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!

A lighter look at this week's news

At some point in our lives, most of us have been stuck between a rock and a hard place. However, this week where the 'Lighter news' is concerned, I find myself stuck between a marshmallow and a soft place.

To explain, I am undecided whether to start with Cheryl (not sure what surname she goes by these days) and Pippa Middleton. Well, I'll start with Pippa. She of the clingy white dress fame, is set to get married and apparently she does not want her wedding to turn into a three ring circus.

Now what (or who)you might ask could possibly turn her wedding into a three ring circus? Well, Pips is convinced it could be Megan Markel, Prince Harry's girlfriend. Apparently (according to the radio presenters I was listening to on the way to work) she does not want Megan to be Harry's +1 at her wedding. Poor Harry, bad enough he had to get cross with the Media, he now has the uncomfortable task of getting cross with his bro's in-laws. 

I personally think Pippa is worried that Ms Markel will do to her what she and her derriere did to big sis Kate at her wedding - steal the limelight. Too bad Pippa, it's something that happens to all of us and it goes by the name of Karma.

As you may or may not know, Cheryl (of the clan Tweedy) is ready to drop her baby any day now. Her boyfriend, (I am pausing to google his name) Liam Payne 'playfully' said that he had been tip-toeing around the house.  This gave rise to rumours, as their fans (perhaps not the sharpest of knives in the drawer) thought it was a clue that the baby had arrived. Oh Liam, what a tease!

Their un-Royal highness-es let the people know through their lawyers, that 'after a period of time, after they have left hospital, they will make an official announcement'. I am guessing the 'period to time' is set aside for the highest bidder (magazine) to take pictures to sell to the public. That's just me being cynical...and realistic.

Oh dear! Nicola Sturgeon is at it again. Not for the first time, good old Nics has got her knicks in a twist. Like a Jack-in-the-box with a wayward lid, she keeps popping up at the most inconvenient and unexpected times, startlingly everyone around her, not least poor Mrs. May. Just like the aforementioned J-in- the-box, she springs up and down, repeating the same old tired refrain, time and time again.'Independence for Scotland!'

Apparently the referendum for Scotland's independence that was supposed to last a lifetime/generation, has lasted 3 years. Now, I am no heavyweight political observer. Judging by my blog, I am not even a lightweight political observer.  I am in fact a 'Light-er-weight' political observer and as such I am going to take light-er liberties as I observe this bit of news.

In September, 2014, Scotland voted 'No' to independence by 55% of the votes. Yes, Scotland convincingly voted 'Scremain! The choice to not Scexit 3 years ago was supposed to last a lifetime. So what has changed?

Apparently, the EU referendum. Scotland voted to overwhelmingly stay in the EU. That is what has got Ms Sturgeon all strident and vocal about the welfare of Scotland. I am a bit baffled because from what I can gather, she wants to take Scotland out of a smaller Union (the UK) to join a bigger Union (the EU - not particularly welcoming at that). So, in essence, Ms Sturgeon wants Scotland to be a teeny tiny fish in a huge pond, as compared to being a medium sized fish in a small(ish) pond....... Go figure!

Now, this is something that breaks my heart. Another young woman raped and killed in Goa. Danielle McLauglin from Liverpool and County Donegal was visiting Goa, not for the first time.  The fact that she was revisiting Goa, leads me to believe that she had a positive experience the first time round and wanted to recapture it. Poor girl. Some monster by the name of Vikat Bhagwat (not a Goan name that I recognise) raped and strangled her. 

Miss McLauglin was 28 years old, only a few years older than my own daughters and if any country/state advertised themselves as being a safe 'paradise', I would expect that they would follow through. Unfortunately, this is not always the case and I think all we can do now  is pray  for Danielle and her family. May she rest in peace and her family find some solace in lawful, proper and fair Justice. That is the least that Goa owes her.


To end, you know if you are Christian, you spend most of your life listening to people mock and make fun of your beliefs, safe in the knowledge that there will be no repercussions? You sit there thinking, 'you would not be saying that if I belonged to another religious denomination'. I know because I have experienced it many times.

