She stood stock still and expressionless. But then again, she was standing next to him, so she could well have been holding her breath.

The last time we saw him, he was standing in front of a red ribbon, his two sons on either side of him. Interesting looking men. The bearded one looked like he had a bladeless wind turbine indelicately rammed up his spine (apologies to my fellow wind turbines for that analogy) and the other son looked like he'd been blessed with a double set of teeth (or cursed with an extra small mouth.) Either way, they looked like the perfect casting for a reboot of Dumb and Dumber. Dumbest then proceeded to cut the red ribbon and once again opened his mouth to speak. Cue for our blades to start spinning furiously.

Finally, we got wind that he was back in his country. We really would be useless without our friend the wind. 

With him gone, things could return to normal again. Can't say the same for his country. But then again, they are a democracy and they chose him (again). 

They could have chosen an intelligent, qualified woman but they chose a dumb, unqualified man. As they say in his country, Go figure.

A lighter look at the news

 

Hold on to your wallets everyone, the Sheriff of Tariff is in town. With the exception of one obvious omission (Putin your own conclusion as to which country that is), almost no one was spared, not even penguins (those feet were anything but happy when the inhabitants of Heard Islands got the news.) 

Anyway, we can now unclench for 90 days, as Emperor Oranginus Trumpus has grandly decided to pause the tariff threat. As usual, having no shame, he is full of self congratulation because the stock market briefly went up. Makes me want to revise that old nursery rhyme to: 

 Ding dong bell, Kitty's in the well.                                                         Who flung her in?                                                                               Trumpelstilskin not-so-thin.                                                           Who pulled her out?                                                                     Trumpelstilskin stout.                                                                                                                                            To be fair, Trump does have depths of intelligence that he has been  modest about. For example, he has revived that old fashioned word groceries for us. I don't know about you, but I am delighted that I can now put a name to the list that I take to the supermarket every week. Shakespeare, nothing. This wordsmith and his rediscovery of the word groceries has completely changed my life. Trump voters must be so proud.

Also, while we guffawed at the thought of penguins being tariffed, he actually had a genius plan. Remember he won because of the price of bacon and eggs? Well, Mr Humble may not be bragging about it but he is only trying to fulfil his election promise. We all know that despite the inhabitants of Heard Islands being King Penguins and sporting dapper tuxedos, they don't really deal in cash. But they are birds and they lay big, beautiful eggs. Soon to be big, beautiful, tariffed eggs.

In 90 days, I predict the addition of another country to his big, beautiful list...The Bay of Pigs.

                                             

 

A not so light take on the news

Oh dear, Donald Trump is back. Remember 2020? Apparently, that time, the elections were rigged and the wannabe tangerine tyrant encouraged and instigated a coup on January the 6th. But it doesn't appear to have mattered. 

Remember the pandemic? He claimed that it would disappear as if by magic. When it didn't and thousands of people were dying, he had many solutions; horse medication, malaria medication, a shot or two of bleach and if all else failed, he suggested shining a light where the sun literally doesn't shine. But it doesn't appear to have mattered. What mattered is that bacon was cheaper when he was President.

Remember his debate with Kamala Harris? He suggested that Haitian migrants were eating people's pets. Yes, according to him, Haitian migrants were living the high life, consuming dog tartare, cat fritters, not to mention foie gras, courtesy of geese captured in public parks. But none of that matters. What matters is that bacon (bought legitimately from a grocery store, not offcuts of pet pigs) was cheaper then.

Remember his recent rallies? The usual name calling (thankfully, he didn't manage to get one to stick to Kamala Harris), the hateful rhetoric that had the maga crowd braying their approval in unison, the town hall Q&A where he swayed to music for forty minutes. (I'm tempted to start a novena to Mary to help wipe out the memory of him swaying to Ave Maria.) Most importantly, remember his enactment of 'Fifty Shades of Orange' with a hapless microphone? But none of that matters. What matters is that bacon was cheaper then.

Remember Trump's far right version of Woodstock at Madison Square Garden, where a comedian said that Puerto Rico was a 'Floating island of Garbage?' Not funny and not even intelligent because garbage may float but islands don't. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that bacon was cheaper then.

Remember when he was convicted of 34 felonies? But that doesn't matter, what matters is that bacon was cheaper when the Godfarter was the President.

