Andy's Glasses

Hello, my name is Suella Braverman and I am your Home Secretary. All of England. Few other bits too. But please note: that is HOME secretary, not HOMELESS secretary, that will be someone else. Anyone else. Not me. Not my job to pander to those spoiled and entitled dossers who choose to live in tents under Selfridges awning. My job is to clear the street of tents because they get in the way of middle-class voters.

But first I wish to discuss the up-coming, so-called, pro-Palestian march scheduled for Saturday. Armistice Day. An affront to… armistice. Because that is our national day of peace to celebrate war. It’s a day when we gather together to remember those lost in fighting for our nation and to garner hatred for all those not of our nation, the ones we didn’t manage to kill at the last two attempts. And we don’t want our peaceful day of Britishness upset by the waving of Palestinian flags all over the place. It would be rude. And inappropriate. I told this to the commissioner of police but he asked me, politely and considerately, to fuck off and leave the streets to him and his boys in blue. The march can go ahead, he said, and we’ll ensure it doesn’t impact on the solemnity of Remembrance Day. Particularly as that’s not in fact til Sunday, the day after the march.

I therefore had to take the matter further afield, as all those in my government seem hell-bent on applying ‘the right to protest’ and considerations of ‘freedom of speech’ to everything, without using the prejudice and bias for which they were voted into power. So I went to Tommy Robinson. He’s the leader of the British Defence League… possibly the Front for Britain’s Defence… The Nationalist White Person’s Brigade, whatever. But Tommy, if he’s not currently in prison, appreciates the sanctity of Remembrance Day. And so is prepared to deploy several of his ‘troops’ to help protect the innocent civilians marching for peace, from the vociferous jihadi hate-mongers who want to turn the demo into a call for the death of all Jews everywhere and turn Britain into Afghanistan. Because if that happened they wouldn’t be able to march anywhere, other than to jail. Tommy’s troops may be quite busy that day because Saturday is the day when British Defence Leaguers do their duty (kicking, stabbing, head-butting) at the other league, the Premier one. But this is even more important than supporting Chelsea.

In fact, if the truth be known, I’m opposed to the march totally. It’s a march of hate, and no-one wants that. No-one wants the incitement to violence, the outcry to destroy Israel and everyone in it, involved with it, supportive of it, or can just spell it properly. Or looks like they might.

When Tommy and his boys ‘march’ in their hob-nail boots in support of wars past, (they love nothing more than a good war which Britain won), it gets banned because of the expected racism and violence which will ensue. But if those same aims are proposed by a group supported mainly by champagne socialists from Shropshire, lefty-liberals from Lowerstoft and Corbynites from Colchester, then that’s ok, even though there will be powerful minority, led by irritants from Iran, to get the spray paint out and desecrate anything representative of ‘The West’. And they don’t mean ‘the west end’.

I will do all in my power to represent you until they carry me away wearing white coats or my Prime Minister sacks me. Either of which could be imminent.

Yours sincerely,

Suella xxxx

The new Beatles single is out. Its called ‘Now and then’ and its a fab… song, featuring all the usual suspects, but not necessarily in the correct order. Because this song, although an ‘original’ John Lennon track, was deemed, in 1977, when he writ it, too shit for the Beatles. But then he died, just a few years later. I would say ‘murdered’ but that sounds so mundane for such an incredible, world-changing person, so I’ll say ‘assassinated’ instead. Only really important people are lucky enough to get that. Its an honour.

And when someone that famous dies, the value of everything gets hiked exponentially. So when they found the demo John had made of Now & Then on his home studio, they decided to complete it. Why not? The McCartney half of the partnership is still live and well and as long as he can still hold a pen he can finish a few verses. Then comes the clever bit. They wanted to John to sing it. And after 30-odd years in the ground, let’s just say ‘his voice ain’t wot it used to be’.

But this is now 2023. And mere death is no obstruction to producing a sure-fire number 1 hit. So they called in Peter Jackson. He’s the geezer that turned New Zealand into the Hobbit. He made normal people into dwarves, abnormal people into Gollums and other weird things and most importantly, he is a master at AI. Which is so clever that if you play your nearest Robot a few old Beatles songs, he/she/it will ‘BE’ the voice of Lennon in all its idiosyncrasies, Scouse twangs and actually sound more like John Lennon than he ever sounded. Just like Terminator could do. Play a few George Harrison riffs and solos and your own R2D2 will play While My Guitar Gently Weeps like the man himself. Ok, like the corpse himself. Paul and Ringo are good to go. If a bit old, so Mr Jackson might need to enhance slightly.

