I've spent the last two days watching House of Cards on Netflix and keeping up with what is going on in our bizarre political world at the moment. I started to worry that I was getting the two confused but it turns out that the real life stuff is weirder than the drama.
I fell asleep during a episode (sorry, chapter) of the first series and when I woke up Tony Blair was looking tired and emotional and talking about the Iraq war. After an hour and a half he'd pulled himself together and was looking like someone who was quite enjoying himself. Journalists had been given three hours to read a 2.6million word report before they interviewed him. I read at about 200 words a minute, so it would take me 9 days and nights, only longer because it seems like the kind of book that would help insomnia. I'm so impressed with those journos. Most have hardly slept since the whole Brexit thing as well.
I was confused. Then Michael Gove appeared and said something sinister to the camera. "You might think that but I couldn't possibly comment." No. That was a dream. I think.
Huffington Post had the same dream
Today, I had reached the second series where Gove had been replaced by a woman. A woman who knows how to shoot a gun. There was speculation that her CV was a work of fiction. Financial journalists claimed they had never seen her at any of the meetings she had claimed to be at.
Her supporters organised a rally. "Meet your new Vice President, Andrea Leadsom." She was supposed to give an in depth post Brexit financial analysis but said something about it not being so bad, really. It was worse after the last financial crisis that plunged us into recession for years and it hasn't even happened yet. She suggested that people just needed to be positive, so her supporters said, "Yes, too right, what-ho. Let's have a march like those jolly chaps that support Corbyn do and doesn't she have nice hair."
They tried but they weren't very good at it. They spilled out onto the street and milled around, wondering who had the jug of Pimms. Eventually, they walked, chanting, "What do we want?....Leadsom for Prime Minister.....When do we want it?.....right now (please)" One woman clutched her pearls (literally and possibly figuratively). Never have you seen a group of people less comfortable in a Tshirt. They were tucked neatly into jeans or worn over a shirt and tie. A dog barked.
Then white powder was discovered in some mail. The White House went on lockdown, while the VP's wife told the world she'd been raped but that was the fiction. In real life the white powder had caused the Lords to be ushered out onto the balcony, where they were fed ice cream.
I'm really looking forward to getting back to work, where the children won't confuse me.
No comments:
Post a Comment