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beyond belief 17

beyond belief

his mouth. He’s a politician after all so we’re no longer shocked when they make the headlines for their sexual shenanigans. But what the general public can’t stand is being taken for a mug. As a former party leader and supposedly one of the sharpest


knives in the cabinet drawer, you’ve got to ask how he could be so stupid and insensitive. Surely the best way to deal with baseless rumours about his

sexuality is to ignore them. Issuing a withering and desperate statement about his wife’s multiple miscarriages and their private grief to reinforce his heterosexuality and curry sympathy from

a nation is a pretty desperate move by anybody’s standards. Whether he is in a relationship with male aide Chris Myers, the young buck he shared a

bedroom with, is irrelevant, but to drag the trauma of what he and more importantly his poor wife Ffion have gone through to deflect the rumours is beyond belief. And while we’re prodding about in the viper’s nest he’s found himself in, if Hague doesn’t

want people questioning his sexuality should he really be wandering about dressed up as Freddie Mercury. In a similar way I no longer give a damn about footballers anymore. Does their arrogance

and stupidity know no bounds? Following on from the foolishness of Ashley Cole and the disgrace of Captain Insensible

John Terry, there came the antics of Crouch and now Wayne Rooney who has made a further mockery of the role footballers play in today’s society. Little wonder we fared so badly in South Africa when half our team are off their game

with girls on the game. With politicians and footballers like that it’s no surprise we’re in such a bloody mess both on and off the pitch.

no wonder Capello announced ‘enougha is enougha.’

What Beckham was doing strutting about on the touchline in his designer suit in South Africa is still a mystery to me.

here was much debate and many column inches written about the way in which Fabio Capello unceremoniously dumped David Beckham from the England team and sent him packing into the international football wilderness. Many said it was the wrong decision and I for one totally agree. Capello didn’t go nearly far enough and should have told Beckham never to come anywhere near his England team ever again.


The final nail must have come after his performance at the World Cup and it’s

Blimey, it’s no wonder the players performed so poorly if they had to endure a motivational team talk from Becks five minutes before coming out to play.

And what does he do after helping mastermind our exit? He promptly returns home to SW19 and takes a seat at Wimbledon to watch Andy Murray, who up to that point was having a great tournament. Three sets later it was taxi for Murray and the Beckham curse continued. Let’s hope the Beckham’s proposed permanent move to America is a very, very long and happy one.

The hideous crime.

to the council that it wasn’t in keeping with the house. A lovely letter

from the nice people

at Bradford Planning Council followed demanding that I rip the shed down immediately because I hadn’t applied for planning permission. I have since had to appeal and write to

them telling them that nobody actually lives in the shed, I do not rent it out and I do not keep dangerous animals in it. Yet. I only wish I had enough spare time on my

hands to: a) complain about a neighbour’s small garden shed or b) come up with the hair-brained planning regulations that cost taxpayers millions of pounds every year. Memo to Bradford Planning Council: I

am now living in the shed with a very dangerous crocodile.

Tuned into BBC3s World Cup’s Most Shocking Moments 2010 and couldn’t help feeling they had somewhat overlooked the biggest shocker of the entire tournament. Because I definitely missed the clip where some hapless TV exec stood up and proudly announced: “I’ve got a great idea for a nightly show: James Cordon’s World Cup Live.”

Separated at birth:

Lab-coated scientist Dr Bunsen Honeydew from The Muppet Show

Mr Shouty Masterchef presenter Gregg Wallace

with Mark Bowness

Ditch‘em all with gay abandon

don’t really give a damn whether William Hague is sleeping with men, women or swinging from a chandelier with a pool ball in

Off their sheds I

have a confession to make. Last year my six-year-old had his scooter nicked from

the front of our house so I took it upon myself to commit a hideous crime. I erected a garden shed. The intension was to keep the trappings of three kids safe from the hands of any future thieving low life. The said shed was erected but a few weeks

later a complaint was made from some kindly neighbour up the road who moaned

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