I planned to blog tonight about our inglorious leader, the fat lad who seemingly can’t help himself from posing as politicians acted in his boyhood, a boyhood which at least as far as the photographs rather than mannerisms go, ended some considerable time ago.
Do everything to appeal to the voters.
Let what voters want seem to be reflected in press photos.
We had the tubby lad appearing with a lot of tough coppers, never mind that they were newly in their work, never mind that it seems they were falsely briefed about the posing.
Today's news has him with some primary school kids. One is prompted to ask Wise Sir about the chance of a happy departure from Europe.
It might well appeal to the public eye for Sir to ruffle the lad’s hair.
|She starts with August gathered sheaves,|
Whose golden stems lie over eaves,
Where many harvest homes ago,
The bread was baked, from seed well sowed.
Harvest Home continues here ⇒⇒ ⇒⇒
An old porky pie
And then come the, er, winning words, which seem an almost perfect example of how to tell an old porky pie - or not to, perhaps.
He assures the cameras - er, the lad, of course - that a perfect deal is in the offing.
That’s what I was going to write about this time.
However, it is all so grossly amateurish and unconvincing, let me direct your attention to the words of a pro who definitely deserves much wider recognition.
Robert Graham is one of our really gifted wordsmiths, a poet who reminds us so well of the magic of our lives.
This is his latest on his website. Harvest Home reminds us of some of the wonders of Autumn ... and thankfully false politics, treating the people as fools, is not among them.
Thanks very much for visiting the mostly Tuesday and Thursday blogs for my adventure book, Sailing to Purgatory, which are introduced each time on Facebook Facebook dot com/Sailingtopurgatory and on Blogger,
Robert Graham's Harvest Home