As the song almost says, what a difference a year makes: 2017 is not over yet, but it’s been a lousy one so far. Losing two very close friends was a real bummer, for starters. Then the Brexit negotiations and the Trump presidency revealed that I had declared victory too soon. This time last year I was singing about what a great year it had been, what a great mood I was in, and so on. The British people had decided that they no longer wished to be led by and take orders from a peanut vendor from Luxembourg called Jean-Claude Asshole. Yippee!
One year on, the asshole, in cahoots with British left-wing rabble, seems to have confused the issue enough that the hapless Theresa is upping the ante for Britain to become independent again. Not so yippee! The Donald isn’t making my life any easier either. Not on account of his tweets — the jihadis do it non-stop, so why shouldn’t he? The reason I’m starting to doubt his sanity is that he’s climbed in bed with the Saudis, which is like investing all one’s moolah with Madoff on 9 December 2008.
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