Light observations

Having recently flown abroad, I noticed a phenomenon that had previously passed me by. Most passengers are now sporting an almost must-have accessory. 

As a result, you see lots of passengers walking around in the airport with glorified, cushioned toilet seats around their necks.

Now, I understand vertically challenged people needing to support their necks. After all, their necks (mine included) are expected to rest on the part of the seat that is designed for the backs of their taller counterparts.

I was, however, baffled to see tall people walking around with neck cushions as well. Who invited you to the party? I wondered. Then it dawned on me.

The reason is obvious - tall people need support to prevent their heads from lolling forward and bashing their chins on their knees. What with the limited leg room available. Dee-dums... bless their size 14 cotton socks.

Another thing I noticed, is a rather devil- may- care attitude towards sun exposure.

We were on a chartered flight to Goa and on our return flight, it was quite obvious that most had worshipped the hell out of the sun and had discovered a new colour in the process.

While I would not have been surprised with a Donald Trump shade of orange, I saw a tan that can only be described as a shade between beet red and burnt toast. 

Lest you think that the above mentioned President (and his ridiculous belief that global warming and damage to the ozone layer is a myth), has led to this reckless behaviour, let me put your mind at rest.

I overheard more than one person lament that they had fallen asleep due to the heady (and rather lethal) combination of Kingfisher beer and Feni.

Well, no pleasure without pain I guess and at least a good time was had by all.

Brexit, despite sounding like a remedy for constipation, has been practically motionless. The deadline has come and gone, leaving behind at least one casualty - poor old Theresa May.

She started by busting moves to 'Dancing Queen', then had to bend backward to 'Limbo Rock' and all that bending (in limbo) appears to have resulted in her somewhat resembling a hen.


Which makes me think of the story 'The Little Red Hen', where the hen asks for help with various tasks but the farmyard animals refuse and she says, 'then I'll do it myself'. 

Turns out, like the Red Hen, Mrs. May met with refusal from her farmyard animals...oops sorry, colleagues (easy mistake to make, considering all the braying that goes on in Parliament).

Unlike the Red Hen, our Blue Hen could not do it herself. Instead of a reward, all she managed was a new deadline - an extension to Halloween.

Brace yourselves for a scary Halloween. I envision Tay May in full black regalia, complete with wide brimmed hat, jumping on her broomstick, flying to Brussels to save the day.

Stranger things have happened....wooooohoooo........

Until next time, 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

This week Theresa May visited the continent of Africa and took her alter ego 'Tay May' with her. Unfortunately, she also took her dancing shoes along.

When she was greeted with enthusiastic dancing from some youngsters, Tay May got quite enthusiastic herself and broke out some dance moves of her own.

Actually, they were not her own. She was trying to mirror the youngsters' moves but whereas they looked rhythmic and cool, Tay May looked like she was trying to relocate some ants from her pants.

She did appear to have successfully relocated them to her shoulders because she then started some jerky shoulder moves with periodic arm extensions.

Well, to be fair, at least she tried. If she hadn't tried, I would not be inspired to come up with this brainwave of a suggestion (if I do say so myself). 

At the next Brexit talks, Tay May could try twerking. All she'll have to do is make one promise - to stop - and I bet we'll get the best deal ever. 

It might even go down in history as 'Twexit'.

Just one precaution - someone will have to monitor Messrs Banier's and Juncker's pulse rates to make sure they don't hyperventilate.

If you remember last week, Labour MP Dawn Butler (of Jamaican heritage) was very vexed with Jamie Oliver for Jerking rice and selling it in packets in supermarkets. 

Apparently, one should only jerk meat, or perhaps fish, if one is  feeling adventurous. But never rice. That is sacrilege.

St Jamie of Oliver did not get the memo, and not only did he jerk rice, he committed further sacrilege by not including a single jerk ingredient in said rice. Not a scotch bonnet was to be had in the entire packet of rice that he claimed to have jerked.

Ms Butler called it appropriation and suggested that he contact Levi Roots (Mr Jamaica himself) to help him.

This week, by sheer coincidence, someone sent me a box of Ainsley Harriott's Goan Spiced Chicken Soup.

Now,  I have lived in Goa for 30 odd years. In all those odd years, I have never come across any soup like the one described by Ainsley (coincidentally, of Jamaican heritage).

Nevertheless, since I said in my blog last week, If it looks good and it tastes good, keep calm and eat it, I decided to put my food where my mouth is ....and I wish I hadn't. 

It did not look good, it tasted even worse, and subsequently, I did not feel the need to keep calm. In fact, I flipped ...... the box to check the ingredients.

