Clarence: In Hysterics

I cannot stop laughing. My sides hurt.

Have you heard that ABBA don’t want President Trump to use “The Winner Takes it All“ at his rallies. Partly because they’re Democratic, but Bjorn’s comeback was one of the best points ever made on live TV.

“He wouldn’t use the song if he knew what it really meant!”

The person singing is the loser. The song is about someone who lost out on love. I’d say bless him but he’s his own worst enemy.

What’s in a song? Global hysterics.

Mind you, I wonder how the tough, masculine Republicans are coping with ABBA?

In other news

The UK government is still trying to decide what to do about businesses and councils that haven’t removed dangerous cladding from blocks of flats. The UK public are wondering why they’re not in prison, penniless, with their careers and businesses destroyed?

It’s not even a difficult decision. Take everything they own and use it to build better social housing. Take their companies and run them putting profits back into the country. Employers make millions. The country could too.

Other obvious solutions

To anyone but those with the power to create change.

How do single parents juggle work and childcare?

They run breakfast clubs at schools in the morning and afterschool homework and social clubs in the evening. They can take their own children thereby keeping them safe. Work at their own child’s school. It could give some parents 7 hours a day work with no childcare costs or concerns.

The homeless could be made to go to safe shelter at night, to stop them being kicked, beaten, and urinated on in the streets. We have empty buildings everywhere that could be used. I’m sure many would be very happy with a bit of shelter. Maybe they’d start working to help out. Have a permanent room there, receive a wage, be treated for any issues, and one day go out into the world with a useful CV. Businesses could receive support with wages to employ them as they would need training.

I’m sure there are millions of you out there with fantastic ideas to solve the problems facing your country. But as we all know, we’re well trained to speak for the length it takes us to put a cross on a piece of paper, and keep our place as the silent majority for five more years.

Let’s rebel! Let’s get off our collective butts and cause havoc. Let’s bombard them with ideas and harass them when they don’t take action.

Let’s start with that cladding in memory of Grenfell. Someone needs to make that disgusting horror count for something and back up those fighting for justice.

Everyone, demand action! Boy I wish I were more popular. Had a bigger voice. I’ve never worried about success, but you know, having a successful voice for change would be the kind success that could put a smile on my face.

Crikey, apparently I’m not a cynical journalist! Who’d a thought it.

However…will we start giving them hell…? We shall see as they say. Which is the greatest truth ever told. Actions v words.

Family crisis

My grandson is missing. Parents frantic. I’m terrified. No he hasn’t come to harm.

After a terrific row with his parents, who I have some sympathy for, he stormed out the house on Thursday and hasn’t been seen since. However he has been heard.

I went out on the initial search, got home and after a while realised that there was creaking in my loft. I had previously installed a security camera as I thought I heard mice up there, nothing so far. I checked the history.

The little bugger has taken up residence in the loft. Is using my shower secretly when I’m at work. I only know through the subtle clues of water everywhere, a sticky soap bar where I could easily step on it and go arse over apex wrapping my unmentionables rather painfully around the toilet. Plus the handily placed sopping wet towel there on the floor that I could have wiped my fevered brow on had it not been in a puddle of water where he’d let the sink overflow, would have been another helpful clue.

I have let his parents know that he’s made contact and is safe, but I’m terrified to tell them where he is as they will undoubtedly believe I was in on it. If you could smell his socks, as I can through the ceiling, you’d know I would have had to be out of my mind.

I’m also out of food, and several times I’ve fallen over the electrical extension lead running from my bedroom, where he unplugged my electric alarm clock thus making me late for work, to plug it in. I’m reasonably sure that’s where the small tv from the kitchen has gone, and my spare laptop.

Obviously I can’t throw him out, daren’t tell his parents except to keep saying that he’s still okay because I value my life too much, and I think I’m having a breakdown.

Not only that, the master of disappearance has started adding things to my shopping list! No he’s not getting beer, vapes, crisps, chocolate, or girly magazines. He wants those because I put child controls on the Internet. I know him very well. I don’t even know if those magazines exist in paper form anymore. It’s been years since my neck will let me look up to see the top shelf anywhere.

I have to put my phone camera on at the supermarket and aim it upwards, then grope around for what I want. And yes, I fell, on a yacht that I wasn’t supposed to be on, called the police for help before the owners found and killed me, and accidentally broke up a drug smuggling ring. I got an award for the story and a gong for my bravery. Tell no one.

Sigh, why did I have kids knowing they probably would? In fairness I couldn’t have seen Harry coming, he’s a nightmare.

Clarence

P.S. Mildred and I are off to obtain some weed, don’t worry we’re not smoking it, we’re going to light it, put it on a bit of foil and waft it into the loft. When he falls asleep we’re going to carry him out to my car, take him home, shove him through his bedroom window onto the bed, obviously the window is always open, and let him wake up there tomorrow morning. Then I will clean the house from top to bottom and deny all knowledge. Mildred is a genius. Everyone should have an ex member of MI6 as a friend.

P.P.S. Bugger! I wasn’t meant to say that. Tell no one.