Tiny chancer
Poor Yoda. Until last week, he pretty much had the easiest job in government. A business secretary is basically Fredo Corleone, pouring drinks for the worst people in the world, making sure they have a good time. Then – clang! “Tata Steel” is suddenly an ironic phrase. Yodes hauled back from Vegas in his pyjamas and was snap-briefed by Number 10. He ruled out nationalisation, then didn’t. Went on Noddy Big Ears’ Show, pledging to find a solution with all the confidence of a cat down a well. Could those jobs at Port Talbot be saved? Could his? Very tricky, Cabinet. Yodes jabbering in panic, says ha ha when his daughter saw the steelworkers in their “adorbs” yellow and blue workclothes and helmets and assumed it was some sort of Minion World. Cabinet very thoughtful. Upshot 1: secret talks with Universal about creating Port Minion. Upshot 2: feasibility study into compulsory conversion of all trade unions to trade minions.
Eurodaddio
Brunch at the Swingin’ Jellyroll, London’s premier jazz cafe, with dear old Kenny “Fatsmo” Clarke. The acceptable face of conservatism is looking seriously wrinkled these days – indeed, it resembles a pair of sloughed-off support tights – but his political jazz chops are as sharp as ever. No wonder pro-European Don’t Let’s Be Beastly To The IMF campaigners have recruited him. Why should the Brexeunt lot have ALL the sexual charismatics eg Bo-Job and “Squelch” Galloway? Fatsmo’s being deployed to sway the undecided, or as he puts it: “Abso hubbeda glap bap ba-lutely essential to wap tiddly hap-blap shubbeda squee hit squip-bippeda SWING VOTERS hotcha hotcha, drum solo …” before dozing off again, God bless him.
Headspin
First charity cricket match of the season. Skids, Piggy and all their MCC banking chums here. Mossack Fonseca hospitality suite chocka. Everyone very subdued, texting and reading the papers. Nobody’s wearing a Panama hat. Spineless.
Tiddly BOSH, mes amis!