And thus, the ‘Fab 2’ are once again the ‘Fab 4’, for the purposes of the new song. And that’s brilliant. So coming soon, there’s the new album by Jimi Hendrix, ‘Purple Grave’; Sinatra’s revamp hit; ‘Come Die with me’ and Bowie’s re-release of ‘Under Pressure’.

We no longer need musicians. We have computers. We have Peter Jackson.

Fab Wednesay

A xxxx

I’m interested in words. They way they sound, their meanings, because all words can mean slightly different, or even vastly different things. And I love a new word. Just because. And if its an Arabic word, so what? I can borrow it.

Most of the Arab world uses the word ‘naqba’ to describe the day Israel became an independent state. It means ‘disaster’ or ‘catastrophe’. I use the word in slightly different context, to describe the day my football team imploded. Catastrophically. Disastrously.

It wasn’t even a normal ‘catastrophe’ which would have been merely losing to any team, but Chelsea in particular. This is less metaphorical and way more literal than that would have been.

Romero got sent off. We lose him for 3 matches. Destiny Udogie was sent off and will miss a few too. Both ‘stars’ in the current (til last night) wave of wonder. James Madison, the best player in the league, limped off with a dodgy ankle, followed by Micky Van der Ven, our new and really star defender, with what looked like major hamstring trouble.

Half the team was either kicked off or carried off the pitch. And by the time the dust settled, we were down to 9 men, half of those substitutes. So what do you do?

What most do is two things:
1. Sit 8 men permanently on the edge of the box and stay put.
2. Start working out the statement blaming VAR for all the woes and unfairness.

Postecoglou is not ‘most’. What he did was:
1. Sit his 8 men on the half way line. So we could attack, given an opportunity, and playing a very dangerous ‘offside game’. Which was so dangerous it failed 3 times and Chelsea scored 3 of their goals from them. Well, actually, they scored the same goal 3 times. Mainly due to the players we lost were the fast ones. And you can’t play an offside trap depending on the likes of Eric Dier to race back and do something useful. With Van der Ven it may have worked, but he was on his way to hospital by then.
2. The fact that there were 4 disallowed goals by VAR in the first half alone speaks volumes. Neither I nor Ange is blaming VAR for our woes, they were certainly self-inflicted. We leave the blame game to Arteta and Klopp.

I love Cristian Romero deeply, madly, truly. I would bear his children. But he needs to keep his cool and return to the more disciplined style he’s managed this whole season until last night. His sending off tackle was almost as bad as Kai Havertz’s on the weekend.
And Udogie has been a revelation. But again, he narrowly missed a sending off in the first half, so thought it a good idea to repeat it in the second?

We’re still second in the league and I’m still loving Ange. And the fans who were there sang their little hearts out right to the final whistle, in support and love for they way our team played and our manager managed.

There was no shame.

Just a touch of upset. Bit of anger, maybe…

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

It has become customary, in a very short time, for football managers to ‘blame VAR’ for all their woes. Every game lost is down to that cumbersome and miserable system which combines flawed technology with incompetent analysts. And never has this VAR-scapegoating been so apparent as in yesterday’s splendid match between Newcastle and Arsenal.

Newcastle won a fraught and fabulous competition by just one goal. But such a goal…

I was fortunate to see the event ‘live’ in my lounge as I was preparing to host what used to be called a ‘dinner party’ before Covid, but now is just ‘some mates comin’ over for a bite’, due to the post-pandemic informality laws. And I was preparing my Brussel sprouts for their later sautée-ing. I would tell you the recipe for the best fucking sprouts ever but I simply have to keep it secret otherwise… slice them, fry in olive oil with a little or preferably a lot of finely chopped garlic After a very precise length of frying, possibly 3 minutes, possibly 8, add soy sauce, balsamic vinegar and maple syrup in the correct and precise amounts… like… well… enough. Put the lid on, simmer, low light for about 4 minutes. Possibly 6. Serve, eat, enjoy, send undying thanks to the ‘chef’ who invented this.

