Andy's Glasses

So here’s the ‘deal’ for tariffs.

England gets to incur 10% on all goods imported to America, because we’ve been ripped off for so long and cheated and it should be 19.7%, based on the refusal to accept chlorinated chickens and toxic Texas beef and the fact that they impose a 20% tax on all American imports. They call it V. A. T. But whatever you call it, it’s there to persecute Americans. Oh, they charge it on British goods too? Whatever. It’s punitive, it stops Londoners buying our fabulous range of cars. Unfairly. Makes them uncompetitive. You can buy an English car, like a Toyota, for £20,000 and it is totally wonderful. Whereas an equivalent Chevy will cost £25,000, whilst looking like shit, handling like an oil tanker on stormy seas, struggling up any hill and containing more plastic than the recycle centre. That’s not “re-cip-ro-cal”.

For Charna, I’m being very considerate by charging those fuckers 34%. They charge us 67%!!!! Well, as calculated by some very clever people I use over near Harvard. Not ‘in’ Harvard, but pretty close. And these guys are bright, I can tell ya’, and they told me that factoring in rice and the inflated cost of chop-sticks in Charnatown, its 67%. And we’re only charging them half. To be re-cip-ro-cal. Re-cip-ro-cal.

Vietnam gets hit with 46%. I hate those fuckers and they made us spend all that money in a war back in Kennedy’s day, so it’s payback time. And Cambodia too! They get 49% because… because I can, I want to, and who’s gonna stop me?

This will make the world a fairer place to do business. I get that the reality of it is that these are taxes on Americans for buying overseas shit. They’ll pay it. The government gets it and we become great again. Rich again. Other than the guy who just bought a Range Rover, he’ll be much poorer, but he ain’t my problem. If you want zero tax on cars, build ‘em here!!! I told Giorgia Meloni, you wanna build Ferraris in Wyoming?, they won’t pay a tariff.

And all those doom-mongers out there in the Democrat and communist press, they’ll see that these moves will make everyone’s lives better. Everyone’s. In the whole world. Except possibly, the retired, the working, the living, some of the dead, those who hold shares, pensions, savings, those who were broke before and anyone going to Morecombe on their holidays. But this will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!!!!!!

Happy reciprocal Thursday

D.J.T. xxxx

Marine le Penn is the leader of the French National Front. Whatever exalted title they give their neo-nazi party these days, it’s the ‘national front’. But written in French. Obviously.

Whilst engaged as a member of the European Parliament (where failed politicians tend to end up) she basically stole money from the EU to fund her political party. Which, funny enough, is not allowed. Even though the EU parliament is widely viewed as a Free at the point of service, unlimited cash dispenser, there are a few rules in place, which generally, they don’t enforce. Because the EU take such a vast amount of money from its member states, it can’t waste time ‘counting the change’, it has 32,000 useless, unproductive free-loaders to do… errrr… whatever they do. Probably working from home, mostly. And the EU also allows its members an allowance of up to 30,000 Euros a month for ‘staff’. As long as those ‘staff’ are doing stuff for the EU. Or anything vaguely European. So basically you can pay your wife 300 grand a year as long as she eats a croissant every day and has Spag. Bol. every week.

And Marine was taking this money and using it to fund her party. All political parties are short of money. Most get ‘sponsors’. ‘Donors’. But if your support base is, basically, a bunch of skinheads living on benefits, money is in short supply. So where better to find cash than from Brussels’ limitless supply.

The French court decided that Mdm Le Penn be removed from political party leadership for 5 years. A reasonable punishment? Well, the problem is (for Marine, not for anyone else, anyone decent) that she therefore cannot stand in the next presidential election. Which she is quite fancied to actually win. Unlike her poor, late fascist father, who lost every one he ever entered. And she’s now shouting that ‘the courts are politically motivated’, similar to what Trump shouted every time he was in court, but in French.

Unlike her father, a nasty, nazi, rabidly anti-semitic, racist bastard, Marine has toned down the party’s hard-rightism and adjusted the hate figures to, primarily, Muslims. Secondarily: Muslims. And thirdly…

Hard rightists need a scapegoat. For all society’s woes. And Muslims are a big force in France now, and are much easier to identify than Jews. They’re colour-coded. Even though a vast majority are French citizens and have been for generations in Senegal and Algeria and Morocco and all the other ex-colonies, Le Penn wants rid of them. Then she can start on the Jews.

