Andy's Glasses

Her Majesty The Queen has announced (henceforth and forthwith and stuff) that Camilla Parker Bowles Windsor, the official Tart-Consort of His Majesty The Prince of Wales, (since he was about 12), shall, upon her abdication from the throne, whence Charles ascendeth to Kingdom of the Kingdom, be known, officially and foreverafter as The Queen Consort.

And that pisses me off. Royally. Because I wanted to be the Queen. Not to sleep with Charles, necessarily, I’ll leave that… honour?… to Camilla. But just think about it. The watchword of our times is ‘diversity’. So for the Queen (wrinkly, old, Christian white woman) to pass the title onto the basically the same thing but with a few more miles left on the clock, does nothing for ticking diversity boxes. In its entire history, the Royal family has only ever had one person ‘of colour’ and she was exiled to the Third World (California) with Harry last year. Whereas I am a man! I am Jewish!! I have colour, but only from a bottle. I could ‘identify’ as a trans thing, get a few more boxes ticked. I’d identify as a fucking tractor to be the Queen. And thus, by appointing me the Royals would step into the 21st Century. Otherwise its just more inbred Euro-white aristocracy waiting for some awful recessive gene to kick in and give us a king with seven toes and two heads. I’d be a great Queen. I can wave out of car windows all day, I’m brilliant at it. Practice daily.

Carrie Johnson is the Queen of 10 Downing Street. According to a new book by Lord Ashcroft, the former chairman of the Conservative Party. Boris won’t take a shit without specific instructions from the woman known as ‘Carrie Antoinette’. Allegedly. (In case any libel lawyers are reading this). Ashcroft has been damning of Carrie who he sees as the root of all evils and troubles in Number 10. He is ‘the woman scorned’ after having his political career ruined by the fact that he doesn’t live here, work here or pay any tax here. In fact he lives in Belize so he pays no tax anywhere. And just for that mere detail, that he is British by virtue of birth only, his constant attempts (mostly successful) at buying his way into politics with ridiculous donations have now been thwarted. So he wrote a book to slag off everyone else in Westminster. Starting with Carrie. And, pretty much ending with her too. Though she does need a lot of slagging off, no doubt about that.

How does this help Boris? Well, if I were the Queen…

Happy Sunday, my subjects and other peasants

A xxxx

Well there is some good news for Boris, his political life is not a 100% total fucking nightmare shit-storm of chaos and stupidity. Because on Thursday the Conservative Party won a bye-election! Well that’s something, surely? Yeah, usually. But this was a weird one. No other major parties stood. Only the Psychedelic Party, which came second, and a couple of other fringe jokers and right-wing tosser groups. Like UKIP. Who were narrowly beaten to third place by the Psychedelic… errrr… lobby? Team? Whatever. And it begs an interesting question: what is the point of UKIP? Now that Brexit is done with, why are they still here? The winning candidate showed the customary delight and celebration, even though she was a ‘walk in’ to the seat of murdered David Amess. It’s like Lewis Hamilton pouring a magnum of Moët over his own head after a drive round Romford with no competitors.

Similarly empty was the opening ceremony for the Beijing Olympics yesterday. The only people allowed in the stadium were half a dozen presidents and kings and the ‘Party‘ big-wigs. Who, I grant you, read like the menu in your favourite restaurant, but are basically a bunch of old and Covid tested fascists pretending to be communists. No tickets have or will be sold for any event. In celebration of the success of China’s Covid project. Which makes it ironic that Britain, America and others withheld their dignitaries in protest to China’s ‘human rights problems’ (read: GENOCIDE), because they probably wouldn’t have got in anyway.

And how odd that Boris is facing more protest from his own party for a throw-away comment made to Kier Starmer than for all the other and rather more serious incidents, lies, misinformation, truth-avoidance and the culture of entitled untouchability he’s brought to the highest office in the land. For all the bad stuff he just had to throw a few colleagues under the bus. For the comment to Sir Kier he’s lost half a dozen of his closest and most-trusted-and-loyals. Rishi Sunak, when questioned, stated that ‘he wouldn’t have made that comment’ (to Sir Kier). For that he is accused of being Brutus in the continuing sage of Julius Caesar being played out in government as no-one wants to say they’ll stand against Boris but they all want to be next leader.

