As a sign of just how confused and confusing these salad days of Brexit have become, or perhaps as a nod to the 42% of its own membership who voted Leave, Plaid Cymru have proudly unveiled the fruit of Gove’s loins as their candidate for the European Elections.
I’ve railed long and loud on here in the past about the ineptitude of the appointment of Sajid Javed to the Trade and Industry post and his rabbit-in the-headlights performance in that role. I said at the time there was absolutely nothing in his CV that would have even began to suggest he was suited to it, it wasn’t an attack on him per se but on the stupidity of a system that allows for nonsense appointments.
This morning I laughed my way through reading about another appointment, that of Neath MP Christina Rees. I’ll state from the outset this isn’t an attack on her, I’ve met her and she seemed a nice lady. She was good enough to take time out and come along to a London demonstration I was on....BUT... apparently she’s Vice Chair of the All Party Parliamentary Group for the Hair Industry. Their remit is hairdressing, barbering and related products.
Surely to God after the three weeks he’s been here, after what he’s seen, he has to be reporting back to his financial masters that this isn’t a project to be written off. Investment would be the smart move.
John McDonnell. Perhaps this award is the culmination of over thirty years of dedicated, consistent endeavour in the field but the laurels were confirmed definitively with his appearance on The Andrew Marr show this morning. Deadpan in delivery, unwavering of eye, a master-practitioner.
Marr: “Let me just briefly ask you about the Equality and Human Rights Commission investigation.”
McDonnell: I welcome it. We (Labour) are a shining example of how you tackle anti-semitism.”
Right enough, Johnny boy! Burnished to a high sheen you are, positively lambent.
That’s natural flair right there. You can’t coach that.
My eldest is due home later today for the weekend. I’ve just been up the loft and brought down a box to show her, she hasn’t seen the contents in years, her Great-Great Grandmother’s tricolour white - green - purple Suffragette sash and the toffee hammer broach inscribed ‘Deeds not Words’ that fastens it.
I would imagine you would have got on with her like a house on fire. My eldest too who must have inherited her feistiness. Just think, all three of you could have had a stick each and whacked me over the head with it.
Where’s the little scamp disappeared to? I’ve been sent a photo that is supposed to be him waiting in a field outside Nefyn disguised as a horse in the hope that Liz Saville Roberts will happen along and mount him.
Is there anybody in a position to confirm or deny?