A lighter take on the news

Having not had any pearls of wisdom thrown our way by that modern day sage Gwyneth Paltrow, I assumed that she was meditating on the foothills of the Himalayas, stopping occasionally to sip wild yak's milk. 

I was convinced she would be meditating on the life enhancing qualities of yak's milk and the possibility of selling the powdered version on her website for £200/- per 100 grams, amidst claims that it helps you live to a hundred and fifty six.

Well, I was wrong. She is very much around. Apparently, in a recent interview, she voiced her regret at parting ways with Brad Pitt. You may not remember that she dated Brad Pitt and who would blame you? It was over 20 years ago.

Now, I wonder if she is voicing her regrets because they have both 'consciously uncoupled' from their respective spouses. Perhaps she is hoping to replace 'Brangelina' with 'Braltrow' or 'Palpitt'. All I will say is, 'run for the Himalayas Brad!'

Talking of consciously uncoupling, the Brexit talks are going nowhere at breakneck speed. The EU representatives are doing a Jerry Maguire "show me the money" impersonation and Britain's representatives are trying to style it out with, 'yeah, yeah, of course we will show you some money eventually but first....'

It's like the two sides are having a staring competition, waiting for the other to blink first. Personally, I wish someone would  poke both sides in the eye simultaneously - perhaps then we'll get somewhere. 

Who knew Mariah Carey was such a tease?! In a recent video for Vogue.com, a glass of champagne in hand, she showed off her wardrobe and when it got to the lingerie section, she coyly said that she would love to walk around her home in just her lingerie. 

You go right ahead Ms. Carey, just make sure your blinds are down. That's what I would call having your champagne and drinking it.

A deputy head of a London School has suggested that parents should not talk about diets and weight in front of their daughters. I think this deputy head should take a trip to Goa, where not just parents, but grandparents, aunties, uncles, other assorted relatives, friends, acquaintances and on the odd occasion, even strangers, take a pop at your weight.

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter take on the news

                                                         

I find statues fascinating. In my blog last week, I mentioned the woman who optimistically suggested that Michael Jackson's Ape, 'Bubbles' painting, could create a conversation. I firmly begged to differ. Rather than paintings by apes, I would say that statues (chiselled by human hands) could start a conversation.

Sometimes the conversation a statue starts is positive, sometimes it is negative and sometimes there is no conversation at all, just action. Who can forget the chappal smacking Saddam Hussein's statue got, after it was dramatically brought down.

A controversial statue usually begs the question, 'to keep or not to keep?' If that is the case, either way there are no winners. So, if there is a statue somewhere that annoys the hell out of you, don't start an ulcer inducing petition. I have the perfect answer - 'special' bird feed.

The recipe would entail mixing roughly crushed bran cereal and finely chopped prunes. Bring it altogether with a drop or two of detoxifying castor oil. Feed the birds within the  vicinity of the statue, stand back (under an umbrella) and watch the fun. 

The only drawback is, if it isn't raining and you are pointing at a statue and laughing, people will probably think you are odd. But trust me, it will be worth it. 

If you have more money than sense, I would suggest that you do two things. First of all, contact me - I could do with a sponsor for my blog.  Secondly, you might like to try the special ice cream cones sold at a prestigious store in London. I don't want to name the store but all I will say is that I don't think they 'sell fridges'.

Anyway, this store sells ice cream cones for £99:00! No, I did not press too hard on the number '9' key. It really costs ninety nine pounds. Apparently, one of its unique selling points (or, justification-for-the-price, points) is that it comes with a chocolate flake coated in gold. 

Now, imagine if you buy this cone and you walk out of the store and someone bumps into you and the cone falls to the ground.
Worse still, imagine if there is a statue nearby that causes you immense vexation.

Now, I know I am asking you to stretch your imagination to surreal lengths, but imagine if a bird (freshly detoxified) swoops down and picks the gold plated chocolate flake, consumes it and perches on the head of the aforementioned statue.

It may result on a crown of shimmering, golden glory being bestowed on your much despised statue. So, if you have more money than sense, take the better of the two options and sponsor my blog! 

While on the topic of statues, a man in Goa was arrested for desecrating crosses and other religious statues mainly in cemeteries. I looked it up and I have to say, I have never in all my years (not saying how many) seen someone charged with a crime, so delighted with himself.

He appeared to gleefully re-enact his crimes for the police, almost as if it was scripted. The alleged perpetrator's name? Francis Pereira. A conveniently Goan, not to mention Catholic, name. Goa apparently now has a patron saint as well as a sinner bearing the name 'Francis'.

There is widespread suspicion that he is not the perpetrator of this crime. The reason being that some of the damage done would take the strength of more than one man.

Well, to be fair, he could emulate the biblical strength of Samson (before Delilah tried her hand at hairdressing). However, the Catholic church in Goa is having none of it. 

Their fact finding committee scrutinised and analysed the incidents in great detail and have found flaws. They have now asked for a probe by the Special Investigation Team (SIT) under the supervision of the High Court or the Supreme Court. Fingers 'crossed' justice will be served.

Finally, I would like to applaud Sam Carter. In the parlance of 16 to 18 year olds, you may well ask, 'Who that?' Truth be told, until six days ago, I didn't know who that was either. Well, let me enlighten you. He is the lead singer in a band called the Architects.

