I never thought I’d be offering hat tips toward arch slob, horse-racing pundit and iconic bag lady of fashion, John McCririck.
But after his tribute speech at the funeral of his late friend, Robin Cook I have a sort of grudging admiration for the buffoon of the betting fraternity. He kicked off with the usual reminiscences, the little funnies and horse racing ditties of a long and friendly relationship with Cook - and their joint love of the sport of Kings. Then, oh dear, out of the blue and before you could say ‘Labour Spin Machine’ McCririck went completely off message.
Dressed head to toe in his finest suit of funereal purple and blinged out for all he was worth, and could cram onto his fat, porcine fingers, he turned his double chinned ire onto our glorious leader and his unavoidably enforced absence from the funeral of his former colleague.
Yes, good old Tony Blair, master of the illusion of indispensability – except when he is on his hols, was in absentia and not in Scotland, was too busy turning lobster red to wear mourning black.
Spontaneous applause broke out from Blair’s fellow Scotsmen crowded outside St Giles' Cathedral, Edinburgh as McCririck launched into his rant…….
"What an impressive attendance. But there is one exception and that is the nation’s leader – the Prime Minister. I believe the PM’s snub demonstrates a petty vindictiveness and moral failure, opting to continue snorkelling instead of doing his duty..
A bit of slap in the gob for one of Edinburgh’s finest there, then. But mind you, snorkelling can be a pretty intensive – you need to concentrate ….. Especially after you’ve gone to the trouble of blagging a freebee holiday aboard a luxury yacht, in a hot location somewhere so secret that for the sake of national security and the preservation of the thinning pate of the anointed one, no one knows where. The only clues we have of Blair’s holiday location is that it will be hot, it will be free, it will be a favour returned sometime in the future.
Regarding McCririck’s speech, fatty Prescott, Blair’s moronic lap dog in residence was reported to have been ‘incandescent with rage’. The sly man of Jack Straw was fuming. Gordon ‘Iago’ Brown, said nothing…. Now there’s a surprise.
What amazes me is McCririck should be surprised the glorious leader didn’t bother to turn up for the funeral. The last time Blair packed his dude shorts, sun block and strat’ was last Christmas. He didn’t come back when 350,000 souls were lost to the Boxing Day tsunami – so what chance did the relatives of Robin Cook have of the omnipotent one gracing them with his imperial presence on a dull, rainy August day in Scotland?…