October 10th, 2014


She Remembers One Of Her Horses

My mother: What's that?

Me: It's a barometer.

My Mother: Whose is it?

Me: It's yours.

My mother: I don't think I've ever seen it before. Where was it?

Me: (pointing) It used to hang there. Now it's hanging here.

My mother: What are you doing with it?

Me: The plaque fell off and I'm glueing it back on.

My mother: I don't recognise it.

Me: It was a prize. Soleil Dancer won it at a race in Lingfield in 1994.

My Mother: (face lights up) Ah... Soleil Dancer...


I've been sitting in a dentist's waiting room watching ads for cosmetic treatments. Did you know you can buy a clip-on smile? I always prefer the "before" picture to the "after" picture. Cosmetic treatments wipe out individuality and replace it with the generic.

What's wrong with crooked teeth, anyway?

My mother doesn't use the NHS. Less than five minutes in the chair this morning- a quick inspection, a quick polish- cost her £96.

UKIP Wins Clacton

UKIP has yet to win a parliamentary seat with one of its own numpties. It was pretty much a foregone conclusion that Carswell would take back his own seat.

So I wouldn't hasten to claim that the mould of British politics has been broken. It's not clear that this represents anything more than a protest vote.

Or, perhaps, a popularity vote. The endearingly daffy Carswell against nobody in particular. What would have happened if the Tories had parachuted in a candidate with national recognition- Boris for instance?

If the big parties think they'll win back defectors by adopting UKIP's "policies" they've misread the runes. The UKIP phenomenon isn't about policies so much as it's about the disgust with Westminster. Farage's great advantage over the other party leaders is he's the only one of them who can stand in front of a pub going "Ha, ha, ha" without it looking like a photo-op.