Nick Clegg, who is apparently ‘jolly cross’ that David Cameron made his firm stand against Sark and Merk without a final, ‘just-checking’ phone call to him, has emerged from his bunker long enough to make a statement to the press. What he fears, he said, is that if Britain leaves the EU, she will become a pygmy on the world stage. A pygmy? I say!
I realise these past few days have been a time of high stress for Eurosaps but I nevertheless think Nick should have run that one through the PC-sanitiser. It can only be a matter of weeks before a representative of CRAPOLA (Campaign for the Rights and Advancement of People of Low Altitude) arrives from Africa carrying a sharp rebuke in a cleft stick. Harriet Harman’s probably on the case already.
Moving swiftly on, Karen Matthews, mother of Shannon – remember poor little Shannon? – and orchestrator of her daughter’s kidnapping, is due to be released from jail in the New Year. It’s reported that she’s found prison tough. Well that’s good. But the reason she’s found it so unpleasant is that she’s been incarcerated with child killers and paedophiles and apparently, in the bizarre Hall of Mirrors that criminals inhabit, has been targeted by them for several roughings-up. Odd, isn’t it? I mean, all she did was fake her daughter’s disappearance, waste police time and entrust the child to an intellectually-challenged ‘uncle’ who had a hideyhole under his bed. The idea that a child murderer would feel they stood on higher moral ground has to leave you wondering…
I’m proud to report a small domestic triumph. It isn’t every weekend I acquire a new skill but today I successfully turned the frayed collar of one of my husband’s otherwise perfectly good shirts. It’s his beard that does it. I’m a late developer as a needlewoman. When I was a child my lefthandedness was treated as an impediment to learning anything manual so I’ve had to teach myself, which makes success all the sweeter. I think I can fairly say Mr F’s stubbly jaw dropped in admiration.
I said, ‘Now will you please buy a razor, otherwise all this will have been for nought.’
He said, ‘I have a razor.’
He doesn’t. He has something useless, called a Grooming Tool.