WITH life this week officially perilous on both land and in space, This Reporter suggests we all make like Robinson Crusoe and escape to our very own desert island - with help from the most stealthy of swimsuits. Welcome to your weekly news and style round-up.
Let's take the plunge and yep, we've all fallen for it. Even This Reporter, by nature of writing about it, has fallen for it. Indeed, not since Winnie the Pooh built a trap for a Heffalump only to find out that he was, the Heffalump, has anyone fallen for it, quite so badly.
This Reporter is of course referring to Boris Johnson, who - to his joy - has dominated the news headlines over the past week with his comments on Burka wearing. The recovering Foreign Secretary has been damned by the equalities watchdog for his comments comparing women who don the religious garb to "bank robbers" and "letterboxes".
Prime Minister Theresa May has called for Boris to apologise, in a move Tory undertaker Jacob Rees-Mogg decries is born out of envy (one of the deadly sins he'll have you know). There has been much debate, in the fallout, about women's right to wear what they want and concerns BoJo's words could trigger hate crime (a genuine anxiety). Even Mr Bean has waded in, saying there is no need for Boris to apologise. It was not a "bad joke" but on the contrary, a "good one".
But to begin to think Boris' comments were a slip of the pen, appearing as they did in his new Telegraph column and passing through a string of editors before making publication, would be (and sorry about this, but there really is no more fitting word) naive - intended as they were, for one purpose, to get Boris back into the spotlight and vying for PM. The fact he has secured the support of right-leaning Tories and floating Kippers (or UKIP members if you will) - an added bonus.
As for what the big man himself has to say about the whole affair - absolutely nothing. He'll just offer you a cup of tea.
President Donald Trump this week - not content to run amok and threaten to blow things up on earth - appears to be channelling his inner Buzz Lightyear, by setting up a "Space Force" as the official sixth branch of America's military. And unless This Reporter has missed something (and if she has, she doesn't overly want to retrace her steps for fear of ruining a great story) this Space Force can only be for one thing - to fight aliens.
Trump is even getting citizens involved by inviting them to help design a "Space Force" logo to go on the front of the rockets, in manner of some kind of school colouring competition. The question is when will Trump realise, he is not actually a space cadet but a mere plastic toy?
In the meanwhile, Trump was relieved to hear no tapes of him using the N-word were found at the White House following accusations by his former aide, 'that dog' Omarosa. This Reporter suggests the key word in that sentence is "found", with an encroaching echo of "yet".
Mrs May's awkwardly low curtsying is back, as she yet again bungled it up in front of Prince William, this time at a ceremony to mark 100 years since the Battle of Amiens. To This Reporter at least, it has become obvious that Prince William makes Mrs May weak at the knees.
Either that or someone just happened to whisper into her ear the revelation she had topped a poll of who would make the best Prime Minister ahead of Labour leader Jeremy "present but not actually involved" Corbyn. And that was even before wreath-gate - denoting the public are more prepared to tolerate Islamophobia in a party than anti-Semitism perhaps?
Best check-in on Brexit - and in the week we were regaled with the news David Cameron has purchased a second shepherd's hut for his holiday retreat in Cornwall, Tory MP's have taken to social media to upload photos of themselves tearing up or throwing away (steady lads) a copy of the letter Mrs May has been sending out to all those sitting on the fence over her Chequer's White Paper. In the three-page document, she attempts to "sell" her plan, saying it is by no means a concession to Brussels. Evidence suggests, Mrs May, many of your party refuse to be persuaded.
Whilst on the off chance there are any lingerers on, beyond the Eton boy's club, still convinced Brexit is a good idea, let This Reporter direct you to evidence numero 129 - the revelation Britain's richest person is leaving the UK for tax free Monaco.
Sir Jim Ratcliff, Ineos boss and pro-Brexiteer, is leaving these shores to save tax on his £21billion fortune. This is the same man who in the run-up to the referendum, said Britain would thrive outside the EU. This Reporter has picked up a distinct whiff of rat around the honesty of Sir Jim's words, so strong she is inclined to call it Roland.
This Reporter concedes legging it a viable option, and to that end suggests we all purchase the Emilia Wickstead, Rosie floral swimsuit. With its short sleeves and collar, it looks to all portents like a regular top.
Wear it, undetected, with your usual attire, ready at any given moment - the landing of justice-seeking aliens, Boris Johnson becoming PM, No Deal Brexit (all equally terrifying prospects) - to strip down to your cossie and get swimming to a desert island of your choice, where you can live out your days in contented isolation.
