Imagine the sausage-fingered handshake between Charles and Donald. Cumberland meets chipolata.

I’ve got daytime telly on in the background while working. Can’t help notice from the adverts that there are a LOT of dry vaginas out there, seemingly.

All of the cream adverts are presented in an oddly calm way too. “My vagina now feels like it used to before the menopause.”

(1/2)

Watching BBC News. Why do they insist on putting reporters out in the shit weather?

“Stay indoors. Don’t travel unless it’s an emergency.”

Unless you’re a TV news reporter, in which case get outside, you lazy fuck, and show us your combover flapping in the wind.

Just driven past a lollipop lady who was obviously on her way home. I didn’t realise they get a carry-case for their lollipops.

She looked like a hobbit stealing a banjo

Anyway, despite often being a massive grumpy twat, he was a massive grumpy twat with character and was, strangely, someone who I respected. RIP John Prescott.

I found myself aimlessly wandering the corridors. John Craig (then of the BBC), had set up his cameras in the corridor for a TV interview with the big man. Prescott moaned at me, Craig swore at me, and I told them both to fuck off to a private room, not a corridor, if they wanted peace and quiet.

In former life as a crap journalist, I used to encounter John Prescott on a fairly regular basis. He was famously prickly in press conferences, making snide remarks about the publication you worked for. On one occasion I couldn’t find my way out of Eland House after a press briefing. (cont.)

Yet again, Apple News is bang on the money with my news feed.

Happiness - in my case - is seeing next door’s cat curl one out in the owner’s garden. #pickthatoneout