Remember when Joe Biden stepped down and made way for Kamala Harris? The promise of hope and help to the 'sandwich' generation, so that their parents may have home care if they need it and their children could have help buying their first home? Remember that she kept repeating it (and her other policies) every time she spoke but some people couldn't hear it because they didn't want to listen. The optimism didn't matter, the policies/promises didn't matter, the joy didn't matter. None of it mattered. What mattered is that bacon was cheaper then.

So, in conclusion, it appears that Kamala Harris lost to a pig.

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 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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A lighter look at the news

Oh dear! It appears that Donald Trump is more unpredictable in victory than he is in defeat. In defeat, he usually shouts 'fake news, fake news', until he convinces himself that it is, indeed, fake news.

He then takes a breadth and continues shouting 'fake news' until he convinces himself, that he has convinced everybody else, that it is fake news.

He then moves on, usually to the next tweet.

That reaction is not a surprise to anyone. We all know that it would take an act of God (the real one, not Ye) for Trump to be gracious in defeat. But it appears, he can't bring himself to be gracious in victory either.

Recently, when the Judge dismissed the defamation case against him, brought by Stormy Daniels, he proceeded to call her 'horseface'.

It appears Ms Daniels is Stormy by name and Stormy by nature because she promptly retaliated by calling him 'Tiny'. Since we all know that she wasn't referring to his girth, that remark must have  cut to the bone.

Something tells me, Mr Trump must regret the animal he chose to draw an analogy to Ms Daniels' face. Horses, as we all know, are anything but 'tiny'.

Talking of which, Piers Morgan decided to mock Daniel Craig (Mr Bond himself) for carrying his baby daughter in a papoose.

'Emasculated' is how Piers Morgan put it. Well, he got pie shoved in his face for that remark. Thank you Harry Hill. 

All I will say is, Daniel Craig could carry his baby in a papoose, stop at a local 'Mother and Toddlers' group, feed his daughter through a man boob feeding bottle, while wearing a skirt and tights, and still look more masculine that Piers Morgan.

At least we now know how and why Piers Morgan is pals with the equally masculine Oompa Loompa across the pond.

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter look at the news

Hear Ye! Hear Ye! I'm afraid no matter how much I try to hear Ye, he doesn't make any sense at all.

During his recent visit to the Oval Office, he said something to the effect that he feels like superman when he dons on his 'Make America grate again' (sorry for the typo) cap.

I thought it was meant to be a cape but who am I to argue with God.

Jokes aside, I thought it would take an act of God to make Donald Trump realise what it feels like to be at the receiving end of verbal diarrhoea and Kanye did just that.

So, I thank Ye but remember tomorrow is Sunday - your day of rest (and respite for the rest of the world).

I put on the news just in time to hear Melania Trump in an interview claim to be 'the most bullied person on the world'.

That didn't surprise me. In fact I had this mental image of her running away from her husband and sitting on top of the world to get away from him.

Sadly not. She was talking about cyber bullying. I am sure all those miserable, lonely teenage victims of cyber bullying are feeling so affiliated with the First Lady.

Awwww dee dums. Poor Melania. Actually, I am a bit chilly as I have been sitting down for quite awhile, so excuse me for a minute while I put on my jacket.



If you have been reading my blog for a while (thank you), you may remember that I suggested that Theresa May should invite Taylor Swift over to 10 Downing Street.

I suggested that Tay May and Tay Tay sharing afternoon tea would be good for her image.

Instead, she called for an election, lost her majority and ended up with that handsome DUP woman as a partner. 

Never mind, I don't hold a grudge, so I will offer my advice again. Only this time, instead of afternoon tea, I suggest a dance mash up between Tay May and Tay Tay.

They both appear to have scarily similar dance moves and the world could do with some levity at the moment.

Who better that Britain's Dancing Queen and America's Pop Princess to provide it?

Taylor Swift Dancing to Cruise at CMT Awards


Theresa May dances on to the stage at the Tory party conference

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter look at the news

Theresa May seems to have developed a rather close relationship with her alter ego, Tay May.

She and Tay May had a blast in Africa, busting some dance moves hitherto not witnessed by anyone, other than the African ants that appeared to be inhabiting her pants.

Undeterred by all the hilarity that accompanied her foray into the political dance world, Mrs. May bravely invited her alter ego to the Conservative Party Conference this week.

For some reason, the backing dancers (the ants) were not invited, so Tay May gave a less robotic, much more confident, enthusiastic boogie, to Abba's Dancing Queen - no less cringey though. 

