Not just a smug adul­terer

Daily Express - - NEWS -

GE­ORGE OS­BORNE says he will not rest un­til “Theresa May is chopped up in bags in my freezer”. He’s gone a bit strange hasn’t he? And he uses the pa­per he ed­its – Lon­don’s Evening Stan­dard – as a stick to beat the Prime Min­is­ter at every op­por­tu­nity. He’s be­gin­ning to cut rather a sad fig­ure and that freezer quip (a ref­er­ence to the mo­dus operandi of se­rial killers pre­sum­ably) is in keep­ing with the lu­di­crous prince-of-dark­ness im­age he has af­fected since he left West­min­ster.

ONE thing puz­zled me about the first series of Doc­tor Fos­ter. What on earth did Gemma (Su­ranne Jones) find ap­peal­ing about her drea­rily pro­vin­cial hus­band Si­mon (Ber­tie Carvel) who was hav­ing an af­fair with a stony-faced 22-yearold? He was so dull, so or­di­nary.

You might well have keyed his car, cut up his clothes and en­gaged the ser­vices of a lawyer. But once you’d got that out of your sys­tem you’d move on to pas­tures new and you wouldn’t have gone what we must now call the “full Fos­ter” and com­pre­hen­sively trashed his life.

If you’d set­tled down to have a drink with Gemma (she likes a drink or seven) you’d have told her kindly: “He’s not worth it, love. To be hon­est no­body knows what you saw in him any­way.”

But now we do know! As the sec­ond series gets un­der way (giv­ing us all some­thing to look for­ward to on an au­tum­nal Tues­day evening) we’re rapidly dis­cov­er­ing that he is as bonkers as she is. Nut jobs the pair of them. They’re a match made in heaven – or hell – if they did but know it. Since the last PUY lentils were on the lunch menu at Prince Ge­orge’s new prep school. Not that he’d be trou­bled by them as he’s only do­ing half-days. Per­son­ally I wouldn’t want to be around a gang of ex­citable nip­pers who’d been fed pulses. Re­mem­ber that bean-eat­ing camp­fire scene in Blaz­ing Sad­dles? series Si­mon has done some­thing to his fa­cial hair which gives him the look of a lurk­ing Shake­spearean vil­lain chew­ing away on mur­der­ous thoughts. Once merely a smug git he’s now a ma­lign Machi­avel­lian, a devil in a suit, a one-man hor­ror show. He’s out for re­venge, re­venge for the pun­ish­ment that Gemma in­flicted on him in the first series when she found out about his af­fair – the long blonde hair on his scarf.

He has got over be­ing found out, he has so got over be­ing the guilty party. Now he sim­ply hates his ex-wife with an icy pas­sion. And he has sud­denly be­come a whole lot more in­ter­est­ing as a re­sult. Once just any old sub­ur­ban shag­ger, he’s now full of sur­prises.

For in­stance Gemma told her new lover – a mild­man­nered teacher who should run for the hills if he knows what’s good for him – that Si­mon used to en­joy sex in cas­tles, specif­i­cally in the bat­tle­ments. Now there’s a tip for any­one look­ing to make the most of their Na­tional Trust mem­ber­ship.

Gemma has been tip­ping wine down her throat fol­low­ing Si­mon’s an­nounce­ment that – two years af­ter their vi­o­lent break-up – he Any re­search about sex grabs your at­ten­tion. This week’s – the Na­tional Sur­vey of Sex­ual At­ti­tudes and Life­styles – says women are more likely than men to lose in­ter­est in sex af­ter a year. But what on earth does that mean? Do they lose in­ter­est in sex per se or lose in­ter­est in the per­son with whom they’re hav­ing sex.

There’s a dif­fer­ence. Isn’t there? was mov­ing back to the fic­tional town of Parmin­ster with his lover (now wife) and small child.

Mostly drunk and de­ranged, Gemma’s de­fault set­ting is De­f­con 1. Her mad smiles are be­com­ing mad­der. She is not just a loose can­non, she is a North Korean nu­clear mis­sile primed for launch. She haunts peo­ple’s back gar­dens peer­ing through their win­dows, she says in­ap­pro­pri­ate things to teenage boys and – on a whim – hits Parmin­ster’s premier night club (a place of eter­nal pun­ish­ment if ever there was one).

My guess – Si­mon and Gemma will get back to­gether and con­spire to slaugh­ter ev­ery­one in Parmin­ster. Just be­cause they can. THE Tories, des­per­ate to get in the good books of young vot­ers, are said to be con­sid­er­ing a cut in the out­ra­geously high in­ter­est rates on stu­dent loans – cur­rently stand­ing at more than six per cent. Oth­ers have looked askance at the whop­ping salaries paid to univer­sity vice-chan­cel­lors. One ex­am­ple is the VC of the Univer­sity of War­wick who re­tired last year af­ter just over nine years in the job. Dur­ing that pe­riod he had a salary in­crease from £199,000 to £290,000. He was also en­ti­tled to a £240,000 lump sum and £150,000 in lieu of em­ployer con­tri­bu­tion. Plus an an­nual pen­sion of £80,000. His name, fun­nily enough, is Nigel Thrift. Mean­while Pro­fes­sor Bob Cryan of Hud­der­s­field Univer­sity has seen his salary rise to £364,564. That’ll be Pro­fes­sor Bob Cryan-all-the-way-to-the-bank.

CRAZY: The full Fos­ter

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