Sunday, 8 April 2007

Yawning Cherie

Cherie, dearest, watch my lips. I can execute the perfect yawn without moving my lips and without resorting to all that jaw wrenching stuff. If I can, you can. It’s the polite thing to do in company. It took years of practice sitting in the Commons listening to the constant drone of a dozen keen back benchers trying to articulate their words. I honed the skill by having to endure countless Labour conferences with all my cabinet colleagues asleep either side of me. Some of them actually used MY shoulders as a pillow, like I’m some kind of robot without the need for sleep.

RedNoseTony and Catherine Tate

Sorry, Tone. I think this one is marginally better than the "Official PM Launch" below, but you are playing it too intense, too political, too…well...too…skewered to the meat hook. I liked the intro with all the ex-PMs on the staircase. That was WAY cool.

Voila - All My Own Work

No, that wasn't IT !!!

This is:


THE NEXT POST WILL ADDRESS THE PROBLEM OF WRITER'S CRAMP AND NOBODY WILL BE ABLE TO TELL THAT I WALK AROUND BAREFOOT, which is a much healthier option for the feet - athletes foot, bunions and other lurgies tend to dissipate under these conditions.

Tony Blair and Gordon Brown

Here's another beautiful genuine expression of surprise and welcome. Tony's eyebrows are raised in, perhaps, a mock or genuine expulsion of a wordless sentence -“Pour moi”??? Oh, Gordo, really, you shouldn’t have!!!! But Brown’s toothy smile is more revealing in its mischievous quality, perhaps concealing a wordless sentence – “It’s no trouble, Tone. I used the urinal, fetched your tea, then I spat in it, then I used my fingers as a spoon. And, as you can tell by the position of my index finger, I just dispensed a dispersible Viagra to cure that brewer's droop you were talking about earlier. Ooops, wait, that was Cherie's disclosure. Nevermind.

Saturday, 7 April 2007

Tony Blair

Almost everything about this situation is completely unveiled in Tony’s body language and expression.

Both eyebrows are raised, especially the left one. In response to what he has been told he is asking for further clarification without speaking. It is quite possible that he is genuinely surprised about the item of conversation into which he is becoming embroiled. It may be that his colleague is recounting the time his class of 5 year olds wanted to know when he lost his virginity, or if he lost it at all, and if he lost it, will he visit the lost property office to reclaim the errant virginity.

The conversation is likely to be something along these lines, as the PM has a wry smile trying to edge its way onto his face. It isn’t a full-blown, showing the teeth smile (his usual meet and greet face) but a pursed-up I’m-not-supposed-to-laugh-at-this-juncture grin.

His shirt collar is one size too small. He appears to have pinch pleated his neck to fit into this one. After a couple of washes, cotton shirts finish up 7% smaller anyway, so why not go for the larger shirt? It makes no sense and it looks painful. The dark navy jacket and the light blue shirt accentuate his eye colour, a beautiful dark azure.