That is not the reason why I want to applaud him. The reason is that he stopped and ranted at a 'groper' at his concert. He later tweeted, 'there is no room for this at any kind of show.' Well done Mr Carter, your mother should be very proud.

Until next week, try and keep it light.

                   

A take, lighter or otherwise, on this week's news

I wonder how Nobel Peace Prize winner Malala managed to get into Oxford University?! Only kidding - well done her - much deserved. She has more courage, intelligence and education (will have even more after she is done with her Oxford education), than those half wits who tried to stop her.

I wonder if my advice was heeded and the White House had a revolving door installed at its entrance. If so, I do hope it spun with dizzying speed when Steve Bannon was ushered out.

Now you may think this is my cue to talk about Charlottesville. Well, you will be wrong. Why? Because words fail me (please don’t look for flying pigs). They really do fail me.

All I will say is, when a group of marching white supremacists  chant, ‘jews will not replace us,’ and there is a fatality on the opposite side, and the democratically elected leader of that nation responds with, ‘the blame lies on both sides’, it beggars belief. And personally, when a situation calls for belief to be beggared, I am rendered speechless.

I sometimes think that British politics is too beige. But when I see the orange politics across the pond, I say thank you to the colour beige.

I am anything but speechless in what I am about to write now. I am not going to be ‘light’, I am going to rant. Yesterday at around 8 o’clock in the morning, my family and I were in the middle lane of the motorway - not having a picnic, that would be plain stupid - ( and I promised not to be ‘light’!) but driving towards London.

Anyway, I noticed a car in the fast lane, move to our lane quite hurriedly, to let the car behind it speed past. ‘Idiot’, I thought to myself. No sooner had my brain processed that justifiable observation, then another car in the fast lane - an Audi TT - sped past us at an even greater speed. ‘Another idiot’, my brain thought, rapidly joining in the speed fest.

And then my mind and the minds of all the motorists and passengers I am sure, froze at the ghastly sight of the Audi TT spinning uncontrollably across the motorway in front of us. We watched in horror as the car did a bizarre version of a spinning tea cup on a fun fair ride, wondering if it or any other braking car, was going to start a pile up. Through sheer chance and luck, it finally hit the barrier on the opposite side, did a final spin and stopped on the hard shoulder, smoke billowing from the bonnet.

The driver appeared shaken, though unharmed. Had I known what was to unfold, ‘idiot’ would not be my choice of word to describe this fool. If the outcome had been different, can you imagine the number of lives he would have affected?

It is one thing when incidents occur that are beyond our control. But to make a conscious decision to speed recklessly on the motorway (or any other road), is to irresponsibly endanger lives.

It is a testament to the goodness of people, that a lot of cars whose drivers and passengers were subjected to the terrifying experience caused by this driver, stopped to help the man. I hope he, along with other 'speed kings', realise that 'Speed Kills' is not just a cliche.

On August the 15th, India celebrated its Independence day. I remember the annual celebrations well.  Lots of marching and lots of pride - rightly so. What I don’t remember, ever, is having a moment’s silence to reflect on innocent lives lost in the bloodbath that followed Independence in 1947.

While it is commendable to stay in the present and look with hope to the future, I think reflecting on the past and learning from it, is equally important, lest history repeats itself.

I sometimes wonder what I’ll do when I retire.  Bore all of you with more blogs I suspect. Apparently,  Bubbles, Michael Jackson’s playful Ape companion, who is now retired and living in a sanctuary, has taken up painting. These paintings were recently put up for auction.

A person from the sanctuary suggested that these paintings could ‘create conversation’. If I see one of Bubbles’ paintings gracing the walls of any of my friends’ homes, it will create a conversation alright. A two worded one - ‘you’re bananas!’

If I were to describe Las Ramblas in Barcelona, I would say ‘cosmopolitan’, ‘colourful’, ‘vibrant’.... the list is endless. Now I would add two more words to describe this extremely popular place and its inhabitants - ‘defiant’ and ‘brave’.

Until next week, stay safe.

Lighter take on the news

I flatter myself in thinking that perhaps some of you noticed that I haven't posted 'lighter news' for a couple of weeks. Well, I was away on a cruise holiday and access to the internet was so expensive, I would have had to sell an organ for me to afford to write my blog (I am talking about my anatomy, not a musical instrument). 

In my last blog before departing on my holiday, I'd written about the then communications chief in the US, Sean Spicer, being replaced by Anthony Scaramucchi. I did wonder how long he would last. I said, and I quote, 'time will tell'. Well, it appears time did speak and my holiday lasted longer than Mr. S did in the White House. Apparently, DT decided to 'front stab' his pal from the 'hood.

That, I suppose, is what happens when a reality star is chosen to be President - you get a Soap Opera. I can think of a few titles - 'Orange is the new White', 'Fifty shades of Orange', 'All the President's Folk'... the list is endless.

I have a suggestion for some renovation work to the entrance of the White House. How about revolving doors? To give it a lighter touch and detract from the grimness of the situation, perhaps there could be a carnival carousel type tune/song playing, something along the lines ......

'In out, in out, shake yourself about.

You do the Trumpy, Trumpy, turn around,

Now march yourself right out!'

Also, while I was away, the documentary on Princess Diana, 'In her own words' was aired. At the time,  I didn't have too much of an opinion one way or the other - might have been the heatwave that was engulfing most of Europe - since it is unusual for me to not have an opinion. 

