Gordon’s Gaff.

Oh come on, we’ve all done it. I remember going to dinner at a neighbours house eating venison around a big oak table, chittery chattering about the finer points of life and then slagging our hosts off something rotten on the way home for their filthy kitchen, avalanche levels of clutter and pretentious talk. Then having to go back for my house keys, all smiles and, “I loved your views about Hulkenburg’s thesis on how photography changed art in the early twentieth century.” “Oh thanks. You must come again.” “Yeh right, what and die of salmonella from eating Yugoslavian ostrich meat you pompous git. I don’t know how your pathetic wimp of a wife puts up with you, you arrogant public school twat.” Oh, did I say that out loud? Sorry I’m having trouble with my speech marks. “Big smile.” No, Gordon not only proved he was human; he proved he was British to the core. For us British closing a door is like entering a decompression chamber, poof and all the pent up secret thoughts come out, eager to see the light of day. He could have said, “Why didn’t one of you fuckers cull that stupid cow before she got to me. You know I can’t talk to these northern retards. I hate going north of Watford.” That’s fine, it’s par for the course, but the weeklong repentant Haj he’s embarking on is a worrying sign of un-British-ness. Gone are the days of singing about our adversary’s uni- testicular condition and calling a spade a spade. Oh my God, did I just type that! Sorry, gone are the days of calling a digging implement a digging implement. It’s no use, it’s out there, done. News at Ten will be interviewing me, “Did you or did you not type bla bla and intend to suggest unfortunate smiley black people should in your estimation be stamped into the earth and are only good for shovelling shit, or do you deny it, thus proving the truth behind our assertions? Or would you rather try to talk about something important in a vain attempt to divert us from getting to the truth, that you think these squalid, ignorant people of inferior races should not be allowed into our wonderful country of high standards and superior Britishness?” Well I, you know, I was just joking. JOKING? WHAT IS THIS JOKING? DOES NOT COMPUTE.