One helluva week

And it’s only Wednesday evening! 

I feel like I’ve attended a white-privilege awareness session, double-needlework with Miss Brown, the bitchiest teacher ever, and been stuck on a slow-moving train from Euston with drunken Watford fans crying incessantly about how they was robbed, which is a bit daft because, to be robbed, you should have something worthwhile to lose in the first place, and we are talking Watford here.

That aside, in between being berated, bitched-about and bawled-at, I’ve read, researched, written and re-organised so much, my brain is demanding a Bank Holiday.

No can do, Grey Cells, but I can offer the next best thing – a free-range blog. No fact-checking. No logic constructing. No conscience-checking (oh wait – I never do that anyway). Just go with the flow. Shake the tree and see what falls out. Tree! Cue Monty Python, or should that be, apologies to Monty Python.

You be the judge, but if you’ve got nothing nice to say then keep it to yourself because, as I’ve said before, it’s my blo-og and I’ll write what I want to, write what I want to, cry if I want to …

To the tune of “I’m a Lumberjack”, just in case you’re behind the curve:

I’m a Brexiteer and I’m okay.
I lie all night and I gloat all day.

I sift my facts. I pick some fights.
I like to rile Remoaners.
I like to wear two faces
And double up on cheek.

I’m a BoJo fan coz he's okay.
He drinks all night and eats cake all day.

He did Brexit. He trounced Macron.
He lied and squirmed a lot.
But he’s a politician
The best one that we’ve got.

I'm a xenophobe, and I'm okay.
I swear all night and abuse all day.

I cross red lines. I wear brown shirts
I blog in the lavat’ry.
On Wednesdays I go plottin’
To offend outrageously.

I’m the loving sort and I’m okay
I’m there all day for friends and family.

I get slapped down. I get teeth kicked.
I wonder why I bother.
But I’m a stronger cookie
Than those without a heart (or a brain, or courage, or a way back to Kansas)

I’m myself and proud to be that way.
Roll my eyes all night and thumb my nose all day.

It’s my life and it’s my blog
And it’s my sense of humour.
If you object then you can go
And boil your head in treacle. 

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