Yes, Marine is a tragic loss to French politics. We’ll all miss her smiling face. Ok, I lied about the smiling.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

When Justin Welby was… elevated?, promoted?, ascended?, raised on the high alter of Christianity to a table so high he sat with just God and the Pope for company!!!, I thought: what a nob. There’s something horribly smug about the man. Something smarmy. There’s someone who really thinks he’s cleverer than everyone else. And can explain why in words of so many syllables no-one else could ever understand. In a very ‘wet’ way.

Then, after 10 years at the helm, floating around the place angelically in his cherub’s garb, they sacked the fucker. Ok, strictly, ‘he resigned’ but we all know. And as the only person above him was God him(or her, or them)self, it was not taken lightly.

It transpired that in that intervening decade Welby had spent his time protecting the reputation of his church. At the expense of the countless children abused, beaten, physically and sexually assaulted and raped. By ‘men of the cloth’. His brethren. In the crusade. For Jesus.

Welby stood up to make his ‘farewell speech’ in the House of Lords. And he chose, in all his brilliance and wisdom and total understanding of human nature, to ‘have a bit of a larf’. Make it witty. No mention of the victims, no apology for being the most negligent person since the ‘Atomic Lookout’ in Hiroshima in 1945. No remorse, just sanctimonious shit and horrendously inappropriate humour. (And coming from me, a world-class exponent of inappropriate humour; that’s saying a lot).

But for some reason, Laura Kuenssberg decided to resurrect the man, to drag this horrible, grey person back into the limelight to interview him. I watched as much as I could bear. And decided, after due consideration and examination of all facts, that he’s still a tosser. Possibly a worse one than when he’s all in white with a silly hat on.

He let serial abuser John Smyth ‘get away with it’ because poor Justin was ‘overwhelmed’. Not with messages from God. Not with counting up collection boxes. But with sex accusations. Desk full of ‘em. Heaped up three feet high. But that didn’t fire up any red lights in Justin’s world. He knew Smyth. The man had a very bad reputation for 30 years of abusing little boys. But Welby was so ‘overwhelmed’ he instigated no action. Too many candles to light to be worried about hundreds of children getting beaten, bloodied and abused by some sick fuck mate. Don’t want word of that getting out, might be damaging to the church.

Asked if Welby would forgive Smyth, he pondered then said ‘yes’, he would. And I thought ‘really????’ The man was pure evil. A literal ‘devil’. And surely even the Christian obsession with forgiveness must have some limits? I reckon even Jesus would have kicked John Smyth in the bollocks.

Happy birthday Lila!!! 8 today.

A xxxx

I wanted to drive from age 2. They wouldn’t let me. Bastards. I had to wait til I was 14. Because my brother’s mate, also-Richard, was given a van for work when he was 17 and he took me to a little airdrome in Romford which had been converted into a faux road system for driving ‘practice’. It was private and you didn’t need a license. And I drove. It was the best thing ever. That same year, along with 2 friends, and not telling our parents until afterwards, we bought a motor scooter. A Vespa. Which again we couldn’t use on the roads. Firstly because we were too young and secondly because it was a fucking death trap we bought from Harvey the Nutter, who liked death traps. We paid £4.50 for it. We massacred garden lawns with it. Which gave the already disapproving parents much more to disapprove.

Then, as 17 approached, I bought my first Mini. Red one. NKN 802F. Because it was a couple of months til my birthday, I couldn’t drive it. Only wash it, stroke it, hug it and love it.

And that feeling, of owning a car, the sheer wonder of it, has never left me. Even after all the cars, all the driving, I get in MY car, I feel empowered. Liberated. It represents total freedom. Other than the speed cameras, pot-holes, traffic lights, congestion charge, speed bumps and traffic jams. Freedom can’t get more total than that. So I still clean our cars. I don’t go the local Albanian car-wash and money-laundering syndicate, I don’t get the guys with hose-pipes in their vans to come round. I do it myself. Because I enjoy it. It’s more satisfying than watching the bottom of the league team beat Spurs. I wash Mel’s car too. Though you have to be careful with all that water around an electric car. It’s like putting an electric fire in the bath. I wear rubber soled boots.

And of all the cars I’ve had, this one is my favourite. What Joey calls ‘the racing car’. I will drive this car, if not ‘forever’ then at least until I can no longer get in it without help.

