Hearing Sir Rupert Murder speaking at the Annual Dinner for Margaret Thatcher’s Arselickers made me think how nice it would be to have a Margaret Thatcher Day. Men of a certain age and education who still long for their nannies could pull on nappies and blue dresses and thrash themselves silly while listening to speeches of the old hag.
There was only one point to smirk at during Osborne’s Spending Regression, and that’s when he said that people were living longer. He must have known that while he was speaking the old coffin dodger was hanging on to a bed that someone far richer deserved.
Anyway, as it goes up in France like a creme-de-menthe supernova, one hopes that the old chateau in Provence will be okay. Got a significant pile down there so Sarko had better sort it out. What!