Is this the end of civilisation as we know it.

Scotsman Stewart Smith says he was stunned when having dropped a £10 note in the street he was slapped with a £50 for littering. Stewart, 36, said he did not realise he had dropped the note and a price tag after buying a £3 T-shirt from a charity shop. Two nearby bobbies immediately told him to pick his cash up off the pavement which he did gladly, thanking them for pointing out his loss. He was gobsmacked when the coppers then handed him a fixed penalty notice for LITTERING.

Not only is Stewart £40 light, he now has the unwelcome distinction of being the only Scotsman ever to pay above face value for a banknote.

What next? Church congregations charged with hate crimes because their hymn singing can be heard my Muslims out in the street? Football supporters fined for causing noise pollution. People accused of causing environmental damage after mowing their lawns?

Boggart Blog's fatsally has a few tips to help you enjoy your alfresco rumpy pumpy without getting arrested / infected / drowned

I don’t watch Springwatch any more. Bill Oddie has moved on so there is little chance of seeing a bearded tit and no matter who presents the show it will never top the classic moment a couple of years ago when a heartbreakingly cute fluffy little baby owl burst out of the eggshell and was straightaway jumped on and swallowed whole by an elder sibling.

It seems just as some people thought Kevin Turvey, investigative journalist, aka Rik Mayall; and Alan Partridge, radio DJ and chat show host, aka Steve Coogan, were real people, so some officers in the Met appear to have thought Life on Mars was a guide to good policing techniques.

Apparently two gentlemen of Nigerian extraction, funny that, claim that one was waterboarded, just like in Guantanamo Bay, and the other had his head shoved down the toilet whilst the officer holding him pulled the chain.

The problem with this of course is that the story has got out.

Obviously the alleged victims were not scared enough; that wouldn't have happened back in Gene's day. So, as a special treat, some more advice for the boys in blue from DCI Gene Hunt:
A signed confession covered in the signatories blood will not stand up in court.
And of course you mustn't forget to read them their rights:
Anything you say will be taken down, ripped up and shoved down your scrawny little throat until you choke to death.
All right Lads? Get it right next time.

Gordon Brown survived the PLP meeting on Monday evening, when several leading figures in the party told him to go, by bullying; do you want a minister to help you campaign come the general election?, smearing and crawling.

His particular crawl, which I am sure I've heard before from him, was that he would learn from his mistakes, be aware of his weaknesses and try to govern in a more open manner.

36 hours later The Telegraph headlines that despite Sir Christopher Kelly's contention that its findings should be made public, the inquiry by the Commitee for Standards in Public Life into the financial arrangements of Shahid Malik, Mp for Bradford, former Justice Minister and now re-appointed to a post in the Communities and Local government department, old Gordi has refused the release of the report. Transparency that's as clear as mud.

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No time to blog today as I have been busy with technical stuff (the other might be along later.) In the meantime you might like to look at the new strip cartoon posted at Greenteeth Multi Media today.

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Art in this day and age can refer to pretty much anything. I heard recently that a gallery in New York awarded a top cash prize to an “artist” who produced what was basically a ‘pin-the-tail–on-the-donkey’ (and yes, its interactive, you can move the tail!) from a child’s birthday party, but he attached some deep and meaningful bollocks to it to give it substance, and now he’s probably laughing his tits off. But somewhere in between the great masters and the talentless piss takers, there lies a grey area: blind photographer. Oh yes, in California they are having a whole exhibition of work from many blind photographers. Now, I don’t have anything against the blind, and if taking photos really floats their boat then snap away. What I do take issue with is the blind person taking all the credit as the artist. They can’t see fully, if at all, their composition; they don’t really know if it turns out how they wanted. Oh, yeah, they have the concept, the image of what they want in their mind. But this will have to be described to another person and set up with all the props or whatever is required, which may or may not be exactly what the photographer had in mind, but we’ll never know, and neither will the photographer. I have a similar issue with the Paralympics. Again, nothing to do with the athlete’s disability, more the fact that the blind, short distance runners (up to 800m) are assigned a guide runner and 2 lanes; one for the athlete, one for the guide runner. But the medal goes to the athlete. What about the guide runner? Surely they will have had to train as hard, run as fast, break a Paralympics world record if the athlete breaks one? It’s a bit like the school bully getting the school swot to do his homework for him.