Happy Sunday, drive carefully,

A xxxx

I appreciate that not all Republicans are aggressive, domineering, scornful, malicious, lying, denying, avoiding, side-changing, disloyal, anti-Europe, anti-UK scumbags. Only the ones we see on tv. And most of the others. Who have three approaches to any question: deny, lie, shout. Even simple and easy questions like: what level of incompetence does it take to bring a random stranger into high level, sensitive chat about a bombing raid?, brings immediate denial “IT WAS NOT SEN-SI-TIIIIIIVE!!!!”, followed by “THIS IS THE COMMUNIST MEDIA MAKING AN ISSUE OUT OF NOTHING!!!” And then a swift “FAKE NEWS!!!”, for good measure. And from one spokes-(wo-)man for Trump to an English journalist: “YOU NEED TO SORT OUT YOUR OWN MESS AT HOME; THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!!!”

This is ‘diplomacy’ chez Trump. This is representatives and members of the government of the most powerful nation on earth, demonstrating their views to the world. Joey is more subtle.

When did it all get so fucking rude? At what point did diplomacy become a slagging match? Did negotiation become a basis for personal abuse? Yep, it happened when Zelensky went to the White House. When the President set the precedent. The government with no filters.

Much as I like people to ‘say it like it is’, there are ways of saying it that don’t involve personal abuse.

The culture of the American leaders is to shout it loud and hit ‘em hard. “Europe are freeloaders! So why should WE bomb the Houthis in the Suez Canal when we don’t sail our ships there?” In fact a good question. The answer being in the nature of the relationship. America funds NATO; the member countries just prostrate themselves before the alter of Americanism and grovel a bit.

Then there’s Greenland. Which, unfortunately for Greenland, has become the strategically and commercially most desirable place in the whole of the Arctic circle. Strategically because it stands between Russia and America; commercially because it holds untold riches in rare metals. The entire island is like one big branch of Ratners. Which ‘just’ needs digging up. And that ‘just’ will cost an investment of billions and billions, without which, no rewards will be reaped. So American intervention and investment would be good for everybody.

Which can be stated in words other than: I want it: I’ll take it. It’s gonna happen.

Some of what Trump says is actually good things. But the way he says it is simply awful. Too brash, too flash, too arrogant, too rude. As for JD Vance, the only shame was that he wasn’t on Greenland long enough to get a whale harpoon in the head.

God Bless America.

A xxxx

The Lord Trump has issued a decree!! That henceforth and forthwith and foreverafter, (until his next brainless whim), there shalst be a tariff on ALLL imported cars in the WHOLE of the United States of America, of 25%!!! And so it is written. Amen.

This will cause major fuckage in the UK. Because 20% of all our car exports are currently to the USA and the prices of those cars to Americans have just gone up. But really up. Your $30,000 car will now cost you £37,500. That’s a hike. And the Toyotas and Hondas which make up a massive part of US car sales will suddenly become unaffordable. But this isn’t about Japan. It’s about ME!

Americans will just have to buy American cars which, obviously, will remain un-tariffed. That’s the whole point. But what will they buy?

The American car market basically follows perfectly the American social demographic. Thus the vast majority of Americans (those ‘in the middle’) buy trucks. Because gun-toting, cowboy-hat-wearing, Bud-drinking, yee-haaaing good old boys wouldn’t drive a Nissan Micra. So the biggest selling cars in America are the massive, 4-door, flat-bed trucks made by Ford and Chevy. Followed by SUVs. Unsurprisingly, big ones. The ones you see a dozen of following Trump around when he goes to McDonalds. Great bit, ugly monsters. Like Audi Q7s on steroids. Cadillac make them. Lincoln make loads of different ones. Which manage to all look the same.

The people round the edges of the country, California, New York, Washington, you know, the ‘civilised bits’, live in proper cities where you occasionally need to find a parking space. So they drive Hondas and Toyotas. And Mercedes and BMWs if they want to. Proper cars. Normal cars.

America has never really been good at designing ‘normal’ cars. Every car I’ve ever rented there has been a piece of ugly shit. Poorly made, horrible interior, tragically underpowered. Ok, they make Mustangs and Corvettes and all sorts of wonderful ‘fun’ cars, but we’re talking ‘normal’ cars for normal people. And you get the Chevrolet Malibu, today’s picture. In fact the picture that paints a thousand words. 900 of which are ‘ugly’. You can buy a Tesla!! But we know how most Americans view electric vehicles, and how they view Elon Musk.

