IT HAS BEEN BROUGHT to the attention of the management that far too many of the columns on this website are about a certain prime minister of our unfortunate acquaintance.
In the spirit of that accusation, here is a catch-up about The Man We Are Not Going To Mention.
That secret wedding wasn’t very secret, was it?
The clandestine ceremony took place after visitors were turfed out of Westminster Cathedral. That might have spoilt their day out, but it couldn’t be allowed to spoil the secret.
Anyway, soon enough the secret was out and everywhere, almost as if in a PR campaign where timing is everything. There followed maximum exposure of The Man We Are Not Going To Mention and his new third wife. A bit like when they got that dog, only more so.
Perhaps the wedding was to draw attention away from that former co-conspirator turned adversary who’d been generating unflattering headlines a day or so earlier.
That’ll show him: we’re getting married in the morning!
Perhaps the wedding was kept secret so that nobody would notice that the groom was as far from being a practising Catholic as the Vatican is from London.
There was much lively comment on Twitter about the wedding photos. Rotten people pointed out that The Man We Are Not Going To Mention looked more like the father of the bride. Rotten people can be so mean, can’t they? And yet so right at the same time.
Before we hurry on from those political nuptials, there has been much grumbling about the third wife being referred to in overnight headlines as ‘FLOTUS’, as if she were married to an American president.
We don’t have the equivalent of the First Lady of the United States here. If we did it would be Her Maj. Anyway, the acronym would be ‘FLOTUK’, and I am sure we can all second the proposal that First Ladies should stay on the other side of the Atlantic.
Also conveniently overshadowed by the secret wedding was the row over who paid that massive bill for decorating the Downing Street flat.
The Man We Are Not Going To Mention appointed another man to see if any rules had been broken. This other man found that they hadn’t. You could have knocked me down with a roll of expensive wallpaper when I heard that.
Quelle surprise, as the French used to say when they were still talking to us. Favoured man appointed to investigate sticky matter encounters nothing sticky, shock-horror!
Although he did point out that The Man We Are Not Going To Mention should pay closer attention to where money comes from. And he ruled that The Man We Are Not Going To Mention ‘acted unwisely’ by basically having no idea who was going to pay for the refurbishment of the flat.
One minute The Man We Are Not Going To Mention faced a massive decorating bill; the next it had been settled, no questions asked, or at least not asked until the media found out a little later.
Also in the news, someone or other reportedly has settled a £27,000 bill for organic food deliveries consumed by the Unmentionable Man and his ‘FLOTUK’.
Whenever The Man We Are Not Going To Mention encounters a money problem a kind friend or supporter pops up to deal with the bill; or to pay for a much-needed exotic holiday.
I begin to wonder if this is what’s meant by ‘levelling up’. From now on, when struggling people up and down the land have a money problem, it will be settled by a mysterious benefactor, no questions asked. Just pick up the bag of used notes behind the bins.
The Man We Are Not Going To Mention used to publish right-wing newspaper columns in which he, for instance, flayed feckless single mothers. Perhaps they should leave off being quite so feckless and check behind the bins from time to time, just in case.
After all, it would be a terrible shame if fairy godparents only visited the wealthy and privileged. That really wouldn’t be level at all.
