Big Day For Gordo

If the polls go against him, whispering back benchers and unhappy cabinet colleagues might do something. Something like sending him an email suggesting it's time for him to go.

Politics is a rotten business.
The sight of the insanely chirpy Hazel Blears bombing along to the train station after handing in her viciously timed resignation letter was ghastly. There's something very nasty and slightly marbleless about the red headed biker girl. I wouldn't have her round for tea that's for sure. I get the feeling she'd be my bestist friend then prattle to the neighbours about my mirrored ceiling. Bitch.

Alan Johnson is being talked about as Brown's successor. Ex-Trades Union leader of some repute. But would I or indeed could I vote for a man who looks like a car salesman?

Sarah v Joe

I watched Governor Palin and Senator Biden in their first Vice Presidential debate and it looked to me like a Trades Union leader slugging it out the C.E.O.
The Governor was good but she needs to slow down a little, her rapid fire delivery was too much for me, she also appeared to be impatient and cold, despite the permanent smile. The Senator's delivery on the other hand was slow and methodical, he knew when to twinkle and when to go for the kill he also knew how to charm. I particularly liked the way he continually addressed the chairwoman as 'Gwen', a sweet personal touch, which I would imagine tends to work for the Senator.

Mrs Palin however didn't do the sweet and charming thing and her eyes weren't on Gwen but looking into the camera and so directly into the eyes of the American people. A shrewd if slightly cold move on Sarah's part. I loved watching this fabulous piece of political theatre and if I had to say who won the match I'd say the Senator won it. His vast experience at handling people and power shone through, whereas the Governor, although enormously successful and outstanding looked like a regular woman who couldn't believe her luck.

Badly Writen Post On Account Of A Large Bar Of Cadbury's Fruit And Nut.

I am such a good fine girl!
Tottering orf to the shops this morning, engaging in conversation with a supermarket employee gentlemen (of a certain age) who wanted to help me load my groceries in to my car and then...and then coming home to have a cheese and tomato sandwich with Monty! Could I be any better?

Er...Don't answer that.
Now, enough of this tomfoolery, I have to do things with a French Stick!
On the menu tonight: Tuna Pasta, tomato salad and garlic bread. Very quickly followed by the rapidly decaying remnants of Wednesdays Chocolate Cake. Might whack a dollop of ice cream on the top just to liven it up a bit.
The Vice-Presidential debate is being shown on the BBC Parliament channel on Sunday morning, so I will watch that whilst slobbering over a heavily buttered crumpet.
Can't wait.

I also can't wait to watch The 'X' Factor on Saturday with the slightly creepy judge Simon Cowell and the strangely alluring Irishman judge Mr Walsh. The girl judges are pretty...awful. I only take notice of male members of the panel.
Ho hum what's a girl to do?

The cabinet re-shuffle is quite dull apart from the surprising, nay extraordinary inclusion of the very slippery Peter Mandelson. He is so slimy he would put a giant worm to shame. I wonder if I cut him in half would he still wriggle and become two separate yet identical Mandelsons. Perish the thought.
Sir Ian Blair the now ex-commissioner of the Metropolitan Police has been sacked by my secret lover Mr Boris (I'm smarter than I look) Johnson. He told me over croissants what he was going to do and I said "Just Do it baby..." 'Cos I never liked him!

As you can tell I've had too much chocolate, so now I must bid you farewell and have a shower. Cos I'm all smudged!
Cheery Bye..

For me...That was....Too Karaoke! It's A No Darling!

Yikesy crikesy!

Poetry is running my life at present, been so engrossed in verse that I even forgot to hoover my employers upstairs rugs! He was not impressed. But I managed to keep my job by making him laugh. Phew!
Anyway back to today, haven't seen any of the Tory party's conference, which for me, is a first, something to do with that ex-public schoolboy Cameron. Can't stand the blighter, too smooth, too perfect and too TORY!

Now onto common stuff.
Love The 'X' Factor so much, I phoned the programme sponsors, the Carphone Warehouse and sung bloody Jingle Bells, they loved it of course and if there's any justice my singing effort will be on screen during the commercial breaks some time near Christmas. It must be my age!

