Leaders don’t know their arsenal from their elbow
REMEMBER a couple of months back, when I said this column was going to be a politics-free zone? This week, I’m back-pedalling like Nigel Farage after an in-flight assignation and making an exception. In light of the fact that Theresa May has called for a general election (oh great, something else to split the nation) I feel that current events make it imperative that I get involved. I’d therefore like to announce that I’m forming a new political movement called the Stop Making Things Flipping Worse Party. Seriously, what is going on in the world? We were already dealing with bun fights over Brexit and independence. Then there was Michael “Barred From Benidorm” Howard threatening a square go with Spain over who bagsies Gibraltar. Putin is in a big fat huff with the UK. And now, slap my thigh and give me a dodgy hair-do, Trump and Kim Jong Un are going toe-to-toe over who’s got the biggest arsenal. What is wrong with these people? Are they not getting enough hugs? Are they sleeping on a lumpy mattress? Dealing with bunions? Had too many e-numbers at snack time? Because what other possible reason could our planet’s leaders have for creating a perpetual cycle of stress, woe and potential armageddon? Anyone who keeps abreast of the news is stoating around this week singing that Steven Tyler song about not wanting to miss a thing.
If Bruce Willis appears in a jumpsuit any time soon, I’m off to the nuclear bunker shop and stocking the garage with tinned sausages, cases of Irn-Bru and a satellite dish that will allow me to keep up with the latest episode of Line of Duty.
It really does feel like the world is turning into some kind of weird reality show that consists of nothing but grandstanding, self-promotion and snarky tweets on social media. #cancel Trumps Twitter #dont give him thewi fi code.
Incidentally, just a thought – someone has told Trump that this is real life, haven’t they? I’m wondering if the guys with the shiny medals pinned to their suits have passed on this trifling detail.
Or does he just think his bonzer new job puts him in a group with a whole load of like-minded pals and they get to sit around all day playing an interactive version of Battleships?
No more. It has to stop before we’re all marching up and down the High Street in sandwich boards proclaiming that the end is nigh.
Join me at the HQ of the Stop Making Things Flipping Worse Party. I’ve yet to devise a strategy. My manifesto is bare. But I promise that I won’t get into a barney with a superpower or get us all banned from the Costa del Sol.
I’ll also have soothing words, a positive attitude and I’ll do my best to provide some tangible comforts in this time of uncertainty and fear.
How do you take your sausages?