Missing An Open Goal

I tuned into Prime Minister's Questions today in the vain hope of some parliamentary fireworks. Instead what I got was that prize drip Keir Starmer (who let us not forget served Corbyn so loyally) failing to hit the net from six inches out and with the goalkeeper nowhere in sight. Thus the loathsome Johnson survives to pass another political day indulging his trademark political nothingness. Forty-plus percent of his own parliamentary party have signified that they don't trust him/have confidence in him and yet he blunders on. The Conservative Party needs to relocate its vaunted ruthlessness and show this mendacious toad the door pretty bloody pronto. I am fed-up to the back teeth of the SNP being the most efficient Westminster party.

So what's a man to do as his country crumbles around him? Start running again, that's what. The Big Fat Pig has been nursing a sore Achilles since January but yesterday he thought 'sod it' and headed out of the door with the full lycra on and sporting the precious go-faster Oakleys. He shuffled and perspired for a virtuous thirty minutes and thirty-four of your English seconds. Today he is feeling the full muscular tenderness of the short distance runner but the virtuousness has not rubbed off. Pig redux.

I'll tell you who I had in the back of my cab - that Neville Chamberlain. I was reminded of this when watching Munich - the Edge of War the other day. It's adapted from Robert Harris's novel Munich, the title of the film presumably expanded to disambiguate it from Spielberg's dour but worthy movie of that name. In Edge of War, Chamberlain gets off rather more lightly than popular history has allowed. Harris likes playing with history. Jeremy Irons does a more than passable physical imitation of Chamberlain but makes this starchy Tory too avuncular by half. Not a bad film I suppose but it never quite overcomes the fact that we know how it is going to end. 62/100. 

And another reason to be cheerful - golf at Royal Pype Hayes on Monday evening with an ever-expanding band of AOE brothers (fourteen of us this week). Weather: fine (makes a bloody change after two consecutive soakings); golf: moderate but not unpromising; company: matchless; Guinness: lovely.