Hung over, a planned early doors session at the fox, 5-7;30pm, Happy hours where pints are £2.50, and they sell Ham and Tomato cobs at the bar, the pub hasn’t been decorated for 40 years and the mizzle cloaks the highlands like a damp blanket. Today was Paint choosing and screw buying day, a quiet time with a crossword fitted in somewhere, and all was fine until I broke the tea bag whilst pulling two apart, Yorkshire teabags always come in pairs, and to see one split, a little on the work surface, a little on the floor was, if not heartbreaking then slightly irritating. No hoover around, its been moved from its usual spot next to the kitchen door, so had to use the brush with the springy bristles which disperse rather than consolidate.

Switching on the radio I notice that the media channels are spouting heinous rumour that the Shit Boris Johnson is gaining momentum in yet another leadership election while Britain burns, and an entire population holds its breath between sighs and swearing at the radio in  trepidation of the thought that a disgraced bag of lumpy cold custard could possibly make some sort of awful return and seize the office of Prime Minister again, I know the entire lyrics for the Um Bongo advert from the 80’s, can I try again please? The whole population will once again be held to ransom by 160000 Tory members who could decide if we sink or drown, it’s a diabolical fucking mess. People like my Mum (whom I love) will vote for Johnson if it comes to that on the basis that

a) he isn’t Brown

b) he is a right laugh

and c) he got Brexit done, whatever the fuck that means. We’ve left the EU and we are actually fucked, that’s it, oh and something about being able to have better (?) voltage on Vacuum cleaners.

So Mum voted for Truss because she wasn’t Brown, there was definitely no warmth to her because she was a woman, there’s no changing some people, and there is the pity. So these Tory members who inhabit the lights and shadows of middle England and joined the party because the Conservative club has a lovely beer garden and a bowling green, the beer is reasonably priced and the wine list is broad if not extensive. The food; reassuringly meat and two veg. These fuckers will once again have this country by the balls and will fuck it up royally, and there in lies our problem, aside from being an object off international ridicule. God knows what will happen this Monday but I fear for the future, it seems they’ve all been at the Ergot wine again