However, it was being discussed on a programme yesterday, and one of the panellists mentioned that she thought it was fair, since Camilla Parker Bowles had a biography released that gave a rather negative image of Diana.

I checked Ms. CBP's biography. Now don't be silly and assume that I actually spent money buying her biography. Thanks to the internet, I got to read large excerpts from it. So, to the people decrying the 'In her own words' documentary on the assumption that it would hurt Princess Diana's sons, I would think their stepmother's biography, authorised or not, would do as much, if not more, damage to her memory.

The dead can't speak or defend themselves but when, as is the case here, they leave vocal documentation of their feelings and emotions, perhaps some sort of balance is restored. 

It is the month of August, when most politicians take a much undeserved break, except for two leaders with dodgy hairstyles, flexing their political muscle. All we can hope and pray is that one doesn't call the other's bluff. 

Until next week, try and keep it light!

A lighter on the news

I love holidays, I really do. I am not very keen on flying though. Not the actual sitting on a long haul flight doing absolutely nothing, being served drinks and food (I never complain when I have not cooked it - I am big on gratitude), reading, listening to music, watching films - what's not to like? 

It's the queuing at the airport, the endless security checks (which is a catch 22 situation because I worry if there aren't enough security checks) and the inevitable jet lag, that robs me of at least two precious days.

Well, now I don't need to worry. Thank you James Bond actress Naomi Harris (I told you that I was big on gratitude). Naomi has discovered and has kindly and generously shared her discovery, that the best way to get rid of jet lag is to walk barefoot after you land in the country of your destination.

So, the next time I touch down in Goa, I will recklessly kick my shoes off and race to my taxi. I say recklessly because, besides dodging taxis, rickshaws, buses, cars and cyclists, I may also have to sidestep and jump over the odd bit of contributions from cows and inconsiderate 'paan' chewers. 

If you are dubious of N's remedy, rest assured that it is fool proof. How do I know this? Well, that great medical genius that is Gywnie Paltrow is a proponent of this remedy as well. On second thoughts, I think I will keep my shoes on and leave the barefoot prancing to the likes of Naomi and Gwynie.

The BBC got into hot water this week. Not that I sympathise. They had eleven months to right their wrong where their employees' salaries are concerned. But did they bother? I ask rhetorically. 

Sometime back, they were forced to publish the salaries of employees earning over £450,000/-. Teresa May lowered it to £150,000/-and it turns out, they are quite the leaders in the gender pay gap. In their list of top ten highest earners, just one woman was fortunate enough to make the list.

John McEnroe gets around £250,000/- for his Wimbledon commentary, whereas the legend that is Martina Navratilova did not even make the list! Tut, tut BBC.

I was always under the impression that the Corporation was in favour of equal opportunities, since it seems to have a lot of black and ethnic background people on its programmes at any given time.

Now I realise why. They are under paid compared to their white counterparts of both genders, so obviously they can afford more ethnic presenters. Not to be cynical but it's almost a two for the price of one scenario. I can't remember the last time I tut tutted this much.

Wimbledon Ladies' Champion, Garbine Muguruza was so looking forward to having a dance with Roger Federer at the Champions' Ball. She tweeted him asking if he was ready to dance and he replied, 'Bring it on Champ' (bless).

Unfortunately,  that did not happen because apparently there wasn't even a dance floor! If I was Muguruza, I would return my trophy in protest. Well, I am not her (more chance of the entire population of pigs flying), so the replica trophy is safe.

There is no spice in the White House anymore. The Sean and the Don have parted ways. Will the world be a better place for it? Time will tell. 

I did wonder if Trump would replace him with a long lost uncle but Spicer's replacement, Anthony Scaramucci (sounds like a name from a Godfather movie) appears to be no relative. He also appears to have done a good job on his first time at the podium with the White House press. As I said, time will tell.

Until next time, try and keep it light!

A lighter take on the weekly news

What is it about Donald Trump and his hands?  A couple of months ago, on his visit to the Middle East, Melania swatted his hand away with the panache of Serena Williams hitting an ace on Championship point at Wimbledon. Irish reporter Catriona Perry surely felt like doing the same when he beckoned her towards him while on the phone to her Prime Minister Leo Varadkar.

Now, in another ‘hand’ incident, the Polish First Lady, Agata Kornhauser-Duda, chose to ignore DT’s outstretched hand and warmly clasped Melania’s instead. I know that his hands are reportedly small but I didn’t realise they were small to the point of being invisible. Or maybe, considering his previous misogynistic comments on what his hands got up to in the presence of women, this is the Universe’s way of telling him to keep his hands to himself.

Apparently, Ed Sheeran has come off Twitter because of the abuse he has received on it. Most of it appears to be people calling him a ‘ginger busker’. I think someone is being a bit thin skinned and precious.  I am sure there will be thousands of buskers, irrespective of their hair colour, willing to chop off their guitar strumming hand, be it right or left, to trade places with him.

Now, it is not often that my blood boils. But Goa’s Tourism Minister has managed to do that. ‘Why?’ I hear you ask. Well, the man has had the temerity to say  that Goans’ favourite cuisine is fish, hence the ban on beef does not affect Goans or its tourism. Someone slap the man with a wet fish. Maybe that will make him understand the principle of freedom of choice in a democratic country. It is akin to saying that Britain’s favourite brew is tea, so no one will mind if coffee gets banned.