News that Prime Minister Gordon Brown has appointed Sir Alan Sugar, anchorman of reality television show The Apprentice to his cabinet team as Labour's small business tsar makes us wondr just what king of showbiz government is Brown running Or is the decision perhaps based on the knowledge that Labour will be seking to appoint a new leader very soon. As the party's internal elections process failed so disastrously last time perhaps Surgar will lead a new selection method.

The resignation of Labour top totty Caroline Flint must have come as something of a surprise to Gordon Brown and his dwindling band of supporters. As recently as Thursday evening curvaceous Caro was reaffirming her loyalty to Gordon Brown and telling television reporters what an excellent job the Prime Minister was doing.

It was something of a shock on Friday then to here the lissom Labour babe had resigned her ministerial position alleging that Brown regarded her as “no more than window dressing for the cabinet. What had happened overnight to make everything go pear shaped in the pulchritudinous politician’s working relationship with her boss?

Boggart Blog can exclusively reveal the true story behind Foxy Ms. Flint’s resignation. Our Downing Street insider obtained a copy of an e-mail sent out on Friday morning:

From: gordon@no10
To : caro.flint@labour

Caroline,
You have done a wonderful job as Minister for sexy skirts but now, in the party’s hour of need I must ask you to take one extra step. Obviously today will be a dire day for Labour’s standing in the public perception as the election results come in and our losses pile up.

We desperately need something to divert the attention of the media from our election meltdown. That being the case I have arranged for a photographer from The Sun to call at your place around 11:30 this morning. It is time to get your tits out for the cause.

BTW I would consider it a personal favour if you could wear black stocking with lacy tops.

Very Best Regards,
Gordon.

LEAVING LABOUR’S sorrows aside for the moment, although I’m sure we will return to it, Boggart Blog has been warming to UKIP. Why, you might well ask. Well read this passage from a report in The Guardian of a visit to UKIP HQ.

...and then there is an extrovert, middle aged skinhead wearing jeans and shades.

“So you’re from The Guardian?” he says, full of bonhomie, “My brother used to work for The Guardian. That’s the good news. The bad news is I hate him, he’s a fucking twat. We said to him ‘the way you’re going you’ll end up working for The Guardian. And he did too, the fucking twat.”

Can you imagine The head Of Communications & Media for Labour, the Conservatives or the Lib Dems ever being that entertaining.

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Following the sad news of Britain's Got Talent Star Susan Boyle suffering a nervous breakdown as a result of media pressure following her success we bring you an exclusive interview with Susan's cat Pebbles.

Oh How those Greek deities up there on Mount Olympus must be chortling away.

Millennia have passed since they were worshipped and feared by the people of Ancient Greece, their temples abandoned to the ravages of time and tourists, their noble statues emasculated in the name of decency, the oracles through which they spoke, silenced.

But gods are wiser than men. They have patiently bided their time.

And now, it appears, they are back with a vengeance.

It is the Greek gods who inspired the term,

"BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR"

and so it comes to pass.

Susan Boyle wanted to be famous, but celebrity in the hands of today's media is a double edged sword and where the press lauded the wee spinster's singing talent they also alighted on her apparent breakdown as the final to BGT drew closer, circling like vultures to record her humiliation of failure and subsequent incarceration at a mental health clinic.

That, of course, could just be a mere coincidence, however there are further instances.

Gordon Brown desperately wanted to be leader of the Labour Party....

The Labour party desperately wanted rid of Tony Blair...

Be careful what you wish for...

RELATED POSTS: The Gods Return To Olympus

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We are a comedy blog but sometimes comedy, in its theatrical sense, is not about being silly and looking for cheap laughs. No apologies then for being darkly ironic in today’s first post.

An item in this mornings news concerned a police/education department initiative to show in schools a video depicting reconstructions of fatal stabbing incidents. The idea is to inform school children about the possible consequences of carrying knives.

