Scrobs has decided that he will not contest another General Election.
The man himself needs a period of reflection, dithering, obfuscation, fake news, support from a failing BBC, support from anyone else, some sort of tonic wine, and also the purchase of a bullet-proof vest, to be worn back to front while the knives hover...
So we can all breath a sigh of relief, and look forward to a great year!
The Senora O'Blene has supplied the title to this post, and has been suitably rewarded!
9 comments:
Someone bit the bullet, stuffed it into the appropriate chamber, lit the blue touch-paper, and it was just like fireworks going off after a successful gunpowder plot! In the meantime someone's ego ain't going to be salved by licking his wounds. Do you really think we were so stupid to believe we'd have free this, free that, and freedom from Brexit without it costing mega-wongas from, er, der, um, ah, guess who, gottit, us!
Great result and lots of Labour and Lib Dem anguish to look forward to. BBC folk may be a little anxious too - I hope so. All in all quite a Christmas present.
Absolutely, Goosey!
The silly grins haven't left our faces for seventy-two hours now...
The silly sods who believed the old Magic Grandpa are still wandering around in some sort of daze!
Agreed, Mr Haart!
It really was a memorable occasion though - almost story book stuff!
According to today's news, Crapbin's so-called apology seemed to have been wrenched out of him by those who had un-washed odd socks with no partner forthcoming. The only way Boris could sort it out was to contact his local knitting club called "Knitwits Anonymous" to unravel said socks, then using three Number eight needles and a little-known stitch pattern dubbed as "This ain't Fair Isle" (which my inner sources tell me mostly consists of knit one, purl one, pass the slipped stich over the one you dropped before) they made a scarf long enough to drag him out of parliament. Unfortunately there was a paucity of red wool but someone had the idea to pinch some from a tupped sheep with a red mark on its bum so, with the little bit of wool left over, they made him a bow-tie to match the look on his face when he lost out. Tell you what, there's a lot of lanolin in a sheep's fleece so let's hope he gets the message and doesn't try to fleece then oil his way out from the British public ever again.
My dear Shanks. I am sat here in the kitchen, where the telephone never stops ringing. But a fine view of the Chilterns this morning, thanks in no small measure to you. Still a banging head this morning - Paul at the local keeps a good cellar. But now down to business. I don't want you to think that your wish list is being overlooked, a short delay is all because of the Queen's Speech and all that tosh. Firstly- throughout the British Isles beer from now has to be legally served at 68 °F and not 20 °C (I stipulate the German Fahrenheit, rather than the Celsius). As for Bob Willis, I am afraid he will have to remain dead - my hands are tied. We take note on your advice with regard to cheese. Cheddar, Stilton and Wensleydale are to be the only cheeses available to purchase as from the 1st of January. Also from January 1st we will once again be opening Liptons. Fine Fare, Littlewood's and Woolworths throughout the country. Finally would you please send your full address and personal information to L. Modo, Bismark Suite, 4 Matthew Parker St, Westminster, London SW1H 9NP for the keys and documentation for your brand new Humber Sceptre MK I.
Quite a lot of baaaaaaah in your post, Goosey!
Is this a surreal reference to 'humbug'?
I am just loving the way things are happening so quickly now in the HOC!
Have you seen the Corribin door slamming clip? Hilarious!
My Dear Mr Modo!
You seem to be teasing this old fella with constant pointers as to where you have hidden the Wayfarer Deluxe... There's only one other man in this country who ever calls me 'Shanks', and he definitely doesn't live near the Chilterns, although Mrs O'Blene and I spent a very happy honeymoon night in Chalfont St Peter, and I have a photo to prove it! Several in fact...
Regarding cheese, I still mourn a good Lymeswold, as it was just so different back then, so as the new range of sloppy French stuff priced accordingly exorbitant in Mr Wait's and Mr Rose's local comestibiliatry, (Do Booths do a good cheese counter, Goosey?), we are quite happy with a chunk of mousetrap and the rind from a discarded Stilton, minus the port of course!
Can I please ask for an 'Extra Violent' towing hook to be fitted to the Humber? Just in case I find my old home one day...
Goosey, just reading your post again, the knitting needles were part of Blackadder's plan to get out of going over the top, weren't they?
My dear mother taught me to knit in 1957, and I gave up immediately afterwards...
I always take up my own trousers though...
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