On the other hand, India’s Supreme Court has stated that the ‘highways’ that pass through cities can be reclassified as Municipal roads and therefore, may not be subject to the alcohol ban. At last common sense prevails! Let’s raise a glass of feni to the Supreme Court of India. The voice of reason in the otherwise bewildering ‘non’sense that seems to be taking over this tolerant, multicultural, multi religious, much beloved Country.

I read somewhere that a drunk tourist in Goa was slapped for urinating in public, in front of a shop. All I can say is I hope they slapped him on both cheeks, twice over - above and below!

Wimbledon tennis has begun! I watched four matches today. Two men’s matches and two women’s.  The women’s matches were nail biting three set matches, won by Radwanska and Wozniacki and the men’s were bland, three set, straight forward matches, where Djokovic and Federer respectively wiped the grass with their opponents.

Now I do not wish to upset my Mum but does anyone else find Roger Federer a tad smug? I know it will make his army of fans furious but his army of fans do not read my blog unless you count his army of one - my Mum.

At the risk of incurring her wrath, I have to say, although I admire Federer’s  tennis, the smug demeanour of the man irritates me. And in the spirit of ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’, why does his wife always look like she’s forgotten to take her happy pills? Give me our dour Scotsman anyday. At least with him, what you see is what you get.

Until next week, try and keep it light!

Lighter take on the news

Some people are born with silver spoons in their mouths, some are born under a lucky star and some are born to the Beckhams. I say this because their eldest son, 18 year old Brooklyn, has been granted (or should I say 'gifted') the opportunity to exhibit his photography book entitled 'What I see' at Christie's in London.

What I really see is struggling, professional photographers wanting to eat their own arms in envy and frustration. If you are one such photographer, take solace in the fact that he says that he is donating the proceeds to the families of those affected in the horrific Grenfill Tower fire. 

Is it just me, or does Brooklyn always look conflicted when posing for photographs? He has this, should I smile like Dad or pout like Mum look. 

Poor chap, as if the indecision of what facial expression to wear is not bad enough, he is now moving to New York and everyone keeps asking him if he is going to take up residence in Brooklyn. Some people can be so thoughtless!

He was conceived in Brooklyn, hence his name. Not that I bore witness or anything but Dave and Vic made no secret about the reason behind their choice of name for their first born (up until then I doubted their deep intellect and ability to be original).

Beautiful though they are, someone should have told them that no one wants to know the location of their procreating activities, least of all, I suspect, their children.

Anyway, he is moving, not because of the constant attention his parents generate (chance would be a fine thing) but because he is set to study photography in New York. Yes, I know, the irony of launching a photography book before studying photography - talk about putting the cart before the horse.


Now you would imagine that David B would be an inspiration to his son. And you would be right. You would also imagine that it would be along the lines of being a talented footballer or as Britain's unofficial goodwill Ambassador or even as an amazing underwear model. You would be wrong.

David has been an inspiration to his son because of his tattoos. Apparently in the myriad of tattoos that cover DB's body, the Native American one is BB's favourite. Not sure mum Posh will be happy, considering David has a tattoo of her name in Sanskrit, but please no one tell her, we may get even more intense sulky pouting.

Brooklyn says that the tattoo will be something he will share with his Dad forever. Rest assured Brooklyn, thirty years from now, your Native American will look quite different from your 72 year old Dad's.

He also claims that it took a long, long time for him to save enough money to have the tattoo done. I think he is missing  his calling as a writer of fiction. I can see the publishers lining up even as I type this. Now I am the one who wants to eat my arm in envy and frustration!


John McEnroe has decided to be a brat again. This time claiming that Serena Williams would be ranked 700th if she played in the Men's Tennis Circuit. I can't think of anything better to say to that other than, 'You can't be serious!'

Serena's response was just to remind him not to hypothesise and to let her have her baby in peace. 1-0 to Ms. Williams. Judging by that response, she certainly would be ranked higher than a certain has-been male tennis player. 

While on tennis, I can't believe the media are actually hassling Heather Watson about her weight. When I read that, I wanted to spit in anger. Fortunately for my laptop, I refrained. 

This young motivated woman, who won the mixed doubles at Wimbledon last year, is athletic and attractive, so when young girls read the thrash the media write, what on earth are they going to imagine passes for 'normal'.

In the words of our then strong and stable PM, 'enough is enough'.

Irish reporter Catriona Perry, had the misfortune of catching Donald Trump's eye. Not just anywhere or at anytime but in his office while he was on the phone to congratulate Ireland's new Prime Minister, Leo Varadkar.

He lifted his little hand and beckoned her to his desk (where is Melania the swatter when you need her). In a scene straight out of American TV series 'Mad Men' (the clue is in the title), set in the sixties, he proceeded to tell Mr. Varadkar that she had a nice smile and that he bet she treated him well.

Words fail me, so I will stop here.

Until next time, try and keep it light!

A lighter take on the weekly news

Now you may or may not have heard the story where Keith Richards claimed that he had snorted his father's ashes. Feel free to snort in disbelief. I know I did when I first heard it. He quite possibly snorted something a hell of a lot stronger and hallucinated 
that it was good old dad's ashes.

He has since said that it was a joke. Missed his calling as a stand up comedian no doubt.

