THREE weeks ago I made a £50 bet with former leader David Cameron that the Tories would not win the election. I’m Mystic Meg, me.
However, the fact is that every single person under 30 was saying they could not vote Conservative and Twitter was a complete Tory-free zone as well.
If you so much as appeared in a blue shirt, the trolls would come at you in an apostrophe-free torrent of swearing and rage.
Then there was the North. The so- called red wall. The polls were saying it’d crumble under the weight of all the Brexiteers. But I knew different.
It’s one thing telling a pollster you’ll vote Tory, it’s quite another actually doing it.
People up North are genetically programmed to be left-wing.
And no matter how much they want to get out of the EU, they cannot stand in the booth, pencil in shaking hand, and vote Tory knowing their grandad, who worked down the pit until he died of a lung disease, would be spinning around in his grave.
On top of all this, there were millions of women who despised Boris Johnson’s underpant compass, the blatant bias of the BBC and Channel 4 and an unwritten law which says that all celebrities must support Labour. And be vocal about it.
Absolutely everything, then, pointed to a Corbyn victory.
And yet somehow, despite all this, Labour suffered its biggest defeat for more than 80 years.
Which only goes to show just how much we all hate the useless, out-of-touch, arguably racist Jeremy Corbyn.
You could have put a goldfish up against the Tories and it would have won, but Corbyn didn’t.
He managed to do even worse than the 300-year-old Michael Foot.
So now he’s returning to his shed, where he can spend the rest of his days tending to his collection of manhole covers and his old copies of Beards And Beardmen magazines.
And Labour? Well, it must go to war. If it ever wants to win power, the moderate wing of the party must kick out all the lunatics from Momentum, fire the moron John McDonnell and send Diane Abbott off to the shoe shop.
They’ve just had a very firm message that Marxism is not popular in Britain.
So they must introduce a rule which bans the party from ever again campaigning on a hard-left ticket.
While they’re doing that, I must happily give David Cameron £50.
DIANE ABBOTT was plainly kept in a box in a cellar throughout the whole election process but on the big day she was allowed to visit her polling station.
Because, obviously, even she couldn’t muck that up. And then she did. Somehow she arrived in front of the world’s Press, hoping to become the next Home Secretary, in two left shoes. And they weren’t even from the same pair.
How she thought we’d trust her to run the country when she can’t even maintain discipline in her shoe cupboard is beyond me.
WILLIAM SHATNER is leaving his wife at the age of 88. Really? Because what does he think is going to happen next?
That he’ll head off down to the nearest club and dance his way into someone else’s knickers? And that he’ll spend the next year or so swinging from the chandeliers in his old Star Trek suit.
More likely, I’m afraid, this famously funny and likeable man will end up dying.
And we won’t know until neighbours phone the authorities to report the smell.
PLANS are afoot to make the food industry use labelling to tell customers how many steps they need to take to offset the fattening properties of whatever is in the bag or tin.
I can see a problem with that straight away.
Not everyone’s steps are the same.
Tourists milling about in a museum may take 10,000 steps but will burn off far less fat than someone walking home from work in the rain.
And then you have me. According to the app on my phone, I take, on average, 5,000 steps a day.
But as I walk at approximately 0.00001mph, I actually get home fatter than I was when I set off.
APPARENTLY, New Zealand’s authorities are to hold an inquiry to find out why companies were taking tourists out to an island they KNEW was a volcano.
They’ll almost certainly ban similar trips in future because they’ll work out that volcanoes are dangerous.
Which means we will no longer be able to visit Iceland or Sicily and all of Hawaii will have to be evacuated immediately.
AS the world becomes more of a global village, newsreaders are having a hard time pronouncing the names of people who’ve made waves that day. Greta Thunberg is tricky because Greta is supposed to rhyme with “later”. And in her surname the “h” is silent and there is no equivalent in the English language of the “g”. It’s just a Swedish noise.
Then you have the Kenyan chap who ran a marathon in under two hours. He’s called Eliud Kipchoge and good luck with that. I have a similar problem when hosting Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.
Gouda cheese? No idea how you’re supposed to say that. And last week, I took about four days to get former tennis player Goran Ivanisevic right. And I still didn’t manage it.
Things were much easier when I was at the BBC because they had a pronunciation department you could call to check on how stuff should be said.
I used to enjoy very much ringing them up and saying: “Hello, is that the pronounce-iation department?”
WHEN we saw recent pictures of the Royal Navy’s brand new aircraft carriers parked side by side, all of us felt a gooey sense of pride and stiffness.
But then came news that Chinese boffins have developed a ballistic missile that is fired into space and then comes down with great speed and furious anger to lay low any ship, even if it’s moving at top speed.
This means that our brand new aircraft carriers would be at the bottom of the sea before our Prime Minister has even had the time to announce we are at war.
And all our other ships.
What’s more, thanks to battlefield technology, our tanks would last about four seconds, which is about twice as long as it would take a handful of “smart” missiles to wipe out the Royal Air Force.
End result? War, as we know it, is no longer possible. And here endeth my cheery Christmas message.
HILARIOUS news from the forecourt.
A man bought a Ferrari GTO for £37million even though it had no gearbox.
He was assured by Arthur Daley that if he went ahead with the purchase, a gearbox would be found at a later date.
And he believed him!
Needless to say, the matter is now in court.
A VEGAN influencer was attacked by animal enthusiasts this week when she told her online followers she had started eating meat.
And that she’d never felt better.
Good for you, love.
Meat is not only more tasty than leaves but also it’s good for the land.
Because if you have a cow, its droppings fertilise the fields, meaning farmers don’t have to use so many chemicals.
Everyone wins.