Mixed spice powder (coriander, cumin, chilli, paprika and turmeric), garlic and coconut cream along with  1% chicken powder. In other words, curry masquerading as soup.

On an aside, what the hell is chicken powder? I have gory visions of someone hanging a slaughtered chicken out in the sun to dry (we've had the summer for it), then pounding it and grinding it and taking a pinch of it to add to Ainsley's Goan chicken soup.

Also, since when does 1% of anything, allow it to pose as the  main ingredient?

I remember the most popular soup I consumed as a child, growing up in Goa. It had onions, tomatoes, stock and rice or pasta in the shape of tiny alphabets.

Not the biggest culinary delight I'll admit, but if Ainsley Harriott had flogged the real thing, I would have polished it off, along with a ladleful of nostalgia.

Until next week, 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

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 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 the weekly news

If you have been a Spice Girls' fan, you may need to sit down when you read this - the Spice Girls are having a reunion! (If you are not a spice girls' fan, I congratulate you on your good taste).

Anyway, they are apparently being paid 10 million each for the said reunion.

While the other 'girls' are probably gargling their vocal chords with  Himalayan salt water and hiring voice coaches, Posh has poutily pondered and come up with a classic proviso to her contract - she will do it as long as she doesn't have to sing.

The promoters were probably weak with relief - I am sure they had no intention of letting her 'sing' in the first place. 

I have always (I confess for all of 5 seconds) wondered why, except for 'Ginger', none of the other girls' names were actual spices.

Now that they are mature, I think they should keep it real and rename themselves appropriately - which is what they should have done in the first place.

'Baby' should be Mustard (seed) spice, Scary should be 'Star Anise' spice (a tiny pinch packs a punch), Sporty should be 'Nutmeg' spice (a little goes a long way) and if Ginger fancies a change, she could be 'Turmeric' spice.

That just leaves good old 'Posh'. With her constant bland expression, I can't come up with an appropriate spice name, so we'll just have to settle for  'Pouty LipSync' spice. 

A made up spice for a made up singer. 

While Oprah Winfrey won many fans with her female empowering speech at the Golden Globes, she failed to win over our very own Ann Robinson. 

Ann has said that she 'loathes' Oprah. A very strong word from one strong woman to another - yay for sisterhood.

To cut a short story even shorter, Ann and her daughter appeared on the Oprah show back when Ann (and her quiz show) were relevant.

There also happened to be another 'Mother and Daughter' combo at the show,  who  did not get along and apparently Oprah worked her magic and they worked their 'problems' out (on the show).

However, according to Ann, after the show, she and her daughter shared a taxi with the said mother and daughter, who came to blows in the shared taxi. 'Where was Oprah then?' asks Ann.

To state the obvious, not in the taxi. But guess who was there? The  Queen of Mean. All she (Ann) had to do was shout 'you are the weakest links' and kick them out of the cab. Instead she cowered in a corner. 

So who really is the weakest link? 

If it makes Ann feel any better, I am sure Oprah, with all her meditation and mindfulness,  doesn't loathe her back. I doubt she even remembers her. Don't take offence Ann, wink, wink!

I have to say that the cockles of my heart are warmed and  I feel so honoured that this is the 'Year of the Woman'. But in the words of that very influential modern day woman, Beyonce, 'Question' - what happens at the end of the year?

Do things go back to the way they were? Because a year cannot possibly right the wrongs that a lot women have endured.

If you really want to level the playing field, how about calling it the 'Millennium of the Woman'. That will be a start.

On her recent visit to China, Theresa May was informed that the Chinese people affectionately called her 'Auntie May'. Apparently she was flattered to be considered a family member.

Sorry Tay May but I have always called my aunts by their first name, as in 'Auntie Dorothy'; not Auntie Smith, or Auntie Fernandes. 

Also, I don't remember David Cameron being called 'Uncle Cameron' when he visited China as PM.  Once again, I rest my case for the 'Millennium of the Woman'.

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!

A lighter look at the news

You may not have heard of Jo Marney before - blissfully, neither had I. You may now wish that you had never heard of her - regrettably, so do I. 

If you are one of the lucky few who hasn't heard of her and are asking yourself, in the parlance of the young, 'who that?' Let me enlighten you.

'That' is the  25 year old (now) ex-girlfriend of the 54 year old leader of the UKIP party, Henry Bolton. Why is she relevant? She isn't. However, she did say some rather nasty things about Meghan Markle and black people in general.

She tried to defend herself and her vitriolic comments by saying that they were taken 'out of context'. Someone needs to tell her that there is no wiggle room when you write racist texts. 

