Wowsers! I’ve not seen anybody  beaten about the ring so badly since Jimmy Savile zipwired into the main dorm at Haut de la Garenne children’s home with salivated cable ties gripped in his yellowing teeth.

However, while the commentariat screeches about trashed legacies, they are omitting to consider the erstwhile pugilist Tyson’s penchant for hoofing hotel hoes, which got him three years in an Indiana slammer testing the elasticity of prison-chick balloon knots.

But that’s the way it rolls nowadays. Froth wildly at a favoured petty focal point and allow the truly grim stuff to slink on by.

Look at the orangey man – liberals are mentally self-immolating at the prospect of his hurty words.

His second term has spawed a steaming, unhinged backlash, but lest we forget that it was an inevitable rise from the ashes of the Biden/Harris incumbent catastrophic cack.

Why they never defenestrate d those shitbag cosplayers is a mystery, but the US public now has four years of weapons-grade bonkers lunacy to sustain while they sip on their dainty cups of decaf pinko tears.

Even at home, we can’t stop drilling down onto the mundane inconsequential claptrap of no-marks: Rachel Reeves (another top-bobbing turd in the political pan) has apparently been spinning her CV.

Big deal.

Bogus politician in bogus government summarises bogus career.

I’d be more perturbed about the wholesale tax-assault on business and public services, which is probably a bigger clue of her lack of integrity and vision than a few wrinkles in the résumé, but that seems to have passed.

It’s so important that it hasn’t registered.

There is an unerring fascination with grabbing the proverbial telescope for a quick gander down the wrong end.

Give it until April, and we’ll see how that inaction and indifference come back to bite us.

That’s in the arse, Mike, not the ear.