Unusual of me, I know, to place one tune right at the start of a post, let alone three, but the topic this morning requires a little decorum, and perhaps a guided hint as to what is to come.
Those of you on social media – especially Twitter – will probably know what I’m alluding to, for it’s been all over it for the past week or so, with matters becoming grubbier over the past couple of days.
Let’s say that today’s post is brought to you by the letters: B, J and
In fact, I don’t need to write anything more, I’ll let satirical magazine Private Eye take up the story, but be warned: do not read on if you are of a nervous disposition, or if you have recently eaten, for the mental image you will have by the end of this is likely to make you revisit your last meal.
Perhaps one more song to settle your stomachs (and drop another clue) before we dive in:
Ok. Have you had your breakfast yet? No? Good.
Then brace yourself:
I mean, there are a million jokes to be written here, right?
But I’m not going to stoop so low.
Or maybe I’ll just save them fellater.
At the time of writing, I’ve seen unconfirmed rumours that the MP referred to in the article was none other that Chris Grayling, who you will recall in 2018 managed to award a £13.8m contract to provide additional cross-channel freight capacity in case of a “no-deal” Brexit to a firm with no ferries. If his association with this sordid story is correct, then it just proves the man is so useless he couldn’t even walk into a room without mucking it up.
In entirely unrelated news, the day after this story broke (and by “broke”, I mean “ignored by every single news publication or media outlet except Private Eye and James O’Brien on LBC”), Tory Deputy Chief Whip Chris Pinches, quit his government job by way of a letter on Thursday, saying he had “drunk far too much” and “embarrassed myself and other people”.
It transpires that he had groped two men in a private members’ club. (See, there’s really no need for me to think up any jokes today.)
His timing was impeccable, though, distracting from our…er…proud and glorious leader’s in-office shenanigans in true “dead-cat” style.
One can’t help but wonder if he was the second person instructed to fall on a sword that we learned about this week – his: metaphorical, the other: pork.
(I’m really not.)