Anyway, here is another 'snorting' story. Liam Gallagher has said that at a Glastonbury festival in 1994, some of his fans mistook the dandruff on his head (he says that he suffers from psoriasis, so there was plenty there) for cocaine and picked it off his head and snorted it or rubbed it on their gums. I apologise if relating this has caused you to retch.

Those fans should be grateful it wasn't cocaine - it would've killed those two brain cells I am generous enough to assume they had.

In the meanwhile Theresa May tottered off on wobbly legs for her Brexit talks. No, she wasn't wobbly on account of 6 inch Louboutins but her self inflicted swapping of adjectives from stable to wobbly. Apparently she and David Davis are still backing a hard Brexit. I suggest some bran to help ease the process.

 Across the pond, that great humanitarian, the Orange one, has decided to be magnanimous. He is not going to build just any wall on the Mexican border. He is suggesting a solar clad wall. He was overcome with self pride as he congratulated and complimented 
himself on his idea and imagination, at a rally in Iowa.

He went on to say that it would create energy and the higher it went the better. This way he claimed, the Mexican Government would have to pay less for the wall.

Could someone research to see if Tangerine Man is a fan of Liam Gallagher and attended the Glastonbury Festival in 1994. It will explain a lot to the rest of the world.

Until next week, try and keep it light.

A lighter take on the weekly news

I would like to start with an apology. I was so immersed in British politics and the resurrection of JC (the modern day bearded version, not the man from Galilee) that I completely forgot the other big news. The Clooneys have had twins! 

A boy for him and a girl for her - not being sexist, just quoting the lyrics from 'Tea for two', it could be the other way around, I don't care - just a lovely piece of news. I have been a George Clooney fan since his ER days.  Amal appears to be his alter ego - just as self assured, good looking and intelligent as him. I don't know if she has the same sense of humour but it doesn't matter because judging from his interviews, he has enough for both of them.

Those kids are off to a good start; think about the combined gene pool. Physical attributes, intelligence and the fact that they are not named Armadillo, Chestnut or Sonning. Just good, solid, recognisable names - Alexander and Ella. Take heed all you wannabes who name your children Honeypot and Gooseberry. Better to give your children ordinary names and hope they turn out to be extraordinary rather than the other way around.

Recently, a serpent crawled from under a rock and made its way to Goa. Upon reaching this lovely, harmonious land, she then spit out her verbal venom on Goans, proclaiming that 'beef eaters should be hanged'. I will not name this person because I do not wish to give her or the people who represent her views, the oxygen of publicity.

I suggest that she crawls back under her rock and takes her scum with her. Goans, irrespective of their personal religious beliefs, have lived together very happily for centuries, although it is rather sad to see the attempts made to chip away at our unique culture.

It started with closing down bars and tavernas located near highways. Well, we are all given free will and if the lorry drivers were threatened with hefty fines, losing their jobs and even jail, they would perhaps decide to not visit those bars while doing their jobs.

In turn, if those in charge of enforcing those laws were to lose their jobs and fined, if they succumbed to palm greasing, the whole thing would work very well, as it does in other parts of the world. 

Instead, hundreds of restaurants and bars/tavernas have had to stop selling alcohol. In some cases, brewing and selling alcohol has been a family business for generations, yet they lose their livelihood for the reckless stupidity of those who wilfully break the law. Where is the logic in that?

Going back to the venom spuer, although the Indian Constitution allows for Freedom of Speech, it most certainly does not allow for 'hate speech' particularly when it incites religious hatred. So why and how was she allowed to make such an inflammatory statement and get away with it? Seems to me that if all Goans do not urgently do something about this chipping away at our way of life, we will eventually be Goan, Goan, gone........

Ages ago I saw the film The Towering Inferno. It made for uncomfortable viewing but you were always aware that it was a piece of fiction. But when real life imitates fiction and you see it on your screen, it saturates you with horror at what those poor souls who perished in the Grenfell Tower in Kensington, London and the survivors must have gone through

There is a lot of finger pointing and blame but the priority should be to support the survivors and families of those who perished, as well as fit all tower blocks with sprinkler systems, to avoid anyone experiencing this sort of hell again.

Until next week, take it easy.

Lighter take on this week's news

May day! May day! May may not be PM for too long. While Jeremy Corbyn  Morris dances in his office with his Corbynistas, almost as if he has won the election, Theresa May must be rueing the day she went for a walk in Snowdonia, where she got 'clarity' and 'inspiration' to call for a snap election.

We all know that Mount Snowdon didn't gently bend towards her to whisper in her ear, 'Call a snap election, Tess'. We know that it was Nick Timothy and Fiona Hill, her aides who did the whispering. And like all whisperers who give bad advice, they have resigned.

In one of my blog pages 'Reflections on the Week' I mentioned that David Cameron handed Theresa May a gun loaded with just one shot with article 50 engraved on it, which was fired on 29th March, 2017.  Well, turns out there were two shots and after firing the first, she later aimed the other, with 'snap election' engraved on it, and shot it right at her designer clad foot.

She is limping along, using the DUP as a crutch to stay in power. Yes, the DUP - the homophobic, climate change denying, Pope bashing political party. How long will that honeymoon last, before, to use the terminology of that great linguist, Gywneth Paltrow, the two parties uncouple.

