Brand Loyalty


This is going to be, without doubt, the most controversial thing I have ever said on here (at least until I write about immigration later this week).


I quite like Russell Brand.

I know, this is risking the scorn of literally millions of right-thinking folk, but there it is.

I should immediately caveat this outrageous statement by adding that I also think he’s a bit of a nob. Of course he is. He says so himself, frequently.

But that doesn’t stop me liking him, even being extremely fond of him. I like (many) of the things he says, I enjoy listening to the way he says them. I like his outlook on things, and I think he’s sincere.

I first saw him performing about a decade ago at a fundraiser for the Campaign Against the Arms Trade. I had never seen him before, not being a big one for the telly; but I was impressed. He was articulate, self-deprecating and quite clearly passionately committed to change.

I don’t really intend this to be a full defence of Brand – that would take a long time. Buy me a pint and I am happy to do so – though it’s fair to say he’s not asking for a defence.

But I do think that Brand is perhaps the most misquoted and misrepresented man since Marx.

Reading the sometimes baffling reviews of his book this last week, I kept thinking of the line from the beginning of The Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams:

‘Nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change’  – it seems we are all lining up  pretty gleefully, to crucify this man for saying some pretty obvious things.

Glaringly obvious and yet mostly unsaid or unacknowledged, at least in the mainstream media.

Brand says – this is an emergency.

The current political system is not fit for purpose and works in favour of no one but a tiny elite.

Democracy has not produced a system that represents ordinary people. Instead we have this neoliberal, capitalism-on-acid world of technicolour inequalities and catastrophic ecological meltdown.

The current system has made the world a dangerous, brutal place to live.

It’s time to change it and replace it with a system that allows for cooperation, collectivism, more immediate democracy, taking the corruption out of the political system and returning the balance of power to where it belongs and from where it originates – with the people.

That is all pretty clearly stated and set out, with some proposed, fairly specific solutions.

Yet the reviews, for the most part, don’t seem to engage with this central argument at all.

Well, leaving aside the (perhaps dubious) style – there’s a lot of substance in what he says.

Seriously, does anyone really think that the current democratic system serves the electorate?

I was brought up to revere the martyrs of Peterloo and Emily Davison, people who truly were willing to give everything for democracy and freedom. But today as I was dressing Sparkly Daughter in her Emmeline Pankhurst costume for Famous Person Day, this is what I thought:

Thanks Emmeline for having a feeding tube shoved down your throat, thanks and all that, but Russell’s right – voting doesn’t change too much, at least in the UK and the US. We’ve got the vote, but we still don’t have the power.

Brand says – the electoral market is rigged in favour of big business and particularly multi-national corporations; the media perpetuates a consensus that is breathtakingly narrow.

(The great UKIP earthquake has meant that you can now have corporatism, pinkish corporatism, or corporatism with candidates who say ‘Bongo Bongo Land’ and ‘Ting Tongs’.)

A climate where ‘austerity’ requires great sacrifices by the poor and powerless, but trillions can be found to bail out the largest banks to provide bonuses. There are countless examples of this in his book – and everywhere really, if you care to look.

This rigged system has led to gross, obscene inequalities – like the 85 oligarchs that Oxfam says hold more wealth than 3 ½ billion poorest people in the world.

Or the fact that the richest 1% of the UK population have as much as the poorest 55%.

Brand thinks this is a crime against humanity. I agree with him.

Of course Brand isn’t the only person saying this – Owen Jones, the George Formby of the Left, characterises this as ‘socialism for the rich, capitalism for the poor’. Banks get bailed out with trillions of our money, while ordinary people have their mortgages foreclosed, and end up relying on food banks

He’s right, too.

We are more used to seeing the privileged these days slagging off the poor, mocking them and deriding them as feckless and pointless.

Edwina Currie, screeching repeatedly on Channel 4 at an unemployed woman with mental health issues ‘Get a job, get a job, get a job.’ Churches and charities who attempt to set right the caricature of the feckless benefits-waster are shouted down and told to ‘get back to their knitting’. And we join in, gleefully, in programmes such as Benefits Street and Jeremy Kyle.

In a week when Griff Rhys Jones complained that Labour’s proposed mansion tax would make him leave the country – well it’s a welcome contrast isn’t it? Brand is pretty much the only mainstream celebrity willing and able to articulate the injustices and the inequalities in a way that gets him (and the issues) into the spotlight.

We have been sold the idea that making the most money possible is some sort of moral imperative – but it’s not. In this neo-liberal gaga-land, the only things that matter can be measured in GDP.

