News of Priti Patel’s expenses claim of £77,269.40 for highbrow eyebrows has emerged, and we await the cost of Johnson’s back, sack, and crack with spew-wrenching anticipation.
Dame Dick should be able to help out on that score. After all, she’s got a track record of doing Brazilians for nothing.
The most mind-boggling titbit of all is nevertheless how anybody could spaff £5,415.90 in Primark? That’s one beast of a brown paper Primani bag.
And I do mean the shopping.
My own personal favourite was the £2,022.64 shelled out to an electronics store in Albania. I can’t stretch my imagination to the point where I can summon up any concrete images of potential purchases, but it all has a quality to it that piques interest in endlessly engaging ways: a mystique that derives from its titillating and suggestive potential alone.
Of course, taken in isolation, any of this expenditure is outrageous.
But it is manifestly less so than the fact that it still happened with the certain knowledge of its inevitable publication.
That shows a big old pair of waxed balls and a Government with a buoyant belief in its unimpeachable impunity. And hey, if they are not going to be seriously challenged on multi-billion pound, bogus PPE procurement, wetting one’s beak with £77k of eyebrows is likely to raise neither a raspberry nor a ripple.
Parliament exists to police wayward administrations, but it has fast become a no-go zone for politicians.
And speaking of the police, it’s been another bad week for the boys and girls in blue down in the South West.
Bristol fuzz have had to backtrack on their press statements that officers had sustained broken bones and punctured lungs during the recent disturbance in the city.
The bone fractures would in any event have been feasible only through over-vigorous arm-flapping as the thin yellow line, faced with a gaggle of teenage malcontents, had bolted chaotically from the scene in a fartcloud of pre-poop.
As for the ‘punctured lungs’, they were gasping for air from the off because there had been no reports regarding associated violent injuries such as knife wounds gunshots to the chest, or even specifically any broken ribs.
In this case, we had sustained only a PR gunshot from the hip.
The now-retracted press puff had been like one of those puzzles where a guy gets found stabbed in a locked room, but there is no weapon or any other objects.
This time, the public solved it.
It was all bullshit, and now plod can lay claim only to one bright blue, flashing punctured ego.
Still not a dry eye in the house.
Nor in The House.