And Newcastle attacked and the shot was blocked, was going off for a corner, or a throw in. But the Newcastle player was ‘playing to the whistle’ and ran alone after the ball which was too far for the Arsenal players to be bothered with. And the Newcastle boy managed to retrieve that ball, stopped it from crossing the line and crossed it to the far post, where another Newc. bounced the wimpy Arsenal defender out of the way, leaving the ball for his team mate to slam home from half a yard. Brilliant.

But we had to wait for VAR. And wait… and wait…

Did the ball cross the line? Ambiguous, I’d say ‘no, it didn’t’, obviously.
Was there a foul on the Arsenal defender? No, he just fell.
Was the Newcastle player offside? Impossible to tell. And if it’s that close, then NO.

After about 20 minutes (was actually 4 but felt like for-fuckin-everrrrr!!!) the goal, amazingly, was given. The hapless had conspired with the incompetent, aided by the blind, and came up with the right result. Based on the ‘old way’; if it looks like a goal and there’s nothing obviously wrong with it, even in a bit of a ‘goalmouth scramble’, then GIVE THE FUCKING GOAL.

At the end, a very sad and angry Spaniard called Arteta stated categorically that ‘it was not a goal’. When asked specifically why, he told of being in England for 20 years, he questioned the status of England having ‘the best league in the world’ but no more, because of ‘THIS’, but couldn’t actually come up with a reason why the goal should have not stood. What he was really saying was ‘why couldn’t VAR help me to not lose this game???’ Interestingly, he didn’t criticise VAR for not sending off eternal disappointment, Kai Havertz, following his truly disgusting ‘tackle’. Funny that.

I felt his pain. Ok, I didn’t. Arsenal lost and therefore didn’t overtake Spurs. I think that has to be considered in the VAR office too.

Happy sunny Sunday

A xxxx

This photo is entitled: “GOD HELP USSSSSS!!!”

We’re top of the league. Don’t know if you know that. But we are. We have about 4 hours left, I reckon, before Man City (probably) or Liverpool (possibly) overtake us, or 6 hours before Arsenal play at Newcastle. Then we play Chelsea on Monday night. Ooooohhhh.

I’ll try to put this, intellectually, into a context which manifestly expresses deep felt honesty of my feelings. I fucking hate Chelsea. That intellectual enough for ya? The reasons are many. Any Spurs fan who’s spent any time at Stamford Bridge will understand. It’s not a nice experience. And I don’t just mean the football.

But now it’s more complicated. Chelsea’s manager is our beloved Mauricio Pochettino. He came to Spurs at a bad time (we’ve had many… too many to even number, but we’ll call it ‘bad time no. 5,729’, just for reference) and he elevated us. Not just in the league position but in absolutely everything. He brought back belief. He brought love. He brought fabulous football, team spirit, totally engaged fans and a new top-to-bottom cohesion which we’d lacked for decades and have only just found a way to replace under Ange.

So when Mauricio went to Chelsea we were initially jealous, then most concerned that he might take that team of over-priced, under-performing no-goodniks and turn them into the team which cost a truly ridiculous amount of money should be. Fortunately, he has (thus far) failed miserably and is the leader of a hapless bunch of divas who simply don’t appear to play in any joined up way. And we pray that lasts until at least Tuesday. Because whatever happens today or tomorrow, if we beat Chelsea on Monday night we stay top.

And that’s where we need to be. Where I need to be.

Happy Saturday, even though tennis was rained off AGAIAIAIANNNN!!!

A xxxx

We have 3 ovens. There, I’ve said it. Now you know. Because I eat a lot. Because we cook a lot. Because we cook big. Because ovens were on sale that day. Or, because now and again we get ‘the (extended) family’ over for dinner and there’s not enough room in one oven. Or two. And we had the fucking room, so why wouldn’t everyone have 3 ovens? And even if we don’t often use all three ovens, we very frequently use the timers that each one has. Boil an egg? Well set a timer for 8 minutes (10 is WAY too long, 7 is pathetically insufficient). Ah, that timer’s in use; Mel’s timing a tumble dry and the machine’s own timer hasn’t worked since Lila was born. (Should have had 3 tumble dryers, maybe, hmmm…) And in precicely 10 minutes I need to do… something special, and I’ll forget, because I do. Set a timer.