At least under feudalism the powerful had a duty, a responsibility to their tenants. Now they are evicted for all sorts of spurious reasons with what passes for ‘morality’ in these late stages of hypercapitalism – ‘there’s nothing we could do, we have to do what’s most profitable’:

There is nothing inevitable about this way of running things. And it could change, and it should – that’s what Brand says, and I agree with him.

The second key strand of his argument is that this broken system is not making anyone happy or even content. In fact, we’re pretty miserable most of the time.

He uses his own (often seedy) life as an extended metaphor for the emptiness of much of modern life. He talks with honesty about his own attempts to fill the emptiness at the core of himself with a variety of pointless and unsatisfying solutions – drugs, food, drink, promiscuous sex, clothes, fame.

So – how about a different way? How about we think about happiness and togetherness and community and start to value those instead? Again, I honestly don’t see this is a particularly radical idea.

His message isn’t profound – it’s so obvious as to be almost banal. This stuff didn’t make him happy; he suggest that it isn’t making anyone happy, not really.

I think he’s right about this too.

The solutions offered by the consumerist culture aren’t really solutions; they are barely even distractions. They can in fact get in the way of human beings achieving any kind of peace.

The solutions he DOES offer are solid – you might not like them, but they are sincere, real and curiously old-fashioned.

Brand suggests that if you are finding the incessant buzz of the never-satisfied consumer culture too much, you might try looking within yourself, meditating to achieve calm. You might try thinking about your relationship with God or your version of God. You might try, when anxiety strikes, thinking about connecting with your place in the universe and letting go of the weight the world has placed on you.

Brand doesn’t offer himself as a leader – if he did, he’d be starting a cult. What he is suggesting that we all start taking care of ourselves, locally and directly. This suggestion is treated with horror and disbelief – of course we can’t be trusted to take care of ourselves!

I think he’s right about this too.

But I detect in much of the criticism a degree of class based snobbery – in fact it’s pretty close to the surface. He is criticised for not being ‘serious’ enough – and for being a ‘working class hero’ or (on Radio 4) ‘a working class intellectual’ – which the commentator clearly considered to be a contradiction in terms and meant he was not fit to appear on a ‘serious’ programme. He has co-opted some pretty heavyweight names on his side – Chomsky, Piketty, Klein; this decision has been characterised as ‘half-reading’ these books.

He’s also derided as naïve or like a sixth former. When I was in the sixth form, the head of sixth form told me that my left wing beliefs – workers’ rights, freedom, equality – were a symptom of my naïve youth and I would grow out of them.

Well he was wrong about that.

On the contrary, the more I see of the world, the more I see the things that need changing. I think that those who claim that the inequities of the current political system are ‘just the way things are’ and can’t be changed – they are the naïve ones.

I guess many people could have written Brand’s book. It is certainly easy enough to criticise, but it is, I think, starting a useful conversation about what needs to change.

I like Brand, I guess in the end, because he preaches peace, love, tolerance and all the good stuff that all the good people from Jesus to Ghandi have preached. And most of all he preaches the hope that hings can change.

Because things always change. Monarchies, empires, economic systems – they all rise and fall. Even Thatcher went in the end – and it was the people who in the end sent her on her way.

I hope he’s right.

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Miss out Monday – number6’s guide to the week in social media w/e 31st October 2014


Actually nothing much happened on the internet this week.

Ha ha JK LOLS not really. This week we have the usual deafening outpouring of humanity from the world wide web.

Number 6 listens so you don’t have to! So, firstly:

It was a bumper week for #nerdporn:

Firstly, Daniel Radcliffe rapping:


– and also saying sensible things about Emma Watson and the early sexualisation of girls:

Then Elle magazine (that well-known feminist magazine, in no way obsessed with rigid standards of female beauty) jostled lots of men into wearing ‘This is what a feminist looks like’ t-shirts. Now leaving aside the ethics of this, this was #nerdporn jackpot time:

Tom Hiddleston!


























Even these two looked kinda cute:




And finally, the lovely Mr Cumberbatch added to the #nerdporn vault by writing some ACTUAL nerdporn, causing half the women in the country to say ‘gosh’ very quietly.




Everyone hates Russell Brand – and I mean EVERYONE*.

Sheep on remote Welsh hillsides, that Vietcong soldier still hiding in the jungle – they all hate him. Even the Ebola virus reportedly won’t touch him with a decontamination suit.

I’m even starting to feel a bit sorry for him myself – well about as sorry as anyone can for a man with 8.5m Twitter followers, currently romantically entangled with beautiful, politically-engaged heiress Jemima Goldsmith.