Public money to the tune of 130 million pounds was spent on this election. Imagine how many food bank shelves could be stocked with that money or to put it in language TM might understand, imagine how many designer shoes could be bought with that money. A lot of money spent, for her to discover that she is not as popular or as strong or as stable as she and her party imagined. A painful, expensive and ego bruising discovery.

Personally, I think it was her reckless admission of the naughtiest thing she has ever done - running through wheat fields. I bet it was those irate farmers' votes she lost. And who can blame them? They labouriously spend hours growing their crop, they put up scarecrows to deter the birds and then what happens? A young Theresa May decides to run through them!

She could have said that she nicked her father's cigarette butts (if indeed he smoked) or that she pulled a chair from under someone... but no, she had to be cutting edge and admit to running through fields! 

In the meanwhile, Jeremy Corbyn's grin these days could almost rival Donald Trump's when he met the Pope. Talking of which, it's a shame JC is not yet in contention to be the Prime Minister because he has a plan on how to handle Donald Trump when he is being contrary. 

He says that he would write 'Sorry mate, you're wrong'. This he says would be a handwritten letter. As if the tangerine who tweets would be impressed by that. In his lovely vision of the world, JC probably imagines that Trump's little hands would tremble as he opens the handwritten letter and then he would be so overcome with repentance at his contrariness that he would vow never, ever to be contrary again.

Corbyn missed his calling. He should be a writer of children's fairy tales - they all have happy endings. Real life.....not so much.

Until next week, try and keep it light.

weekly news

Three attacks in three months, perpetrated by forces intent on dividing the United Kingdom. It is hard to make light of the news when the news is so grim. But isn't that just what these soulless destroyers of peace want? To suck the joy out of living? So let's not let them.

One such act of solidarity and defiance is the concert that was held in Manchester yesterday for the victims. It was headlined by Ariana Grande and hats off to her, after all she is just 23 years old herself and went through the trauma of what happened to her fans and their parents at the end of her concert just two weeks ago. A truly inspiring and Grande performance.   

In the meanwhile, that great statesman that is  Donald Trump is in the news again. I wish it was trumped up news but unfortunately (I am tempted to bring the word 'alas' out of semi-retirement) it isn't. He has taken the USA out of the Paris Agreement on climate change. The future is not so bright, the future is orange.

Some people might find Gywneth Paltrow a little irritating. I don't agree.  I find her extremely irritating. In a recent interview, she started out sounding self deprecating, so I actually read the blooming thing. Well, I exaggerate, skimmed through would be a better definition. I did this thinking that the self awareness she espouses, might actually have 'manifested' itself in her at last. Unfortunately (tempted by the word 'alas' again) not a hope in hell.

She spoke about having difficulties like everyone else.....but how she has used every single hardship as a stepping stone to something outrageously successful. She gave her magazine Goop as an example. Yes, the magazine that tells us how to make $200 grass juice smoothies with a little moon dust (I kid you not) thrown in.

In case you are interested, she stands by her decision to call her divorce from her husband 'conscious uncoupling'. Sorry Gwynie, you can consciously uncouple as much as you like (preferably in the privacy of your own home), as far as I am concerned a divorce by any other name is still a divorce.

Apparently, Louis Payne (I'm impressed I remember his name) is keen to have another baby with Cheryl whatever- her- surname-is -at- the- moment. I wish she would just be a Payne now that she has had a baby with one. Maybe they should have another baby and call him or her 'Window'.

Until next week, try and keep it light and stay safe.

Weekly news

Donald Trump ventured out of the USA on a foreign tour. His poor aides must have suffered from 'heart in mouth' disease the whole time. Can you imagine how it feels, when your boss is the president of the most powerful country in the world but wouldn't recognise, much less practice, diplomacy if it lifted his toupee and bopped him on the head?!

In the meanwhile, Melania wasn't having any hand holding PDA. When he attempted to hold hands, she impressively and expertly swatted it away like a tennis player whacking an orange tennis ball.

Not that I blame her. Here is a tip for you Mr. President. When you want to hold hands with your wife, slow down, wait for her to catch up and then gently hold hands. Do not look straight ahead and without breaking stride, stretch your arm behind you and waggle your fingers at her.

From the Middle East to Italy, where they met Pope Francis. Trump was gushing and looked very impressed. Judging by a photo taken with the trump family, the Pope didn't share the sentiment. He looked like a stern headmaster, unlike Trump, who stood beside him, grinning as if he was in an advertisement for toothpaste.

Melania, the second catholic first lady after Jackie Kennedy to meet the Pope, wore a  look that rivalled the Pope's in sternness, and a black veil, which to put it delicately, was less than flattering. Seems like she may have forgotten to cast a glance in a mirror after donning it on.

I have discovered something that the Pope has in common with Goans - the ability to make unsolicited comments and observations on a person's weight!

Making reference to Trump's waistline he asked her what she fed him, to which she replied 'Potica'. Apparently, it is a highly calorific Slovenian pastry. And I thought it was large, fat, juicy steaks.

Trump said that he didn't want to call the terrorist who set off a bomb in Manchester a monster, he said that they were all losers.
I call them 'less humans'. Heartless, merciless and soulless. 

Ironically, the one quality that is the most desirable in all humans, is also a 'less' word - selfless. Among all the selfless deeds of kindnesses displayed by the people present at that time, I would like to focus on this one because I think it gives new meaning to the word 'selfless'.