Excuse is for seeming naïve but it is possible, is it not, that the message school pupils will pick up on is the danger of not having a knife when everyone else is carrying?

As the government goes into meltdown and the economic situation worsens can anybody save Britain now? King Arthur? Merlin? Cometh the hour, cometh the man an old saying goes. but where is our super hero when we most need him. Has Supergordon deserted us or will he return to save the nation?

Supergordonalso appears on Boggart Blog

The story has just landed on the Boggart Blog news desk and we cnnot conform the details yet but we are hearing some senational revelations about Britain's Got Talent runner up Susan Boyle.

You are probably aware Susan was taken to the Priory Clinic when her erratich behaviour led the shows producers to think she was uffering from nervous exhaustion and tabloid journalists to report she was stark raving bonkers in the head.

Several fould mouthed outbursts had led to suspicions Sunan was not the homely spinster who had led a very quiet life that publicists suggested.

What we are hearing now goes way further than that though, and we must remind you these are unsubstantiated allegations so far. Our people inside the Priory are telling us though that Susan was not always Susan. The shaving rash should have been a bit of a clue. What we are hearing is that before gender reassignment surgery around ten years ago Susan Boyle was known to the world as....

RAB. C. NESBIT.

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A headline in one of the Sunday papers today read “800 Britons on waiting list for Swiss suicide clinic.”

It was not the number that shocked so much as learning there are waiting lists for suicide clinics. Have things really go so bad?

Well maybe a story at The Daly Stirrer which takes in this news item, the story of the mother declsared too stupid to care for her child despite not having mental health issues and having a supportive family and there not being any indication that she might abuse, neglect or ill-treat the child will make you wonder just how far Labour's control freakery has progressed.

Or it might take the plan to compel everybody over 50 to take drugs for high blood pressure whether individuals need them or not to convince you we need to take back control of our country and our lives from the control freaks.

Go to
Can Things Get Any Worse now to read the full article.

Tonight I will rob myself of several good posts over the next few days by boycotting Britain's Got Talent. Why?

Because not only is the final crammed with dance acts, child acts and dancing child acts, there also is not very much talent evident.

Susan Boyle has a wonderful singging voice, sadly it turns out she has, through no fault of her own, a number of issues. These may even include a mild dose of tourette's syndrome. I can't really imagine somebody going down well at the Royal Variety Show after singing "Don't cry for me FUCK OFF! Argentina, the truth is WANK! I never left you."

The precocious child who sang I Could have Danced All Night in an earlier show appeared to fall apart while singing Eidelweiss. Maybe she is not ready for such a big occasion. Or perhaps she was having a little tantrum at being given such a shitty song to sing.

The stupendous talent of D.J. Talent will be sorely missed in the final. Who could ever forget his moving and insightful lyric:
I say talent
You say talent
Britain's Got Talent
It's D.J. Talent

You just can't ignore talent like that.

Also missing will be the extreme juggler who promised to juggle exploding melons failed to do so. He blamed Health and Safety Officers who banned the exploding melons as they posed a risk to life and limb. Funny but the health and Safety Thought Police has no problem with the all girl dance group or the Burlesque danger though both acts featured melons being if not juggled, certainly jiggled.

Another act that deserved more exposure was the guy who put butchers hooks through his ear lobes and dangled a dustbin from them. I mean literlly more exposure. There used to be an act in Circus Arcaos who stripped off behind a screen and, seen only in silhouette, dangled a 56 pound weight from his bollocks. That would have livened things up. We need more acts like him on television.

But what really pissed me off was the elimination of Callum, the kid who did songs from Oliver and Jungle Book. I'm not a fan of musicals but young Callum has a great voice, natural stagecraft and an infectiously jolly personality. And most importantly real, genuine talent.

And he isn't even in the effing final.

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Our news desk is receiving reports that a record number of Labour MPs have applied for seats in the House Of Lords in the hope they will be able to stay on the expenses gravy train without having to face the electorate in a few months.

