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I’d Put My House On It

Well, let’s not be too hasty. I’d put my house on their relative guilt, but yours on the legal outcome.

It seems Prince Andrew, Duke of York [or former titles, presumably, now the Queen has thrown him under the bus, uh, horse-drawn carriage, stripped naked of his royal credentials – and if you fully believe that, you’ll believe anything – but, as I oft do, digress] and Novak Djokovic [or Novichok as he’s now known to me for short – move on, nothing to see here but, ummm, a cathedral enthusiast] have something in common. Are you keeping up? Sorry. [I’ll remove the digression brackets now.]

Wealth. Obscene wealth. And what does that buy you? Obscene lawyers.

If you read my previous two captions [on Instagram], firstly, a week ago, with a degree of neat prescience, I cynically referred to Novichok as potentially suffering from ‘bullshit or simple arrogance’. A week later, I believe that plump chicken has largely come home to roost. Secondly, as per yesterday’s caption, I believe the royal formerly known as Prince to be about as innocent as a crocodile with a wildebeest leg hanging from the corner of its mouth implying he was only using it as a toothpick.

We all know the world is catastrophically imbalanced between, not even so much as the haves and have nots, but the obscenely haves and have nots, who essentially have their obscene wealth to throw at anything. Imagine, for a moment, a world where everyone had that access when it came to the law. We wouldn’t need many prisons, eh?

And people like Prince, Novichok [apologies for lumping you in with these, by the way – bad timing, like a loose forehand going into the stand!], Maxwell and Epstein will have their day in court, and then their appeal in court, maybe even a further appeal in court, or a brown envelope filled with cash should guilt feel a bit too uncomfortably close.

Climate change arguably sounds like a good thing when faced with such warped ugliness, eh? Albeit, the lawyers would still likely survive, with the cockroaches, to start again.

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It’s Never Too Late

… to grow and maintain a beard you could lose a badger in. And that’s just the women.

Yes, that’s right, ladies. No more plucking or waxing required. You will learn how to grow a full beard the envy of all your girlfriends, and many of your male friends. You’ll find all the answers when you sign up for my Grab Two Great Handfuls Of My Fuzzy Face online course. Just follow the link. 👉🏼

My course is absolutely FREE, no hidden charges or catches. Although, when you get there, for a very limited period, you can choose to sign up for my Advanced Hirsute Secrets course for the early bird discount of $49. Yes, that’s $49 for access to all those, ummm, secrets. Although you need to sign up today, as the cost will return to the usual fee of $9,999 on Friday. [We are expecting this class to sell out, rather like myself, very quickly!]

PLUS! If you sign up today, you’ll also get the following BONUSES for FREE too: The Secret To Owning And Growing A Penis [value $299]; Are Those My Shoes: The Secret Of Maintaining Big Feet [value $499]; Navel Fluff Knitting Patterns [value $19]. Yes, that’s total bonus gifts of, uh, $2,314 for FREE if you sign up right now!

Did I say it was a secret? Yeah, it’s always secrets in these ads. Ummm, so you’re not ever allowed to tell anyone. Which is fortunate, because I’m also offering a massive 973% discount on my Don’t Ever Tell Anyone Anything That’s A Secret masterclass starting on Monday. So, for just $257 you can sign up secretly for this masterclass too. [Registration for this one has been open for just 24 hours and over half the spots have been taken already. Quick! Your very life and happiness, and my luxury skiing holiday in St Moritz, could be at stake!]

Obviously, I can’t tell you too much about the latter class. It’s, uh, a secret. But it’s definitely a masterclass. It will have, erm, experts, masters, classes and everything. And it will ultimately enable you to discern the value of any future masterclass offers you might see, while also providing you with a full understanding of how to discount and add bonuses to all sorts of crap.

Don’t delay. Book now!

Disclaimer: This is the small print. I’d make it much smaller, but this is the tiniest default font offered here. Ideally, I’d rather you could barely see it at all and just signed up for everything and regretted it later. Regret is fine, but you can’t get your money back. There will be a future secret masterclass course, highly discounted, entitled: No Refunds!

Note: It’s quite possible that I’ve seen too many sponsored ads on Instagram now. And I’ve gone quietly insane. If you’re reading this, please send help … uh, along with bonuses and sundry free stuff!

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A Bird In The Hand

… means, uh, bird poo on the wrist.

Speaking of 💩. Sorry, I mean world-beating. It seems our government bought the Instagram algorithm [which I don’t see a problem with!!] to manipulat, uh, I mean calculate this year’s A-level results due to the pandemic. And it would appear it worked as brilliantly as the world-beating Track & Trace app the government tested on the Isle of Wight which had a mere statistical anomaly of 96% failure on iPhone!

So, I genuinely shudder to think how 🤬ed up the exams algorithm was when they panicked and moved the goalposts again just a couple of days ago. A staggering 36% of entries had lower grades than predicted. So the government suddenly threw in the potential for students to appeal if the estimated result was lower than their mock exam. Do what?

