American Bosses and an Abigail.

I see the latest little sledgehammer-and-egg tactic to float up from the American sewerage system is the requirement for visa applicants to provide details of their social media accounts. Well, that’s just another one of Mr Pea-Brain’s attempts to rule America by fear, and is nothing more than one has come to expect now that America is Great again. What I really don’t understand is why the hell anybody would want to go to America in its present condition.

And since I mention eggs, I’m waiting to see just how many of them get thrown at a certain American politician when he makes his state visit. What surprises me a little is why a state of emergency hasn’t been declared in Britain and the sale of eggs banned to anyone between the ages of five and eighty five. Or maybe it has. I don’t buy eggs.

As for the straw-haired loon’s endorsement of our very own straw-haired loon, Boris Johnson, in the Tory Party leadership contest, may I paraphrase a line from Harry Potter:

The people of the United Kingdom send their compliments to President Trump, and ask him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.

And while I’m on the subject of America, I think I mentioned that I’ve finished Season 7 of House and won’t get Season 8 until tomorrow (that’s if Mel remembers to bring it with her.) I really can’t wait to see what’s happening to my favourite American. The last I saw of him he was limping happily along a palm-fringed beach somewhere or other, having attracted an arrest warrant and become Public Enemy No. 1 in consequence of having driven his car into his boss’s living room.

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But here’s today’s nice news: I got a reply to one of my YouTube comments from an oboe player called Abigail. Isn’t that splendid? She even agreed with me.