A forensic pathologist has testified that George Floyd died from low oxygen caused by officers handcuffing him, positioning him, and placing a knee ‘on the neck specifically’.
Well, thank the Lord that’s all been cleared up. I thought he’d choked on a bone in the local shit-chicken emporium.
The final gift to the nation from Prince Philip has been the news blackout following his demise that has spared us from this flavour of tosh hitting our screens with its typical, topical tedium.
It has also fortuitously distracted attention away from the escalating tomfoolery in Ulster and the creaking framework of the EU Withdrawal Agreement.
And in a truly bizarre twist, the deflection agents of the gout-afflicted right have set their sights not on the Twitter trolls and their unedifying and tasteless spew on the Duke but on those who are showing disrespect by ‘tweeting on other subjects’.
That’s ratcheted up the progress of the silent coup to new levels.
It’s the kind of coercive control for which the cops would drag you in your boxers from your own home if they weren’t all busy clearing a path to the docks for unwashed, humming statue vandals.
If the Duke could hear these two-faced, manipulative truth-twisters, he’d no doubt flip them a stiff bird, particularly since they are precisely the opportunistic bullshitters he used to loathe.
Still, back to more pressing matters, and the leadership of the Duke of Edinburgh Scheme.
Who’s going to venture out to Dartmoor and round up all those now-dithering, award-hungry teenagers with their compasses, maps, and patchwork tents?
Possibly Prince Andrew?