Well, no more! A man who indulged in  horrible online anti Christian posts (I know his name but will not say it to avoid giving him the  oxygen of publicity) apparently has incurred the wrath of the Christian Church. The Judicial system has decreed that this man is here forth and herewith banned from entering any Church in the United Kingdom.

Imagine that! A man posting anti Christian stuff banned from entering any church in the UK! He must be gutted.... oh well baby steps in the right direction I guess.

Until next week...

A lighter look at this week’s news

This week, I am going to start with a piece of news that is so light, it is positively frothy! Apparently, a few days back, Louis Tomlinson (of One Direction in case you’re asking yourself ‘who?’, I’ve just saved you a google search) was arrested for assault.

Now, if you care enough to jump to conclusions, let me say that it wasn’t a Bieber like attack, the reason here was quite noble. He was squabbling with some paparazzi (shades of Bieber I agree) when three girls took this opportunity to attack his girlfriend. Not sure why, perhaps between the two and a half brain cells they shared between them, they thought they could replace her and he wouldn’t notice.

LT rushed heroically to his girlfriend’s rescue and in the process elbowed one of the girls (the one with the half brain cell) in the eye. Filled with indignation, she immediately turned judge, jury, victim and prosecutor all in one, as she proclaimed, ‘he hit me, he is going to jail.’ Yes love and you’re going to get an invitation to join MENSA.

Not sure if the next piece of news is trumped up or not but Donald Trump has claimed that Obama has tapped his tower. Not literally of course, he claims that Obama had the phones in Trump Tower tapped.

I think he tweeted these accusations. He does use three parts of his body to communicate - his mouth (to converse), his thumbs (to tweet) and his hands (to make small talk).

There’s some good news for Londoners. They can apparently look forward to a very peaceful existence in the very near future. The reason? A Shaman is set to change London into the Pollyanna capital of the world. What is a Shaman I hear you ask. Not for the first time, I will save you a google search. A Shaman is a person who has access to good and evil spirits.

Now, this man is not any Shaman, he is Gwyneth Paltrow’s Shaman. He claims that Londoners drown out their emotions with alcohol and cigarettes. I can understand drowning in alcohol but I would imagine experiencing a whole lot of burns from cigarette drowning but then again who am I to argue with a Shaman.

According to him, he realised that he had special talents at a very young age because he could talk to trees and flowers.Now, I am trying very hard to hide it but this does fill me with much excitement. You see, I think I can talk to trees and flowers.

In fact, I can go one better. I am pretty darn sure yesterday as I passed by some daffodils, they nodded at me. I nodded back and it was a very special moment. The daffs could’ve been assisted by the wind of course but why would I let the truth get in the way of an amazing story.

Apparently, when Gwynnie invited him, he assumed it was for an interview for her health website (gobble di goo or something like that). Turns out, it was just for a chat. Awwwww.  According to one or the other (or perhaps both) they are now like brother and sister.

The one thing I’ll give the Shaman, he is 42 years old but you could easily reverse those numbers and not doubt his age. Perhaps big sis Gwyneth

whips up her £275/- smoothies for him when they hang out.

So, all you Londoners, your days of cynicism, guzzling booze and puffing non stop at cigarettes are numbered. You are soon to be shiny, happy people. Isn’t that a terrifying thought?

Rant of the week

I honestly despair at this but some young, unmarried couples in Kerala, India were beaten up by right wing nationalists, while the police watched or turned a blind eye. Previously, similar right wing nationalists attacked couples celebrating Valentine’s day.

Thank goodness in this case, the seven Policemen have been punished  and I hope this is a lesson to the rest of the narrow minded hypocrites who claim “flaunting their relationships is totally contrary to Indian culture”.

First of all, Indian culture is so diverse that saying something so all encompassing doesn’t even make sense. Second of all,that’s rich coming from the land that gave the world the Kamasutra.

Rave of the week

At last Katie Hopkins our modern day Pinocchio, has got her comeuppance. I could go into details but all I will say is that she is going to be paying through her prominent nose, damages of £24,000/- to food blogger Jack Monroe, plus substantial  legal costs.

Perhaps this will stop her vitriol or perhaps not. Addiction to attention seeking at all costs without a second thought to collateral damage, is a hard habit to break.

Until next week ……..

A lighter look at this week’s news

I couldn’t have asked for a better start to my decision to comment on the week gone by, when first thing on Monday morning, I heard that the Oscar was given to the wrong film! Thank you Oscars for giving me something to chuckle about on a Monday morning. Makes the embarrassing mistakes we mere mortals commit seem trivial by comparison.

Apparently, the egos of Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway squabbled backstage as to who should read out the winning film. Mr. Beatty and his ego won, something I am sure he wished to God had not happened as he hummed and hawed over the winner. Then, with the whole world watching, he decided to take Ms. Dunaway down with him.

Appearing to be lost in La La Land herself, she declared La La Land the winner. All the La La Landers trouped joyously to the stage but midway through a speech, defeat was snatched from the jaws of victory.They hadn't la la landed the Oscar for best film after all.

Moonlight was declared the rightful winner and the rest is history which will be repeated again and again on you tube and ‘most embarrassing moment’ programmes.

Mercifully, no trumped up news to comment on this week. Donald Trump’s speech to Congress wasn’t a piece of fiction unlike some of his previous speeches and the proof of this is that he actually spoke about the terrorist attacks in Belgium, France and Germany without adding Sweden to the list. Well done Mr Trump.

On this side of the pond, the Labour Party managed to lose a seat that they held for 80 years.  When will their leader Jeremy Corbyn wake up and smell the coffee? He most likely drinks green tea, so the answer is probably never.

I suggest he boards a half empty Virgin train, plonks himself on the floor, whips off his rose tinted glasses and ponders on the future of the Labour Party. Just don’t treat it as a photo op  this time Mr C.

On a personal note, nothing to rave or rant about; do you have something to rave or rant about this past week? Or a lighter twist to a news story?

Love for sale

It's the 14th of February and of course it is the Feast of St. Valentine or Valentine's Day. I feel slightly guilty that the feast day of a martyred saint brings out the cynic in me but it does. Perhaps it's to do with the fact that no sooner does New Year's day turn to the 2nd of January, we get inundated with shops displaying heart shaped chocolates, cards with cupids on them, orders for flowers (in case they stop blooming the week before 14/2)  the list goes on. As if January is not depressing enough with Christmas behind us, the cold dark nights ahead and the self deprivation we force upon ourselves as punishment for the festive season's excesses, we now face cupid with his arrow poised to target our wallets. 

I remember when I was a young girl, (yes I have an amazing memory!) the biggest excitement on Valentine's day was receiving/sending a card and signing it 'your Valentine'. Now I say this as if I had experienced being either the receiver or sender of such cards. I experienced neither but it didn't matter. It was good fun, I got to live vicariously through those who did receive/send such cards and most of all it didn't cost much - just the price of a card and a stamp.

It is quite sweet that some couples choose to go out to dinner on Valentine's day. If only the Restaurateurs would be equally sweet with their Valentine's Specials. The only thing 'special' about these offers are the prices.Swapping white tablecloths for red ones with a rose in the middle of the table, doesn't really warrant such inflated rates.  Now don't hold a grudge against me for this suggestion, but if one person does most of the cooking on a day to day basis, why doesn't the other person cook on the day, instead. It might be torture for the regular cook but at least you will have your aaaaahhh moment on Valentine's day instead of the aarrggggh?? moment when you get your bill at the restaurant (and you can always raid the fridge later).  

To put it in less cynical perspective,Valentine's day is about celebrating something abstract like love with physical representations like chocolate and wine. Ideally, we should celebrate love everyday, so you don't have to be Einstein to conclude what else we should be doing everyday........bring on the chocolates and wine!!!!