In the wake of the expenses scandal and the Gurka fiasco a mood of despondency has descended on the whole party.

Even Gordon Brown's best mate Ed (the ball) Balls can't see any lihght at the end of the tunnel. He told a press conference "Governing parties tend to do badly in local and European elections. That is what will happen to Labour next week.

Other senior Labour figures put it more bluntly. "We're doomed, we're all doomed" said one, echoing Private Fraser from Dad's Army.

Can't wait for the bit where Hazel Blears (4'10") draws herself up to her full height, looks at Gordon Brown and says, "Stupid boy."

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In Memory Of Scandals Past They don't make political scandals like they used to.

Is Top Footballer The Boy Detective From a 1960s Comic Strip
by Ian R Thorpe
2009-05-28

I was still reading comics at the start of the 1960 so I write from authentic memories as nothing in the world of pre pubescent and adolescent boys changed much between the end of World War 2 and the mid 1970s.

So there I was watching the footy last night and reflecting on what it is about Christian Ronaldo I find slightly disturbing. And it came to me in one of those flashes of cosmic consciousness in which the mind transcends the physical limitations of time and space.

Ronaldo reminds me of one of those badly drawn characters, a boy-detective or boy-reporter or something that featured in Hotspur, Rover, Wizard and the rest. You know the guy, his sidekick was always a Border Collie. The plot of these stories was the same every week: badly drawn boy reporter / detective / secret agent gets into a bad situation, the dog sorts it out and the stupid kid gets the credit. Then a fat posh bloke in a top hat pops up and says "you and your dog saved the day, here's ten shillings to get yourself a slap up tea."

We shall perhaps never know what happened to the Border Collie. Pity, United could have done with it in midfield last night.

Given the success of previous campaigns which aimed to alter the public's artery clogging, alcohol abusing, binge drinking, chain smoking, obesity inducing, unsafe shagging promiscuous lifestyles; and also given that this Government now finds itself with loads of money on its hands after the MP's expenses debacle, and what with no incompetantly run banks left to bail out, our elected members have decided to launch a campaign to get us to eat less beef and lamb and more chicken and pork.

The rationale behind this latest glorious waste of taxpayer's money is that cows and sheep fart and burp a lot, respectively, whereas pigs and chickens don't fart and burp to the same extent.

When the cows are farting and the sheep are burping they are releasing vast quantities of methane into the atmosphere and so really, despite us humans driving around in cars; using central heating when it's cold; using air conditioning when it's warm; flying away to sushine paradises all year round; lighting up our patio heaters and barbecues whilst we singe a sausage or two and get quietly sloshed, causing us to burp and fart more; import exotic fruits and vegetables to gently decay in our state of the art fridges; consume vast quantities of designer water neatly packaged in plastic bottles which we then chuck in the bin, or better still out of the car window; whilst we consume more, becoming ever larger and rounder and consequently producing more emissions ourselves - global warming is not our fault.

Government advisers are developing menus to counteract climate change apparently. Pretentious or what?

Anyway some devout bods are busy calculating the carbon footprint of food and drink products.

So lamb and beef ar off the menu and surprise surprise so is alcohol. Greenhouse grown tomatoes are also a no no, but funnily enough coca cola and chocolate aren't.

Hmmm I think they've still got some way to go on this one. Or maybe they have some party supporters with large chequebooks who happen to be in the soft drinks and confectionary trade. Who knows?

Anyway the message is clear and we will, of course respond in our usual British fashion and completely ignore it and carry on as we were.

RELATED POSTS:
Dr Strangelove's Secret Bacon Butty Weapon
It is not that long since Government Scientists (cue opening chords from Bach's Toccata and Fuge) were telling us how eating pork and bacon would give us all cancer.

It seems the decision of The London Assembly to invite BNP councillor Richard Barnbrook to The Queen’s Buck House garden party was a bit of a faux pas especially as Barnbrook decided to take along as his guest BNP leader Nick Griffin. About the only person who was pleased by this was Prince Phil the Greek who is absolutely delighted and is rumoured to have commented in private, “At last there will be somebody there with whom I can have a nice chat about wogs, coons and slitty eyed little yellow bastards.”

