Jeremy Corbyn's Foot, Emmanuel Macron and LEAVE NIGELLA ALONE: Things of the Week
This week I mostly...
Tuned out and waited for all this election business to be over. It'll be over soon, right? RIGHT?
FOOT OF THE WEEK
JEREMY CORBYN and his PR PERSON are travelling in JEREMY CORBYN’S CAR. The LABOUR MANIFESTO has been leaked by UNKNOWN SABOTEURS.
PR PERSON: (checking phone) Oh god. Oh no.
JEREMY CORBYN: Do I want to know?
PR Person: No. (still checking phone) Yes. No. Maybe. Just the Mainstream Media. Their usual.
JEREMY CORBYN’S RIGHT EYE twitches.
PR PERSON: Nothing to worry about, Jeremy. (scrolls) But Jesus! Blanket communism photoshops! 'Back to the seventies' all over the front pages!
A VEIN in JEREMY CORBYN'S FOREHEAD pulses.
PR PERSON: I mean, for fuck’s sake. (brandishes phone) Look at this! ‘Most leftwing manifesto since Michael Foot’. Michael Foot!
JEREMY CORBYN snaps.
JEREMY CORBYN: (yelling) They want to talk about Foot? On the day we pledge to overthrow the neoliberal paradigm - Foot?! I’ll give them a headline about fucking FOOT!!!
JEREMY CORBYN grabs the wheel of JEREMY CORBYN’S CAR and runs over a BBC CAMERA MAN’S ACTUAL FOOT.
BBC CAMERA MAN: Ow! My foot!
LAURA KUENSSBERG: (tweeting) SCREAM!
JEREMY CORBYN: (maniacal laughter)
Crush of the week
Is it the piercing blue eyes? Dapper suit? Charmingly wonky euro-grin? Being Not-Fascist?
Regardless of exactly why he pushes so many of my buttons – merci beaucoup, Monsieur Macron. Long may you radiate your unabashed Blairism across France and the post-Brexit continent! Many years may you defend corporate interests and dismantle France's public sector. SACRIFICE ME ON YOUR CAPITALIST ALTAR.
Crossed line of the week
I have a lot of time for Ruby Tandoh – former real-winner-of-Bake Off, Series 4 turned Twitter rabble-rouser-in-chief.
Some of her more provocative outbursts might not be to everyone's tastes but frankly, for me, creating this life-changing yoghurt and blueberry loaf has more than earned her the right to mouth off about clean eating and the patriarchy from time to time.
Tess Ward getting on your tits again, Ruby? Not a problem. Hold on a second while I sharpen my courgettes. Let's take her down together.
HOWEVER. Even I have my limits.
Too far, Ruby. Too far. Get yourself into the nearest kitchen and beg her forgiveness with some kind of decadent chocolate cake. Perhaps the one on p283 of Simply Nigella?
Yes I will also have a slice. And maybe another of your yoghurt and blueberry loafs. With a strawberry and custard tart on the side? Thank you, Ruby.
(PLEASE DON'T TWEET MEAN THINGS ABOUT ME)
Dangerous thought of the week
This week I was mostly having...
...the midweek white wine
- 1 x wheedling '...pub?' text
- 20 x annoying work e-mails
- 250ml serving of 'house white'
- 1 x very large portion of fish and chips
God, work's a bit much sometimes, isn't it. Like, you wake up every Monday, and there it is - again. Waiting. Demanding. Offering you recompense in exchange for time and effort.
Thankfully, a partial solution is at hand. GASP, I hear you gasp. Yes. As ever, children, my answer is ill-advised alcohol.
Simply beg your nearest and dearest into accompanying you to your nearest pub, abandoning previous dinner plans (asparagus and quinoa will keep. Ish). Arrive at your local and before anyone can persuade you otherwise, bark instructions at their staff.
WHITE WINE. LARGE. SAUVIGNON. Not available? FINE. House will suffice. Food? YES.
Abandon your problems. Think not of your aches and pains. Focus only on the sweet, sweet release. And whatever the fuck they've put in this tartare sauce.