You’d have to say it’s surprising Radio 2 has given Richard Littlejohn a show. It’s not the station for shock jocks, unless the shock is jocks boring their listeners to death or, worse, expiring on air themselves from boredom.
Nick’s outdoor habitat is a petrol-fuelled motor. And the brakes fail on his normally balanced arguments when his inalienable, fundamental, cosmic right to drive to the corner shop for a pint of milk in the pursuit of happiness is threatened with dilution in any way.
You can’t miss that stuff in the Times about the lawless streets of Britain. Apparently the public are in fear. They’re saying the coppers have lost control. Do these people not use the Met Police website? You can now report your crime online. Take control for yourself.
Podcast: The Tory leadership contenders are all hyped up on Brexit Viagra and it’s down to a straight knob-wrestle between Boris ‘Babyfather’ Johnson and Jeremy ‘Meanwhile’ Hunt. Robin and Sean monitor the media discharge. Contains vermin.
Here’s my burning question for Theresa May: Where are your balls? You’re an outgoing Prime Minister with absolutely nothing to lose and absolutely everything to gain, including your dignity. And you do nothing!
Podcast: Donald Trump. Bloody hell. Is he the Best Ever, like he says? Or the Worst? Whatever. Are there keys to his tiny mind in his childlike Twitter feed? Is his milk being adulterated? Can he rival the Mr Men for literary complexity? Robin and Sean inspect the White House shitehouse. Contains stone-cold losers.