Then I sit down for breakfast, write some of this, read the paper, eat a banana, make more tea… and a beeper goes off. Ahhhh, the timer. But what for? Which was that? Is my egg ready? Is my towel dry? Do I need to… whatever the fuck I was supposed to be attending to???? WHICH WAS WHICH??? And in this morning’s confusion, at the sound of the beep I shlepped the bedsheets out of the tumbler AND turned off the eggs. Only to get another beep 4 minutes and 17 seconds later. Oh. Better put the egg back on then…

First world problems.

Then I got an email from Rishi Sunak. Honest, from him, himself, ‘personally’ and signed ‘Rishi xxx’ an’ everything. ‘Dear Andrew…’ it started. Only my mum called me Andrew and she died 10 years ago, God rest her wonderful soul. Ok, telesales people do too. So when the phone goes and they ask for ‘Andrew’, its either my mum re-incarnate or someone selling me life insurance, offering me a class action law-suit or telling me my computer’s been hacked and they need to hack it themselves, what’s your pin number? But this was the Prime Minister of the whole of England, parts of Ireland, most of Wales and (for the time being) Scotland. And he was asking for money. His exact words, if I could ‘chip in’. 100 quid, maybe 50, right down to a fiver. To help his God-forsaken, scandalised, sexually harassed, serially incompetent political party help us keep the nation free from Kier Starmer (bad) and Angela Rayner (much worse). G’wan, Andrew, chip in fifty quid, mate, g’wan.

Rishi Sunak, net worth about 750 million quid, asking AndREW Conway, net worth about £632.47 plus 3 ovens, for a hand-out. There was no box which specifically said “FUCK OFF!!!”, so I had to create my own.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

‘Long covid’ has now been redefined as ‘the banging on about the pandemic long after it all fucking finished to any significant degree and we’re all bored with it’.

Well, that’s my definition. Or it was. Until the inquiry started this week. And this is the most fun you can have. I’d pay 75 quid for a seat to watch such satire and here it is, every day, on tv, completely free!

But it is a serious matter and the then government don’t come out too well. So I need to defend them. Boris, Matt Hancock, Dominic Cummings, they’re just ‘humans’ (other than Cummings who patently isn’t) and have faults and were really trying their best. And in that ‘trying’ they swore a bit on whatsapp messages. If that’s a crime, I’m a dead man. So give them some latitude.

Boris didn’t mean to be a totally hapless moron, incapable of understanding the basic nature of what a ‘pandemic’ was, until half the old and vulnerable people had died, at which point he thought that wasn’t such a bad thing, from a ‘economy of the nation’ perspective, so might as well kill of the other half too, save a few bob on pills. And he knew no better, as Italy locked down its population, than to laugh at ‘those stupid fucking eye-ties!!!’, three weeks before he locked us down.

Matt Hancock is just a tosser. His list of ‘Covid crimes’ is so lengthy it needs to be in several volumes. And it doesn’t include ‘the kiss’. As ‘health minister’ at the time he was clueless, uninformed and worse still, refused to be informed by those who actually knew quite a bit about such things.

And Dominic Cummings. The most horrible, arrogant, obnoxious sub-human ever to walk along Downing Street with political purpose. The retrospective justification for Guy Fawkes. Who bossed, mouthed off, drove 300 miles to take his covid up north and spread it around. And who swears at women. Not in a good way, like… some do. But in the ‘superior’, misogynistic, creepy way of people who were very late losing their virginity. A role model for ‘Incels’. His idea of ‘team building’ is to hold all those around him in complete contempt, but especially the women.

So forgive them. I know I have. Well, almost. Because at least we’re still alive to laugh at them.

There was no defence.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

I’m not here to discuss whether there should be ‘a ceasefire’ in Gaza or not. And there’s a good reason for not discussing it. That’s because, probably, the government of Israel, heads of state and military chiefs don’t read my blog. They should do, they’d learn a lot. But I’m not sufficiently arrogant or stupid to think that even if I stated categorically and prefaced it with ‘let me make this perfectly clear’ as all politicians and other tossers invariably do, that ‘there must be a ceasefire!’, that Israel would listen or care. Israel does what Israel does and if it listened to external criticism or demands, it would have ceased to exist in 1949.