A couple, Kim and Phil Dick, went to pick up their 17 year old and 16 year old daughter and grand daughter, when the bomb went off. While desperately trying to look for their girls, they came across a dazed and badly injured 14 year old girl. Her hair was singed, she had a melted plastic bag stuck to her hair and was bleeding profusely.

This amazing woman sent her husband to look for their girls, while she looked after this girl, consoling and reassuring her, before the paramedics arrived. Fortunately their girls were unharmed.

Every parents' instinct in such situations is to reassure themselves of their own child's safety. For this woman to put this basic, human instinct to one side, to look after someone else's child, is heartwarming and gives us hope that these perpetrators of darkness and misery will not win.

Until next week, stay safe.

A lighter look at the news

If you live under a rock and have only just surfaced, Pippa Middleton got married yesterday. Yay. True to rumours that she did not want Meghan Markle there, Harry was on his own, at least in the morning. Apparently, Miss Markle made an appearance in the evening. Perhaps because all slim brunettes look the same after sundown.

If, indeed, the reason for not inviting Ms. Markle to the wedding was to avoid any limelight being taken away from the bride, I am afraid it did not work. But then Pips could hardly not invite her own nephew and niece to her wedding.

Yes, little George and Charlotte did to their Aunty, what their Aunty(and her clingy white dress) did to their mummy on her wedding day - they well and truly stole the limelight!

Now, I am not one to judge (as you can tell from my blog) but I got the impression that Kate would be one of those Mums who has one of those fixed 'isn't my child wonderful?' smiles on their face, even when their child is being anything but wonderful.

Turns out, she is not. There was much shushing and finger pointing, particularly in the direction of her first born, as he gleefully stood on the bride's train, which he followed with a royal tantrum, after being told off, no doubt. 

Talking of childish behaviour, Harry Styles apparently is all grown up now. How do I know this? Well, in a recent interview in the Sunday Times magazine, he informed the general public that he has taken off the hat that is usually and jauntily placed on his head and thrown it in the political ring.

Now don't be alarmed. He is not joining politics, all he is doing is supporting the party that 'opposes Brexit the most'. Not sure if he is being coy and not naming the party, or he couldn't bother himself to find out which party that is.

Now, if you are a Brexiteer, you should be very, very scared. After all, Mr. Styles has the potential to garner millions of votes....... but then, 14 to 16 year olds are not allowed to vote, so perhaps not.

In the meanwhile, the Conservatives appear not to be heading for a landslide win, as their Manifesto is not very popular. So, they are still strong but not very stable.

Perhaps this is what appears to have spurred Jeremy Corbyn on, as his speeches are getting more and more animated. I recently saw him on TV, giving  a speech, where he kept hopping from one foot to the other, as if Diane Abbott was lightly running a feather on the soles of his feet. 

So for now, try and keep it light.....and if you can't, make sure it's worth the calories!

LIGHTER NEWS

      

A lighter look at the news

This week, France elected a new President. Yes, apparently not enough French people put Le Pen to Le paper to vote for La Madame Marine. So, Macron is France's President and his wife Brigitte Trogneux is France's First Lady.

Apparently, he met his wife when he took drama lessons and she was his teacher. She was 39 years old and 24 years his senior. Please do the maths and find out how old he was when he met her, (unless you are Diane Abbott, then please do us all a favour and don't do the maths).

Since it was a drama class, one wonders if perhaps she sang 'will you still need me, will you still greet me, when I'm sixty four?' (thank you Beatles) and if he answered  'oui, oui!' then, we (or rather France), may actually have a leader who keeps their promise. 

Macron's name is 'Emmanuel', which means Messiah, which is so much better than having a president named after a duck. Well done France!

In the meanwhile, David Beckham played a cameo role in that posh geezer Guy Ritchie's film 'King Arthur - Legend of the Sword'. Now, the film has yet to be released to the general public, so I am not in a position to make a comment..... but when has that ever stopped me! According to the critics, Becks' performance wasn't exactly Oscar material. Most of them, rather unkindly, have suggested that he should've been cast as the stone.

I think that is grossly unfair to any of us, who as children, were cast as trees, stones, clouds or pillars. Not all of us, if given the opportunity to have our every wish come true, would give a wooden, or in this case, stony,  performance.

Personally, I think David Beckham peaked in 'Bend it like Beckham' when he and Posh wafted through Heathrow airport, and he would have done well to hang his thespian boots then alongside his football ones. 

I had a little scare this week. I have this habit of not looking through the peep hole before opening my front door when the doorbell rings. I saw something on the news this week to change that. 

Theresa May did door to door visits, and trust me, I will be anything but strong and stable, if I actually open my front door to see her standing there. From now on, it's tippy toes, eye to the peep hole before I open it to anyone.

Mind you, I'd rather it was Theresa May and not that Liberal Democrats' chap because I probably won't recognise him and I am one of those people who hates hurting anyone's feelings. 

Not a lot more to add, so until next week, try and keep it light.
                                   

          LIGHTER NEWS!!!

                                         
                                                                             

                                                                      

A lighter look at the news

Sorry that I haven't been posting 'The lighter news' for a couple of weeks (I flatter myself that some people actually read my blogs).  I wasn't feeling very light and, truth be told, not feeling too light even now.

