Having observed the President Putin/Vice-President Trump debacle I’m at a loss.
In fairness President Biden has always muddled names up, so it’s not really a sign of getting older with him. However, there’s muddling something up and managing to convey the worst possible insult, which he managed twice.
One confused with his mortal enemy, the other confused with an elderly, white, bombastic member of the masculine variety. I actually think VP Harris got the worst of that one.
In contrast we have a nice, quiet, solid man representing us. Whoever thought quietly efficient could bring so much comfort?
He won’t light up the world but he won’t plunge it into disbelief either. Maybe we in the UK have nothing remarkable to be grateful for.
In other news the England women’s team won their match, apparently it wasn’t dynamic either. But as long as the men, the women, and Starmer keep winning, slow and steady will be great.
Apart from that my grandson has repeated the drawing pin toilet seat at school, and the headmaster hit the roof; literally.
The Deputy Head is now covering his absence, and dressings are covering his embarrassment. Plus thanks to my grandson they now know that the school is riddled with RAAC concrete and it’s so bad they’ve had to close it for a week. Apparently Swiss cheese has fewer holes.
I don’t know why the headmaster isn’t more grateful, if it had been proper concrete he might have been killed. Some people don’t recognise good fortune even when their head hits it.
My grandson once again emerges as the hero. Their front wall is covered in mainly grateful graffiti, although the headmaster did stop by and write something rather unbecoming for a man of his status. Embarrassingly one of year 7 chose to ‘correct’ his spelling, but we think the headmaster intended to write ‘runt’, of course there has to be an investigation and his job is now on the line along with his sanity.
My daughter-in-law won’t leave the house, my son won’t enter the house until she stops shouting, my wife is furious, and once again I’ve got the blame even though I’m over here in New York swinging between bored and incredulous. Don’t expect me back anytime soon.
The much maligned and secretly proud
Clarence Postlethwaite
I was there when said headmaster told my grandson he played football like a girl. which was insulting to girls, football, and an enthusiastic but inept kid. The swine announced it over the tannoy system mid match! Frankly the way he was playing makes me think he will be perfect for the England team in a few years time. He’s got great potential in procrastination with effective panic at the end.
Deb Hawken - Amorah 