I’m sick. Like, sick with a capital ‘I’. So I’m slightly out of contact this week with occasions within the political world.
It’s some kind of model of the flu, I reckon, however I’ve by no means recognized something fairly prefer it. In mattress since Tuesday night time and used my telephone to do all my Christmas purchasing at about 2am on Thursday with a temperature of, like, 110 levels.
Very unsettling to get up later that day utterly skint and with a wide range of odd and utterly inappropriate presents winging their manner throughout the nation. Quite what my Auntie Pam goes to make of a ticket to the Mixed Martial Arts occasion Cage Warriors on the O2 is past me.
But it’s the thought that counts, I suppose. And it’s a superb seat. People on this sport have little or no sympathy for sickness – which is honest. Phone calls go like this: “Keir. How are you doing?”
“Well, mate, not going to lie, I don’t think I’m long for this worl-”. “That’s great. Have you heard about Scott Benton?”
I hadn’t, certainly, heard concerning the Conservative MP for Blackpool South Mr Benton’s 35-day suspension from Parliament – on account of when the information broke I used to be going by means of some kind of hallucination about being on a cargo ship. It doesn’t shock me, although. I feel I learn someplace that disgraced Tories are actually one of many largest teams in Parliament. I may need dreamt it, although, like I dreamt the opposite night time the bloke from Wizzard was after me.
(It alarmed me a lot I should have made a word of it within the early hours and, let me inform you, there’s nothing so disconcerting as waking as much as a message – written in an alien hand – that claims: “Roy Wood is trying to kill you.”) Anyways. Another by-election on the way in which. It seems more and more like moderately than voting the Tories out wholesale at a General Election, they’re going to get picked off one after the other, like a extremely, actually, dangerous model of Squid Game.
More distress for Mr Sunak, so as to add to the horror present that was the Rwanda vote on Tuesday. I used to be comparatively wholesome then however, with hindsight, watching that full debate and the circus that surrounded it won’t have executed me any good.
Still, a lot better to be a rancid, bed-ridden ball of sweat than Mr Sunak proper now. Horrible festive season in retailer for the PM. Nothing lower than he deserves, although. A Scrooge who hasn’t realized any classes, regardless of what the ghosts are telling him.
I’ll depart it there. There’s not a lot I can provide in the way in which of perception this week – apart from to be sure to get your flu jabs. I’m again to mattress and my remedy plan of Lemsip, whisky and hen soup. To be trustworthy, not one million miles from my traditional weight loss program. I’m away subsequent week, so I want you a peaceable Christmas.