Now listen here, today I'm going to be awfully busy, got to get the cat hairs orf the antimacassars and make some beef thing for tomorrow. No time for me of course, oh no, I'll have to continue deteriorating at an alarming rate, which, for a bighead like me, is so distressing. After all I only have my good looks to fall back on, because me brain is taking longer to start in the morning. And that's a worry.

On the menu today is: Something with bacon or something and a blackcurrant jelly with tinned cream. Oh dear!
Now I must dash to the best place on earth, my imagination.
Cheerio girls and boys...

I Wish I Was In Manchester

Today Gordon Brown will be addressing the assembled head nodders in the newly named 'Manchester Central', this fantastically handsome building is on a site which, in the 19th century, was called St Peter's Field, and in that space at that time people would meet to debate. And so me wonders what on earth the Labour Party is doing there?
They don't do much debating any more, well not on the telly at least. I've been watching the goings on and a duller more morose conference I have never seen, and I've watched loads.

But a few sparks might fly today because the Prime Minister is making his big speech and I can't wait to hear what the once bulky but now rapidly shrinking Scot has to say...in his defence.

Some commentators are saying it's make or break for him, I think they might be right. He has had and is indeed having a stinker of a time what with all the economic hullabaloo currently deafening us.
I wish I could leap onto a train and dash up to Manchester and then grabbing him by his tailored suit, pull the great man into a side room and then oh so tenderly impart unto him some hard won Londonite wisdom and also a fair old whack of sound economic advice, but I can't. I mean, I can't even even sort out my own fiscal affairs or get to the bottom of what makes people tick so what the country would be like in my hands is anyone's guess.
So I'm afraid Gordon will have to do without me.

However there is one thing he absolutely must do, with or without me, and that is to try and re-kindle the dying flames of the Labour party which is I'm afraid to say, currently and finally gasping its last breath, it's a bit like a once grand candle which is now fagged out and dripping its last pathetic drops onto the stately sideboards in Westminster.
In other words he's got to deliver a corker of a speech in fact it has to be finest speech of his political life, if he wants to keep his job that is.
And you know what?
I'm not sure he can do it, he speaks nicely of course but he doesn't have the table thumping qualities of a Blair or Thatcher, because time and time again he fails to woo the crowd. He can't do a Neil Kinnock and rouse his supporters with his creative uplifting rhetoric. Gordon addresses shareholder meetings and that's all.

Methinks they won't be screaming for an encore after the last words fall from his lips because he isn't a star.
No, Gordon Brown is not a star in the shimmering political firmament, he is, I'm sad to say, an insipid forty watt bulb. In the basement.

The multitude of moaning minnows on the backbenches will be hanging on every word of course, listening out and hoping for the resounding clang of a determined, triumphant and fist-punching-the-air oration from their leader.
They won't get it.
What they'll get are a few hundred well chosen words delivered in the now famous Brown drone.
What Gordon needs to do to really rally the jittery waverers is to blow their socks off with a Obamaesque speech. But Gordon isn't Barack. Gordon is er...Gordon. He doesn't do barnstorming speeches, he just talks in that heavy-thick-with-whisky type voice and shuffles around sheets of paper.
But...and there's always a but, the man is very handsome in a Heathcliffe/Rhett Butler sort of way so on that count and on account of me being a woman with a classy taste in men, I wish him well.

When Gordon preaches to the wavering multitude I'll be sat, (as they say up north) watching and listening to his homily and as I drink my tea I'll be secretly wishing that he 'does a blinder' (as we say down south).

Underneath the shy private Prime Minister I think there's an even shyer more private man.
And I love that.
Gertcha Gordon me old mate!
So from the old chair of an old romantic this is Glo Horsehound signing off.

Port and Brown Please Barman!

Here are some random thoughts on a Wednesday, I should be going shopping but I can't go out on account of my knees/hair/and chipped nail polish/lingering dreams/unclean blouses and no car.