The clue is in the title there people! Mock … exam. Not only are they early in the year – with months of teaching/study to come – but all schools do them slightly differently too. And having worked in a state school for well over a decade I can assure you the tendency for a great many of the kids to not take mock exams too seriously is right up there with … well, the result of the government’s Track & Trace system!

Still, at least the universities might make more allowances, eh? Don’t stress kids. Simply head to UCAS, the, ummm, world-beating national university admissions service; all might still be fine. Website crashed within five minutes this morning!

Earlier on BBC 5Live, Education Secretary, Gavin ‘I went to private school so have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about’ Williamson, was asked who came up with the mock idea. Four times he was asked that question; four times he didn’t answer it but essentially waffled on about something else. How the hell do these people ever pass an exam themselves?!

Q. If the sum of the circle is equal to the square on the opposite two sides, what is the angle of x when the dangle is 38%?

A. William the Conqueror was the first Norman King of England and his favourite cheese was cheddar …

Result. Outstanding. Become a Conservative MP and formulate government policy for something that you have no awareness of in reality. And, don’t worry, when you’re found completely wanting, we’ll move you to another department.

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Evolution

Time changes everything, said someone quite well known once. I think. And, more infamously, What’s in a name?! once remarked The Very Reverend Bernie Stoatburgler. Meanwhile, What are you going on about now? is often said … well, by quite a lot of people to me when I’m talking.

Fortunately, my writing is a great deal tighter. So tight, even ducks would envy my pelvic floor, in terms of keeping the water out. Tighter than the Genesis tour t-shirt I bought when I first saw them back in 1981. In fact, even tighter than a …

Huh? Oh, yes … the point. Ahem.

Well, on/off for the past few weeks I’ve worked very hard on this website. In fact, I scrapped absolutely everything I had here previously. Started afresh! Out with the old in with the …

Uh, I didn’t do that intentionally, of course, I simply pressed the wrong button!

So, yes, partly by long lingering desire, and partly by sheer incompetence when it came to button pressing. [I can so relate now, Father Dougal McGuire, I can so relate!] As a result, doubtlessly millions* of people wondered where my website had gone.

*Numbers provided by Donald Trump. Very big numbers. Very amazing numbers. Numbers like we’ve never seen before numbers. Thanks Donald.

Anyhoo … what does this all mean? Well, a couple of things.

Firstly, I’ve neglected my website here for a little too long; ironically, as I felt it needed a significant reworking given the technological wanderings since its creation. [e.g. I built this pre-smartphone ubiquity, and if you’e ever tried to look at this website on a smartphone you’ll know its worked about effectively as our government’s Covid-19 response!] And, secondly, I have new work that I’m beginning to work on and felt it needed a more valuable platform than Instagram. Yes, Instagram, the place formerly known as a support to artists and creatives, subsequently bought by F*c*book and since rendered an increasingly unusable frog-in-a-blender commercial vehicle for Zuckerberg’s ongoing world domination desires.

Don’t. Mention. The. Algorithm.

Essentially, I’ve grown tired of shouting into the void there, so will instead, ummmm, shout into the void here. But it’s my void!

Please feel free to have a wander around. I’d really love to hear any feedback you may have, or just let me know if there’s actually anyone still out there – in theory, this blog was feverishly followed by 299 people. I do hope some of you might still be asleep at the bottom of the garden?

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BREAKING NEWS … 

BREAKING NEWS [from the Fox News network, so it must be reliable] …

The truth is slowly emerging following Ivanka Trump’s rapid elevation into the White House as America’s ‘First Daughter’. She is pregnant … with Donald Trump’s baby.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not as bad as you might first think because, let’s be honest, while he almost certainly would, she wouldn’t go there. Ivanka’s pregnancy has been confirmed through in vitro fertilisation. The procedure apparently carried out by the respected Smith & Jones laboratory in England. [Archive footage from Smith & Jones Laboratory]

It’s understood the seed was [more than metaphorically] sown in a conversation during the recent meeting with British prime minister, Theresa May. In a casual chat she’d talked about Britain’s steeped political history and our youngest ever prime minister, William Pitt the Younger, who was just 14-years-old when he became prime minister in 1783. [This might sound young, but the average age of the population following the Bubonic Plague was just 19 – and, in a similar historical misunderstanding, an average age also later adopted by America for conscription to the war in Vietnam.] It’s believed Ivan Vladimir Trump will then be groomed to be the 46th POTUS in 8 years time, with Ivanka likely to remain as his official assistant, but with a subtle switch of name plaque on the office door to read: First Mother.

It’s also rumoured that Donald Trump’s brain – assuming it hasn’t been already – will be cryogenically frozen by the same laboratory. And, as evolving technology allows, he will then run for a future presidency. Although it will no longer be POTUS but simply President of the 71st State of the Anglo-Russian-Chinese Empire.