A Racist Whoopee Cushion Filled with Pus

I'm afraid my posts might be a bit sparse this month, due to various hijinks and hijinks-related shenanigans.

My head has been filled with almost nothing but politics for the past week or so, to the extent that the names and faces of politicians started to blur into meaningless blobs, and has meant David Dimbleby becoming the face of God, narrating my breakfasts and throwing over to Jeremy Paxman interviewing my subconscious.

I'm sure everyone knows what I think about the whole thing, so I won't go on about it.

But there hasn't been much room for anything else inside my brain, so I'm not sure what I have to talk about. Important things siphon off nuance. Instead of my hilarious sideways look at modern life (which my blog has been described as, by me, just now), I've spent all my mental energies thinking of ways to describe David Cameron's face.

And I don't want this blog to become dominated by the Idiot Flaps Odyssey, the entries for which I feel are a bit rushed, and should maybe be put somewhere else (such as a locked cupboard in a goldmine).

There's been too much gloom and confusion lately, so I might try to write something to leaven the mood.

Birdsong is a pleasant sound.

Soup is hearty and nutritious.

Spurious lists are a good way to fill a blog post.

That'll do.

***

Well, I've run out of things to praise, so why don't I go back on my word and tackle some politics. I'll write an amazing piece of satire! Here is a dialogue between Nick Clegg and a goblin.

Clegg: Hey.

Goblin: Y'awright?

Clegg: You know. Not bad. Can't complain!

Goblin: I hear ya.

Clegg: ...

Goblin: You watching the football tonight? Should be good. Hodgson, eh?

Clegg: Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but...

Goblin: But what?

Clegg: Do I know you?

Goblin: Well, no. I mean - we haven't met before.

Clegg: Because you look familiar.

Goblin: Could be my brother. He used to work for your dad.

Clegg: Right.

Goblin: What are you getting up to nowadays? Still in politics.

Clegg: Yes.

Goblin: Cool, cool. Anyway, I'd better be getting on.

Leprechaun: ARE YOU COMIN' OR WHAT?!

Goblin: Yeah, yeah! Keep your hat on!

The Goblin gets in the Leprechaun's car, and they drive away.

Clegg: Wait! Wait! [beginning to sob] I think my wife might be an astronaut!

***

Yep, that's the pay-off.

BYYEEE!!