So why does Sadiq Kahn think that Israel is going to stop its existential war because the Mayor of London, a world famous trumped up little shit, thinks it should? Similarly, while we’re here, is Benjamin Netanyahu going to convene an emergency war cabinet meeting because David Beckham has asked for a ceasefire? Maybe Rhianna? Harry Styles? Ronaldinho?

How about Kier Starmer? Would his words rock the knesset into re-thinking its entire program for destroying Hamas and rescuing its 230 hostages? Can you name the leader of the opposition in Israel? How about Columbia? Germany? No. So it’s doubtful they could name him. If they could then they’d be the enlightened ones who would know what a useless person he is.

And yet, the Labour Party is in internal turmoil over Starmer’s failure to ‘demand a ceasefire’. Even though if he did, no-one who matters would hear nor care, let alone heed his words. And yet this is now an amazingly divisive thing in our opposition party.

Sir Kier entered the leadership office on a mission to ‘rid the horrible anti-semitism’ which his predecessor, Bealzibub Corbyn, had promoted, enabled and rewarded. So he is either tethered to this principle so strongly (as he should be) that he feels he has to stand 100% behind the Jewish community and Israel too, or he’s just totally fucked himself and can’t say what he’d really like to. Which is probably what the rest of the Labour stalwarts have said, that ‘there must be an immediate ceasefire’. And even if; a massively big IF, even if Israel listened to him; Hamas wouldn’t. One opposition front-bencher said yesterday that ‘there must be a ceasefire to enable aid to the people, and to allow time for a diplomatic solution from the UN’. My only question being “where the fuck has this guy been for the last 75 years????” That the ‘diplomatic solution’ which has thus far eluded, unlike the Labour party, even clever people like Henry Kissinger, Bill Clinton, Maggie Thatcher, Winston fucking Churchill, is going to materialise in 3 days, by none other than the UN, possibly the most dim-witted, anti-zionist organisation in the world outside of Militant Islamist groups?

So good luck Kier. You’re gonna need it.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

I shouldn’t be a snob. I’m an East’enda, ain’ I? We give up the right to snobbishness with the first glottal stop. But many years ago, when I moved to the gentrified suburbs around ‘ampstid, I found all the Hs I’d spent my formative years dropping. They were in a little heap on the HHHeath Hextension and they’ve been firmly affixed ever since. Not always in the right place, Hi grant you, but I try to be careful.

So, as a snob, I shop… ok, ‘we’ shop in Waitrose. You have to or they take away your License to be Middle Class. And Marks & Spencer food hall. We’re allowed to shop at ‘convenience stores’ because… because they’re convenient. But only if they’re nice ones with massive displays of fabulous fruit and veg outside. Otherwise we’re not allowed in. “Sorry mate, ya can’t come in ‘ere, this is a scummy shop and we don’t allow posh people inside”.

We have a Co-op round the corner which I boycotted the day they opened, even though their stuff is pretty good and very cheap. But Co-op boycotted Israel long before it was even fashionable, so fuck ‘em. They can wait for Roger Waters to come in for an avocado, I’ll buy mine over the road at ‘the Turks’ (most fabulous ‘convenience store’ in the world). And we don’t go to Tesco because it’s a bit far. Ok, it’s 2 miles away, but with the Electric Vehicle, every journey’s a worry. And I have no idea where a Sainsbury might be and nor do I care, I’m covered.

And then there’s Aldi. The lowest, tackiest, most grobbiest form of shopping humility a man can take. But now and again we drive all the way to… North Finchley!!!, that post-apocalyptic netherworld so deprived and desolate that it has no Gail’s!!!, and we slouch into the Aldi. Not just to buy their quite amazing single-malt whisky, but also for certain other things which are just so much cheaper than anywhere else. Ok, I’m not saying its a pleasant experience. I’m not saying everything there is top quality, but some things are just ridiculously cheap. 12 2-litre bottles of diet lemonade later (I love lemonade), a dozen pack of water (for Mel, obvs), whisky, some wine, prosecco, few other bits and bobs… 50 quid. I offered to pay more, to help the deprivation, but they wouldn’t take it.

