Get some PopCon in, sit back… and howl at the Return of Chucky
IS there a more miserable time of the year than the second week in February?
The sleet-heavy skies remind you summer is still an age away, the central heating takes a hammering, your head teeters on the brink of a stinking cold and there’s nothing happening.
So what a relief it has been to see the news providing us with such top quality humour.
Politicians standing up in Westminster to say the “thoughts and prayers” of all their constituents are with the King and his family as he undergoes cancer treatment.
When the thoughts and prayers of many constituents are actually with a father who is forced to wait months to start his own cancer treatment – or with an elderly aunt who is lying on a trolley in A&E after a fall because her hospital has run out of beds.
We’re hearing right-wingers – who pine for a return to a country run on traditional Christian principles – slaughtering the Church of England for converting Muslim migrants to… Christianity. Which isn’t very Christian.
And as it’s confirmed global warming is now exceeding 1.5C a year, Sir U-Turn Starmer ditches his Green Prosperity Plan over fears that the cost might frighten voters in parts of Middle England whose nice homes are probably
on course to be flooded in the next few years, due to, erm, climate change.
Then there’s a Prime Minister with worse satisfaction ratings than an Airbnb in Pyongyang believing the best way to court popularity is to have a bet with a TV host that he can dump asylumseekers on flights to Africa and crack gags about trans women not far from a mother whose trans daughter was murdered.
Which makes you wonder whether Joey Barton is doing his media training.
But no sight made the shoulders quake as much as Liz Truss returning to what she bizarrely believed was the centre stage of politics.
This is a woman who sees herself as a modern-day Boudicca when the rest of us see her as a malfunctioning Chucky doll. Someone with less selfawareness than a shark attack victim who has lost both legs auditioning for a part in Riverdance.
How else can you sanely describe the worst-ever British Prime Minister, who is still widely despised for crashing the UK economy, putting herself forward as the leader of a group called Popular Conservatives, or PopCons for all you hipsters out there.
In her latest bid to make us forget she connected thousands of mortgage holders with the Samaritans, Chucky rolled up in a church hall alongside fellow pantomime zombies Jacob “I never tire of reminding my valet we must bring down elites” Rees-Mogg, Lee “Six Bob Knob” Anderson and Andrea “thicker than Tarmac” Jenkyns to show us the newest Tory grouping.
PopCons, otherwise known as career vultures waiting to feast on Sunak’s decapitation, whose pitch is: Now that we can’t blame unelected Brussels quangocrats for the dire state of Britain, let’s blame our unelected lawyers and civil servants.
Even though their party has had 14 years to sort Britain out.
Which makes you wonder that if they are the Popular Conservatives, who are the unpopular ones?
And how much longer do we have to put up with this Tory death cycle soap opera which, to borrow Poundshop Boudicca’s language, is as mad as a slab of imported Gouda.
Still, it brightens up these glum February days, eh?
‘‘ How much longer do we have to put up with this Tory death soap?