The intent and meaning is very clear, or, in language she understands, very black and white.

I am surprised her superior brain did not work that out before she came up with the lame and ridiculous 'out of context' excuse. Personally, I think she is, to use the parlance of the young  yet again, 'well jel'.

After all, Sparkle Markle got herself a younger, handsome prince and Barmy Marney got herself an older leader of a party that is no longer relevant. And now she doesn't even have that. 

As they say, 'if you have nothing nice to say, don't say it at all'. Simple yet wise. Thank you to whoever 'they' are. I am also extremely vexed that, despite my best efforts, I now know the name of the leader of the UKIP party.

Moving on to more pleasant happenings, the modern day saviour of the European world, visited Britain. Emmanuel Macron paid us a visit and immediately performed a miracle.

He got Theresa May to look relaxed and smile, showing shades of her strong and stable days. But then he does have a way with older women. 

You may be aware that Gwyneth Paltrow is soon to be permanently coupled with Brad Falchuk. In anticipation of their coupling, she sported an engagement ring at the Producer's Guild Awards.

Now, I expected to see entwined jute encircling her finger, imitations of which would be sold on Goop for £500/-. I was  disappointment to see her sporting a huge coloured rock. 

Nevertheless, we still wish Palfal lots of luck, not that they need it. According to Gwynnie, at this juncture in their lives they will 'use their collective successes and failures as building blocks to a happy and healthy relationship'. 

Now I know how she came up with the name 'Goop' for her online magazine - she speaks a lot of it.

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter take on the news

Apparently, Donald Trump forgot the words to the American national anthem. Midway through singing the Star Spangled Banner, he appeared to stop and mumble along. In other words, he did a Mariah Carey.

Some people expressed concern that he may be in the early stages of dementia. I express concern that he is in the latter stages of 'never knew the words in the first place.'

Never mind, I don't think you need to know the words to the national anthem to make a country great again.

In the meanwhile, Oprah Winfrey gave a rousing and inspirational speech at the Golden Globes this week. Now, pre-Donald Trump, this speech would've gotten the praise it deserves. A few die hard Oprah fans may have called for her to run for President and they would've been shouted down by everyone else, possibly, even Ms. Winfrey.

Post-Trump, she appears to be doing a lightening bolt towards the White House, with Vice-President Deepak Chopra and Chief of Staff, Gayle King following close behind at her heels.  A black woman taking over from him? Someone hand Trump a covffe before he faints from the shock!

Perhaps Seal felt the  need for some attention because he decided to jump in, mouth first. He called Oprah 'sanctimonious' and said that she was part of the problem. Mmmm a man deciding to accuse a woman of a problem caused by (some) men. Should've kept your lips sealed, Seal.

Theresa May optimistically decided to have a reshuffle of her cabinet. Not the wooden one in her living room, although she probably would've had better luck there. 

She made the decision to move Justine Greening from Education to Work and Pensions and Justine Greening made the decision to quit. So no reshuffling there. She also decided Jeremy Hunt wasn't good for Health (who can blame her) and wanted to make him Business secretary. 

The Hunt thought for all of  ten seconds before deciding he was very happy where he was, so thank you but no thank you. He wasn't going to be reshuffled. 

Funny how the woman who did not want to be reshuffled, had to quit but the man who did not want to be reshuffled, got to stay. Someone needs to get Ms Winfrey across post haste, to give one of her inspiring speeches, with a front row seat reserved for Tay May.

According to Liam Gallagher, his brother Noel is desperate for an Oasis reunion but Noel's wife will not allow it. Possibly because she knows that there are only so many times Phoenix can rise from the ashes.

Liam thinks that Noel is keen to play in big stadiums (or stadia, if you prefer) but that is only possible when he, Liam,  is around, as only his presence fills out these stadiums. Actually, it is Liam who doesn't have a choice -  he has to play in huge stadiums - no other venue can accommodate  his ego.

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter look at 2017!

I can hardly believe a whole year has passed and we are once again bracing ourselves to ring in another year. Now the year has not been perfect. No year ever is. But Mariah Carey didn’t set us off to a good start with her performance or, should I say non-performance, at last year’s New Year’s Eve in New York.

Mimi smiled vacantly, interspersed with some mumbling. I wonder if she has reached a point in her ‘diva’ journey where she genuinely thinks just gracing the stage with her presence is enough.

Not an opinion shared by her backing dancers though. Oblivious to the fact that not a single note was being sung by the main star, they busted their dance moves as if Mims was in full volume.