Fortunately, with inflation rocketing, gas prices overtaking gold and a war about to kick off in Ukraine, the Boris fiasco has very few distractions, because he is way more important than all that shit. It’s democracy, Jim, but not as we know it.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

Not one but two Premiership footballers are under arrest for rape. And other charges. Which makes you wonder whether it is actually true that ‘all men are rapists’ and the other 847 top-flight footballers just haven’t been caught yet, or whether there’s something in football which engenders, empowers, corrupts or predisposes men towards a path of abuse, control and violence. Only men. There are no current women footballers under any rape allegations at all. Possibly that will come when the football standards improve.

This epidemic is currently only affecting the greater Manchester area as Benjamin Mendy plays for City and Mason Greenwood for United. But I don’t think its a regional problem. I think the problem lies with paying ‘kids’ (Greenwood is 20 and earns 75k a week!!!) ridiculous amounts of money. Giving them a sense of entitlement way in excess of their intelligence. They live like kings and assume that gives them ultimate power. Well, newsflash: it don’t. They could ask Jeffrey Epstein for confirmation but he’s no longer with us.

Power corrupted Boris Johnson too, but in a different way. So everyone hates him. Yet no matter how much I hate him, (and I do, I do, I do), I almost hate Kier Starmer more for sounding like the proverbial broken record. “He’s a disgrace and must resign”, “he’s done bad things and must resign”, “he’s not fit to run the country and must resign”. You know what, Mr Super-Advocate, I think you need a new song.

To ‘retaliate’, but in a really Boris way, the PM accused Starmer of child abuse. Well, not directly, but accused him of leniency towards known child abuser Jimmy Savile. Also, fortunately, dead. The problem is that Starmer was not Director of Public Prosecutions at the time of the Savile inquiry and Boris’s ‘intel’ comes from a hard-right conspiracy theory and virtually nowhere else. So some Number 10 researcher found this ‘juicy slur’ on the leader of the opposition but failed to check its validity. Understandable as it probably appeared next to articles calling for a whiter Britain, how the vaccinations are a ploy by Pakistani immigrants to take over the country and that Covid was invented by communists. Which is possibly the only true fact on the site.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

Ok, so we’ve established that I don’t watch tennis on tv. Other than Wimbledon, which is sacred. Yet I have been known to ‘catch’ the odd glimpse of a final. If its a big one. And not only for Emma Raducanu. Which is why Sunday just caught me by surprise. Because I knew it was on. So, whilst having my pre-tennis (mine, not Rafa’s) porridge (Rafa can get his own) I just checked and yes, in that God-forsaken, 3rd world land down under, it was in fact 10 at night and it was 3-2 in the first set. At which point, I didn’t really care. Wasn’t even aware who my favourite Spaniard was playing.

I returned from tennis which, quite frankly, was of a completely different class to any blue-surfaced Aussie stuff being simultaneously played out. Possibly not quite such a good class, but possibly BETTER!! It was 2 hours since I last checked and now Rafa was 2 sets down and, although limping a bit, was battling for the third. Against Daniel Medvedev, I then learned. He’s tall, exceptionally skinny in a very non-athletic way, not very pretty and unforgivably Russian.

Rafa was limping because he’d had an operation on his foot 6 weeks before the tournament and had been ‘unlikely to play’. But he did. And got to the final. And by the time I was getting lunch ready (yeah, MEN can do that too, ya know?), he was limping towards a very close 4th set win, setting up a real finale going to the 5th. Which was simply awesome. As had been the entire match (the bits I’d seen). Incredible tennis by two masters who played the unplayable and fought for every single shot. It was so exciting I went and ate lunch.

Then came back right at the very end for the coup de gras and Rafa Nadal became the ‘most successful men’s player everrrrrrr’ by making that match his 21st Grand Slam win. Russia had been defeated (oh, if ever we needed a metaphor, that was it) and Rafa could limp off back to his physio, where he rightly belongs.

