Forget the Grand Mess, here’s the fun stuff

There’s something a little-dispiriting about waking up one morning to find that our elected politicians are even more psychopathic, deranged and-disloyal than one had always suspected. I don’t just mean Gove and his cackling, somewhat ambitious missus. Charming though Michael undoubtedly is, and agreeably owlish in-public, I have imagined him in-darker moments standing in a blood-splattered hallway with a kitchen knife in his hand muttering over and over: ‘I did it for you, Mummy, I did it for you.’ Somehow I always thought that was in there, with Michael. No, the other lot as well, Labour; as one embittered clown after another traipsed into-Forrest Gump’s office and pretended to feel sad about resigning, with their crocodile tears and their immense and immensely misplaced hubris. All a bit depressing, frankly.

It occurred to me that you might be depressed, too. This is supposed to be the height of the silly season, with the politicians dispatched to their awful holidays — Margaret Beckett staring sadly at a canal from the window of her caravan, eating a ham sandwich, Dave’n’Sam Cam getting down to some bangin’ choons in Ibiza — and we get a chance to enjoy the fun stuff. The fun stuff that bubbles up when the politicians piss off. In fact, though the politicians haven’t pissed off, the fun stuff is all there; it’s been happening. But nobody has had a chance to revel in it because we’ve been obsessed by the Grand Mess, the hydra-headed shit-monster which has gripped Westminster. So here’s your chance to forget maniacal Brexit–related developments and enjoy the usual business of-summer. The stories that would be front-page news if it weren’t for Sarah Vine screeching out hexes over her bloody cauldron, dropping in the eye of newt etc. I hope it cheers you up a bit.

• A vaginal yeast infection is going to kill almost everybody in the world.