At last we have a Prime Minister who actually believes in Great Britain and isn’t apologetic about leaving the EU
OH, what a blast of fresh air to have this mood-enhancing Prime Minister at the helm of our nation.
Will Brussels reject Boris Johnson’s fair, reasonable and generous offer to the European Union? Almost certainly.
But nobody can say that Boris hasn’t tried to get a deal.
Nobody — not even the increasingly hysterical Jeremy Corbyn — can seriously suggest Boris has not done everything in his power to conclude these negotiations.
But the suspicion lingers that Brussels does not want — and has never really wanted — a deal with the bolshy British.
Encouraged by people who should have known better — ex-PMs, lords of the land, democracy-denying MPs, big business, the whole rotten edifice of the British establishment — Brussels has only ever wanted to abort Brexit.
“I’ll have done my job,” Michel Barnier, chief EU negotiator, said three years ago, “if by the end, the terms are so hard that the Brits would prefer to stay.”
That’s not a negotiation. It’s a punishment beating.
TRAPPING US
And if it proved ultimately impossible to overturn the biggest vote for anything in the oldest democracy in the world, then Brussels wanted this country on its knees.
A BBC documentary filmed the staff of Guy Verhofstadt — the European Parliament’s Brexit negotiator (the old goat with dyed blond hair who posed with a “Bollocks to Brexit” sign at the Lib Dem conference) — gloating about Theresa May accepting the need for an Irish backstop, effectively trapping us inside the EU while removing our voice and vote.
“We finally turned them into a colony,” sneered one of Verhofstadt’s stooges.
Not so fast, monsieur!
Did our dear old continental cousins in Brussels truly believe a nation that has not been invaded for 1,000 years would so meekly give up its freedoms?
Did they believe the country that twice in the last century bought their freedom with our blood and sacrifice would willingly submit like a nation that had just lost a war?
CRUMBLING EU
If it wasn’t for the Brits, the old men in Brussels would have grown up wearing lederhosen. A little more respect would always have been in order.
But finally we have a Prime Minister who is not apologetic about our country leaving the EU.
Finally we have someone in 10 Downing Street who truly sees what the 17.4million of us saw — that there is a future for our country as an open, free-trading, global nation, setting our own laws and kicking out our leaders when they displease us.
Boris has done everything he can to get a deal with Brussels.
If our friends do not reciprocate with some goodwill of their own, then leaving with No Deal — and a General Election — cannot come fast enough.
Boris Johnson has reached out across Parliament, across the country and across the continent.
He is, as he claims, truly pro-European.
But you can love Europe without loving the crumbling EU empire.
And if Brussels refuses the hand of friendship and co-operation now, No Deal will hurt them far more than it hurts us.
“I wonder what he believes in,” a Boris-sceptic said to me recently.
That’s easy. This Prime Minister believes in our country.
No hanging about
FIFTY years after its release, Abbey Road by The Beatles is at No1. There is no title and no band name on that iconic cover. No need.
Apparently, photographer Iain Macmillan was given just ten minutes to take the picture while a policeman briefly held up the traffic.
They didn’t hang about in the Sixties, did they?
Time for an Oscar, J-Lo?
JENNIFER Lopez is sensational in Hustlers, the true story of a gang of exotic dancers who turned the tables on their sleazeball Wall Street clients after the economic crash of 2008.
J-Lo plays Ramona Vega, an ageing pole-dancer and single mum who leads a multi-racial crew of unemployed strippers.
Ramona’s business strategy is to pick up men in bars and lace their cocktails with ketamine (horse tranquilliser) and MDMA (ecstasy), then max out their credit cards when they are comatose.
J-Lo is tough, ruthless, fierce and ferociously loving to her band of thieving strippers.
All the Oscar gossip is currently about Renee Zellweger playing Judy Garland. But I never saw anyone more deserving of an Oscar than J-Lo in Hustlers.
Andrew was vital to Wham!
