I’ve been having a good spell and my portfolio is bulging. Dog’s Bowl have been taking on all my ideas and have several campaigns running; and Fips’ friends have found homes for the ones they can’t or won’t take. So well has it gone in fact, that I’ve temporarily taken a couple of ideas out of my proposed novel, Malachi Finnegan Not Yet Reduxed, to sell them to other interested parties first. The best of them was Malachi’s (my) idea for pet licensing. It’s simple enough: to require dogs and cats to be licensed, like a car. That in turn brings a requirement to insure every animal. Though, instead of insurance being prohibitively expensive and providing very poor cover for events that actually befall owners and their pets – as it is now, it would become very inexpensive and comprehensive – mainly because it creates a massive and competitive market in which all the main insurers want to participate. Further, the licensing means that breeders too will be licensed, since only animals from such a breeder can be licensed to owners. It drives a few unscrupulous types underground but the RSPCA and the like can then concentrate all their resources on those few miscreants. Who doesn’t like Malachi’s Law? I am going for Dickie White, patron saint of animals. Let’s face it, Francis dropped a bollock when he signed up to the double portfolio of animals and ecology way back in 0-100 Before Covey, or whenever it was. Obviously the environment wasn’t the issue then that it has become today, but he of all people should know that a sainthood is for life not just for Christ Mass. Yes, it’s time to hand one of his portfolios over to some new blood, and putative modern-day saint, Saint Greavsie of Television, as I will request to be named, because at Beatification you must opt for a new name, like when you go to the House of Lords, or sign up for an on-line account.
Then there’s my social-lights – not a vapour cigarette, but rather a ‘soft’ match, which can be struck to rid the air of noxious methyl sulphides following a motion and the stalk disposed of like a tampon container. Both of these ideas having gained traction with junior ministers and are at the scoping stage with patent agents and IP lawyers. Oh yes, it has all been going on inside the think tank known as Wemmick.
It also has much to do with shedding the Cum-bot mask, and appearing as myself on Glasnost. Well, that and being brutally truthful with my guests. Somewhere along the way in the social media revolution, we’ve lost the art of being trenchant and uncompromising whilst avoiding gratuitously insulting behaviour, and I have tried to put that right. In some quarters, I have become the champion for the new cause. It is in fact next in my grand project for Malachi – to create Nice-Twitter. If there were an alternative to that cesspit, where anonymity was withdrawn, such that any poster could be outed personally on the platform, surely only decent people would join and the snakes would stay where they are? Well, that’s what we’re thinking. Me, Fips, and ma Homie Office Boys.
Latest on Glasnost was Phillip Schofield, flogging his awful book. We exchanged pleasantries then I couldn’t be bothered to keep up the pretence, and said, ‘it’s utter shite, isn’t it?’ I mean, listen to him talking about it.
Who would want to read that, other than urine-stained TV fodder? It was all very well saying that it was shite, but did I actually have any real criticism, you know, a professional response? Well, besides being poorly written from grammar upwards, designed only to titillate idiots, it didn’t even reach the minimum requirements for an autobiography. Why so? It was dishonest.
I talk about the LibDem MP Tim Farron. He’s always described as a devout Christian, as if that has some honour about it. Dickie White is a devout atheist – I know, I could tell, he’s got something rotten about him. I digress, the devout Christian, Tim Farron MP, before becoming the LibDem leader was against gay marriage for religious reasons. While he was leader, he changed his mind and became in favour of gay marriage, it being a LibDem policy. When he stood down as leader, he changed his mind back again, and was once more against gay marriage for religious reasons. I put it to Phillip Schofield that you can no longer trust a single word that comes out of that man’s mouth, and that if he had any sort of relationship with the truth and honesty, he’d leave public life forever and stay silent. No more than that. We, me and Phillip, do not have an enduring relationship. If he likes allegories, he should have put a few more of them into his shitty book.
I leave him with a suggestion: that next time, instead of writing a book, he should spare us that, and simply put a charity box, with his name and photograph displayed, on the counter of every book shop in the country. It would make for a more bearable route to the same outcome.
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many thanks to Curology for the image.