Always let your conscience be your guide

No strings

Perhaps he has been lured away by two scurrilous villains known as Honest Liam the Fox and Gideon the Evening Standard Cat to join Stromboli`s evil puppet show or he has been transported to so-called Pleasure Island where foolish boys unable to tell the truth are transformed into donkeys and sold into slavery or, given his rather tenuous relationship with veracity, perhaps he has been swallowed up by a giant whale answering to the name Monstro. Whatever excuse for absence is offered, the big question is where the bloody hell is Jeremy Hunt.

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Imagine

Imagine that after defying all the odds and confounding both critics and supporters alike, you wake up to find that you have guided Leicester City to unexpected and ultimate success as Champions of the Premier League. Alternatively, imagine looking in the mirror and discovering that you are a Thai billionaire duty-free shop magnate with an interest in football that only extends to the amount of personal wealth that can be made. Just nine months after an astonishing sporting achievement, the loyalty of fans toward Claudio Ranieri seems undiminished unlike the loyalty of a chairman more interested in television revenues than fans and certain mediocre players more interested in the transfer market than loyalty to the manager.

Imagine waking up as “Sir Mo”, the darling of the tabloid press only to go back to bed as plain Mohamed after your coach has come under suspicion of being up to no good.

M*A*S*H

The 4077th

The family and sycophants of an 85 year old newlywed have expressed their disappointment after medical tests have confirmed that the vindictive media tycoon continues to enjoy the rudest of health. Complaining of “a pain in the arse”, octogenarian Rupert Murdoch was rushed to the private Leveson wing of the Richard Branson Memorial Hospital and Cash Converter Superstore where teams of specialist doctors checked Mr Murdoch`s credit rating.

After a shameful wait on a trolley for more than 10 seconds before the £20million scanner recognised his Platinum American Express card, Mr Murdoch underwent a full Positron Emission Tomography scan which involved injecting radioactive glucose into the patient`s blood stream. However, the patient`s blood proved to be so toxic that the glucose was instantly absorbed and converted into sulphuric acid which damaged a Chippendale chaise longue and a Persian carpet in the media magnets £10,000 a day private hospital suite. Mercifully discharged, the world`s cultural guardian complained that the Dom Perignon was too warm, the foie gras lacked the taste of cruelty and the Picasso on the wall did not have any bare breasts.

Ministry of Magic

Silly Abbey Road

Of all the government departments labouring away in the dark recesses of Whitehall, none is more expert at artifice, trickery and prestidigitation than the secretive Ministry of Magic. Employing sleight of hand and illusion, its job is to conjure up enough distraction to deceive a gullible public into thinking that everything is going to be alright and that government is kind and is not stealing money from tax payers.

The latest piece of trickery is to announce a complete non-story via the Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government that an oath of allegiance to “British values” might be introduced. Elected officials, including MPs and local authority councillors, civil servants, council workers, teachers and employees of the NHS and BBC will be expected to verbally pledge their loyalty to the crown. Smoke and mirrors are again being cleverly deployed to shift attention away from the ludicrous farce and ongoing train wreck that is our government`s stance on leaving the European Union.

Splat the rat

Hear no evil

It is with considerable joy and with a palpable sense of relief that the timely demise of Nigel the Rat can be announced to an indifferent public. Regular readers of this blog may remember the sorry tale of the uninvited pest invading the sumptuous kitchens of the hippo estate not yet four short weeks ago. Having established an excellent working relationship with the vermin extermination operative now known to the family as “Ron the Rat Man”, Nigel has scuttled his last and all the open bread bins in the world will not bring him back. He shall never again feast at my fruit bowl or drink at my sink or leave his droppings on top of my fridge; so he`ll go no more a burrowing so late into the night.