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have you ever had one of those times when two things merge into one so much that you can’t tell them apart?

as you can see i had one today when i read the latest about this pathetic, deluded mess; a legend in her own kitchen; where she has probably never been.

scummy, self-serving behaviour of this kind by morons who have no understanding of when they’re well-off has led to monarchies, and their heads, being removed in the not-too-distant past.

not that i’m suggesting that this brain-donor is part of the monarchy but there’s no doubt in my mind that shit rubs off.

sadly, even the deepest public opprobrium is unlikely to deter, or even penetrate the elephant hide of this of a grasping creature which over the last two decades has only further-stained the already tarnished reputation of britain’s royal family.

no offence intended obviously. bring on the tumbrils.

like me, you may have wondered how the hell smug flipper bercow got elected speaker of the house of commons in the first place? as an antidote to the abuse of parliamentary ‘expenses’? with his track record? if i didn’t laugh i’d weep!

more to the point, in the tradition of ‘dubbya’, how can he possibly be re-elected? we’ll know soon.

ps: okay, so he was. god help us. i think i’m losing the will to live.

so as the second miliband brother enters the race, the field of labour leadership candidates broadens; to two.

is it me or is there a whiff of star trek about these boys? whatever, in the spirit of x factor i’m calling them ‘edband’.

(not to be confused with influential 1970s electronic music duo Tonto’s Expanding Head Band … it’s easily done

quite a surprise to see fatty clarke back in office after all these years.

as it happens i used to be one of his biggest fans till he joined the repellant tobacco industry. nobody with his track record and range of options could be hard-up enough to justify that on the grounds of needing the cash.

anyhow there he is again, back in the pound seats.

a word of advice clarky: suit and hush puppies was never great but this latest get-up takes the cake.

knee breeches, silk stockings and a bib? on a fat, 70 year old geezer? in 2010? get a grip man you look like a reject from an amateur gilbert and sullivan production.

none intended obviously and much luck in the job; you’ll need it. not that it will affect you either way.

okay, bagsy be the first to name our new dynamic duo
caminick

okay so there’s a hint of lingerie about it. give us a break! there’s only so much you can do here. i mean

cleggeron? … snappy eh! clemeron? cagg? … even nicer! davnick? camleg?
not improving are they?

i’m sticking with ‘caminick’ and taking the blame, erm i mean credit. unless of course you know better.

mutual back-patting and knockabout fun were the order of the day in the garden behind ten downing street today. (shame nobody brought a ball, we could have had a kick-around)

those boys, eh. they are a riot. okay so nick was nick, while call me dave was david. but let’s not nick-pick. whatever

after all, this al fresco bonhommie can’t last forever, can it?

come to think of it, judging by the facial expression and grudging response of vince cable when asked later whether he was looking forward to working with call me george osborne, there’ll probably be tears before bedtime.

stand by for water pistols at dawn.

just to pass the time whilst awaiting further tranches of cabinet appointments i’ve been playing ‘spot the jock’. (scuse i, scotsman)

not that i’ve got anything (well not much) against our celtic friends but you have to wonder, particularly in these days of devolved parliaments, what they’re doing around the palace of westminster. (candidly, i’ve recently heard it suggested that they should ‘stop their ticklin’.)

anyhow, as luck would have it, at a glance, the answer thus far seems to be ‘not much’. what a refreshing change!

of course there is bound to be the odd fly-in-the-ointment (or should that be fox-in-the-chicken-run?) but i’ll live with that if you will.

don’t mind if i do: gie’s a pint o’ heavy.

but to be fair, yesterday was a bit of a treat for anybody with even a passing interest in uk politics … which really should mean all of us.

twists and turns have been the order of the past few days and yet yesterday’s denouement did not disapoint.

the way that clegg tweaked the tails of both main parties and so came away with a much easier deal than he could have expected suggests he’s not as green as he looks.

but with others of his party apparently destined for senior cabinet posts i’ve wondered all along where clegg expected to fit into the line-up. he surely wouldn’t want a none-job like deputy pm?

step up nick clegg, deputy pm! swipe me, i nearly passed my fags round! (easy boy, i said nearly)

so what does he know that i don’t? not much surely maybe as a long-time liberal he has developed a taste for warm piss? maybe he’ll even tell us? well perhaps not.

either way he has surely taken the shortest route to power in uk politics that i can call to mind. five years flat. and it’s hard not to be impressed with just that.

but as with so much in life, timing is everything and however well he’s played his hand it was pure good fortune which gave him fair a wind and his place in the pound seats.

has anybody told him the real tricky stuff starts today?

see ya later, mould breaker

the bbc news commentator yesterday outside 10 downing street, waiting for new pm, cameron to arrive observed solemnly

“a new microphone has been put in place…”

how could one resist “… has it not?”

well, i expect you’re all relieved to see the back of the general election; for a few months at least.

how did you enjoy the wall-to-wall tv coverage? sadly, with exit polls achieving unnerving levels of accuracy, it soon became clear that almost all the excitement of the event had come and gone in the four week run-up. shame ;-(

to make matters worse, as if there wasn’t enough hot-air around at election time, sky tv subjected us to the nauseating spectacle of adam bloater’s repellant burp-fest, this time in glorious hd. cut down on the nose bag and ditch some ballast fat boy.

(surely high-time he was replaced by the lovely ‘botto’ of whom i caught no more than a tantalising half-second glimpse in some media melee)

at the bbc we were at least spared any repetition of the now-infamous ‘surreptitious mars bar incident’ which is widely believed to have set an incurable rot into election results reporting worldwide.

we were however forced, once again to endure repeated spasms of the ludicrous jeremy vine, lurching around like some deranged stick insect with his virtual toys.

mr mugabe called the bingo. mrs banana-republic and mrs lockout made the sandwiches and we sang ‘things can only get better’, which they probably won’t in a hurry, if ever.

miss bugger-off-home-now accompanied, one-handed on the harmonium and a good time was had by all.

looking forward to october’s return match already.

catch you later couch-potater :-0