I am of that trusting generation brought up to believe that everything is bigger and better in America.
So how wonderful to sit in my Long Island motel and watch Jon Stewart on Comedy Central demolishing Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina. For this is a man whose all-round arseholdom looks like totally outdoing the two lying, useless wretches who have landed us Brits in the dumps.
The governor, for those unfamiliar with his romantic, half-witted saga, got caught out screwing an Argentine mistress when he’d told his wife he was out wandering up and down mountains somewhere here in the U.S.
Now I think that sexual misdemeanours have no bearing on political competence. Palmerston, whom I mentioned a few weeks ago, was a great Prime Minister, though a thorough-going ram. Clinton was a devious, lying prick – you’ll pardon the word, I hope – and a disastrous President no matter how admirable his track record in the blow-job department.
Sanford’s problem is just amazingly poor judgement. Despite the wonderful timing of Michael Jackson’s demise which blew him off the front pages, instead of hiding away somewhere, after saying he would resign he changed his mind – because resigning “would be too easy”.
On top of this he’s been making a series of sickeningly mawkish statements about his Argentinian “soul-mate” (yes, he called her that) and their lurv-affair. It’s hard to know what would be best for him – frontal lobotomy or castration. His brains are clearly located in his scrotum.
(I hasten to add that my late brother always told me my prick was my compass – but then on the other hand I’ve never pretended to competence in anything of importance.)
I've always been wary of your navigational aids, DCCB, no matter what you used as your 'compass'.
I seem to recall that the aphorism that guided us was; “sail with he who has been shipwrecked, for he knows where the reefs lay”.
While I share a degree of media embarrassment at the moment following my sad tale in Russia, I was delighted to see mention of Wendy Bland's brother-in-law: the dear, departed George.
At every opportunity I get to down a glass of AYALA, I raise it first to the memory of George (who, in my opinion, trounced you in the area of witty riposts)
Pip, pip, old lad.
Glenmore