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 I hear that his Majesty has withdrawn the title of  'Duke' from his bro, so he could bestow it to our Binface.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

  

 

  

A lighter look at the news

 

 

You may be a hermit, living in a cave, on an uninhabited desert island and you would still be aware that a global sports event is taking place. 

Every four years, a country hosts this sporting event, to decide which country in the world is supreme at kicking a ball and shooting it into the other sides' net, guarded by a be-gloved man, doing his best to stop said ball.

This time, it is the turn of three countries in the continent of North America, doing the hosting. The United States of America, Canada and Mexico.

Up until now, the US has been largely indifferent to football. Maybe it is because they call it 'soccer'.  Maybe it is because they have their own 'football', where, paradoxically, there is minimal kicking of the ball. Dare I say, it is a bit like a glorified version of rugby.   

But it appears to have changed. The US is now impassioned about football - so impassioned that recently, their supreme leader, was supremely incensed that one of their players was given a red card in a previous match and would, therefore, not be able to play in their next match against Belgium. 

So he did what any supreme leader would do. He called the President of FIFA and asked him to 'review' the decision, as he, the Supreme Leader and an aficionado of football, thought that it was not a foul.

The President of FIFA, Infantino, is someone whose mother looked at him when she gave birth and had no problem imagining him as a grown man. Infantino is also a man known for his imagination. He is famous for using this god given gift of imagination, to create and bestow, a special peace prize to the Supreme Leader. 

Thus, at the behest of the orange Pele of Supreme Leaders, Infantino obliged by reviewing and revoking the red card. Despite this, Belgium won. The players celebrated by performing the Supreme Leader's special dance. The dance where he appears to be tugging on the invisible udders of two cows.

In the meanwhile, Britain's wannabe supreme leader, the man whose name rhymes with garage, is up to his old tricks again. He has willfully resigned as MP of Clacton, thus trigerring a by-election, which he will re-contest. Count Binface :) is his only opponent. The other political parties are not playing along. 

To give you an idea of our own Poundland Trump's voter base, a reporter asked a supporter of his, what she liked about him. She was sunbathing on a beach whilst protecting her modesty with a towel. She considered her answer for all of two seconds. I like that he says woh he thinks, came her reply.

When the reporter asked for her opinion on his ongoing  5 million controversy, she asked Woh 5 million? Sharp as a tack, that one. Obviously knows as much about politics as the Supreme Leader across the pond, knows about football.

    Count Binface v/s Count Spinface

 

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.