It was simply the best, longest, most hard-fought match I’ve ever (part-)watched. Five and a half hours of intense combat, so riveting it had me watching for minutes at a time.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

Having waited about 3 weeks for Sue Grey’s report, only to have the police steam in and insist on a greatly reduced content so as not to upset their own inquiry, I’ve had to simply produce my own one. I’m not a patient man and the world needs to know the truth. Cos they ain’t gonna learn it from Boris, that is for absolute sure. And here is the report, in its entirety, un-edited and non-redacted:

Boris and his team of worthless devotees are all tossers.

End of report.

They showed with an amazing consistency the art of being arrogant, entitled and smug, laughing at the population which they had locked up, legally and morally, whilst choosing an alternative life-style for themselves. An entire culture grew around booze and parties whilst (allegedly) ‘working’. For the good of the nation. Phah! But then, the worst crime of all; the denials. The twisting, turning, down-playing, the nonchalance. Lying. Boris failed in the old dictum: ‘when you’re in a hole, stop digging’. He dug. And dug. And dug. Until the metaphorical blisters on his fingers burst and bled. And still he dug.

Reaching the point at which we currently find ourselves. With a government we don’t believe, trust or in any way like or respect. In fact we hate them. For the duplicity, for the funerals we couldn’t attend, the loved ones who died alone, the weddings cancelled, the birthdays missed. They suspended our lives totally whilst carrying on with their own. And then denied that they’d done that. And continue to do so, but just a little more apologetically than before. If Boris is so ‘totally’ sorry, why has he spent the last 3 months denying he’d done anything to be sorry for?

It’s time for a new broom. A big one. Not for sweeping, but for hitting. Repeatedly. The lot of ‘em.

Happy Report Day

A xxxx

Don’t fuck with Darwin! That’s the golden rule among Spurs fans, evolutionary dabblers, life insurance salesmen and Jurassic Parkers. If you try and re-wire evolution, you are basically messing with God. So recent tales that they’re going to ‘remake’ a Wooly Mammoth, should send a shudder down any vertebrate’s spine. Mainly cos no-one else has one, you get that, don’t you.

Jurassic Park came out in 1993. The original one. The one I saw and loved. The other 18 I ignored. But that was ‘science fiction’, just 29 years ago. Taking a cell from a T.Rex and cloning it. But today that’s easy. Commonplace. Amazon probably do it. Next day on Prime. There’s nothing fictional about it. But why would you? A fucking Mammoth? Who needs one. Who’s that hungry?

On one of the Galápagos Islands, some ship, possibly Darwin’s, who knows, inadvertently unloaded a rat from its hold onto an island. Probably 2 in fact, cos it needed a ‘mate’. And because of the nature of those islands, plentiful food for all and no predators, the rats ‘took over’ within about a week. Ok, a year. So someone introduced a cat. Ok, two cats. I don’t know their names. Within a few years the rat problem was over. But the island was overrun with fucking cats. Arguably a worse problem because of all the hair-balls all over the place.

Of course there’s loads of instances of ‘man’ messing about with evolution, like industrial meat production, dairy farming. And on the other side of the evolutionary coin, there’s hundreds of instances of species, particularly tasty, cookable, served with potatoes and greens in a shallot sauce, type animals, literally eaten to extinction. But man’s a species too. So if we’re particularly piggish at times, isn’t just ‘natural’ evolution due to advantageous or disadvantageous food supply?

Yet ‘bringing animals back’ just doesn’t seem to offer much to the animal being brung back, does it? Just to show how clever we are? To show our total mastery over nature?

To such an extent that the planet is fucked up beyond all belief and won’t be able to support organic life by the time the Mammoth has children. If its a gel Mammoth, obvs.
And can find a boy one.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

I must admit to not having watched any of the Australian Open tennis tournament. I should have. I love tennis. I play tennis. I watch every second of Wimbledon I can find. But the Aussie… and the French… New York… nyeh, not so keen. They’re every bit as Grand Slammy as Wimbledon but just not green enough for my tastes as a spectator. Even though I never actually play on grass myself. Preferring other drugs. More medical ones. Though the incentive to watch the Aussie this year was great because Djokovic was sent home, rather spectacularly and famously and as I can’t stand him, that should have made me watch. But didn’t.

