Have I Got News For You

By Brummie Broad on Apr 7, 09 11:42 AM

The news has been a bit interesting recently hasn't it. Its not all doom and gloom, there are bright spots.

Take Jacqui Smith for example. Tsk, naughty girl, having it away with the fairies instead of her accountant, or whoever fixes up her figures - and fixed they certainly are. Not only does she earn a six figure salary, she also receives £157,000 for expenses. Uh huh, £157,000 just for expenses. I don't think I earn that much in my entire lifetime [counts on fingers, gets confused, gives up], pretty sure I don't.

You gotta ask yourself, if your boss said, "Oi, you can claim £157,000 in expenses on top of yer salary," wouldn't you stick everything from bath plugs to second house allowance on it? Sure you would. But even we, the commoners, the real people who don't have our head in the clouds or up our own bums, would think twice about claiming for porn films - because we couldn't stand to think of some person in Finance giggling about it and telling the whole company.

Apparently it wasn't Jacqui's fault. Oh no, no, no, Hubby did it, and Hubby was forced to make a cringingly embarrassing apology to reporters. My hubby would have simply roared, "Hey, I f***ed up, I paid it back, now p*ss off." But then, he's not a politician's husband, he's a Yorkshireman and he's got quite a gob on him.

In other news, Obama arrived on our shores. Go, baby, go! Did you see the G20 photographs? No? Snigger. You have to remind yourself that these people run our world, and then you have to remind yourself again when you watch the Queen telling them off for being rowdy:

And while we're on the subject of royalty and the Rowdy Bunch, if there was one person guaranteed to lift their foot right off the floor and wedge it straight into their mouth without a moment's hesitation, it's our dear Prince Philip. He's a hoot isn't he. I bet old Queenie cringes in terrified anticipation every time she hears him draw breath.

Apparently, the only thing the G20 summit could agree on is that the teeny-tiny French president had a hot wife.

And finally, I caught a glimpse of Jade Goody's funeral procession, although I couldn't quite understand why the whole 'event' was televised. Whilst I applaud the fact that she brought smear tests to the fore, I thought her life was perfectly encapsulated by the flowers that spelled out GRAN DAUGHTER [sic].