705 days ago
I was siting there with two middle class, university & public school educated affluent lefties discussing why the working class was abandoning Labour. One, that being the Mrs, opined that it was because they liked voting for Toffs, that is to say Boris. This was a theory of one of her colleagues in the world of sociology. The other, daughter Olaf, did not dissent. Such is the state of denial among the British left.
763 days ago
I start the Mrs and George Orwell then with the podcast that went live today with me as the guest, not of Cheryl Cole or Princess Anne as was suggested, but of James Delingpole and it is – I think – very entertaining. Then to the final vindication of 2 big exposes from October 2019 HERE and HERE. these both show the failings of the FCA and I compare and contrast whistleblowing to the floor shitters with whistleblowing to the SEC which I did today re the fraud Zoetic International (ZOE)
851 days ago
Last night the Guardian star journalist Carole Cadwalladr admitted to the High Court that she had no evidence at all that Russian money was channelled via Arron Banks to fund the Brexit campaign. She will be paying my pal Bankski £62,000 of costs today but that number will rise. Carole was awarded the Orwell prize by the Foundation of that name in 2018 for her Brexit work. Massive questions must now be asked. But this is 1984, I mean 2020, so will they be asked?
3242 days ago
Did you watch? I found myself at a party hostyed b y a Greek couple and attaernted by various friends of the Mrs. The Greek guy, delightfully politically incorrect, was loudly cheeriong on the incredibly sexual (in a cheap porn sort of way) Polish entry with no musical talent whatsoever. Elsewhere opinion was divided
The only songs that were vaguely memorable and that I might want to listen to again came from Holland, Finland, Italy and Sweden. Greece was memorable as it had only two words “Rise Up” but that did not make it good. That a trans-sexual with the fifth best song won easily says a lot about an event which now makes Old Compton Street look like the Road to Wigan Pier.
Whatever. It will all be forgotten – the songs included – by next weekend. And it was fun while it lasted.
This morning I am up and raring to go but it seems that the only other soul who is awake is Quindell’s head PR bird with whom I have exchanged emails about my next piece. The rest of the world slumbers on. Were Evil, Lucian, Paddington Bear et al camping it up at some Eurovision bash? I somehow doubt it but you never know.