BY WAY of lightening the mood, try this on for size. It’s one of my favourites. A doctor goes up to a patient on his morning rounds and says he has some good news and some bad news.
‘Give me the bad news first doc,’ says the patient. ‘Let’s get that over with.’
‘Okay, basically, you’ve only got a fortnight to live.’
The patient slumps crying on his hospital commode, distraught. He can’t even bring himself to wipe. ‘What could possibly be good news, after that bombshell?’ he wails.
‘Well,’ says the doc. ‘See that gorgeous blonde nurse, bending over that bed opposite, the one with the big blue eyes, peachy bum and the huge wotsits?’
‘Wow, yes!’ replies the suddenly perky patient. ‘What about her…?’
‘She’s staying over at my place tonight…!’
Va-voom, thank you, I thank you! (And I might have told that before. Hey ho, I’ll have to hope your memory’s as bad as mine).
Well, we need something to cheer us up after the unremitting dramas and crises pouring forth from Westminster and Huddersfield, and as per my feeble attempt at a joke, if you don’t laugh at the unfolding tragedies you really would cry yourself to sleep.
I can’t be accused (for once) of being party-centric here – it’s across the political divide, betrayal writ large on both the national and local stages, Tory, Labour and the feeble Lib Dems alike.
It’s emerged that Huddersfield is set for an eye-watering £45 million cultural quarter, with crumbs for we outlying savages in the north of the district.
We await word that council leader Shabir Pandor has authorised the brick by brick demolition of Dewsbury and Batley’s fine town halls for use on their magnificent vanity project. You wouldn’t put it past him.
Maybe they’ll store our town hall artefacts next to the handsome old Crow Nest Park bandstand that Kirklees managed to magic away – ironically about the time Lord Lucan and Shergar disappeared. They’re probably all secreted in some Huddersfield dungeon.
It has also emerged that Kirklees chief exec Jacqui Gedman employs a personal adviser at £60,000 a year – and I assume Gary Rae’s only on four or five days a month at that knock-down rate.
It would seem Mr Rae’s advice thus far has been for feeble Jacqui to keep her gob shut because his professional CV makes much of his media relations expertise. He mustn’t have schooled his learner-leader in those arts yet. (And do let me know when you want a sit down, Gary, for some horse’s mouth feedback!)
Meanwhile, down in that parallel universe of the hysterical Westminster bubble, they remain intent on sabotaging Brexit and mandating themselves out of existence.
I quite like Paula Sherriff and Tracy Brabin – even though Tracy now refuses to contribute a column to The Press – and they are certainly harder working constituency MPs than most we’ve seen.
That notwithstanding, their commitment to the ‘no no-deal’ deceit now being cynically used to abort Brexit, means they need to go, along with many others, on all sides of the House.
The local vote was unequivocal – over 57 per cent Leave in Dewsbury & Mirfield, nearly 60 per cent in Batley & Spen.
Are Tracy and Paula really telling all those thousands of people they’re too thick or bigoted to know what they were voting for?
Obviously they won’t admit as much, but essentially yes. You – yes you sir and you madam – you’re thick. Stupid.
You’re immigration-fixated morons who couldn’t possibly understand what you were doing on June 23 2016.
It’s no good trying to predict the whys, wherefores and what-ifs of Parliament right now because the chaos maddens by the hour. It’s turning into a Zombie-flick.
In fact that’s an idea – lock them in with no food and drink until they deliver a Brexit that takes us out of the single market and customs union, just as virtually all of them promised.
It’s two weeks to March 29 so they should be battering the doors down by then.
That said, they won’t want to step into the daylight to meet the hundreds of thousands of us descending on Westminster on Friday March 29.
I hope and trust that come the next election – quite possibly imminent – a new, honest, properly democratic national movement sweeps these festering hypocrites away.
In the meantime, I can actually foresee the Houses of Parliament being stormed and our police challenged to choose between standing with the people, or the deaf and detached political elite that also happens to have dumped on the police themselves.
Whenever the next General Election comes, and if Brexit is finally betrayed, the political revolution could be the single most important thing that comes out of this democratic travesty.
You see, we’ll be leaving eventually, one way or another, because the EU is dying on its feet, but in the meantime the UK’s political class needs to be humbled and humiliated.
PS: Just to finish as we started, did you know that scientists have finally discovered a simple cure for nymphomania? It’s called wedding cake.
PPS: Yes, I do know lots of non-cheeky jokes, but I just love getting under the skin of the militant, Doc Marten-wearing sisterhood...
SHE’S the gift that just can’t stop giving, ‘our’ Sayeeda, with her latest foot-in-mouth moment being the delightful timing of her latest ‘the Tories are Islamophobic’ back-stab.
Baroness Warsi surely can’t be referring to Dewsbury’s latest Conservative Parliamentary candidate Mark Eastwood, because short of pitching a tent on Savile Town playing fields, Mark’s been pretty full-on trying to court the Muslim vote. I can’t swear that he’s actually learning Urdu and adopting a new name – Marky al-Britani – but he’ll need more than a few smiley photos to turn that electorate. Good luck, old boy.
However, Sayeeda made her tiresome and predictable attack on the very party that ennobled her (purely and cynically because she was a woman and a Muslim of sorts, meaning not as Savile Town’s imams would prefer) just as her very close friend Lord Nazir Ahmed was being charged with historic child sex offences.
How close a friend? Oh, very close I’d say. After all they jetted off together in an impromptu rescue attempt of Gillian Gibbons, the teacher jailed in Sudan (and yes, I’m sure they must have taken a chaperone as required by the holy book).
Indeed, despite being a Labour peer, Lord Ahmed was a welcome visitor at her Thornhill home and campaigned for Tory Sayeeda against Labour’s Shahid Malik.
Having shown herself a Parliamentary liability and a rogue operator, Sayeeda’s now reduced to embittered attacks on the people she has to thank for her privilege, which is the only race card being played here.
I wonder if Lord Ahmed, who faces attempted rape and sex assault charges against a boy and girl, will call her as a character witness? That would be a test of the friendship!
I KNOW we’re a bit political this week, but take a minute to watch the video of Jeremy Corbyn addressing an Irish audience after the EU arm-twisted them into a second referendum on the Lisbon Treaty in 2009.
There’s no possible wriggle-room for Jezza’s clearly expressed and passionately held views. Just google ‘Corbyn blasting EU’. My, but how power corrupts.
HAPPY days in Dewsbury town centre, after a fashion at least. There was terrible news that the Time Piece pub was set to be sold by the usually expansionist JD Wetherspoon chain, which is code for ‘shut down’.
Where on earth are Social Services going to find another cheap drop-in daycare centre for the town’s alcoholics?
It says something, by the way, when a town can’t sustain either a McDonalds or a Wetherspoons.
But never fear, because the old Bailey’s Café is being brought back to life as a new outlet of Frankie’s, the fast food burger and chicken emporium located on the traffic-clogged junction of Bradford Road and Carlinghow Hill.
What’s that you say? No, of course you can’t ever have too many takeaways!
And besides, what’s not to love about the prospect of free parking on the pedestrianised Market Place, breaking the stranglehold of the jack-booted Kirklees parking oberleutnants?
Why is that changing? Well, Frankie’s in Carlinghow appears to have permission to park on pavements and block junctions, so I can’t imagine they’d have taken a lease in Dewsbury without insisting on the same. Happy days…