Just be sure to avoid any islands where Britain's great and good have been stashing their tax-free cash. Or on second thoughts...
Let's take the plunge and yep, we've all fallen for it. Even This Reporter, by nature of writing about it, has fallen for it. Indeed, not since Winnie the Pooh built a trap for a Heffalump only to find out that he was, the Heffalump, has anyone fallen for it, quite so badly.
This Reporter is of course referring to Boris Johnson, who - to his joy - has dominated the news headlines over the past week with his comments on Burka wearing. The recovering Foreign Secretary has been damned by the equalities watchdog for his comments comparing women who don the religious garb to "bank robbers" and "letterboxes".
Prime Minister Theresa May has called for Boris to apologise, in a move Tory undertaker Jacob Rees-Mogg decries is born out of envy (one of the deadly sins he'll have you know). There has been much debate, in the fallout, about women's right to wear what they want and concerns BoJo's words could trigger hate crime (a genuine anxiety). Even Mr Bean has waded in, saying there is no need for Boris to apologise. It was not a "bad joke" but on the contrary, a "good one".
But to begin to think Boris' comments were a slip of the pen, appearing as they did in his new Telegraph column and passing through a string of editors before making publication, would be (and sorry about this, but there really is no more fitting word) naive - intended as they were, for one purpose, to get Boris back into the spotlight and vying for PM. The fact he has secured the support of right-leaning Tories and floating Kippers (or UKIP members if you will) - an added bonus.
As for what the big man himself has to say about the whole affair - absolutely nothing. He'll just offer you a cup of tea.
President Donald Trump this week - not content to run amok and threaten to blow things up on earth - appears to be channelling his inner Buzz Lightyear, by setting up a "Space Force" as the official sixth branch of America's military. And unless This Reporter has missed something (and if she has, she doesn't overly want to retrace her steps for fear of ruining a great story) this Space Force can only be for one thing - to fight aliens.
Trump is even getting citizens involved by inviting them to help design a "Space Force" logo to go on the front of the rockets, in manner of some kind of school colouring competition. The question is when will Trump realise, he is not actually a space cadet but a mere plastic toy?
In the meanwhile, Trump was relieved to hear no tapes of him using the N-word were found at the White House following accusations by his former aide, 'that dog' Omarosa. This Reporter suggests the key word in that sentence is "found", with an encroaching echo of "yet".
Mrs May's awkwardly low curtsying is back, as she yet again bungled it up in front of Prince William, this time at a ceremony to mark 100 years since the Battle of Amiens. To This Reporter at least, it has become obvious that Prince William makes Mrs May weak at the knees.
Either that or someone just happened to whisper into her ear the revelation she had topped a poll of who would make the best Prime Minister ahead of Labour leader Jeremy "present but not actually involved" Corbyn. And that was even before wreath-gate - denoting the public are more prepared to tolerate Islamophobia in a party than anti-Semitism perhaps?
Best check-in on Brexit - and in the week we were regaled with the news David Cameron has purchased a second shepherd's hut for his holiday retreat in Cornwall, Tory MP's have taken to social media to upload photos of themselves tearing up or throwing away (steady lads) a copy of the letter Mrs May has been sending out to all those sitting on the fence over her Chequer's White Paper. In the three-page document, she attempts to "sell" her plan, saying it is by no means a concession to Brussels. Evidence suggests, Mrs May, many of your party refuse to be persuaded.
Whilst on the off chance there are any lingerers on, beyond the Eton boy's club, still convinced Brexit is a good idea, let This Reporter direct you to evidence numero 129 - the revelation Britain's richest person is leaving the UK for tax free Monaco.
Sir Jim Ratcliff, Ineos boss and pro-Brexiteer, is leaving these shores to save tax on his £21billion fortune. This is the same man who in the run-up to the referendum, said Britain would thrive outside the EU. This Reporter has picked up a distinct whiff of rat around the honesty of Sir Jim's words, so strong she is inclined to call it Roland.
This Reporter concedes legging it a viable option, and to that end suggests we all purchase the Emilia Wickstead, Rosie floral swimsuit. With its short sleeves and collar, it looks to all portents like a regular top.
Wear it, undetected, with your usual attire, ready at any given moment - the landing of justice-seeking aliens, Boris Johnson becoming PM, No Deal Brexit (all equally terrifying prospects) - to strip down to your cossie and get swimming to a desert island of your choice, where you can live out your days in contented isolation.
Just be sure to avoid any islands where Britain's great and good have been stashing their tax-free cash. Or on second thoughts...
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