Thursday, 7 January 2010

Confusing surnames...

It's not often I am entertained by PMQs, in fact for most of yesterday's clash of the petitans it was the usual pissing contest - rendered even more nonsensical by the frisson of an impending election.

To extend my tortuous metaphor further; I do wish Brown and Cameron would keep their respective election erections in their pants - the fact that both of them share a boner when called upon to perform solo is, for most of us swooning ladies, an unedifying spectacle - Oh Mr Brown, Mr Cameron I am undone...

However after a shot across their bows, so to speak, by the usually somnambulent speaker John Bercow thusly
Order. May I just say to Members on both sides that we are not on the hustings now?
the farce descended into a tragic derivative comedy, cleverly based on the ambiguous use of our Chancellor's surname (the relevant exchange can be read in full here) - in a bewildering Blackadder-esque homo erotic parody. A lesson in why politicians, like the little boys they are, should be seen and not heard. Read and weep:
DC: The difference between me and the Prime Minister is this: when I lean across and say, "I love you, darling," I really mean it. The only divorce that has taken place is between this Prime Minister and reality.

GB: The Right hon. gentleman talks about love and marriage, when he is the person who cannot give a straight answer on the married couples allowance

DC: If the Prime Minister wants to turn this around and make it Prime Minister's questions, he should get on and call the election. Then there would be all the time in the world to kiss and make up.
And this gentlemen, is how to do it -


  1. Good post, Clara. Just wanted to say I was directed here from another blogger a few days ago, and it's become one of my must-reads. Great blog, thanks.

  2. Thanks Richard, the one compensation of being idle due to the global warming induced snow is that I can indulge my blogging a bit more - my spellong is improving!

  3. Heh. I'm OK for the snow, but I am currently sidelined by a temperature and the man-sniffles. Thank God for blogs to read. I might even post something myself later, if I can summon the energy.

  4. Go for it, I find blogging quite cathartic...

    Most of the time.

  5. OK, done.

    (WV: sessa - isn't that Italian for 'sex'?)

  6. sesso? I think - but close enuff...

  7. Ah, il seeso, si. I was thinking of the *feminine*. My mistake - but then it's been a long time. The Italian, I mean.

  8. LOL Richard - don't beat yourself up hun, you can't help - a man thinks of sesso every 5 nanoseconds according to the Daily Mail...

  9. Tutti gli uomini sono maniaci sessuali


  10. Non è vero. Io sono un uomo gentile. Mia guardia carceraria lo dice.

    And it's picoseconds. Trust the Mail to get it wrong.

  11. LOL - at least you are being well looked after, no wonder it's picoseconds.

  12. They are very nice here and give me a lovely white jacket to wear. Arms are too long, but you can't have everything. And the picoseconds is the *thinking* about it. The other thing can be measured in gigafortnights.