Sunday Mirror (Northern Ireland)
Hero worship Boris is a ninny... not a Winnie
Bingo! Let’s call cheeky William out Crowd must be a record KEIR CRITICS ARE SUCH STUPID ASSES
If the Premier League starts again, the grounds at which the games are played should recreate the atmosphere as if the fans were there.
If it’s a Liverpool match they could play a recording of the Kop singing You’ll Never Walk Alone.
At West Ham, just play supporters singing I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles.
And for a match with Arsenal’s sofa-loving Alexandre Lacazette, play 10,000 people checking their emails and leaving early to get to Homebase for a set of cushion covers.
One of the marvellous qualities of our Prime Minister is he keeps a playful sense of mystery about himself, such as no one having any idea where he is.
He doesn’t seem to bother with the press conferences, or Parliament, or anything. Recently it was revealed he missed five emergency meetings about the virus because he didn’t want to miss his country breaks.
It’s encouraging that he respects his work/life balance. Because it’s no good our Prime Minister stopping the spread of a deadly pandemic if it gets him so stressed he’s gone a fortnight without wandering round his grounds looking at deer.
He’s even built up an impressive set of reasons for not turning up, including fathering a baby. Later he’ll announce he needs another three months off as he’s transitioning and it’s important to get in the right frame of mind before the surgery.
This is the strong leadership we should expect because his hero is Winston Churchill, who he would desperately like to copy.
And maybe Churchill was the same. Perhaps, during the plans for D-Day, Winnie wrote in his diaries: “I was informed of the plans for the landing of troops on the beaches of Normandy. This was a critical moment of history.
“So I took a clear decision to pop to my country house for a weekend break. We had a wonderful selection of cheese and played Cluedo until after midnight.
“I sent a note to President Roosevelt asking if he could wait until Wednesday
There was a marvellous story in one newspaper this week that Keir Starmer was not the “man of the people” he claimed to be.
The proof is he once bought a field for his mother, on which she could look after sick donkeys.
Of all the disgusting acts carried out by politicians over the centuries, from widespread corruption as I was hoping to play with my new Star Wars light sabre toy on Monday and Tuesday.”
To be fair to Boris Johnson, he has never tried to hide this attitude.
Several people who worked with him claimed he was would always turn up to meetings late, unprepared and spend the time drawing doodles.
Again he might have copied this from Churchill. There could be an account from Field Marshal Montgomery that says: “I explained to the Prime Minister in great detail how we planned to defeat the German army in North Africa.
“I used a series of maps and graphs, then asked if he approved of our strategy. He said, ‘I wasn’t really listening, but never mind because look, I’ve drawn a to illegal wars, nothing remotely matches this for appalling behaviour.
Even heroin dealers would say: “I’ve done bad stuff, but putting donkeys with a limp in a field, and looking after them so they can run about happily flapping their huge ears, that makes me
But the main point was the field could be worth £10million if there were cat’.” The other way in which he copies his outlook from Churchill is the clear way he speaks.
Last week, when the nation demanded forthright guidelines on how to behave, he told us R was R minus R plus R, and we were not allowed to travel unless we were on the way to somewhere.
This is the sort of bold inspiring language his hero used, such as his message following Hitler’s invasion of France, that went: “Uh ah, yes, we MUST be careful of doodlebugs, try and stay 2m away if you can.
“Anyway, we will fight them on the beaches, not this weekend obviously as I’m down in Wiltshire trying out my quad bike.
“And we will never surrender, except once a day when you’re allowed out for your daily surrender.” planning permission on it, which there isn’t, and if a row of houses were built on it, which there can’t and won’t be.
And this is where I have to make a similar confession of my own.
Because I’ve got a guinea-pig cage that, if it were made of gold, and Banksy did a drawing on it, and instead of hay it was lined with £50 notes, and it had a rocket engine in it that could take it to the moon, and the guinea-pigs in it spoke perfect French, would be worth £10million too.
Britt goes all mystic for Indian hotel stay
I saw a TV show this week called The Real Marigold Hotel in which Britt Ekland, Duncan Bannatyne and a Chuckle Brother were on holiday together in India. A lot of television now seems to be based on a dream someone had after drinking a bottle of rum and all your kid’s Calpol. If you went into an execs’ meeting and said “I’ve got an idea – Celebrity nipple-twisting with Su Pollard, Vladimir Putin, Paul Gascoigne and Chief Scientific Adviser Professor Chris Whitty”, it would be called Let’s Twist Again and be on ITV by Tuesday.