There are few things in life more scary than a serious and dull and even seriously dull Leader of the Opposition trying to look relaxed and cool and hip and groovy at the Pride march. And his worst crime: smiling. An act which requires the use of various muscle groups that in Kier Starmer’s face, have been inert for a long, long time. Resulting in looking like this. Like you’re constipated and have been for months but something might be about to happen.

Angela Rayner’s style advisers were right on the money when they told her: you look like shit, so the only way you can improve it is to stand next to something worse.

Do you really think me so superficial and nasty that I would mock the serious world of our politicians with jibes at their mere appearance? I hope you do. Then you’re learning how I think. No shot is a cheap shot.

Last night I met my own MP. Mike Freer. In keeping with Pride day, he’s gay. But I met him at our local ‘Proms’. Because I live in a very pretentious area, where everyone is cultured and bourgeoise, we have our own series of summer concert things in a big church which most people would never otherwise get the chance to visit on any kind of religious grounds. The concerts are jazz and light classical and we went to see a great gig by a Joni Mitchell type singer with her accompaniment. Which was, in all honesty, brilliant. And because it was ‘local’, and probably because the whole concert season is to raise money for a hospice, Little Mike came along as a doorman. Not in a: ‘if ya ain’t on da list ya ain’t gettin’ in!!!’, kind’a way, because diminutive gay men might struggle with that, but in a more ‘meet the voters’ because you never know when you’ll need them, way. I told him: ‘it’s nice to meet a Conservative MP NOT embroiled in a sleaze scandal this week’, to which he replied: ‘the week’s not over’. I like Mike Freer. Maybe its about time for a gay PM! Certainly could be no worse than our present incumbent. Nor, heaven forbid, the Leader of the Opposition.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx