As the populace of the UK celebrates the 70-year reign of HM Queen Elizabeth II, Übertit Voldamort Zelensky is desperately clinging to his 100 days of fame. He’s overshot the Warhol allowance, that’s for sure.

Mate, nobody gives a toss.

Yes, all the usual suspects donned your wanky blue-and-yellow ribbons when the invasion was garnering the same volume of virtue-signalling vim as bad-tranny worship, fruitfly fawning, and black lives. They sent all their stale powdered milk, left-handed spanners, and dog-eared English dictionaries to Kiev, but you’ve had your day.

Western Europe has got bigger fish to fry, as long as they can still afford the requisite oil and gas.

I’m actually old enough to remember all that shambolic shizzle about Ukraine’s farmhands and strippers gaining the upper hand in this skirmish, but that was just a weak fart in the wholesale flatulance of the fake social media war that this Eastern European Mr Bean has squeezed through his creative cheeks. Nobody ultimately triumphs on that score while Russian tanks are reducing cities to rubble in this barney.

The German Chancellor has come under fire – possibly also in his pants – as he’s found some convenient loophole to take limited action against Moscow in order to keep the Fatherland afloat.

Finally, some pragmatism.

It’s always a joy to behold when populism talks up an absolute twat as a hero – what a hangover it will be if the cement dust settles, and Bean is exposed as a hopeless authoritarian proto-fascist.

It’s surely time to follow suit with Herr Scholz, let them get on with it, and restore the world order.

You won’t find any Ukrainians running to the rescue if we all go under.