My Caramba

When I finally committed to starting my own blog, and more pertinently when I settled on the core topic centring around politics, I made a sportsman’s bet with a friend that I could make it to 10 blog posts without covering Brexit. This is number 4 and yet here we are. I was also challenged to blog about Brexit without bias or turning it into a rant. You decide... Back in spring of 2014 I employed somebody I hadn’t done my due diligence on. Lovely girl seemingly, and someone I dealt with on a daily basis through a client of mine. I took a spur of the moment decision during a busy period to offer the young lady a position working with me over in Spain. She was based in the South East just outside London, and my knowledge of her professionally seemed ample evidence to back up her suitability. We had only met in person once, and I was relatively convinced that all appeared well. And so it seemed, until just two weeks into the new tenure, I arranged a dinner party for handful of coll...

4th of July 2022. It was a balmy evening in Westminster, and Prime Minister Boris Johnson settled back in his Lazy Boy Ecliner 3000 and gazed thoughtfully out into the Downing Street garden. He loved these evenings throwing ponderance at the current political hullabaloo, and his mind wandered to the pressing issue of the day... who was this woman kneeling in front of him and providing testicular entertainment... at a glance, only able to see the top of a head, Boris cast his thoughts to who he was piping curently... it can't be Arcuri because security wouldn't surely have let her in... it isn't Carrie because she's at her Bridge class over at Zac Goldsmith's house... hairdresser maybe? Boris quickly reminded himself that she'd been packed off to Nova Scotia with a baby and a gagging order so it couldn't be her... "ah well" he thought, "one of the Whips will probably update me later... may as well sit back and enjoy the party" All was p...