Palace officials are worried however that Her Maj may find it difficult to make small talk with Barnbrook and Griffin. Imagine:
Equerry: Richard Barnbrook and Nick Griffin Ma’m.
Queen: “Hello, it’s so nice to meet you, and what o you do?
BNP boys: “We’re racists Ma’m.
Queen: Really, how very interesting.

The officials need fear not. Although the pair are capable of turning the most vacuous banalities into propaganda Her Maj, who has spent a lifetime opening art galleries, museums, exhibitions, theatres and civic centres will be safe if she sticks to the arts. Richard Barnbrook you see is a film director who specialises in low budget art house movies. his best known film to date is titled HMS Discovery.

Despite the title it is not a film about life on one of the ships used in Captain Cook’s voyages of exploration or a ripping yarn about George Vancouver’s mapping expedition to the west coast of Canada. It is much more arty than that. Blurbs describe HMS Discovery as “a sensitive love story in which a group of men embark on a personal voyage to explore their sexuality.” The plot features full frontals of aroused men, scenes of al fresco sex, mutual masturbation, flagellation and bondage. If Her Majesty runs out of chat about all this surely she will find many topics to talk about with another old queen.

Some people have described HMS Discovery as “pure pornography.” Just shows how far people will go to discredit the BNP.

BTW, the leader of the ultra macho, head-shaving, West ~ham shirt wearing BNP is going to a party as the escort of a man who makes gay porn movies (oops pardon, I meant sensitive love stories.) What's that all about?

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I've just had an interesting conversation with a chap from my bank.

And it is my bank, and yours too, we're majority share holders I believe, because my bank took on millions of pounds worth of debt from people who couldn't afford to pay and had to come and ask our representatives in Parliament for a handout of our money. So the money the bank has is mine anyway, right?

So they wanted to charge me £21 for going £12 overdrawn for a maximum 16 hours. That's fair innnit?

I used to have a £1000 overdraft facility but they had decided that as I didn't use it I didn't need it.

They were supposed to revue that in April, but hey ho, for some reason they decided to change it in March, and then guess what, a direct debit for £92 went out the day before a payment of £80 went in.

So there I am trying to get the overdraft facility back, not a grand though, but £100 maybe, just to be on the safe side. And what did the chappie tell me?

I couldn't have an overdraft greater than the regular payments going into the account, so £50 was the maximum I could get. Apparently they're worried I might not pay them back.

Neatly overlooking the feeling amongst us taxpayers that we won't get our money back and it's a sight more than £12. He suggested that I put say £200 into that account each month, then I'd get a £100 overdraft, but as I only spend £120 from that account each month I wouldn't need one would I?

I aked if I was in credit whether the bank would pay me a £15 arrangement fee and £6 per day in charges for every day I was in credit but he thought I was being silly.

That's rich coming from a banker.

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We would like to move on from the MP’s expenses scandal, we really would but the stories that keep being revealed present satirical bloggers with such wide open goals it would be a crime to miss them (unless you are a Newcastle United striker in which case it is par for the course,)

The latest blow to Labour’s political credibility comes from chief whip and the Prime Minister’s “enforcer” Nick Brown (no relation) who, news media have revealed claimed £18,000 in unreceipted expenses for food. “Unreceipted” means he was not eating in expensive restaurants but was either pigging out on junk from fast food places or buying multiple trolleyloads of stuff down the supermarket.

How does anyone spend eighteen grand on food? Even if he only shops at Waitrose that’s a lorra scran. And how hypocritical are these people, always banging on about how evil it is to be overweight and how obesity is dragging the country towards bankruptcy. It’s not as if those greedy buggers are all borderline anorexic is it?

Still, on the plus side anyone who eats that much food would not need to claim for manure to spread on his garden.

But it is not just Labour that keep scoring own goals. With knobheads like Gloucester candidate Richard Graham the Conservatives are not home and hosed yet.

Richard posted on his website a copy of a letter sent to The Times (perhaps our resident Times reader fatsally can tell us whether it was printed exactly as written.) The message Richard sent is reproduced below: verbatim.