Apparently, she is being given another chance this year. Watch this space……..

In June this year, Theresa ‘the Gambler’ May shot herself in her designer clad, strong and stable foot by calling for an election and has since been limping along with a ConDup party.

To give Tay May credit, her refrain still stays the same, ‘Brexit means Brexit’. I have one question to ask, ‘What else could it mean?’

Even if we carry on in the European Union, Brexit would still mean Brexit. It couldn’t possibly mean anything else. Just like bs still means bs.

I have a New Year’s resolution suggestion for Tay May. No more ditties. No more ‘Strong and Stable’. No more ‘Brexit means Brexit’. Just suck on your birthday present lozenge (thank you Mr. Hammond) and give your voice a much needed  rest.

Remember all those years ago when there was a suspicion that Iraq hoarded weapons of mass destruction? A war was fought on that presumption.

Well, now there is a small hand hovering over a button and one push of said button by said small hand, could unleash mass destruction. Where is Tony Blair when you need him?

All I can say is, if there ever is a threat that the hand will descend on the button, I hope Melania is around. As we have seen, she is an expert in swatting her husband's hand away.

My favourite photo this year is of the Trumps posing with Pope Francis. Ivanka and Melania were dressed as if they were attending a funeral, with expressions to match.

Pope Francis had a look that suggested that for the first time he regretted taking up the position of Pontiff because it obliged him to meet with the man to his right. Undeterred by all the gloom around him, the man to his right grinned delightedly, like a cat who ate all the potica. Pictorial gold.

In a 1998 world cup football match, the proverbial red mist descended on David Beckham, resulting in him kicking an opposing Argentinian footballer and then being made to literally see red by way of a card brandished by the referee.

Well, all these years later, there was a similar descending of red mist when the Honours List was announced and Mr. Beckham was to stay just that -Mister Beckham. In other words, no Sir, not this time.

He unleashed furious, four lettered emails, which unfortunately for him, later got leaked.Here I was thinking that he did all those charitable works because he realised/appreciated his good fortune. After all, not everyone with good-but-not-great talent gets to be so lucky.

Not that I blame him. He must have already planned his next tattoo in honour of his knighthood - 'Sir Golden Balls' perhaps?

Victoria probably designed her gown in anticipation and spent ages practising her slightly delighted pout. How terribly, terribly disappointing not to be rewarded after all that effort.

Never mind David, you will always have King Arthur and your role as Trigger the Knight. No one can take that away from you...no matter how hard you try!

.If you ever do anything remotely embarrassing, I have a remedy that is guaranteed to make you feel better. Just watch the Warren Beatty/ Faye Dunaway cock up at this year’s Oscars.

Mr Beatty wasn’t sure what to do and like a drowning man, he decided to take his co-presenter down with him, by handing her the card to read the ‘Best Picture’ award. Without missing a beat, Runaway Dunaway read the wrong film and the rest is Oscars’ history.

Finally, I would like to end my last blog of the year, featuring Gemma Collins in a ‘Should’ve gone to Specsavers’ moment.

Here's wishing everyone who is reading this, A Very Happy New Year!! May 2018 be filled with lots of light moments for all of us!!

A lighter take on the news

Apparently, Donald Trump was quite the statesman when he toured Asia recently. That is, until his dear friend Kimmy decided to call him an 'old lunatic'. 

Hell hath no fury than the Donald scorned. How dare Kimmy call him old! In Mr. T's world, what can be chronologically proven, is apparently considered fake news but what is debatable, like being called a lunatic (although, in this case, not a lot of debate would be required I would imagine), is okay.

Anyway, the Presidential thumbs got busy and a counter insult was issued by way of a tweet. Mr T. said that he would never call Kimmy 'short and fat', thereby, calling him short and fat! Calling each other lunatics and fat .... I would imagine if the term 'takes one to know one' wasn't coined yet, it certainly would now. 

Theresa May seems to have found the key to successful Brexit talks. Her smile! Yes, it appears to be something as simple as a Tay May smile. Michel Barnier looked positively mesmerised as he sat opposite to her. 

The more she smiled - she even threw in an occasional beam - the more he appeared to acquiesce. Just as well they were sitting down, otherwise he 'may' have gone week in the knees.

At least, that is my take on it. I watched it for a bit on TV but didn't listen to any of it. No, May's hypnotic smile didn't cast a spell on me. The weather outside was depressing enough and seeing the PM smile after such a long time, gave me hope. False hope, most likely, but hope nonetheless.

Boris Johnson has at last apologised to Nazanin's family for his blunder. One would now hope that he keeps a low profile. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean that there aren't other Johnsons lurking about.