Since my last post, Theresa May has called for a snap election and typically, crackle and pop have followed. Apparently, she felt that she would be better able to negotiate Britain’s exit out of the EU if she had a strong and stable government. Nothing to do with the strong and stable lead of over 20 points the Tories are supposed to have had at the time.

Well, Theresa may or may not win and I may or may not stop making these silly may puns in this month of May and belatedly I realise you may have stopped reading this.

In my first ever post on Brexit, I remember mocking the word ‘Brexit’ - ‘it sounds like a bran remedy for constipation’ is what I wrote. At the time, I didn’t think that it could get any worse, but guess what? It just did. Yes, I give you ‘hard Brexit’.

Apparently, that is what you will get if you vote for Theresa May. And, surprise, surprise, if you want a ‘soft Brexit’, you should vote for Jeremy Corbyn. So, who on earth do people who are regular (yours truly included) vote for?

Also, if the Tories represent ‘hard Brexit’ and Labour represent ‘soft Brexit’ does that make UKIP ‘bunged up Brexit’ and the Lib Dems ‘runny Brexit’? I do apologise for getting carried away but blame it on the person who came up with the word Brexit in the first place.

In the meanwhile, guess who has decided to cash in and is bracing himself (he will need much bracing) for a comeback in an attempt to start an anti-Brexit movement. None other than Tony Blair.

The man is never short for words, so I won’t bother with most of what he said except that according to him, he  is motivated, passionate and wants to reconnect with the people. He also says that he knows that he will get a bucket of wotsit poured all over him when he sticks his head out the door.

Awww, bless him for being so optimistic, using words like ‘reconnect’ and anticipating just one bucket of wotsit being poured over him. Well Mr. Blair, I suggest that, in preparation of the gallons of wotsits that will be poured over you, you wear a heavy duty Mac (Nicola Sturgeon could recommend a good one I am sure) before you poke your head out of the woodwork...oops, I mean door.

Talking of Ms.Sturgeon, on a visit to a Pre-school in Aberdeenshire,she said that only the SNP could stop Theresa May from having a free hand to do whatever she wants to do.

’We have got to make sure that there is a check on the Tories and that there is a strong opposition and strong voices for Scotland’. I am sure those 3 and 4 year olds were reverted. Whatever happened to ‘Goldilocks and the Three Bears’ or, before Ms. Sturgeon doest protest that it is too English, ‘Katie Morag’?’

In the meanwhile, the Shadow Home Secretary, Diane Abbott was interviewed by Nick Ferrari on LBC Radio about proposed Police funding for 10,000 extra Police Officers and proceeded to make a right royal pig’s ear of it.

She has this rather distracting habit of rolling her eyeballs towards the ceiling (or the sky if outdoors) contemplatively, before and intermittently while, answering questions.

Since this was radio, I can only imagine that she did her upward gaze but as there was nothing to contemplate, since she didn’t have the answer, she desperately plucked one from thin air, coming up with the ridiculous sum of £300,000, thereby rewarding our potential, hardworking Police Officers the grand annual sum of £30 a year.

Making another attempt at plucking from thin air, she then came up with £80 million. Once again, coming up with a slightly better, if still ridiculous, sum of £8,000 a year.

But that wasn’t the most shocking or hysterical part for me. I read this in a newspaper article (before listening to it online) which also proceeded to say that Jeremy Corbyn defended his former lover!

This made me do a Diane Abbott, my eyeballs, preceded by my eyebrows, shot upwards, but not contemplatively - I wouldn’t do that to my imagination.

Finally, while on a sad and reflective walk with a friend, this creature, for a brief second, brought some respite. Let me introduce you to the Robert de Niro of the bovine world!

"Are you lookin' at me?"

Until next time, try and keep it light.

       

              

A lighter look at the News

At last, Posh Spice has had an epiphany and realised what we want, what we really, really want… and it’s certainly not overpriced size 0 to -4 dresses.

Yes, having grasped the concept that some women actually like their food and that the average dress size for women is somewhere between 12 to 16, she is now designing dresses for all women. To make up for her earlier transgressions, she is going overboard and designing dresses from sizes up to 24, which are stocked in 'Target'.

While polishing her halo, Vicky Beck pouted her reason for this venture. Apparently, it is to empower all women. The fact that her bank balance gets empowered as well, is just a bonus.

I can’t wait for Posh to bring her clothes to Britain. Surely, it is her patriotic duty to empower British women (of all sizes) as well? I am sure Asda is clearing spaces on their shelves even as we speak.

On a different note, I wonder why she called her daughter Harper and not Saffron, after all she is Posh spice. Oh dear! I hope I don’t give her any ideas..there may be another little Beckham on the way.

Meanwhile, the Archbishop of York was very cross with the National Trust and Cadbury for dropping the word 'Easter' from their Easter Egg Hunt. He, and a lot of Christians, see it as yet another attempt to take a Christian festival and wipe out traces of any link to Christianity.

On a personal level, I find it slightly irritating that people who don’t have the foggiest idea what Lent is all about, ‘observe’ it by using it as an opportunity to detox their systems. New Year’s resolutions didn’t work? Don’t worry, there’s always Lent!

I have all our Easter eggs (in their boxes) on the kitchen table and on scrutiny, not a single one of them has the word ‘Easter’ on them. Nonetheless, I would like to wish everyone a very Happy Easter!

Until next week, try and keep it light!