Took this lovely pic this morning as I strolled through Embankment Gardens, the worlds best, and possibly smallest, park. And I thought: who’s the tosser in the yellow jacket ruining my photo???!!!! The only yellow thing you normally get there is tulips. Daffodils. Errrr… flowers. But not today. As I walked through, the presence of these hi-viz dudes and dudettes (yes, they have gels in the police too, ya know, otherwise who would you sexually assault in the coffee room?) increased with every step. Reaching its maximum saturation at the back doors of the Savoy hotel. But carried on all the way through the park and in the road behind it. I asked 2 young bobbies (sooooo fucking young, one of them wasn’t completely weaned yet and the other I’m sure had a dummy on his utility belt) what was going on and was told ‘its confidential; we can’t tell you’, or, presumably they’d have to shoot me but were unarmed so I need to speak to the gun squad.

And I thought. Hmmmmmm, is precisely what I thought. Who would warrant such a security operation that’s very very ‘overt’? Who’s coming to England to visit? Someone of an inflammatory and divisive nature or stature? Ahhhhhh: Bibi.

Binyamin Netenyahu is due (no pun) a visit this weekend to ‘discuss Iran’. Which probably means Rishi wants the opportunity to stop Bibi nuking it. And Netenyahu is a divisive character, for sure. Possibly the most divisive since Moses. And he only divided the sea, rather than opinion. Because about 9/10ths of the middle east simply hate him, ok, mainly on principle but more recently for more valid reasons. And now, approximately 53% of his own, fellow Israelis hate him too. The ones who don’t wear big black hats with lots of things dangling about; fringes, hair-locks. In fact it is possible that Bibi is the most hated head of state in the world, with the notable exception of Mnsr Macron. Who is only hated by the French, but all of them.

Freddie Flintoff, the man who single-handedly won the Ashes for us in… yeah, whenever, retired from cricket to become a car ‘expert’. Well, he can drive, can’t he? Loves cars? Therefore he’s as qualified as Lewis Hamilton to become Jeremy Clarkson. And Freddie has been wonderful on Top Gear for a few years now. And then… he crashed. Not catastrophic; scarred his face and broke a few ribs. Thus has now retired from Top Gear. His job on the show was ‘dare devil’.

Eddie the Eagle was a dare devil. Didn’t look as pretty as Freddie (nor really as pretty as Freddie’s dog), but he broke every bone in his body 19 times ski-jumping. Well, ski-crashing-off-the-jump-ing. Freddie’s predecessor on Top Gear, diddy Richard Hamilton nearly died in a car crash for the show. Back again as soon as the surgeries healed and his brain-swelling reduced sufficiently for him to remember who he was. That’s a dare-devil. Its a synonym for ‘schmuck who doesn’t learn’. NOT, one scratch and I’m gone. Sorry Freddie, bit disappointed.

Happy Friday

A xxxx