My favourite moment in the swirling maelstrom of bile about Brand this week was the spat-out insult on Radio 4 as a ‘working-class intellectual’ – ye Gods, this is what happens when we start teaching the proles to read! Next minute it’s all HEGEMONY and VACUITY and ‘massive redistribution of wealth to disturb the status quo’.

NEXT WEEK – Brand gets chased out of town by a bunch of irate R4 listeners and UKIP councillors yelling – ‘he’s just not SERIOUS enough!’.

ALSO NEXT WEEK – Russell Brand’s book coincidentally #6 on Amazon chart.

A woman went for a walk through New York and put it on the internet, and then everyone talked about it all week.

(As a side bar, do you every think about how you might explain the early days of the internet to your grandchildren?

‘So, you were an internet pioneer grandma! How did you make use of this incredible capacity to communicate with anyone on the planet and have access to all the things every made and written?’

‘Um, well there was a very funny thing about cats riding on a robotic vacuum cleaner oh and we solved sexism by arguing about a woman walking through New York for ten hours!’


The film, if you haven’t seen it, showed a woman dressed in jeans and a crew neck t shirt walking around the streets of NY for ten hours and recorded all the times that men called out to her.

The comments on the original article were so predictable that they could have been (were?) written by robots – ‘she’d soon complain if no one shouted at her!’, ‘yeah, film a man doing that for 10 hours and see how many woman shout out comments to him!’, ‘oh so it’s sexual harassment to walk silently next to a woman for five minutes without speaking to her now! Bloody hell, PC gone mad!

And (my absolute favourite this) ‘what did she expect, going out in public with those ENORMOUS BREASTS!’. Yeah, this slut should definitely have left her breasts behind at home in the breast cabinet like all decent women.

The punchline to this particularly painful episode in Showing Us Everything We Already Know was that the actress in the clip received rape and death threats, proving once again how we definitely #dontneedfeminism.

Some comedian I never heard of complained that there weren’t enough UKIP supporting comedians or indeed right wing comedians at all on the telly any more.

Quite right my love, if only we could be back in the 70s and 80s with Jim Davidson doing his Chalky impression (recently homaged by Mike Read Calypso style) and Bernard Manning, who claimed that telling jokes about Pakis, N*****rs and C**ns didn’t make him a racist, because a black man once invited him to do a testimonial for him. Manning was the kind of comic that would play terrifically well at the UKIP conference:

Man says to his wife: ‘Pack your bags, I’ve won the pools.’
She says: ‘What should I pack? Something light, something warm? Where are we going?’
He says: ‘We’re going nowhere. Just pack your bags and f*** off.

This comic complained that ‘right wing’ comics like him were sidelined because of (I am not making this up) ‘ethnics’ and ‘women-posing-as-comedians’ (careful, Andrew, you might give yourself away with those kind of remarks).

Andrew should maybe try the circuit of Working Men’s Clubs and Miners’ Welfare – oh wait…

Most hilariously of all, Mr Lawrence then tried to defend his comments as somehow ‘brave’ and ‘anti-establishment’ (because we are living in a through the looking glass world where slagging of ‘ethnics’ is ‘courageous’ and demonising immigrants as causing the problems in this country can be painted as ‘courageous’).

Yeah stick it to those illegals, Andrew! Stand up for the oppressed white men!

In a similarly brave move, UKIP did their bit this week for cultural diversity by allowing Far Right activists Britain First a photo-opportunity:













Vote UKIP, get Britain First!

Then, even more bravely, used some pictures of young girls (in no way exploitatively) to try and get more votes in he PCC elections in Rochdale, part of UKIP’s brave campaign to bravely out everyone as a paedophile who doesn’t support UKIP.










Did not one of those smiling folk think – hmmm, this might be a tiny bit, er, tacky? Maybe I don’t want my smiling mug right underneath this on the internet for all eternity?

Sadly, the electorate responded to this bravely exploitative campaign by voting in the Labour representative. Probably because they’re all paedophiles. You can insert your own Bernard Manning joke here.

There are 800,000 ceramic poppies filling the moat of the Tower of London – and it is spectacular and touching and beautiful. 

For some reason, the poignant display was libelled by being described as like UKIP. The ‘logic’ of this escapes me, but I think it goes something like – if I put UKIP in this headline, it will be controversial and more people will click on it.

It is quite a sight – and everyone who sees in it experiences their own thoughts and feelings about it. To suggest that your experience, or mine, can be generalised and demeaned is crass in the extreme, and shame on such cheap journalistic tricks.











