theredbladder

Attachment 496
NOW THAT Nick Clegg, pictured above, is the captain of the Conservative 2nd XI he will, no doubt, want to do what so many of the heads of private companies and former publicly owned utilities have done before and rebrand his rag-bag of a political army.
After all the name Liberal Democrats scarcely does justice to the important role the party is taking in today’s political scene.
He could start with a new name. That would be near-certain to send the poll ratings upwards. How about Tory Lites. Modern, accurate and simple, could be attractive?
Or the more formal The Reserve Conservative and Unionist Party of Great Britain and Northern Ireland - the trouble is that would have to add the modern warning - May contain nuts, so might end up being ...

THESE DAYS you would have to spend an entire wet weekend searching to find a politician, of any party, who isn’t earnestly seeking to ‘engage’ with the voting public. Of course there is the occasional oddball who, determined to show a radical streak, goes one step further and insists that he will ‘re-engage’ with the rest of us.
Apart from that there seems to be precious little difference between the lot of them. The leaders of the main parties, those seeking to be the leaders of the main political parties and the close associates of the leaders of the main political parties all look the same, have similar voices and mouth the self-same platitudes at the drop of a television station cheque.
Nick Clegg and David Cameron are complete and utter duplicates of each other. The brothers ...

IF THERE is one thing that the ordinary Conservative backbencher enjoys above all others it’s getting into a bit of a spat with his, or her, colleagues.
It might well be full-blown dong-dong like those we saw over Europe a few years ago or it might be a minor affair such a tiff in the tearoom over who has got the cleanest moat, should lady’s slippers be called mules or will the Eton Wall Game be declared and Olympic sport but they do like a bit of a Barney amongst themselves.
So no more than a week in office and having only just got used to the feel of the carpet of the chamber under their feet and they’re at it all ready.
This time it is all about exactly who can attend meetings of the 1922 Committee.
Throughout recorded history, across the near-countless decades ...

THE MEMBERS of the Parliamentary Labour party are fighting to reach the door in their desperate attempts to avoid being handed the job of leader.
Like a risk of lobsters being asked which one of them wants to be slung in a pan of boiling water and then eaten rather than staying on the sea bed clowning around with his chums the MPs are lining up to say, “please sir, not me sir”.
As I write Alistair Darling, Jack Straw, Harriett Harman, Yvette Cooper, Alan Johnson and Jon Crudas have all made their excuses and said “not on your nelly”.
So what is it about the job that all apart from the brothers Miliband find so repellent? The pay and perks are pretty good, there’s a chance to be on the television frequently and to be photographed for the papers, then there’s a fairly decent ...

NO DOUBT if Nick Clegg lost his job as leader of the Liberal Democratic Party there would be a great future for him modelling the products on the front of knitting patterns. He has that sort of look, don’t you think?
In just the same sort of way Little David Cameron could make a living, of sorts, as a fishmonger - I can just see his cherubic little face beneath a boater hat handing over a “really nice portion of haddock madam”, as he deftly wrapped his wares in a sheet of recycled newspaper. None of our politicians has to do their jobs. Most of them could get proper ones if they tried a bit, they might be amazed at what they could turn their hands to.
Take that Theresa May, well I certainly would rather not, don’t you think that she is blossoming nicely into the archetypal pub ...