Maybe having the big matches on at breakfast time over here was the issue, I don’t know. So I missed the women’s final today. Won by… An Aussie!!!! For the first time since Evonne Goolagong in 1977. So well done to Ash Barty. Even if she looks a bit like the simpleton brother in the Paul Hogan show. I won’t hold that against her. Takes a lot to win a Grand Slam and she was worthy.

The men’s final is tomorrow morning/evening, depending on where you’re watching it and I’m hoping Rafa Nadal wins it. Because he’s lovely. He’s nice. He’s Spanish. And he’ll beat the horrible Djokovic to a 21st Grand Slam win. Though Novak will in fact hold a different record. For the chestiest, stupidest, unvaccinated-est fraudster in tennis. Possibly ever.

His ‘proof of entry’ originally submitted, for an unvaccinated Serbian dickhead, was in the form of two forms. One showing he actually had covid and was testing positive, and another to show he was over it and testing negative. Thus establishing he has antibodies but no longer ‘active’. Yet there’s a little problem. The forms, generated by Serbian computers, show that the ‘negative’, second test has a much higher serial number than the first one, which was generated two weeks before. Which is strange. As computers are nothing if not logical. And, as journalists discovered, is almost impossible. Unless…

Surely the Serbian Conspiracy of 2021/22 couldn’t be such that the nation were behind Novak’s pathetic attempts to dupe the Australian immigration system? By apparently ‘back-dating’ the first test so that his ‘infection’ was in the required time period? Would an entire nation lie?!?!?!? Apparently they would would. And did.

Come on Rafa

A xxxx

Prince Andrew is ‘going the whole way’. He’s going to bat against Virginia Whassername and is demanding a trial by jury. But surely a jury is a ‘jury of your peers’. So they have to find 10 Princes, ideally ones that have also been disowned by their families, and sit them in a room with Gregory Peck. That’s the rules. And Andrew’s defence is based on the ‘amnesia plea’ which is basically: ‘I have no recollection of ever being anywhere or doing anything bad with any children, but if photos or other evidence comes to light which indicates I was there, then I’ll find other methods of obfuscation and squirm out in a different direction’.

And Boris too is in even more trouble. Itself almost unimaginable. Now its Afghanistan. He stated, live and on the BBC, that he certainly ‘didn’t send a demand to evacuate all the dogs from a sanctuary and get them on flights to Britain’. And now a letter has ‘emerged’ which shows that was precisely what happened. The question: ‘who the fuck is worried about stray dogs when Kabul has hundreds of thousands of civilians who in some way aided ‘the occupiers’ and who will face severe hardship under the Taliban and can’t find space on planes’ is best considered from the perspective of (the incumbent) Mrs Johnson. She’s a tree-hugging pet-lover, dog-fancier (YES, I do mean her husband) and all round animal saviour. Whereas in Carrie-world there’s no shortage of Afghanis, thousands on every news report, so if a few get lost along the way… oh please, Boris, PLEA-EASE, get the doggies home to mummy…

And so we await the Grey Report. Which is not a general report of Boris repeatedly lying to, misleading, telling fibs and being a reprobate, both to Parliament and, more importantly, to us, the voting population, but just comments on whether rules were broken during lockdown. Do we really need a ‘report’ and an ‘inquiry’ to decide whether any of the 19 gatherings of up to 60 people getting pissed in close proximity in any way constituted ‘a party’? Do we really need that?

With Boris and Andrew, the moral example from the upper echelons of our society is not really the best. Unfortunately we can’t sack Andrew. Even though the Queen already has.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

When you hit 65, by all accounts you should just be dead. It’s the way it used to be. It’s the way humanity began. But back then, living in caves, eating raw dinosaurs, you’d probably only make 38. Not that anyone could actually count that high ‘back in the day’. Biblically it became ‘four score and ten’, raising life expectations to 70. Unless you got crucified. Eaten by a whale. Floated down the river as a baby. Or slain by Babylonians.

