The Wardman Wire

It’s astounding, time is fleeting. Madness takes its toll. But listen closely, not for very much longer, because Harriet’s in control! This week we went back to the early 1990s: a woman a the Government dispatch box at Prime Minister’s Questions, the Conservatives going back to basics on personal responsibility, widespread chuntering about an impending recession, and the ruling party losing by-elections with an admirable alactrity. Meanwhile in another dimension, with voyeuristic intention, the assembled chatterati wait on tenterhooks to see if David Davis’ battle against the massed forces of the Police State of Which George Orwell Would Be Ashamed (copyright, Henry Porter) will result in him being returned to Parliament triumphant in spite of the sinister electoral efforts of the bloke dressed as a chicken and Miss Great Britain. So come on people, let’s do the time warp again!

CAMERON GETS ALL BACK TO BASICS ON OUR ASSES

There comes a time in every relationship where we begin to realise that our beloved has a darker side to the one which, in the halcyon days of early love, we’d been ignorant of. Whether it’s a penchant for the musical talent of Darren Day or something far less serious like burning the wings off moths whilst cackling inanely, we’ve all had that sinking feeling that comes with the sudden knowledge that all is not what it once seemed. Politics is no different. For years we’ve looked on indulgently as that nice shiny-haired David Cameron ran around hugging anything that stood still long enough; we sighed as he embraced his inner hoodie; we swooned as he got all tearful on us about the environment (won’t someone PLEASE think of what we’re doing to the habitats of the fluffy bunnies?). And then, this week, it finally happened. Dave got all Gillian McKeith on us and informed Blighty’s fatties that it’s not their glands, troubled childhoods, or the failure of the state that’s the cause of our expanding waistlines: it’s food. Lots and lots of food. And that’s not all: it’s your responsibility to prevent your sex-trophies wandering around the streets at night terrifying the nation’s grannies not the Government’s, and for heaven’s sake get a chuffing job instead of lying around all day on benefits shoving burgers in your faces like there’s no tomorrow, which there may well not be if you unwashed scroates carry on displaying the dietry wisdom of Homer Simpson. On yer bikes!

SUMMER READS: THE GORD’S LEFTOVER RECIPE BOOK

In the latest installment of our I-can’t-believe-Number-10-didn’t-brief-that-one-better series comes the press coverage on Monday of a Cabinet Office report which made the highly contentious point that maybe we shouldn’t chuck so much food away (unless it’s liver, which is the Offal of the Damned: FACT). This was immediately reported as: “PRIME MINISTER SAYS THAT HARDWORKING FAMILIES WHO ARE FEELING THE PINCH OF RISING FOOD PRICES SHOULD RIFLE THROUGH THE BINS LIKE HOBOS.” Good work there.

PRIME MINISTER HARRIET?

The Gord is off at the G8 this week (which I’m not covering for the simple reason that it brings out my inner-Devil’s Kitchen) which meant that Harriet “I Am A Woman” Harman was at the dispatch box against Wee Willie Hague at Prime Minister’s Questions. After his bitchslapping at the hands of Harriet last time this happened, Willie was both better briefed and in possession of an easy attack line as somebody has helpfully been briefing that Harman has her eye on the top job. What manner of madness ..? In response to the obvious salvo, Her Harrietness made a rather laboured and strange gag relating to the airports of Britain being full of men trying to leave the country in that eventuality, leading to widespread speculation that she’s had more of a misspent youth than we’d all previously thought.

OFFICIAL: GOD IS BACKING DAVIS

There’s no sight designed to make you speed past without making eye contact quite like a collection of Elvis impersonators, life sized poultry, former Conservative leadership candidates, and men who think that we should trade in groats rather than pound sterling like we did in the good ol’ days before political correctness went mad. Feel then for the electorate in Haltemprice and Howden who, over the last couple of weeks, have had to endure being doorstepped by the Church of the Militant Elvis Party or - worse - Basher Davis as a motley collection of no less than twenty-six candidates jostle for electoral victory in the by-election. This rather expensive venture was precipitated by Davis deciding he was going to take a stand against 42 day detention and protect the provisions of the Magna Carta by resigning his seat, causing the only known incidence of an online orgasm at the Liberal Conspiracy. As neither the Liberal Democrats or Labour decided to participate in this exercise, David’s campaign realised he had nonetheless got a serious battle on his hands when one-time goalie and Son of God David Icke announced his own candidature. Keen to prove that the angels were, in fact, on his side Basher announced on Sunday - in the manner of a televangelist informing the audience that it’s okay to hand over their life savings as the Almighty is an official endorser - that St Bob of Geldof thought he was a damn fine chap. Good show! Let’s just hope that the electors in Haltemprice and Howden don’t get confused and vote for the joke candidate today. Whoever that is.

… AND FINALLY

Hopi Sen analysed the mighty power of the blogosphere, Labour’s David Clelland became the hero of the beleagured bag-carriers who have to answer constituency correspondence, and the UK Polling Report looked at the impact that Spelman and the recent raft of Conservative sleaze has had on their poll ratings. Still, the Tories should be grateful that the scandals are financial rather than sexual: remember, it’s the pelvic thrust that really drives you ins-ay-ay-ane.