I can only imagine how happy you’d be if you own an Audi franchise in Houston.

I can forgive Trump for teaming up with Putin, but condemning his nation to drive revolting cars is a step too far.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

Ok, so 70, for some reason, has become the latest… thing. Everyone’s turning 70, or thereabouts, so you get articles like this one, showing you what to do so that when you approach that terribly awful number of years, you’re not just still alive, like with a tube up your nose and a walking frame and a nursing home, but ALIVE and fit and well. The problem is, if you need to read the Times to work out that basically “eating shit will kill ya, whilst salads, vegetables and all the things you really don’t like, will keep you glossy and shiny, upright and mobile… f’rever!!!!”, unless your 30, its too late. You can’t just change from 20 Rothmans a day, 5 pints a night, pork scratchings, microwave dinners and deep fried spam, to ‘healthy living’ when you’re, like, 67, and expect to turn back the years of abuse. No. You’re good as dead, mate, might as well carry on and at least enjoy your last few years.

I’m miles from 70. Though that depends on how you measure a ‘mile’. Like Mel’s electric vehicle, I use a great degree of flexibility with the term, particularly when age is concerned. But when I get there, I’m not so much bothered about being ‘healthy’, but I really want to be ‘elite’!!!

Due to the old shoulder dislocating thing, I never became an ‘elite’ footballer. And when I substituted the footy for tennis, at 28 I could never become an elite tennis player. So I needed to go to Eton and get a title (other than ‘dickhead’), then I could become ‘elite’ that way. But they wouldn’t take me. My vowels weren’t sufficiently rounded to gain entry.

And just to make it harder, there’s the ‘legume’ issue. Its a French word. It means ‘vegetable’. Or it did. Apparently now its been reigned in. Downgraded. Now it is ONLY a few certain things, like beans and lentils and peas and… peanuts!! And as I get through about 3 jars of peanut butter a week and can dispense with 500gms of roasted, salted, M&S large ones in about 14 minutes; I’m good on me legumes.

But does it make me ‘elite’? Though you still need to eat a truckload of green shit every week just to keep upright, apparently.

I’ll worry about it when I’m 69.

Happy Elite Wednesday

A xxxx

I’ve found a great and unquestionable difference between Americans and English people. And it is that we, the British, tend to grow up. With time. Over years. As you’re supposed to. We also develop an intrinsic and instinctual understanding of age-appropriate behaviour and responses. Whereas Americans, on the other hand, tend towards stupidity and retain all the bad bits of the youth most of them never had. Its not about the lack of British ‘reserve’, its about being a nob.

(This is just a personal observation and does not in any way reflect the official position of andysglasses.com nor any of its associated corporations, companies or staff. Mainly because it has none of any of those.)

The Americans decided to bomb the shit out of some errant Houthis. And with my total blessing. We all hate a Houthi. So on a little chat group was the Vice President of all America, Trump’s head-bully and tosser-in-chief, along with the Secretary for Defence, the Secretary of State and a crusty old General or two. So they could follow and discuss the bombing raid, as it happened. Also on the chat was Jeffrey Goldberg. Who? You know, Jeff!! That journalist from ‘The Atlantic’. You wouldn’t leave out old Jeffy, would you? And they didn’t. In a high-level, overseas military manoeuvre and a secret bombing raid on an enemy, they ‘accidentally’ included some random journo in their ‘life and death’ (53 people died in the bombing) deliberations. And celebrations.

And celebrate they did. The texts have all come out. Short on words, high on emojis. Stars & stripes emojis, clenched fist emojis, hi-five emojis, bulging bicep emojis. Just like any group of 14 year old, Andrew Tate followers would send after a victorious school football match.

From a few fat arsed politicos and retired militarists sitting 5 thousand miles away from ‘the action’.

Trump said he ‘knew nothing about the inclusion of Goldberg in the chat group’. And also that he has ‘full confidence in his security team’. Which once again calls into question the President’s judgment. Why on earth would he have confidence in people who managed to add an unwanted, unchecked, potentially unsafe person in their highest of high level SECURITY chat?

The emojis are just what you’d expect from immature braggers patting each other on the back.