*except me – I quite like the guy. I appreciate this means that I will mean I am about to be chased out of town with pitchforks too.

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As I was young and easy

Young Dylan

Today is Dylan Thomas’ 100th birthday.

Now God knows I would have loved to have invited him round for a cup of tea and a cupcake – for Dylan I would have even cracked out the cake tin and checked the flour for mites and made him one myself, and not even my daughters get that on their birthday.

Sadly, but perhaps not surprisingly for a poet in love with the bottle, Dylan was dead long before I was born.

He never saw 40, let alone 100.

Thomas’s poetry has never been less than loved, by the public at least, in his lifetime and after. His centenary has been the subject of many events, centred around his semi-mythical writing shed. (Like many writers, he did a lot of things in his writing shed, very few of them actual writing. Thank God there was no internet in those days, or he would never have got anything done.)

In intellectual circles, though, Thomas can be treated a little sniffily. The Wikipedia entry for Thomas describes his work as ‘accessible’, which is code for ‘a bit TOO popular, often read at funerals’.

Well, whatever. I adore him. I can recite big chunks of his poetry, and often will, unprompted. It’s hard to get me to stop.

I first saw Under Milk Wood as a little girl, when my sister performed in the play at school (‘call me Dolores like they do in the stories’).

Before I saw Under Milk Wood, I was a reader. But after, I fell in love with words. Drunk on assonance, seduced by the lavish imagery. And the alliteration! Oh the alliteration.

If you have never listening to the beginning of Under Milk Wood read by Richard Burton then I envy you. I have heard it, read it, countless times and it can still make me shiver, go all goosebumply.

Back then I couldn’t have told you why Dylan’s words got so tangled round my heart. It wasn’t his rock and roll roistering reputation. I knew nothing of that back then. He was just a name on a page; he looked pretty respectable.

Now though, I can tell you why his poetry was so potent. It is that combination of sweet and sprightly melancholy, lyrical but imbued with sadness. I can tell you this because it has given me a taste for energetic sadness; for poetic, word-heavy morbidity that runs through my record collection – from The Bluetones to Johnny Flynn – and my dvd shelf.

Cheery sadness – so long Dylan and thanks for all the paradoxes.

There was something else though. Thomas wrote about ordinary people in the most passionate and compassionate of ways.

In Under Milk Wood we see his sense of the sacredness of humanity. The high point of this is the description of Bessie Big Head, the lowest and the least of the people of Milk Wood.

Look up Bessie Bighead in the White Book of Llaregyb and

you will find the few haggard rags and the one poor

glittering thread of her history laid out in pages there

with as much love and care as the lock of hair of a first

lost love. Conceived in Milk Wood, born in a barn, wrapped

in paper, left on a doorstep, bigheaded and bass-voiced

she grew in the dark until long-dead Gomer Owen kissed her

when she wasn’t looking because he was dared.

That is the beautiful tenderness at the heart of Thomas’ writing – that life is precious and must be treasured – the one poor glittering thread of her history laid out in pages there with as much love and care as the lock of hair of a first lost love.

But in the end he didn’t take any love and care with his own life, it seems. Dylan had a lot to say about death, did Dylan (hence his popularity at funerals). Like much of his writing and his life, it is contradictory, ambivalent. But mostly he thinks death can bugger off. And death caught up with him all the same, as it does with all of us.

His wife Caitlin outlasted him for many decades. She died in 1994 and on the front of the paper the next day they printed her death notice under this:

‘Listen. Time passes.’

And so it does.

Dylan Thomas portrait:

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Miss out Monday – Number 6’s guide to the week in social media


As Ferris Bueller pointed out, life moves pretty fast. And never faster, in the 4G superfast broadband free wifi 2014.

This can sometimes be a problem for the harassed blogger attempting to present her half-baked commentary on contemporary events. Especially as I am – by nature – something of a ponderer (and, what’s more, a ponderer with a full-time job, two children and a number of time consuming hobbies).

This combination has hampered my blogging habits of late, I must admit.

I will come across a news story, start to muse upon it, honing that killer opening sentence for a couple of hours. Then I do the school run, teach a few children this and that about assonance, do a bit of marking, hang some washing out.

Then 12 hours later or so, say about 11pm I log on again to start writing and LO! Hadley bloody Freeman has written something pithy about it or – even worse – the Stockport-Pixie Owen Jones has done his usually articulate magic on the subject.

