Wotsit all about?

You might remember that, the last time I visited York, I was shocked to be served a burger which had been skewered to a plank of wood with a steak-knife.

I was back in York this week. As you might expect, I was apprehensive when I ordered a burger for lunch. You can imagine my relief, therefore, when the burger was delivered on an ordinary plate, without a stupid steak-knife sticking out of the top of it.

But then I bit into my burger…

Weird burger

…No, your eyes do not deceive you. My burger had been topped with Cheesy Wotsits.

The dirty bastards.

Meeting Carolyn for a hot date on Thursday…

Carolyn's unicycle SMS

Knowing her clints from her grikes

Theresa May

Theresa May, B.A. (Oxon).

Apparently, our new Prime Minister holds a second-class degree in geography. That's exactly the sort of thing I'm looking for in a leader.

At difficult times like these, we need a Prime Minister who isn't going to be flummoxed by the concept of an ox-bow lake. When it comes to seeing us through the Brexit shambles, we're going to need a premier who, when she lands at Brussels, knows she needs to turn hard-right to face France. And when Angela Merkel, in her own inimitable way, demands to know, “wo in Gottes namen ist das Sudetenland?”, we're going to need a leader who can step up to the plate and explain that it's now very definitely part of the Czech Republic, so hands off.

Jen points out that Theresa May's degree makes her ideally qualified to be a P.E. teacher, so maybe she might be better placed as Minister for Sport. But I'm having none of that: we need a leader who can tell a drumlin from an alluvial fan; who knows that the Ordnance Survey symbol for a church with a tower is a little black square with a cross on the top; and who can remember that the blocks and fissures of a limestone pavement are known as clints and grikes respectively (and definitely not the other way round).

I confess I had my misgivings, but I'm beginning to think Theresa May might be just the person we need to see us through this.

Cheryl Ladd turns 65

Cheryl Ladd

Cheryl Ladd in 1978 recently.

Fifteen years ago today, I noted in utter astonishment that Cheryl Ladd had just turned 50.

I'm no mathematician, but I reckon that makes Cheryl Ladd 65 years young today.

And I'm now 51, which makes me older than Cheryl Ladd was when I was astonished at her being 50 just a few short years ago.

None of this makes any sense.

Anyway, in celebration of this remarkable event, here is what was always my favourite track from Cheryl's eponymous first album.

The track is called Skinnydippin'.

To be honest, that is almost certainly why it was my favourite.

Many happy returns, Cheryl.

Obo buys a pint

Power vacuum

Power vacuumOn a more positive note, with Cameron abandoning ship, Labour self-imploding, the Lib-Dems (remember them?) being led by a god-botherer named Tim, the Scotch about to take the high road, Screaming Lord Sutch long dead, and the English electorate having taken total leave of its senses, could now be the perfect time for the Gruts Party to rise from the shadows to save a grateful nation?

Let's face it, we would have massive popular appeal (cat-owners excepted, obviously). I appreciate we don't actually have any policies at the moment, but we could take a leaf out of the Brexit campaign's book and make up random, undeliverable promises as we go along. Who knows, with any luck, we might even be able to rope in former Italian Prime Ministerial nominee Prof. Alice Roberts. She'd be handy in a political fist-fight.

Clearly, we'd need a catchy tagline, but we've got that well and truly covered. Or maybe we should come up with something more jingoistic:

PUTTING THE GRUTS BACK INTO BRITAIN: THE HOLE IS GREATER THAN WHAT'S LEFT OF ITS PARTS.
Union flag

Please feel free to leave your undeliverable manifesto pledges, voter-duping scare-stories, and campaign mottos in the comments.

We can do this.

Arseholes

Clueless, window-licking, credulous arseholes.
Repugnant, racist, Daily-Mail-reading arseholes.
Cretinous, xenophobic, bed-wetting arseholes.
Bigoted, jaundiced, flag-waving, arseholes.

Odious, small-minded, knuckle-dragging arseholes.
Despicable, unenlightened, vile, vile, arseholes.
Detestable, deluded, jingoistic arseholes.
Disgusting, intolerant, nationalistic arseholes.

Narrow-minded, hateful, hate-filled arseholes.
Lager-swilling, spittle-drooling, Land-of-Hope-and-Glorifying arseholes.
Slack-jawed, fractious, brown-shirted arseholes.
Empire-yearning, yester-yearing, Union-Jack-draped arseholes.

Pathetic, amoral, stupid, stupid, arseholes.
Senseless, chauvinistic, remember-Agincourting arseholes.
Twisted, fuck-witted, quarter-brained arseholes.
Cloddish, brutish, British arseholes.

Who are you going to blame now?