Papa Johnson is all set to appear in 'I am a celebrity, get me out of here.' How about, 'I am not a celebrity, don't get me in here'.

Remember Michael Gove? Former Education Minister, then Brexiteer, who tried to back stab Bobo Johnson to become Prime Minister? Fittingly, neither got to be PM.

Looking at him, one would think even an archaeologist would be hard pressed to find a single humourous bone in his body and one would think right.

In an interview with Radio 4, he likened being interviewed by John Humphrys, to walking into Harvey Weinstein's bedroom. Stick to back stabbing your colleagues Mr Gove - it's far less insulting and when BJ is at the receiving end, it may even be a tiny bit funny.

Last Saturday's Strictly Come Dancing was very enjoyable. Perhaps it's because none of the judges worshipped at the altar of Debbie McGee. They did still fawn but I can't imagine them ever not fawning over Ms McGee.

I suspect she could turn up in a sack and roly-poly around the dance floor and Shirley would say, 'I have travelled the world and seen top professional dancers  but I have never seen such graceful roly- polying with such amazing musicality and timing', before brandishing a 10!

Anton du Beke and Ruth were voted out. Quite rightly, I should think, although Anton did miss a trick. I have a feeling it was his wardrobe that kept them in all this time.

So, when they did their foxtrot, Ruth did do her bit by trotting for England but Anton did not do anything gimmicky with his wardrobe (this time). A foxes' outfit might have done the trick.  Sadly (I am being kind) Ruth, Anton and his wardrobe are out of Strictly.

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter look at the weekly news

During Theresa May and Angela Merkel's recent verbal cha cha cha-ing (apologies for the mental picture this might paint but if you want to go further and add short, sequinned skirts, I won't judge), otherwise known as Brexit talks, I bet Mrs May thought that things could not possibly get any worse for her. Well, as it happens, things got even more messy for Tessy.

Her Deputy resigned on allegations of sexual misconduct and there are a few more who may follow him. Add to that the blundering boob that is Boris and you might wonder how long she and her party can cling on to power.

After all, the DUP part of the CONDUP party make up just 10 MPs. What will happen if more than 10 MPs are forced to leave the Conservative party?

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. So, perhaps a coalition of the Conservatives, Lib Dems (been there, done that and Nick Clegg is wearing the tee shirt) and the SNP?

Now, I confess to not knowing much about the DUP. I know that they are led by a handsome woman (google her name if you care) but by and large she has been fairly quiet.

Can you imagine if the Conservatives form a coalition with the Lib Dems and the SNP? Braveheart Sturgeon will give new meaning to the word 'vociferous'.

Man of the people, Jeremy Corbyn - our modern day JC, decided to appear on a TV show of the people, albeit for charity. He appeared on Gogglebox and got very excited when a 'History' question was asked during University Challenge.

He moved to the very edge of the sofa, rolled up his sleeves, listened intently to the question.... and came up with the wrong answer. Oh my! He doesn't walk on water after all. The Corbynistas must be devasted.

I am beginning to suspect that Paul Daniels appears to be practising magic from beyond the grave. That is the only explanation I have for the strange behaviour of the Strictly judges.

Last week, Head Judge, Shirley Ballas, bestowed her invisible Latin Queen Crown on Debbie McGee and last Saturday, Craig behaved in a manner I would only reserve for God, if he appeared to me.

After Debbie and Giovanni finished their tango, when it was Craig’s turn to comment, he stood up and, and in a trance-like manner, walked to Debbie and sank to his knees, rocking back and forth with his arms outstretched. Poor Giovanni went in for a hug before realising that it was Debbie who was being lauded.

What can we expect this evening? Darcy to hand over her Prima Ballerina title to Debbie or for Bruno to genuflect and cross himself in front of her?

Someone needs to remind the judges that there is a reason why they are given paddles with numbers on them. Use them to show your appreciation. That is all  we ask - not your cringeworthy, OTT, physical demonstrations.

I thought that Anton's flamingo pink wardrobe for this Samba with Ruth was about as funny as it was going to get. I was wrong. His flared trousers for his Paso Doble were something to behold. He could probably harbour a herd of bulls in them.

He then proceeded to stumble and fall at the end of their routine, taking Ruth with him. Not that she appeared to mind. She gleefully jumped on him and proceeded to straddle him. Tut, tut BBC (and Ruth), it's a family show.

That's the problem with live shows. No editing. I would give good money to have that particular scene edited out. On second thoughts, maybe not. After all, I pay my licence fee.

Until next week, try and keep it light!

I