“For anyone aspiring to be an MP it’s been pretty depressing to see how ridiculed politicians have become. ‘You are all the same’ is the cry on the doorstep but of course we are not even if the Telegraph has unearthed a lot of bad apples, and it was reassuring yesterday and today to meet people who realised that and just want to see some honesty and hard work from their cunt.”

Queried on this Richard said he was tired when he typed the item and it should have read “councillor.”

So leaving aside the grammatical shortcomings and the intriguing reference to unearthing apples (perhaps he was thinking of pommes de terre) it remains to be established if Mr. Graham is a lousy typist or simply illiterate.

The voters of Gloucester will decide.

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Little Alfie Patten, thirteen going on seven year old, is said to be devastated that DNA tests have proved he is not the father of 'girlfriend' Chantelle Stedman's daughter, Maisie.

Alfie claimed, or at least whoever was manipulating him did, that he had been going out with Chantelle for two years, that she had been a virgin and that he was the only boy she had slept with.

However there then followed a parade of teenaged boys claiming that they had slept with Chantelle, at her home, with her mother's knowledge and implicit consent.

A bit like that scene in Spartacus really.

"I slept with Chantelle nine months ago."

"I slept with Chantelle nine months ago."

"I slept with Chantelle nine months ago."

It was at this point that social sevices stepped in, right on the ball, as usual, and an injunction was obtained banning any more reporting on the story. DNA samples were taken from all the boys involved and it now turns out that a lad called Tyler Barker is the father. Tyler would have been fourteen at the time of conception, which is really a tad young to be doing anything more than sniggering over your Dad's secret porn pile, wouldn't make half such a good story.

He also looks like a typical teenager, spiky hair, cheeky grin, a bit of a twinkle in his eye, not nearly as interesting as the almost infantesque Alfie.

Makes you wonder about the motivation for bringing the story of Alfie and Chantelle onto the front pages really, doesn't it? Was it public interest or was it the lure of The Sun's chequebook and the chance for the infamous fifteen minutes of fame.

Suffice to say I'm sure anyone with half a brain was, like Boggartblog, extremely sceptical of the claim in the first place.

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CLICK HERE to read Revenge On The Trouser Snake>

Does Multiculturalism Work? (Eurovision Song Contest) by ianrthorpe @ 2009-05-18 – 18:31:46 Does Multiculturalism work? Three words, Eurovision effing Song Contest. This geriatric schlockfest was one of the first attempts to create a single European culture. The two things it created are a forum in which petty grudges and resentments can be maintained at a low level (when what is really needed

You Can't Keep A Good Nutter Down
Some people just can't help themselves, they have to stand and shout, "LOOK AT ME" any and every chance they get. So it is with defrocked vicar Neil Horan.
He first came to public notice at the Atlanta Olympics when he grabbed the leading runner

Let her breasts satisfy thee at all times? Ooer Missis.
Here in Britain we have not been much aware of the storm that has blown up around the winner of the Miss California beauty contest.
What kicked it all off was this: when contestant Carrie Prejean...
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Fart Flavoured Snacks
We know everything is going to shite but are the British public ready for fart flavoured snacks? This is not traditional farty smelling snacks such as Dry Roast Peanuts we are talking about, they actually taste quite peanutty once the fart sealed inside the bag as a preservative has been released. Neither are we talking about Bombay Mix which provides...
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Escalator Crime Escalates
The Barnsley Chronicle (Town Edition) features pictures on its front page of two elderly gentleman who have apparently had a bit of a coming together with a rogue escalator.
Jack Faulkner, the earliest victim commented, "Someone is going to get killled...
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BNP? You Don’t Scare Me, Na-naa na na-naa
Looking beyond the MPs expenses scandal yesterday for the first time in what seems like years I was surprised to find life is still going on out there. One story we missed were the party political broadcasts by lunatic fringe parties for the...
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The Importance Of Not Losing Your Set A Level Texts
by fatsally
@ 2009-05-15

Drawn back towards consciousness from the depths of dreamland, wither my head nodded over my desk, I peeked around the office door to find the cause of the commotion.

