Oh darlings, that Michel Barmier! Isn’t he just? Barmy, that is. Will he, won’t he? Well believe me, he does, but even that hasn’t helped him make up his mind over whether or not to be an awful Gallic tease or whether he should be giving poor dear Theresa a leg-up. Yes, munchkins, that’s up.
One way or another, Sunday saw me packed off with Dominic Raab-ish on a mercy dash to Brussels to rap the knuckles of our very own negotiators, who were showing dangerous signs of coming to an actual agreement with our sworn enemies!
Poor old Raaby. He looks like nothing more than the deputy chair of a sixth form debating society and so I set him about doing what he does best (ie standing around looking silly and bewildered) while I wielded the whip to great effect. You have to have a little fun in this job. It beats having to bend old Andrea Boscelli’s ear back and help the blind CMA boss see how a 13% market share (discounters) is more than 11% (Waitrose plus Co-op). Given that our dear Teutonic allies are forever ranting on about how they kick the ‘mist’ out of our own dinosaurial homegrown grocers then it might just be reasonable to factor them in when sizing up Jasda, Andrea dear.
Certainly Mike ‘Switched On’ Coupe was delighted (insofar as a cyborg can show emotion) when I called to spill the beans. Well, who can blame him? It’s beginning to look like the Mike & Rog double act might be back on the cards. Which has to be a good thing, given that the Chuckle Brothers are sadly no longer available.