the mystery of Downing Street parties

If we end up being locked up again on Christmas, we better hope there is something good to watch on TV. I happened to flip through the holiday hours. And it looks like there’s a real treat in store on ITV.

Poirot by Agatha Christie, 9:00 p.m.

New episode. Belgian detective (David Suchet) tackles his most difficult case yet, as a prominent politician asks him to investigate whether a series of wild parties took place over a six-week span in the inside his own house.

I only watched the trailer, but it looks awesome.

“So, Mr. Johnson… you tell me that, on perhaps half a dozen separate occasions, as many as 50 people came into your abode and played Christmas music loudly for several hours, without you. realize ? “

“Well, you know, Detective… I’m a very heavy sleeper. “

“Did you sleep until the end, every time?” Even though the people of Zeeze behaved like Zey was, how do you say, behind the scenes at Mötley Crüe? “

“I have a pretty stressful job, Inspector. So I always make sure I get a good night’s sleep. That’s why, until this week, I had never even heard of these parties.

– I see, sir. But you weren’t invited to attend zeeze parties that took place in your own place of residence? “

“No. Never. But then everyone knows I’m a terribly shy and reserved guy. Not much of a party animal.

“Have you tried to report this problem to the police? “

“Yes, but they came back very quickly to say they couldn’t investigate as there was absolutely no evidence that the parties ever took place.”

– But sir, if the holidays never took place, why did a young lady in your department resign for them?

“I say, that’s a really good point. It sounds a little strange, now you put it like that. Perhaps you could investigate this mystery as well.

I can not wait. It promises to be Poirot’s most gripping affair since the mystery of the man who discovered to his amazement that someone had paid to cover his apartment in expensive designer wallpaper.


Save the world, one pair of Pampers at a time

Elon Musk, the billionaire entrepreneur, has issued a stern warning to the world. If we don’t start having more children, he says, civilization will collapse.

I fear he is quite right. Yes, the world’s population has never been higher. But for years the birth rate has been falling almost everywhere. As the proportion of older people increases, the proportion of young people decreases. Ultimately, there will no longer be enough people of working age to subsidize retirees. So the few children we have will have to be sent to work, like the Victorian chimney sweeps.

Experts say the more educated a society, the lower its birth rate. Which suggests that the way to save civilization is to educate young people less. As it happens, Ofsted says that during the pandemic almost all children in England fell behind in school. This news may seem daunting now. But maybe two or three decades from now we’ll be grateful.

What Mr. Musk plans to do to encourage procreation among his staff, we don’t yet know. He may offer employees a bonus for each child conceived. He could even encourage office affairs. Perhaps this is the reason why our own government decided that Christmas in the office should always be held. If so, I congratulate the ministers for their forward thinking.

In my opinion, we must follow the excellent example of our Prime Minister who, according to the latest estimates, now has at least seven children. At this rate, he will save civilization on his own.


From deacon to bishop

Today is a very special day. Because it just so happens to be the 15th anniversary of perhaps the most enchanting newspaper history of our time. It is, of course, the immortal story of how a gray-haired man in long, flowing robes was allegedly observed sitting in the back seat of a stranger’s parked Mercedes, throwing children’s toys by the way. window – and, when asked to explain his actions, replied, “I am the Bishop of Southwark.” That’s what I do.

What a charming vignette it is. Evelyn Waugh would have been proud to propose it.

It is of course important to point out that the Bishop, who left Southwark in 2010, disputed the accuracy of these reports, said he had no recollection of being in the Mercedes and firmly denied being the worst for wear. Or, as he might have put it, but unfortunately it is not: “I am the Bishop of Southwark.” This is not what I do.

I understand that the former bishop may not wish to remember this period of his life. Personally, however, I think he should be proud of it. For, whatever the truth of the story, the point is that it has lifted the spirits of the whole nation. He conjured up such a wonderful image, which to this day never fails to make people smile. To me, and I am sure to millions of others, the Bishop is nothing less than a hero.

And so, in these dark and gloomy times, when we are deprived of so many other pleasures, let’s imagine this magical scene again and celebrate. Tonight, across the country, let’s raise a glass to toast this happy memory, get into the backseat of the nearest car – ideally ours – and throw the children’s toys out the window.

We are the British people. This is what we do.

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