Doesn’t everyone have shooting weekends?

It takes a very special kind of rank stupidity to get oneself sacked from the Royal ‘firm’, but that’s what Prince Andrew managed to do last week after an ill advised car crash TV interview with Emily Maitliss which he appeared to think had gone rather well.

Add deluded to that.

I have absolutely no idea of how aware he was of Jeffrey Epstein’s sordid practices at the time, but to then stay at his house in New York, he claims to tell the paedophile billionaire face to face that they could no longer be associated, even though they weren’t really proper pals, is a bit of a stretch even for the most loyal of royalists.

I’ll believe he can’t sweat because of The Falklands easier than that.

At the very least he has caused acute embarrassment to his 93 year-old mother and one can only guess what The Duke of Edinburgh said to him, although compared to this, overturning your Range Rover at 97 years old is strictly second division so he can at least be grateful that it’s taken attention away from that little episode.

I actually have a huge amount of respect for Her Majesty. She has been, and continues to be, a magnificent figurehead for this nation and does not deserve to have the lifetime of duty she has given to be sullied in this way during her final years.

Half truths and goddamn lies spoken in tongues

There are half truths, exaggerations, damn lies… and then there are manifestos – extravagant, utopian pledges financed by money trees grown from magic beans obtained, no doubt, in exchange for a prize cow.

That these empty promises are considered so instrumental in securing floating election votes shows the contempt in which the political class holds the rest of us plebs. We’re sheep and all they have to do is bark in the right way to pen us in because it’s easier for us to hand over all that responsibility to someone else then moan about it later.

That so many of us have been content with allowing ourselves to be manipulated by party partisanship, which is just a hidden agenda for keeping us in our place – and more importantly them in theirs – shows we deserve everything we’ve got up to now.

And somehow, with that knowledge, and while they all testiculate on our TV screens (testiculate: def – the waving of arms while talking complete bo****ks) I have to vote for someone, because not voting when there are people in the world without that right would be unforgivable.

But how much of a difference it’s going to make depends on how many of us sheep are ready to turn into wolves.

Machine gun Kelly

Kudos again to fluffy-jumpered Rottweiler Lorraine Kelly who, fresh from the live TV demolition of Ester McVey a couple of months ago, has now put American businesswoman Jennifer Arcuri in her place for going onto Good Morning Britain and not answering any of the questions she was asked about her relationship with Boris Johnson, preferring to leave innuendo hanging in the air like a string of Christmas lights down Oxford Street.

“What’s the point of you coming on TV to clear the air and then you don’t say anything?” she asked tersely during the handover from GMB to her show on Monday of last week before looking directly at the camera and going straight into her “Today on the show…” spiel.

I can’t wait until they let her loose on Nicola Sturgeon.

Oh please let it be soon.

Stupid TV quiz contestant of the week

Cash Trapped – Thursday November 21

Question: In 2001 Michael Douglas married which Welsh actor?

Answer: Richard Burton.

Edward Case

Columnist