From DUFF & NONSENSE!
PA photo via The Telegraph
When I'm really depressed I wonder whether, in their second-rate, tawdry and stupid awfulness they really do represent my country as it slowly but surely sinks into oblivion. He, as Speaker of the House of Commons holds the second most important office in the nation. The Queen is at the pinnacle and holds in her frail, elderly hands the remains of whatever dignity this country once possessed. He, as Speaker, holds an ancient and mostly honourable, and sometimes courageous, office which comes to its fortunate occupier replete with its own dignity and respect. After his ghastly, gruntish predecessor, 'Gorbals Mick' Martin, another choice from antediluvian, so-called 'nu-Labour', one hoped for something better, never dreaming, or nightmaring, that it would be infinitely worse. Again, the Labour party deserves the blame because Bercow, formerly a Conservative, spent the last 6 years or more lick-spittling and toadying to every Labour MP in the hope of gaining their votes for his bid to be Speaker. They, as the majority party at the time, were happy to oblige, mostly because it was a poke in the eye to Cameron and his party none of whom can stand Bercow. To watch this man at Prime Minister's question time is hideously embarrassing, in fact, the very worst sort of embarrassment that arises when you know that the person making a complete ass of himself is totally unaware of it.
He is not just encouraged in his ghastliness by his wife, she positively out does him! Tomorrow in the Evening Standard magazine she offers this less than enticing photograph of herself. One is only deeply, deeply, grateful that she is not in the nude displaying, I feel sure, her tattoos and sundry pieces of junk metal embedded in her flesh.
ADDITIONAL: Good grief! I took the 'Memsahib' out to dinner tonight to celebrate her birthday and having just returned and checked my blog, I nearly fell off my chair to see over a thousand hits inside four hours. That is approximately 999 more than I would have expected. Was it my wise and witty review of King Lear that brought them all flocking in? No, it was the picture of Mrs. Bercow in her sheet! Oh God . .