I rewound the six o'clock news three times and each time I fell about on the sofa, laughing like a three year old being entertained by a clown.

After I managed to compose myself, I  will confess that I was a tad concerned. I wondered if the pressure of Brexit had gotten to Mrs May and if she was doing her version of re-enacting Nero and his fiddle. 

Apparently not. It appears that she was just being self-deprecatingly light hearted about her dancing. Aawwwwww!

I have a sneaky suspicion (ahem) that she is reading my blog. If Tay May accompanies Theresa May to her next Brexit talks and starts twerking........all I will say (to Messrs Juncker, Tusk, Barnier and the Nation) is 'you are most welcome'.

Although, one can only hope that the proceedings are private and that there is no opportunity for filming.

After all, we may want the best deal for Britain but no one has to be visually scarred in the process! 


Talking of alter egos, Kanye West and his alter ego - otherwise known as 'God', are back in the news.

Kanye claims that he is off his Meds and is feeling great. Apparently, he is breathing fresh air, thinking, doing and being himself.

Reassuringly, he says, 'when I say I'm being myself, that doesn't mean I'm being Donald Trump. It means I'm being me "cause I am God" (and just like that, the reassurance evaporates).

Well, all I can say to that is thank God he is not under the illusion that he is Donald Trump (one Donald Trump in the World, is one too many) or some might say, 'thank Ye God'.

Until next time, try and keep it light!

A lighter look at the news

Last Thursday, a circus came to town but has now, thankfully departed, taking its ringleader with it. The ringleader, typically, caused jaws to drop with astonishment at his antics, but in this case, not in a good way.

Air Force 1 crossed the Atlantic and landed on British soil and the President of the free world prepared to descend the stairs. Next to him was the First Lady. He tentatively grazed the knuckles of his small hand against hers.

I held my breath in  anticipation of a Wimbledon inspired whack of the little hand. Unfortunately, on this occasion, the First Lady capitulated and let her hand be grasped and together they descended the stairs.

There were between 50,000 to 100,000 people demonstrating on the streets of London but Donald Trump and his sensitive ego were shielded from them, as he was transported from one venue to the next, by helicopter. 

Not that they should have bothered. Even if he was driven through the thick of it, I suspect his response would be the same, as the one he gave the journalist who asked him for his reaction to the thousands of protesters - 'the British people love me'.

That evening, Theresa May hosted a red carpet dinner at Blenheim Palace. She arrived with her husband, resplendent in red (Tay may not her husband) followed by the arrival of America's First couple.

Melania glided along, looking like a daffodil with wings, alongside her husband, looking like an orange moth clad in black, with no wings.

The military band started to play and I half expected them to strike an impromptu version of 'Lady in Red' in honour of our Tay May (or 'Tie a Yellow Ribbon' in honour of Melania). Unfortunately, they stuck to protocol and it all went smoothly.

The next day, Trump and Melania met the Queen. Don donned on the same dopey grin he'd donned on when he met the Pope. Queen Elizabeth II has probably played host to a few misogynistic narcissists in her time, so for her, it was just another day at the office.

There was a news conference that beggared belief. At one point, DT refused to listen to, much less answer, a question posed by a CNN reporter. 'You're CNN - Fake news' he said dismissively, turning away. 

Can you imagine what would happen if Theresa May refused to answer a question from a BBC or Channel 4 reporter?

How does a democratically elected President of a free country, get away with that sort of behaviour?

After a couple of golfing days in Scotland, he is now on his way to Helsinki, to meet his good friend Putin. Perhaps Putin will show Trump how to twerk his man boobs while fishing bare chested. It doesn't get more manly than that.

One can only hope Putin will have dried off, after the downpour at the trophy giving ceremony at the end of the World Cup Finals.

Come to think of it, that should not be a problem, considering at the first hint of a raindrop, a massive umbrella covered Mr. P, while his guests, the Presidents of France and Croatia, got soaked to the skin in the heavy downpour that followed. 

Tsk, tsk, such bad manners with the whole world watching.

Btw, Congratulations France and well done Croatia.

At another great sporting event, the Wimbledon Ladies' Final, two sisters-in-law sat next to each other. Because of their privileged status, they occupied front row seats in the royal box.

Kate and Meghan looked lovely and relaxed, chatting to others and each other, with the occasional smile. Nothing out of the ordinary. But, according to Meghan's father, Thomas Markle, he can see the pain and sadness behind his daughter's smiles.