The Apprentice: Margate Falls Into Sere And Yellow Leaf. Not!
by ianrthorpe
2009-05-14
Blind to the credit crunch, deaf to the cries of the dispossessed as hunger bites, oblivious to the Swine Flu, contestants in The Apprentice last night went down to Margate having been given the task of rebranding the tired, tawdry, run – down resort. Rebranding, that’s when you, like, don’t change anything, you just get...
CLICK HERE to read The Apprentice Falls Into Sere And Yellow Leaf

Unhappy Pills Being unhappy makes people reach for comfort food. Eating comfort food makes people fat. Being fat causes depression, ergo being slim and eating comfort food both make people happy the diet industry reasons. So why not develop a happy pill that stops people getting fat no matter how much confort food they eat? If only life was that simple... CLICK HERE to readUnhappy Pills

Lib Dems Expenses Claims Fail To Impress.
Ian R Thorpe
12 May 2009

The fervid anticipation preceding the release of Liberal Democrats dodgy expenses claims turned into a sense of disappointment today as the embarrassing items we had hoped to see were absent. Where, for example, were the invoices for 5000 gallon tankers of Vodka delivered to Charlie Kennedy’s second home or the bill for supply of intravenous drip equipment so the former leaders could stay topped up while paralytic?

How did one time leadership contender Mark Oaten conceal the bills for “personal services” from his rent boy? As maintenance work perhaps: To French Polishing a tallboy, £50 ?

Lembit Opik, whose name we did not make up but wish we had, was also a letdown. His claims had been widely looked forward to but it turned out his only misdemeanour was trying to charge taxpayers £40 court fees for a summons issued over non payment of council tax. While the amount is not spectacular the audacity of trying to get taxpayers to for your tax bill is worth a mention.

In spite of that we have a right to think Lembit short changed us after we treated him so generously. Where were the bills for gold lame knickers he surely bought for his Cheeky Girl inamorata. We have a right to be entertained by such stuff but the Lib Dems let us down. LD Smurf Sarah Treather (4’9”) indulged in a bit of self righteousness by saying it would be ridiculous for her to claim for a second home as her first home, in her constituency, was only half an hour by tube from Westminster. Members in other parties had pulled such stunts though, she said darkly.

Was she by any chance referring to Labour Smurf Hazel Blears (4’10”)? Probably not as Ms Blears constituency is several traffic jams up the M1 and M6 although her many homes are all over the place and seem to change location quite often. It is nice to know the reputation of Parliamentary Smurfs is not totally besmirched. We advise young Sarah not to overdo it though, nobody likes a smug tart.

The only Lib Dem to really impress was former leaders Menzies (Evil Emperor Ming) Campbell who charged ten grand for having his rather small London flat decorated. Ten grand seems a lot to pay for a few rolls of woodchip paper and a can of emulsion paint from Homebase and makes the £82 claimed by current leaders Nick (Shagger) Clegg for phone calls to his mates – as in male buddies not his myriad former lovers. To his great credit Clegg claimed £7000 for renovations to his constituency home but the legitimacy of that claim is not in question, in fact Mr Clegg has agreed to repay the £100 over the annual limit he inadvertently claimed. Clegg’s £160 per month gardening costs raised a few eyebrows but I can vouch for the expensive nature of garden maintenance having recently paid a hit man £5000 to impale our gardener here at Thorpe towers after he became a bit too enthusiastic about pruning my favourite Buddleia. If only we could, for £5,000, get someone to impale Douglas Hogg or Margaret Moran (Lab. Lootin South) who claimed her partner’s house in Southampton as the second home when it is further from her Bedfordshire constiuency than her first home or Westminster.

The Liberal Democrats have been enjoying a surge of popularity in recent weeks as the angry punters turned on the main parties. Unfortunately ever since they were just The plain vanilla Liberals has had an unerring knack of turning lacklustre mediocrity into thundering ineptitude just as their rivals were making lacklustre mediocrity look appealing.

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