World watches as Britain faces a genuine crisis with EU negotiations and Brexit — so we put on a pantomime
Instead of engaging in some serious debate, our leaders put on a panto farce playing immature farmyard animals, writes Jeremy Clarkson
YOU’D think that in these trying and difficult times, our leaders would be up for some serious debate. But no.
This week, in the Commons, Mrs May decided that instead of presenting her thoughts on Brexit in a calm, dignified manner, she’d make some lame reference to pantomime season so she could crack a “behind you” joke about Mr Corbyn.
This caused everyone else in the school — sorry, chamber — to make mooing noises and, under the din, the cameras clearly caught Mr Corbyn mouthing the words “stupid woman”.
He may have had a point but in this day and age, you can’t say “stupid woman” even if you are referring to someone who’s a woman, and she is being stupid.
Immediately, there was uproar. Everyone was putting their hands up to attract the attention of the teacher — sorry, speaker.
“Sir. Sir”, they all shouted. “Jeremy just said Theresa was a stupid woman.”
Corbyn was summoned back to the classroom where he claimed he’d actually said “stupid people”.
“Oh no you didn’t”, said everyone, sticking to the pantomime theme.
The teacher however, decided to believe Jeremy, which caused a right hullabaloo.
And in the mayhem, one of the other pupils, a goody goody swot girl called Andrea Leadsom, got to her feet to point out that the teacher — Mr Bercow — had called her a stupid woman last year. And that he should say sorry.
The whole world was looking at this pitiful spectacle.
They know Britain is facing a genuine crisis and wanted to see how we are coping.
And what they got was a room full of immature farmyard animals shouting at one another and saying “Yes but you called me stupid first”.
I was amazed Philip Hammond didn’t tell Corbyn that he smells.
I figured we couldn’t possibly look more pathetic on the world stage but then along came Thursday when the mighty British Army and our hugely respected police force was outwitted by some idiot with a drone.
And onto our television screens came Transport Secretary Chris Grayling, who’s obviously read in his big picture book on how to be a politician that he needs to smile no matter what.
Noooooo. Not when a hundred thousand people have had their Christmas holidays ruined.
You don’t smile then, you fool.
You look into the camera, talking directly to the idiot with the remote controller, and you say — in a gravelly voice — that you have some special skills, and that you will find him and that you will kill him.
That’s what this country needs right now. A great big shot in the arm of Liam Neeson.
Fold Jean-Claude Juncker up like a deck chair, electrocute his chief of staff and then drive a 4x4 through the Gatwick drone boy’s house.
Braking bad idea
AFTER Green Cross Code man Dave Prowse put on his black cape and went off to build the Death Star, children were no longer taught how to cross the road.
And now comes news that councils are cutting the number of lollipop ladies.
In Hounslow, there are 25,000 primary school children and only two people to guide them through the traffic.
Needless to say, the road safety charity, Brake, had a lot to say on the matter: “More bicycles. Lower speed limits. Tougher fines. Vote Corbyn. Grow a beard. Try veganism, it’s great”.
I have a much better idea.
Let children drive themselves.
That’d be much safer for them, better for the economy and would foster an interest in cars that young people don’t seem to have these days.
That’d mean they’d be less likely to have a bicycle in later life.
Which would mean fewer deaths on the road.
What are the chances?
AFTER a recent filming trip to my home town of Doncaster, I received a warning letter from the council saying I’d been photographed driving in a bus lane.
I was going to write back saying it wasn’t a bus lane when I lived there. And that it shouldn’t be a bus lane now.
But then I looked more carefully at the photograph they’d sent and noticed there were two cars in the bus lane when the shot was taken.
One was, indeed, my Range Rover.
But I wasn’t driving it.
By an incredible coincidence, I was actually at the wheel of the other one, a Ford Cortina.
Lewis in exile
SO, Lewis Hamilton has described Stevenage, the town where he grew up, as a slum.
St. Evenage isn’t a slum at all.
It has a football team that has scored notable wins in recent years against both the Kidderminster Harriers and the mighty Grimsby.
It was also the first town in Britain to get a pedestrianised shopping precinct.
And to top it all off, there is a community arts centre in the Roaring Meg retail park.
Meanwhile, Lewis Hamilton lives in Monaco which is full of prostitutes, arms dealers and tax dodgers.
Road rage
YOU’D imagine that at this busy time of year, the authorities would do everything in their power to keep all of the nation’s roads open. Sadly not.
On Thursday evening, along with about a billion other people, I was stuck in a massive jam on the A40 leaving London.
After 90 minutes, I got to the cause. A broken-down people carrier in the inside lane, with a police car parked behind it.
There was a wide grass verge onto which Plod could have pushed the car.
And there would have been no danger because passing traffic was doing about one.
The effort might have even worked off some of the fat from the crisps he was listlessly eating as I crawled by.
Dim-witted
THE tower block in which I live when in London is full of old people and families with young kids and pushchairs.
And for the last week, the lift has been broken.
Naturally, a spare part was needed. And naturally it wasn’t available. Because it’s Christmas.
I called them on Thursday and was told that I’d got through to an “out of hours” facility because the business shuts down at four pm.
“Four”, I raged. “Are you living in 1973?”
It’s the worst company I’ve ever dealt with.
And it doesn’t even have any nous. When Siemens needed a head office in the UK, they chose Staines because it makes answering the phone amusing. “Hello. Siemens, Staines”.
On that basis, Otis should be in Reading.
But they’re obviously too dim-witted to have thought of that.
Save your air fare
KIMBERLEY Garner is a lovely looking girl who, after a brief spell on reality television, seems to have set up some kind of swimwear company.
I’m not sure she’s got the hang of business though because to show off her wares, she staged a night photo shoot in the sea off Barbados.
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I hate to break it to her, but on a night shoot, no one knows where you are.
She could have saved the air fare and got exactly the same shots in the Manchester Ship Canal.
Not you Diane
I’D just like to sign off today’s column by wishing everyone a Happy Christmas – except Diane Abbott.
Who probably isn’t celebrating anyway because in her endlessly muddled head, it’s December 47th.