This message is being sent only to YOU. Unless I accidentally include Kim Jong Un, Putin, Marine Le Pen or Donald Trump.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

Mel and I sponsor a local cultural event: the Proms at St. Judes. We do every year. It’s a series of musical concerts; classical, jazz, some pop/rock, in all manner of styles, over a two week summer period at ‘our church’. The one we might go to if we: a. Were Christians, b. Went to any religious bollocks. Sorry, services. But it’s not about God. It’s about music. AND, they raise loads of money for two fantastic charities. And the concerts are great.

I think of this sponsorship as ‘culture-washing’, which all repressive regimes and money-launderers indulge in to try and appear like they’re really good people. It’s like North Korea sponsoring the summer exhibition at the Royal Academy. Similar to Saudi Arabia ‘sportswashing’ by buying Newcastle United to try and hide their appalling human rights issues and overseas murders. We all do it.

There’s lots of sponsors. And once a year, before the Proms, we’re invited to a little ‘soiree’. That’s what posh people call ‘a piss up’. Though no-one else gets pissed. And we sip wine, or gulp it, depending on how the time’s going, and eat rather nice nibbles, and we have our own little concert. Which last night was the ‘Juno Duo’ (pictured).

The woman on the door told me ‘they’re Ukranian’. Yet when I chatted with Isabella, (on the right) before the show, she just sounded like a regular posh bird. I asked where she was from? Crimea? Kyiv? Any of those other bomb sites we see on the news every night? But she answered: Worcester. Is that part of Ukraine? Has Putin got his sights on Malvern now??? No, the other performer is from Ukraine; she’s a Brit. Oh.

And she is gorgeous.

Which immediately predisposes me to love whatever they do. Cos the Ukranian looked lovely too. And she played guitar. Classical. Genteel. Isabella sang. Gorgeous voice. Opera trained. But even that didn’t put me off. She was also pretty useful on the violin.

I looked on the program. They were playing ‘chamber music’. Ah. 16th Century. Where it possibly belonged. When Led Zeppelin had not yet been invented. Ok, they played some other stuff too, but at the first “…with a hay nonny-no”, I’m pretty much over the whole thing and its either more wine, the exit or, preferably, both.

You can take the boy out of the East End…

Happy Monday

A xxxx

The difficulties with young men and boys has become so great that they’ve wheeled out Gareth Southgate to solve it. Like he solved the ‘how to win a World Cup problem’ during his tenure as England football manager. But he is a really nice bloke.

The problem is that boys are ‘lost’. They want to grow up all lovely and considerate and obey the rules of equality and decency but they get ‘influenced’ as soon as they first turn on their first mobile phone, by morons like Andrew Tate and the world of pornography which greets them, embraces them and shows them how women really loved to be slapped, raped and strangled until they pass out.

We’re breeding a generation of default misogynists. Because they simply know no better. And they’re slumping in school, compared to girls, and lack any direction and leadership.

Who can their role models be? Footballers? God forbid. The ones who aren’t currently accused of rape themselves are awaiting charges for gambling issues. Rock stars? Same problem.

And when the kids are at home all they want to do is sit alone in their rooms with their headphones on playing ‘first person shooter’ games, so they can learn how to kill people in vast numbers. As long as someone else leaves them a few weapons of mass destruction lying around on the footpaths.

Safe to say that of all the child-murdering psychopaths which have surfaced over the last 5 years, in all countries, they’ve all been male. Or, in the most part, identified as predominantly male.

Not that the young women escape entirely as they seem high on the suicides. Bullied and trolled online accompanied by legions of vile individuals extolling the praises of killing yourself and showing the means and methods of doing so.

And it all stems from mobile phones. Those ‘harmless’ little super-computers we all carry around religiously. And Joey looks at the football league tables and loses himself in the relative goal differences between Port Vale and Stockport, while Lila gets YouTube videos of American teenagers being impossibly stupid. Then we grab our phones back.

It seems, Gareth, as you eloquently put in your Dimbleby Lecture last week, that we need to control the phones. And ‘you’ can’t ban them from kids whilst ‘you’ run every facet of your life on yours. Its hypocritical.

The answer’s simple. Dump the phones. All of them. Remove them from our lives. Totally. Pretend they never happened. It may render Mark Zuckerberg penniless within 10 minutes but how likely is that to happen?

(I wrote this on a ‘slate’, to lead the way.)

Happy Sunday

A xxxx