A lighter look at the news

 

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 I hear that his Majesty has withdrawn the title of  'Duke' from his bro, so he could bestow it to our Binface.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 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. 

  

 

  

Another look at covidiots

Has anyone noticed how this global Coronavirus Pandemic has led to the global increase in self certified 'medics'? 

These newly qualified virologists from the  Medical College of Universal Quacks, apparently know (and unfortunately insist on sharing) how to defeat covid-19.

I will concede, however, that there appears to be a smidgen of self awareness in some of these perpetrators of false hope.

They are the people who usually have friends in high places and therefore are privy to their information - A medical professor in Vienna or someone specialising in virology from Harvard University or a consultant from The Princess of Wales Hospital.

These highly regarded medical professionals apparently can't get their Governments to listen, so they contact Joe Blog to spread their priceless information.

Joe Blog then forwards the message to Mary Blog, who forwards it to Vladmir Blog, who forwards it to Deepak Blog....you get the picture.

Rena Blog has never forwarded any of them but confesses to reading them. OMG, I have just spoken about myself in the third person. I have been watching too many briefings by President Orange-a-Tan...HELP!!!

Seriously, I thought it might be worthwhile (because time is not that much of the essence these days) to have a look at some of these cures/remedies floating around in the ether.


Place half an onion in a corner of each room in your house. 
As if things aren't bad enough being cooped up indoors, you now have the all pervasive, pungent, eye watering smell of onions in every corner of your home. 

The science behind this, apparently, is that the onion absorbs all the bacteria and viruses around.

If that is true, that innocent looking onion in the corner of your room will have turned into a deadly hazard (so please don't be tempted to add it to your food if you run out of onions). 

And whether you realise it or not, a symbiotic relationship has developed between you and Onion in the corner (sorry Baby).

Onion absorbs your bacteria and viruses while you absorb and spread onion's fragrance.

Before you know it, you smell like a member of the Allium family and you will be delighted to know that your very close relative, Garlic, is also purported to be a cure for Covid.

Now, most of us know that a clove of garlic a day, consumed in the form of a tablet or raw (the way God and your friends did not intend it) is meant to have health benefits. 

Unfortunately, some people mistake a clove for a pod and consume pods of garlic with the anticipation of someone expecting a visit from Dracula.

Covid may sound like a Transylvanian vampire but it is a virus. The one plus point here, is that you don't have to worry about social distancing, most people will smell you coming a mile away.

Then there's the remedy that suggests that you tip your head back, squirt some water in each nostril, plug in your hairdryer and fire up!

The first flaw here is that corona heads for the lungs not the sinuses. It also requires very high heat to destroy it. 

Anyway, in the interest of research, I thought I'd give it a go (you cannot say that I don't go above and beyond).

You will be happy to know that I did come up with some positives.

For the duration of the process, I did not think of Covid a single time - I was too busy dealing with the nasal liquid hell I was plunged in.

It could also be the gateway to a diy nose job. If you are unhappy with the size, shape or indeed the colour of your nose, just continue for longer than I did and voila! Rhinoplasty accomplished in your own home.

disclaimer: I am in no way responsible nor have I encouraged the above stated idiotic process. The participant is being a covidiot at their own risk.

Here's another positive. You end up with luscious, shiny, dry nasal hair. A quick inter dental brush and you'll have very well groomed nostrils. May I suggest a close up nostril pic for your Instagram.

If that catches, I can see myself patenting slim tampon sized nasal hair dryers (with detachable brushes at an extra cost). 

They were right when they said that this lock down will bring out the creative side in all of us. Investors please form an orderly virtual queue while observing social distancing guidelines.

Finally, guess who is racing, uncontested, to the top of the list of covidiots who are offering untested/unverified remedies?

Be warned, his voice softens and takes on a seductive tone every time he mentions a certain medication. Quite shocking how it rolls off his tongue, when most two syllable words are a challenge.

He has also advised the American people to wear face masks although, personally, he is choosing not to wear one. Apparently it is not becoming of a President of his status to be in the Oval office, sit behind his resolute desk and greet Presidents, Kings, Queens and other high ranking diplomats, with a mask on.

Did President Dory forget about social distancing when saying that?

Any Kings, Queens, Prime Ministers and other important people that he speaks to, will be at the other end of a phone or a screen and no mask will be required for the task (and a task it will be for the poor unfortunate soul at the other end).

Mind you, it does not have to be a mask - it can be a scarf he assured everyone at least twenty five times, with accompanying little hand circular gestures.

Or perhaps in his case, that extra long red tie he likes to sport. Get Melania to help tie it, taking particular care to secure it tightly across the mouth region, just to make sure that no germs enter in and no words escape.

Well, I hope you are all having a peaceful 'Easter Palm' - we are really getting an education from this man these days.

Until next time, take care and stay safe.

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!

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

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.