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Saturday, November 23, 2024

The other Queen’s Speech

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A couple of crackers to end 2020. The year that created more confusion and cynicism than probably any other since 2019.

‘We have been informed that one’s own annus horribilis of 1992 is but a ‘walk in the park’ when set against the most recent decadis horribilis of our suffering, yet oddly compliant, subjects.

Breaking from official protocol, we can only counsel that one’s subjects would do better to ‘smell the coffee’, ignore the media ‘shitshow’ that passes for journalism in our realm, and stop voting against their own best interests.’

Emma Baker

Ain’t it been a shitter, less annus horribilis and more Rosemary West. It’s been 12 months since I came into your lives, becoming the Agony Aunt to the masses, politicians and Royalty. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in that time, it’s that you’re all as common as muck. I thought that when Liz invited me round to Buck House for a game of rummy and betted away the jewels of India, she’s got a terrible addiction, Philip has had to block Foxy Bingo on her iPad.

Looking back on the year, one can sum it in up in two words, ‘fucking kerfuffle.’ From Priti escaping her sentence for GBH for twatting Teresa on a drunken brawl in Ibiza, to Boris hiding in Trump’s bunker for the summer playing K-Plunk and finally, Prince Andrew lost in Woking, it’s been a year of incompetence. The icing on the cake came yesterday when Tesco delivered my Christmas food and had swapped the Brussel Sprouts for a widescreen tv.

It’s been a year of masks, lockdowns, and Coronation Street, all as depressing as each other. And now we have the new Christmas restrictions which will cause anxiety and joy in equal measures to so many. Personally, I’m grateful I’ve had to cancel the celebrations and tell Sheila from number 23 she can no longer come – she’s a maudlin bitch who eats the pistachios the wrong way round, she eats the shells and spits out the nuts and smells like a damp flannel. This Christmas will just be me, Fergie and the spirit of Cilla. If however, you are feeling alone this Christmas, do reach out, possibly not to a Tory, but there are far more good people than bad and it’s important we remember that.

Finally, I’d like to offer some hope for 2021, but I shan’t bother whilst Boris is still in number 10. But if you would like to buy Blanche a Christmas gin to calm her nerves after a year spent Tory bashing, you can do so for £3 here https://ko-fi.com/biscuitswithblanche

Have a very Merry Christmas and make sure you’re absolutely shit faced for New Year. Liz and I are spending it with a bottle of Harvey’s Bristol Cream and her voodoo doll of Meghan.

Merry Christmas,

Love Blanche

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