EVEN when Wham! were shoving shuttlecocks down their tight white shorts, Andrew Ridgeley – whose book Wham! George And Me is out now – was seen as George Michael’s excess baggage.
But George’s career would never have happened the way it did without Andrew by his side in those early years.
Wham! were full of cocksure swagger. George, for all his many talents, was not like that – but Andrew was.
George created Wham! in his friend’s image, and Andrew has never got the credit he deserved.
Eco-cretins strike again
EXTINCTION Rebellion activists preened on top of a gas-guzzling, pollution-puking diesel fire engine as they attempted to spray the Treasury with 1,800 litres of fake blood.
Sadly, they lost control of their fireman’s hose and sprayed themselves and the street instead, leaving someone else to clean up their mess.
Trust them with the future of our planet?
I wouldn’t trust these eco-cretins with my garden hose.
Snip it in the bud
BORIS Johnson’s new dog, a raffish rescue Jack Russell called Dilyn, has to be carried whenever he is joined in the Downing Street back garden by Sajid Javid’s dog, a comely cavapoo bitch called Bailey.
They do say that dogs grow to resemble their owners.
To prevent future incidents, they should think about having him neutered.
We are still talking about the dog.
It's not robots Gary should worry about
GARY Lineker worries that robots could one day replace presenters and pundits on Match Of The Day.
“Some would say they’ve already got the robots in,” quips Gary, who has offered to lower his £1.75million salary as the BBC seeks to cut costs.
No job lasts for ever and I have a shortlist of one to replace Gary as presenter of Match Of The Day. Alex Scott would be perfect – knowledgeable, charming and attractive.
Best of all, I have absolutely no idea about Scott’s views on Brexit.
Iggy flop was a sight to behold
IN Debbie Harry’s new autobiography, she fondly recalls spending time backstage with David Bowie and Iggy Pop.
“David pulled out his c**k – as if I were the official c**k-checker or something,” chuckles Debbie.
“He loved to pull it out, with both men and women. It was so funny, adorable and sexy.”
Bowie never whipped it out around me. But Iggy did.
Iggy had challenged me to a race through the streets of Copenhagen – the kind of wild and crazy stuff we got up to in the Seventies – but paused by a traffic light to relieve himself.
Iggy unfurled his mighty member, chatting all the while about young British punk bands, and emptied his bladder against a VW Beetle that had stopped at the red light.
I can still see the driver’s dropped jaw. And it wasn’t because he recognised the bloke who had just released Lust For Life.
In terms of rock stars and their manhoods, there is small, medium, large and oh-my-goodness.
And then there’s Iggy Pop.
C'mon Richard, give it a go
YOU can imagine Richard Madeley on Strictly.
Mercurial, youthful and entertainingly unpredictable, Madeley would be a great signing . . . and also someone we have actually heard of – an increasing rarity on Strictly.
“I cannot dance,” he says. “I just cannot move. I just do not have any dancing feet.”
It didn’t stop James Cracknell signing up, although perhaps it should have.
Paranoia growing faster than his bald patch
THE truth is that few members of the Royal Family have ever been as loved as Prince Harry.
The nation – and the Press – have always had a special place in their heart for Diana’s two boys.
We were always quick to forgive the youthful transgressions – Harry’s Nazi fancy dress, the lost years of the lads falling out of posh Mayfair nightclubs – and have been delighted to see them starting their own families.
But Harry’s demented rant against the Press this week, and his legal action against the Mail On Sunday for printing a letter Meghan wrote to her father, suggests Harry is not really interested in our love.
What Harry really wants is our deference. What Harry wants is the Press to shut up about the frequently risible hypocrisy of this virtue-signalling golden couple.
MOST READ IN OPINION
But if you piously preach about climate change then climb into private jets, the Press in this country will call you out.
We are royalists, Harry. But we are not mugs.
If you don’t like it, then quit the Civil List and retire to private life. And when you do up your next lovely home, pay for it yourself.
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