Oh, what a circus!
Following a couple of politically charged rants earlier this week, I was determined to emulate my youngest and sit in front of my fire, write my blip and stay well away from political blips for a spell.
Blipfoto is after all the polar opposite of Westminster and being The Nicest Place on the Internet™ should not be sullied by ranty, middle-aged bald man with nothing better to do with their time…HOWEVER, our clown shoed government continue to make it impossible to ignore the elephant in the room and with the hot air escaping from their panicked mouths, have instead inflated the pachyderm to such gargantuan proportions that it would be churlish and odd to feign disinterest in such a curious sight.
In a final ironical act, Less Trusst u-turned on her declaration to “fight on”, predictably threw in the towel and immediately became a future answer to a bad pub quiz question. It’s ok though, a replacement will be in post in a week (it’s only the toughest job in the UK, plenty of time to source a suitable candidate) and the party who has effed it all up, still get to pick their next
With Tory effrontery already at a tantalisingly climatic point, the final vinegar strokes were applied and a nation unceremoniously spaffed all over with rumours of BJ making a comeback bigger than Jesus or when Robbie hooked up with Take That again for a bit.
We were already a laughing stock, so Lord knows where the latest events leave us on the jokenationometer now? The idea that the very people who got us into this mess are the ones who have to get us out of it, is utterly preposterous and for the good of the nation NOW is the time to take a vote from the public and at least let us choose who will get to wear the biggest floppy shoes and squeaky red nose next.
There is certainly no one obvious who is worthy of the ringmaster’s hat.