| LETTERS FROM LONDON |
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| REASONS TO BE CHEERFUL 21 May 2016 |
| Boris Goes Bananas Oh Boris. The future of your maniacal PM appropriation plans are looking dimmer and dimmer. Did I say dimmer? Not dumber? OK. I’m going for dimmer and dumber. I’d lost the will to live – and vote, but a recent utterly embarrassing event has got me re-interested in the EU referendum – for the minute that is. But first…. I dread having to mention this as it went viral – oh you know – Boris’ outrageous – dim and dumb - likening the EU to Hitler’s plans for domination of the continent. Oh yawn – not another Nazi reference. Oh stop. Stop! No more references to Hitler, Nazis, Nazi Germany. We know the story. Must we remind buffoon Boris that Adolf wanted a massive, all-encompassing Germany – not a united Europe? This is the same Boris who prides himself on his knowledge of classical history – and certainly Eurovision. Boris recently sang a bit of Ode to Joy in German. Really. Seriously, have you noticed how Boris is morphing into The Donald? Separated at birth? Well possibly. Boris was born in NYC wasn’t he. Oh let’s not ignore the hair. Oh then there’s the language: “bamboozle the public… banana republic…it stinks to high heaven”. Blimey! This is from Boris! And surely you assumed it was The Don. Clearly Boris has gone bananas! Wait. There is a reference here, not just an observation. “I think the most important thing is that everybody should cut out the synthetic outrage about things I have said, and stick to the facts.” You know BJ isn’t as stupid as his farcical act. You know he is ruthlessly ambitious, but we are getting increasingly bored with it all. Aren’t we? Here’s the banana bit. On the campaign trail Boris announced that rules set by Brussels stop people buying bananas in bunches of “more than two or three”. Erm. “…stick to the facts” Boris? Aren’t you beginning to think Boris is – bonkers? mental? mad? insane? not just desperate? “It is absurd that we are told you cannot sell bananas of bunches of more than two or three bananas. You cannot sell bananas with abnormal curvature of the fingers.” What?! Are you keeping up here? Do you reckon he was serious? If he was joking, it was not in any way amusing was it? Competing with The Donald? We know Boris demands absolute media attention and The Donald has certainly been beating Boris in the game of attention-seeking. After all, The Don does rape and racism; Boris does bananas. PM Dave and wanna-be PM Boris have been playing out their very public attempts to panic the voters: ‘I’m in, you’re out!’…‘My hair’s way cooler than yours!’ They have done WWII vs WWIII but now they have actually surpassed their persistent schoolboy antics. The actual event that reinvigorated my interest in the referendum – for the minute - was when Boris literally tried to grab a document from CallMeDave’s tight little hand. “What’s all this? Let me see!” Blimey! You are reading this right. CMD refused to relinquish his private, precious notes. What happened next? You couldn’t make this up no matter how hard you tried. They tussled – they wrestled – they tugged across the table to obtain control of the papers. No! Really! Middle-aged Tory toffs acting out their Bullingdon Club student days. Oh boys. Oh boys. Tut tut. You look like right idiots. Oh right. Leave out ‘look like’ and insert ‘are’. Apparently adamant, raging, ferocious in their referendum positions, didn’t the boys hold the opposite views before they became teeth-gnashing pitbulls or am I dreaming? I’m certain they did, but then, I am having a nightmare. I Say Hello, You Say Goodbye Hello Peggy. Goodbye Peggy. Hello Pat! Goodbye Pat! Irony alert: Pam St Clement actually begged and begged the writers not to kill her off. Did they listen? Obviously not. Was she thrilled to be back? Yes she was. Were we? Yes we were. A pity they didn’t listen to her/us. We miss Pat. Hello Grant. Goodbye Grant. Ross Kempt is coming back to do a few more episodes so he has said. Hello Sam. Goodbye Sam. Danniella Westbrook was written in for more episodes, but after ‘acting out’ – insisting on bringing her 23 year-old boyfriend on set, arriving at least two hours late twice; it’s goodbye Sam. Get outta her pub! Sorry – really. |