Yes, we are. With a week to go before the general election, the de-facto second Brexit referendum, we are indeed almost there. And this is the last post, literally and metaphorically. As such, it’s opportune to take a brief look back at the situation that brought us to where we are today.
I don’t actually recall ever having ‘the’ conversation with my own son but I do remember, with sweat-inducing fear, my own father’s somewhat ham-fisted but nonetheless enlightened attempt to increase my teenage knowledge of such delicate matters. So it was not without a little trepidation that wee Tom and I embarked on such a conversation t’other day concerning the ways of today’s wide and wacky world. Mind, it’s a sign of the times perhaps that wisdom in our relationship is now flowing predominantly in only one direction: towards me.
I recently came across a footnote informing me that no less than the pope himself wanted to alter a line of the Lord’s Prayer, from ‘lead us not into temptation’ to ‘do not let us fall into temptation’. Apparently, he thought it necessary to point out to us that any succumbing to potential temptation was entirely of our own doing, and not the ‘special one’s’ fault.
Following last week’s raft of pre-election promises from ‘hey-big-spenders’ Sajid Javid and John McDonnell, and the publishing of the worst performance figures since records began, it’s widely agreed that the NHS is on the critical list. And it isn’t even officially winter yet.
So, picture the scene. Lounging on his back in the New York mansion of his pal, Jeffery Epstein, Randy Andy is receiving a foot massage from a young, well-groomed Russian woman. Other men are in the room receiving a similar service, including international tech author, Evgeny Morozov, who revealed the undisputed spectacle.
Living on me jack-jones means I often have a spare room going begging. Several months ago I offered its use to a homeless charity…only for it to be declined. WTF. How very dare they! So, I did what any self-respecting capitalist would do and explored the possibility of making some quick cash via Airbnb. Mind, as I was to find out, getting paid for your guest bedroom isn’t as straightforward as it sounds.
Get Brexit done. People’s vote. B*llocks to Brexit. Leave. Remain. Backstop. Withdrawal agreement. Customs union. Article 50. Surrender bill. Divorce settlement. Dither and delay. Operation Yellowhammer. Transition period. Political declaration. Deal. No deal. In. Out. In. Out. Shake it all about.
Will you be watching X Factor tonight? No, me neither. And as the ratings indicate not many will be doing so. With viewing numbers falling off the proverbial cliff edge, the once head-to-head-with-Strictly-rags-to-riches vehicle now sees itself rounded upon by the likes of Countryfile and Antiques Roadshow. Oh Simon, how the high-waisted have fallen!
What do you call someone who can speak three languages? Trilingual. What do you call someone who can speak two languages? Bilingual. What do you call someone who can speak only one language? British. Boom-Boom. I’m here all week.
As an indication of how the UK follows the lead of the US we are oft heard quoting the phrase ‘when America sneezes, Britain catches a cold’ and it never seems more pertinent than our yearly adoption of their imminent Halloween and ‘Trick or Treat’ seasonal frivolities. However, as these continue to get out of hand, I feel it’s time to call it a day and curtail our slavish participation.