There are certain moments in a man’s life which are BIG. Milestones. Delights. Happiness. The day you get married. Passing your driving test. Possibly the day you get divorced. The birth of a child. Your first kiss. Unless its with Mr Frobisher, the maths teacher, then its a bit ‘eeeeuuuuwww’. Your grandchildren being born. But all of those pale into insignificance compared to this. Your granddaughter’s first trip to White Hart Lane. Unfortunately (just from a ‘Lila point of view’ and definitely not from a ‘football’ one), I was unable to attend. If I had, I would have cried. And what I would have cried would have been: “the most wonderful granddaughter in the entire fucking world and you inflict this pain and suffering on her FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE????” And, almost inevitably, we lost. But Lila loved it.

I was at a wedding. A really beautiful wedding in a really beautiful venue with everything really… well, beautiful. The flowers were magnificent, the bride and groom wonderful, the ceremony delightful and everyone dressed up in perfectly matching ‘black tie’. Except the one shmuck who didn’t bother to read the invitation properly and pitched up in a (very nice) light grey suit with an (exceedingly elegant) open-neck grey shirt. He looked gorgeous, as always, no doubt about that, but ‘no-tie’ was not the instruction. Black tie. Penguin suit. What a tosser!!

Yet nothing compared to Boris Johnson. The Tosser’s Tosser. He cuts short his family’s holiday to drag them all the way back from the Caribbean so he can ‘stand’ as candidate for his party leadership. Only to bottle out completely less than 24 hours later. I would be sympathetic in some way but as he was probably on a ‘donation’ made to his wife, so as not to compromise his ‘gift acceptance’ regulations, which included first class tickets, the luxury villa, a butler, all his rum and ganja and nappies, its just tough shit. Boris decided ‘he would struggle to unify the party’. Oh, ya think so, Boris? Just because half of them kicked you out last time and the other half loathe you for putting them in the predicament in the first place.

Now the Penny’s dropped. Penny Mordaunt… from the race.

So its King Rishi. Crowned later. The PM is toast, long live the PM. Even if he’s richer than a Rothschild.

Happy Monday

A xxxx