Some stories just kind’a grab ya. Right in the cajones. Or, in the tits, perhaps. Or for Bruce Jenner, maybe both.

Because its an amazing story. Of winning, of success, of fame, fortune and limitless plastic surgery, of attention-seeking taken to a stratospheric level and of the ultimate in bizarre.

Bruce Jenner was an athlete. An Olympic decathlon winner in 1976, world record holder and all round, clean cut American boy. He married, had a few kids, made a lot of money in business, then divorced because American statutes dictate that once your fortune reaches over $100 mil you have to find a newer, younger wife. Or one that’s had so much ‘work’ that she at least looks a bit younger. So enters Kris Kardashian. ‘The Mother’. They become the first family to put themselves right ‘out there’ on tv for the whole world to observe the day-to-day happenings in the lives of the super-rich, vain, spoiled rotten, ultra-superficial morons who get a Range Rover for their 16th birthday present and a breast enlargement for every birthday thereafter. Or a new bum. Both if its a ‘big’ birthday. Or a big bum.

My daughters lurved the Kardashians. I fucking hated it. I’d rather pay attention to what’s happening in my own house that watch what’s happening in theirs. Which was generally nothing of any value. Other than monetary. But Bruce, the father figure, was obviously no stranger to the scalpel. Nor to bottles of hair dye. And he and Kris had some daughters of their own too. As ya do. Gorgeous ones, obviously, or the show would have been cut.

And now, having left Kardashian hell by divorcing Kris, all those years among those beautiful women made him decide that he wants to be one. Not only that, he wants to become Mrs Doubtfire. Good luck Bruce.

I’ve never trusted men who dye their hair. Its stupid. Look at Andrew Neil. Can’t be any more stupid than that. But now its more serious. Dying your hair can lead to penis removal; BEWARE. Its a slippery slope.

I missed the leaders of the main parties last night as they embarrassed themselves in front of an audience in Leeds. (Why Leeds? Why not somewhere normal??) But I did see Nigel Farage. And I may not agree with him but I don’t half admire him. Because he is normal. He has the confidence of a man who has lived and worked in the real world and it shows. Something the Camerons and Milibands, professional politicians since birth, simply lack. And Nigel is credible. Human, charming, very intelligent, engaging and yes, nice. I would never vote for the bastard but in terms of presence he leaves the other pathetic offerings standing.

Happy Friday

A xxxx