I agree. I too saw sadness behind her smiles. I actually detected some misting of the eyes as well. Only natural, considering her good friend Serena, failed to win her 24th grand slam title. Not, I suspect, as her father claims, because she is unhappy being a royal and misses her acting career.

One would choose to offer the same advise to Mr. Markle as one has already offered his motor mouth daughter Samantha - stop talking. 

Stop making public, unsubstantiated comments and start building trust. Not pontificating, just offering some friendly advice. Take it or leave it.

I suspect  if a tick box appeared next to each option, 'leave it' would probably get ticked before you could say 'sparkle markle' (sigh) One can only try.

Until next week, try and keep it light.

A lighter look at the news

Queen Elizabeth II celebrated her 92nd Birthday and a grateful nation had a concert in her honour, to say thank you Ma'am. 

Somehow, while inviting artists to perform at the said concert, the organisers appeared to forget in whose honour it was supposed to be.

Now, I am not suggesting that we are the kind of family that sit together and watch programs like these, but it happened that we were at my Mother-in-Law's, sitting around the dining table, when the program came on.

Blissfully, it was something we could all watch and, my girls in particular, were relieved that they  did not have to squirm at the goings on, on the TV, whilst Grandma was in the room, as has happened on previous occasions.

At one point, the presenter, Zoe Ball, squealed and enthused with delight, 'the next artist has come all the way from Toronto, Canada (for those of us who don't know where Toronto is). Shawn Mendes!'

I wish he had stayed in Toronto, Canada. I almost fell asleep in my soup by the time he'd finished his song. Then there was Anne Marie (I am going to pretend that I knew who she was).

She was dressed in a green and white polka dot outfit, not unlike a  50's Stepford wife, ready for a day at the beach. I would like to say she was more entertaining that Mr Mendes, but I can't, because she wasn't.

Then, the unlikely alliance of Sting and Shaggy. At least Mr. Boombastic woke us up, although not in a good way where Elizabeth Regina is concerned, I fear.

Not sure the Birthday girl wanted to hear Mr. Lover, Lover inform her that he was smooth as silk and had great sexual physique and  was well built.

I held my breadth for his next song and was mightily relieved that he did not choose to let her Majesty know what he did on the bathroom floor with the girl next door. 

The Queen probably thought that was it, but little did she know that Craig David was about to pop up, telling her all about this 24 year old girl (rub it in with the 92 year old, why don't you) he met on Monday, who he took out for a drink on Tuesday and guess what they did on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday.

Not something you should be bragging about to someone old enough to be your Grandma, Craig. It doesn't matter that you chilled on Sunday. I don't think she cares - she is still recovering from what you did on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday.

No wonder she looked quite grim most of the time. She only appeared to crack a smile when Laura Mvula hit her high notes. And when Alfie Boe finished his song, I thought I lipread her saying something complimentary to the person sitting next to her. Can't remember who it was, someone Royal would be my guess.

Guess who Donald Trump's been tweeting against this week? I don't think you'll need more than one guess, but then again, we are talking Trump's tweets, so you might need some help.

It is the former FBI Chief, Mr Comey, who gave his first interview since leaving the White House and what he had to say (shock, horror) wasn't pleasant.

He alleged that Donald Trump treats women like pieces of meat (I never would have guessed) and that he lies consistently (knock me down with a feather why don't you).

Formidable linguist that he is, Trump dipped into his vast vocabulary, to come up with the most sophisticated  insult he could think of - 'Slimeball'!

Mr Comey is probably still reeling and doesn't know what hit him...but then again perhaps he does.... a slimeball!

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter look at the news

Poor Mariah Carey experienced the fright of her life recently, when she was booked into a $30 a night hostel in Barcelona. Turns out, it was to do with some advert she was sponsoring.

She was appeased to discover that the room had a specially fitted cocktail bar and an en-suite bathroom. Thanks heavens for that - I can imagine Mimi demanding a jewel encrusted, bespoke commode, if there wasn't one.

Anyway, Mariah was so taken by the novelty, she said, 'It was fabulous. Give Hostels a go!' 

Well, Mimsie dear, it may come as a surprise to you, but as it happens, most of us have experienced $30 hostels. However, really glad you enjoyed it so much. Btw, good plug - HostelWorld must be very pleased.

I am a little concerned that the longer Donald Trump is the President of the US, the more he is beginning to believe that he is the Country itself, rather than its top representative.

I am talking about his reaction to the FBI's search of the premises of the lawyer who allegedly paid Stormy Daniels.
Mr.Trump tweeted that it was a 'disaster' for the country.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, he may have meant that if incriminating evidence was found (it would be 'fake' obviously), he may have been forced to resign and that would be a disaster.

I agree, if that happened there is a possibility it may have been a disaster- America may have run out of Champagne!

As it happens, nothing was found and the 'disaster' was averted. The future is still Orange.

Another of my concerns is that Theresa May is stooping her shoulders more and more these days. You know me - I am all heart, so I have a suggestion.

Just like most athletes listen to their favourite inspirational song before an important match or track event, I suggest Tay May do the same. Once again, being generous of heart, I have done the research and have come up with the perfect song.

All she has to do is just fit in her earplugs before those pesky Brexit talks and feel the strength and stability return.

ps. If the 'English Man' is Tony Blair, do us all a favour Mrs. May and grant his request - just make sure you're wearing six inch Stilettos! 

We know that Jesus Christ forgave his enemies, even when experiencing the most excruciating pain while being crucified. Now, if you are a Labour supporter, you will be touched to learn that  Jeremy Corbyn is big on forgiveness too.

Our modern day JC has said, and I quote, 'I forgive them. It's ok, I've got over it.' What terrible suffering did they inflict on him, that warranted that grand gesture of forgiveness?

They are Camden Council who turned down his application to be a trainee Social Worker, way back in 1969! Well Mr Corbyn may have forgiven you, Camden Council, but I bet there are lots of others who haven't. 

Until next week, try and keep it light! 

A lighter take on the news

Italy's former Prime Minister, 81 year old, Silvio Berlusconi, tried to make a political comeback, although, due to his tax fraud convictions, he would not be able to hold office. Nevertheless, he decided to back a nominee.

Understandably, this incensed a 'Femen' activist so much, that she jumped on a table, topless, in front of him, with the words, 'Berlusconi, you've expired' written in black on her chest, at the polling station where he went to cast his vote.

I am all for feminist protests but stripping to the waist and jumping in front of Bunga Bunga Berlusconi,  seems more like reward than punishment.

The only way that would've been punishment/torture, would be, if what she'd written on her chest, was literally true.

Anyway, the party he was backing did not win, so he and his 32 year old girl friend have  bunga-bunga-ed off into the sunset.

This year Donald Trump decided to grace the Gridiron Club  Dinner in Washington DC with his presence and (unfortunately) his humour. 

In reference to the staff leaving the White House he is supposed to have said,' who's going to be the next to leave?  Steve Miller or Melania?' 

Well, since you asked, how about the person who is the cause of all these people leaving?

He also made reference to  #FreeMelania, saying that she was 'having a great time'. Yes, we know. The look of pure pleasure on her face every time he reaches for her hand is a joy to behold.

He certainly did not miss his calling as a stand-up comic and normally I would say, 'don't quit your day job' but in this case...... perhaps not.

Saint Jamie of Oliver has taken a flying leap on his high horse yet again and is  casting his moral pearls of  wisdom our way.

It is not just nutritional wisdom that he is imparting this time, he appears to be dabbling in social engineering as well.

Having already tackled Schools and Hospitals, he's turned his attention to the 'poverty stricken and obese'. As if life hasn't already dealt them an unfair hand, they have to listen to his tripe.

This is some of what he has said:

'Will power is a very unique personal thing. We can't judge our equivalent of middle class logic on theirs because they are in a different gear, almost in a different country.'

 I think his brain is in a different gear to his mouth - the brain in first and the mouth in fifth. And talking of a different country, I am surprised he is still in this one, considering his threat to leave the country if Britain opted for Brexit.

Anyway, if you are reading this Mr. O, I have a brilliant idea and possible solution to this problem. It involves you putting your money where your mouth is (with the double benefit of shutting your  gob as well - no offence).

You know all those failing 'Jamie's Italian Restaurants?' They could be converted by into non-profit, healthy, Eating Houses for the 'poverty stricken and obese', that you are so concerned about. 

With your generosity and all that 'pukka' food, Britain will be the healthiest country in the world and we'll all be travelling in the same gear.

Also, if you get so immersed in this project and end up giving away your millions, at least you will have your middle class logic and will power to help you avoid getting obese.