But now at 65 you’re barely entering middle-age. It’s a fact. Because in the old days they held old people together with blu-tack and sellotape and performed medicine with a carpenter’s tool box. And nowadays its a bit more slick. And efficient. All ‘key-hole’ and genetic re-modelling.

I had a blood test. To check my thyroxin levels. Which were absolutely fine. But…

But. There were 47 other things wrong with me, according to my blood. Mainly, my cholesterol level was… the same as it was last year! And the year before! And for over a decade before that!!! The same. Holy fuck, is that serious? It hasn’t changed. Ah, but you have, because you’re now 65, thus the algorithms change and your risk changes, therefore you’re going on statins. Ok, I can do another pill.

But your PSA is raised! Oh. That’s the ‘marker’ for prostate problems. And for ‘problems’ read ‘cancer’. Yet not quite because there is no easy way to test or scan for prostate cancer, otherwise the number one killer of men would have us all undergoing it every year. PSAs are like Spurs buying a new player. It may be a massively great thing, but probably not. But if your PSA is high, they have ‘protocols’. Testing. Don’t ask. And that’s the least of it. Scans, bladder tests, more blood tests. Over the last 3 months I’ve pissed more into little plastic pots than into toilets. And finally, having a ‘biopsy’ of my prostate. And I don’t have cancer. I do have ‘atypical cells’, which are (apparently) different from ‘abnormal cells’, but I can live with that. I hope.

So now I’ve got that shit out of the way, I can have my new shoulder. It’s waiting for me, they’re polishing the titanium right now and I asked them just to copy Roger Federer’s.

Having spent the first 65 years never going to hospital, I’m now thinking of moving in permanently to save on fares.

Happy HEALTHY Wednesday

A xxxx

I’ve been researching cars. Pretty much for my whole life. I like cars. But specifically, what makes a ‘supercar’ and what makes a ‘hypercar’? And from what I can ascertain from my extensive and in-depth 4 minute look on Wikipedia is that ‘hypercars’ suffer from excessive hyperbole and thus supercars must suffer from excessive superbole. But really it comes down to price. There’s normal cars. Then, when they get really, stupidly expensive, they become ‘supercars’ and when the price exceeds what 25 bus drivers will earn in 3 lifetimes, they become ‘hypercars’. Though as a rule of thumb, cars that produce in excess of 1000 horses of power kind’a qualify as ‘hypercars’. And they’re all going to cost north of a million quid.

And much as its all a bit ‘for the purists’ and is a form of mechanical masturbation to build cars capable of speeds in excess of 250mph to drive on roads with 20mph speed limits plagued with pot-holes and speed bumps, I’ve always been fond of excess.

So your average Porsche of high end Merc or even Ferrari is a ‘supercar’, you need to venture into the McLarens and Paganis and Koenigsegg or Bugatti to enter the real ‘hyper world’. Or something Lamborghini or Ferrari which is limited edition to really have something to brag about and mention the ‘H’ bomb. Something so fast and furious as to be barely road-worthy. And needs to sound like the start of the Indianapolis 500.

Then along comes Elon Musk and upsets the apple cart. With this little Roadster. Which is ‘only’ going to cost about 200 grand (order one now, or maybe 2 in case one gets a flat tyre). It’s (obviously) electric. And it goes like a rocket. But in this case, literally so. Because the car gets from 0 to 62 (used to be ‘0 to 60’ but inflation took over) in 2.1 seconds. Which is faster than any car around, super, hyper, anything. BUT… Elon fitted to the car the same compressed air boosters that he fitted to the Space X rocket. And if they are deployed, the car travels from 0 to 62 in 1.1 second(s). Which is close to the speed of light (more hyperbole) that I think this car, albeit cheap and nasty American rubbish, must surely be elevated to Hypercar status. Although its probably silent. Other than the roar of the air compressors.

Much as we all hate Elon Musk, he does do things right. Sometimes.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx