Sorry, sorry, about yesterday's no-show but, alas, funereal obligations intervened. No, no, not mine - you should be so lucky! - but that of a friend and neighbour. Somewhat idly later in the day I cruised the news but it is all so eye-stabbingly tedious and I really couldn't think of anything useful or even interesting to add to the mountains of commentary.
But then, this morning, I turned to The Telegraph to read an article concerning one of our leading lady 'plonkerettes' about whom I have snarled on previous occasions, but joy of joys, the article was written by yet another 'plonkerette' of championship proportions of whom I had never heard until today. So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you not only Ms. Alison Saunders, our less than distinguished Director of Public Prosecutions but also Ms. Joan Smith, writer of nonsense.
Humpty Dumpty Coco the clown
By now after several months in the job as DPP in which we have seen a steady stream of daft decisions, and the latest concerning the Janner case has caused such an uproar that Ms. Saunders has been forced to change yesterday's porridge which, I am informed, constitutes her mind! Well, we all know what a total 'plonkerette' she is but Ms. Joan Smith is a new kid on the block as far as I am concerned. I simply cannot be bothered to analyse her piece in detail, if you're not sleeping well you can try it, but one piece of her personal life stands as a strong indicator concerning her inherent dumbness. She had a 10-year relationship with Denis McShane, the well-known Parliamentarian thief and shagger extrordinaire. Perhaps Ms. Smith uses the same brand of porridge as her heroine, Alison Saunders, because anyone with an ounce of judgment would spot McShane for the devious, lying, dishonest, little rat that he is.
I ask again, is there a factory, somewhere 'oooop north', where they churn out these dim-witted women? And why can't it be taken over by that similar factory in south California which at least has the good sense to churn out dumb blondes with big tits to please elderly gentlemen like me as we slump semi-comatose before our TV sets?
Duffers - could I kindly ask you not to show such hideous photos.
Living in Italy as one does, especially in summer when road deaths notoriously rise as leggy eytie beauties take to their bicycles en masse in light cotton frocks, one does not like to be reminded of the awfulness one has left behind in blighty and not have ones rose tinted spectacles so rudely shattered.
Posted by: Cuffleyburgers | Thursday, 02 July 2015 at 16:04
Sorry about that, Cuffers, I should have printed my usual 'Elf 'n' safety' warning, er, translated into Italian, naturalmente!
Er, by the way, I assume the missus does the driving?
Posted by: David Duff | Thursday, 02 July 2015 at 18:33