1. Gordon Brown is the most unpopular Prime Minister since Neville Chamberlain. But his hair is gorgeous.
2. Monty is getting heavier and heavier, he jumped on my lap last night turning my legs into lolly sticks
3. Gordon Brown has to voluntarily vacate Downing St, because if he doesn't tempers will flare.
4. My poems are going from good to sublime
5. Gordon Brown is losing weight and it doesn't suit him or his suits. He is better as fat Bear Man as opposed to skinny Squirrel Man
6. Orlando Beef or Latimer Beef?
7. Gordon Brown looked tired yesterday in Stormont and he looked a bit shrivelled up. I think he needs a rest. He was never cut out to be P.M.
8. I had four and a bit Ports last night. One of them had lemonade in it and it tasted lethal and it did the trick. I lived it up a bit.
9. Gordon Brown looks like a Whisky man to me.
10. I'm looking into writing erotica because I need to write something other than poetry, emails, shopping lists and blog posts. I haven't felt this inspired for years. So now comes the hard work of checking out stuff. Got a few publishers in mind. Got a couple of storylines in mind too.
11. Gordon Brown although a tired and misplaced politician is a very handsome man.
He gets my vote but not for leading the country...

Rampant Rain and Super Soup

Most important thing of the day HAPPY BIRTHDAY 'BOO'!

It's raining as I type this and I'm thinking 'no soaking up of sunny rays for me today'.
Will be soaking up gas fumes in the kitchen instead!

On Gloria's agenda today:
*Make Minestrone soup (ideal weather for it)
*Write shopping list (I like lists...)
*Read other people's poetry (for a change)
*Watch the Republican's Convention on B.B.C. Parliament (Can't get through day without my politician fix)
*Make Chocolate cake
*Try to upload some audio. I recorded the poem I mentioned last night but something is stopping me upload it, so in between all my other activities I'll be trying to get the poem up and running.

And as it's still raining methinks a cup of very sweet tea is essential, after all tea and rain go so well together.

Munchies and Miliband

As I dribble my tea I'm looking forward to scouring the rocky roads of Southend looking for reasonably priced food. The soaring price of munchies has made me blow the dust off 'Rose Elliot's Complete Vegetarian Cookbook' I think lentils are looming.

Just heard that youthful Foreign Secretary, David Miliband (see above pic) is thinking of offering Alan Milburn the Chancellorship if he can get rid of Gordon Brown.
Hold on a min I've got to have another slurp and grab a damp flannel.

Being a political nosey parker the current climate at Westminster is doing all sorts to me, I sweat and pant when I see hordes of men in suits, often needing to be resuscitated when I clap eyes on David Davis. I'm a wreck because politics is like a drug to me. Can't get enough of it, gotta have more. Which brings me on nicely to the Duchess.
My good clean living gal is getting embroiled in local politics. Must have a chinwag about that Mrs Mayor!
Don't you laugh girly, life has a way of surprising us all. One minute we're ordinary, the next we're er...not!

Stapled to belly is a bit of paper which says:
Shops. Umbrella. Cut nails. Do Brows. Do something with a Chicken. Look out for the Mayor.

I Love The Theatre!

*Brown v Cameron yesterday? I think C. came off best, might be because he resorted to bad language in the house. The speaker Mr Martin gently reminded him to stick to asking questions. Hearing the leader of Her Majesty's Opposition use the word 'crap' was refreshing, especially when used in relation to what Brown was spewing out. So my jimjams come off to Mr C.

*I saw snippets of Mayor Johnson's press conference and he shone like a man getting is own way. His plan to put police officers on buses to deter rowdy behaviour is a great idea but how will it work in practice. Will the number 36, which my elderly parents use, be able to squeeze one more soul on board an already jam packed bus? He or she might be able to sit on Dad's knee if it gets chock-a-block. I think policemen and women on public transport is a wonderful idea I just hope there are enough coppers to go round. But well done Boris. By the way, he's standing down as M.P. for Henley, another By-Election on the cards. No probs for the Conservatives though, because Henley-on-Thames is bluer than the blue cheese.

*Going back to David Cameron for a moment, his hair looked a bit funny yesterday, he had an unusual parting which made him look like a fellow in a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta.

*Lib dem leader Nick Clegg always seems in a temper to me. He got jeered yesterday when he went off at a tangent the speaker had to grab him by his coiffure and remind him to behave.

*The House of Commons at midday on Wednesday is theatre at it's very best, there are a few dullards of course, but when I see a good performer like the Tory's Stephen Pound (see picture above)and Labour's Beast of Bolsover, Dennis Skinner, it's worth letting me omelettte get cold.

On my agenda this afternoon is the erecting of a shelf type apparatus to house some plants. Bricks will be stolen and with the addition of a couple of lengths of dodgy white melamine, I hope to make a nice little place for my tomatoes. I hope.