There you go, now you know how it feels to be preached at, not to mention, patronised.

Finally, the Oscars gave Donald Trump the opportunity to gloat. He tweeted, 'Lowest ratings Oscars in HISTORY. Problem is we don't have stars anymore, except your President (just kidding).'

I am confused. Does Donald Trump think he is the President of the World? Nevertheless, kidding or not, I have to agree that he is a big star, just like our other big star - the Sun. They are both big orange balls of hot air, over exposure to which should be avoided.

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter look at the news

It is March and Spring should be on its way in Britain. But not this year. This year, we are being treated to some more than liberal sprinkling of snow.

As usual, things have ground to a halt and this has given some Nordic Countries and Canada (in other words countries that spend half the year shovelling the white stuff), the opportunity to poke fun at us by way of tweets and memes galore! 

Among the tweets and memes, there are 'look at us' show off ones - basically people in skimpy underwear diving into freezing lakes (whatever floats your iceberg I suppose) and  'you pitiful Brits' ones. 

A poor little Kingfisher in Amsterdam was frozen solid. I half expected to see a Scandinavian/Canadian tweet saying 'our birds fly without feathers in -20C.' But then again, it happened in Amsterdam not Britain. 

I seem to recall a late summer heat wave in some parts of Canada last year. I also seem to recall a lot of complaining and a Marathon being cancelled.

What I don't recall is people in hot countries like India going, 'look, they shed most of their clothes in their 'heat wave'. Look at us with our long sleeved shirts and long trousers!' Or 'they cancel their marathons because it's 37C, we play cricket all day long in over 40C temperatures!'

Theresa May has given her third Brexit speech, the gist of which is that we can't have our cake and eat it as well. I'll be surprised if anyone is surprised by that mighty revelation.

Be that as it 'May', the Prime Minister would do well to at least put the ingredients together, taking great care not to let Bo Jo anywhere near the mixing bowl, lest we are left with no cake at all, to have or to eat. 

Melania Trump is playing her hand games again. Only this time, it was less of a bone shattering swat and more of a hand evasion. She expertly dodged the  presidential hand and pretended to use her hand to hold her skirt in place.

Before that, on their way to North Carolina, Trump, ever the gentleman, had dashed out of his car and run up the stairs of Air Force One without a backward glance to see how his wife was coping in the very windy conditions.

Not that I blame him - he was probably trying to avoid another bad (windswept) hair day.

Anyway, in a bid to make up for his thoughtless trot up the stairs, he tried grabbing Melania's hand when they arrived. As if that was ever going to work but full marks for bravery.

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter take on this week's news

It may surprise you to know that despite all his success as a tennis champion, Boris Becker is in debt. In a bid to clear said debt, he has decided to sell off some of his trophies.

Unfortunately, there is a minor, inconvenient detail - BB can't remember where he's kept them. Perhaps he should check the broom closet. He has found delightful surprises in there before.

Emmanuel Macron he is not, but Donald Trump gave charm and flattery a good try recently while on the phone to Theresa May. Apparently, he told her,'You could be this generation's Churchill.'

I am not sure what brought on that comparison. Perhaps he'd just seen a screening of 'Darkest Hour'. I hope Tay May was sitting when she took the call.

Someone should be on stand-by to remind her of the dangers of smoking, lest she  takes to cigars.

Talking of flattering things people say, Sarah Ferguson paid this rather strange tribute to herself, just before her daughter Eugenie announced her impending marriage this year.

"The river flows well to its destiny because of the guidance of a solid rock." If you do say so yourself, Solid Rock.

I came across a rather curious picture on Instagram of  Ed Balls, sandwiched  between two blondes, labelled as Trumpettes. Curious to find out what or who a Trumpette was - I was having a slow day and missed the obvious inference - I clicked on the link.

I discovered that they are female Trump campaigners. You will be relieved to know that Mr Balls has not converted to being a Trumpet (I am assuming that's what male campaigners are called) but was there to do a  documentary for the BBC.

Considering he is an ex-politician, one might be forgiven if one assumed that he was at Donald Trump's Florida resort rubbing shoulders (among other things) with Trumpettes, to document Trump's first year in office. One would be wrong.

The 'documentary' is 'Ed Balls - My Deep South Road Trip'. Judging by the picture, one can imagine  how 'deep' this documentary will be. More like 'Balls having a Ball at Tax Payers' expense.'

Until next week, try and keep it light!