Fortunately no-one saw us enter or leave, and we were wearing balaclavas anyway, just in case, and also because everyone else in North Finchley wears them anyway as part of the government’s shop-lifting initiative.

The joys of shopping.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

So what, would you ‘estimate’ is a ‘proportionate response’ to the brutal (and if you want details, its all online, but you’ll need a strong stomach or a bucket) murders of 1400 people? Should Israel have simply gone ‘an eye for an eye’ and murdered 1400 Gazans? Randomly and with horrendous brutality? That would have been pure, but ‘proportionate’, revenge. Which really is not what this current assault on Gaza is all about. This is not for ‘revenge’. It’s about proportionality of intention.

Since its inception Hamas has had but one goal; the destruction of Israel, the death of all Israeli Jews and better still, all Jews in the world. That’s it. The statement, its in their charter, unapologetically. But it’s been a battle cry, a bold statement to rally the troops, mere words. ‘From the River to the Sea’ may sound almost biblical in its origins but it is the statement that Hamas wants all of Israel’s land, but none of its people alive. Which is why there is no current ‘2-state solution’, its been offered numerous times but always rejected by the PLO or Hamas.

What happened on October 7 turned this intention from rhetoric into stark reality. Leaving Israel in a truly existential crisis. Here is Hamas, murdering innocent Israelis, as always promised. Spurred on by a lifelong passion against Israel, armed and abetted by Iranian dollars and rockets, they embarked upon their lust for death. Which, if left, would repeat. As threatened. Leaving Israel no choice but to eliminate Hamas before it eliminates them.

Hamas is NOT ‘the people of Gaza’. It does not ever represent their best interests. It uses them as disposable, throwaway pawns in a PR battle against its enemy. Hamas murders Palestinians. The hospital that Israel yesterday demanded be evacuated has a Hamas command centre built in a tunnel underneath it. Not in a dark, dusty, muddy place but lined with concrete, carpeted, filled with computers and an arms depot. Rocket launchers are strategically placed near schools. If Palestinians disagree with Hamas they are killed. Thrown off of buildings. Hamas does not care about Palestine or the people in it, other than as their use in scoring points and garnering sympathy from naive imbeciles at the UN.

And from Jeremy Corbyn who yesterday demanded the end of ‘killing innocent children’. Whereas during all the Russian bombing killing Ukranian children, all he could say was: ‘the West must stop supplying Ukraine with arms’. He didn’t mention the Israeli babies and children killed or burned alive during the initial raid. Why would he? And anyway, the world’s forgotten the October 7 raid now, because other people are being killed by Israeli bombs. And that’s far more important. Far more inflammatory. Far more a worthy cause for marching, protesting and shouting ‘Jihad’ and ‘death to the Jews’ in Trafalgar Square.

What is really ‘disproportionate’ is the level of hatred that has suddenly arisen for Israel and for Jews. In Russia yesterday a plane due to land from Tel Aviv had to be redirected because of a group of ‘protesters’ waving Palestinian flags who broke into the airport and actually made it onto the runway ‘looking for Jews’. For a ‘pogrom’. Another pogrom. The Palestine flags waved here are now slowly being replaced by Hamas flags, Isis flags and all manner of other jihadi hate mongers. And the waving is not just by Muslims but by good, English Corbyn-types so easily and moronically led into anti-semitic rage. Of course ‘its not anti-semitism to be anti-zionist’, but when you only and ever protest against Israel and never when Syria murders 10,000 of its own civilians, or Russia destroys working schools and hospitals, then it kind’a looks like anti-semitism, smells like anti-semitism, as demonstrated by the United Nations so regularly.

I wish I knew what the answer was. But getting rid of Hamas (or the current incarnation of it, at least) is definitely the place to start. As many have said, but few have listened, ridding Gaza of Hamas would free the Palestinian people as well as safeguarding the state of Israel so that us Jews of the diaspora still feel we always have that safe haven should ‘the shit hit the fan’. Again. And currently, I’m not standing too close to any fans.

Happy Monday

A xxxx