And I read it, and when I read the comments and they are all ‘GOD I AM SO BORED OF ALL THIS! MOVE ON!’**

Curse those childless journalists with mornings and afternoons at their disposal.

Although to be fair, many of these pieces often read like they haven’t exactly given it a great DEAL of thought. I know, I know everyone’s a critic and writing opinion pieces is MUCH HARDER THAN IT LOOKS but this frantic pace does them no favours. Leaving aside things you read on this blog – of course!- how many times to you get to the end of a comment piece and think, Christ what the hell was the point of that?

I am looking at you, Comment is Free (which I have recently renamed, Lucky That, Because That Comment Would Have Been Poor Value In Poundland).

I think that’s the rush to get published that means that journalists have little time to reflect and say something crafted. It has to be out there *quick* – and quality suffers.

This also means that, if you aren’t online all the time (and you aren’t, are you? No one is. Except the journalists. And, at the moment, me) you can miss stuff. An entire news cycle can happen in the time it takes to recover from a hangover; and in twenty years it will be a question in a pub quiz and you will think, bugger! that was that day after Mike’s 30th when I stayed in bed all day.

So I wonder if, as a kind of public service, maybe you might like a summary of the week on line? Guaranteed comprehensive, thoroughly researched and in no way partial!

Well here it is anyway:

Everything that happened this week on social media w/e 25/10/14

UKIP released a ‘fun’ ‘charity’ single, the charity in this case being UKIP (20p in every 79p to go towards hounding immigrants and stirring up intolerance, which is an interesting use of the word charity, but that’s UKIP for ya).

The ‘singer’ Mike Read withdrew the single the very next day (see what I mean!); this means that this song lasted about the same time as his ill-fated (translation, absolutely crap) Oscar Wilde musical Oscar!*

(Though early rumours suggest that Mike Read is in line for a Breakthrough Award in the MOBO’s next year – we’re all rooting for you brother. Your struggle is our struggle.)

UKIP tried to milk this story for a little longer by claiming they had intended to donate the proceeds to the Red Cross Ebola Fund ALL ALONG (despite failing to mention this before the decision was made to withdraw the single, and despite the Red Cross not in fact having an Ebola Fund. UKIP’s marketing and PR guys must be quite an interesting bunch.)

That must have been the shortest meeting in the history of the Red Cross:

Red Cross Donations Manager  – right so I’ve called this meeting to discuss the donation by UKIP of….

Everyone in the Red Cross – (shouting) NO!!!!!!!!

Red Cross Donations Manager – right, ok let’s go down the boozer then.

Some little girls (and one boy) said the F word a LOT to make a point about sexism.

There was a fair amount of OVERWROUGHT SHOCK – mainly from lots of Americans who, it turns out, get REALLY upset about swearing.

It also turns out that Americans are pretty relaxed about whacking children with hands, sticks and indeed any available implements (even the children in this clip, who are reading from a script and I presume paid actors, hence a ‘whooping’ would seem somewhat unfair).

Fastforward to the end of the week and Americans are very much LESS upset by the fact that there have been 87 school shootings since Sandy Hook in 2012.

All of which leads me to conclude that America Is Broken ™ and on this subject, I have more to say.


UKIP have a Commonwealth Spokesman and he’s an absolute corker. Seriously if you haven’t seen this, get yourself a cup of tea and something to bite down hard on, and maybe a cushion to hide behind in the worst bits.

There are limits to the famous UKIP appeal to the disaffected working classes, and that limit is Liverpool. UKIP put up their secret weapon on BBC Question Time, the VERY SHOUTY Louise Bours and every populist knee jerk gobbet that fell from her lips was met with stony silence.

She was reduced to shouting ‘Hang the paedophiles! And police murderers!’ and still only nothing but the gentle scraping of unionised, fairly-paid tumbleweed.

(One wonders idly – if Louise Yeah She Bores Me Too and Winston Shouts-Incoherently are the acceptable face of UKIP, WHAT are the rest of them like?)


Renee Zellwegger appeared looking 10 years older than she did a short ten years ago.

Shockingly, and seriously, brace yourself for this, it seems she may have had some plastic surgery! I know, earth shattering stuff. Why would a woman reaching middle age in an industry obsessed with youth and appearance resort to surgical intervention?? It’s beyond inexplicable.

Russell Brand has become Jesus and everyone is scorning him. And we all know what happens next in that story.

Katie Hopkins said nothing this week. Nothing at all. For which relief, much thanks.

* I may have made up the exclamation mark

Ferris Bueller photo

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Done up like a Kipper

ukip-v1As those who know me in The Real Life will know, I have been laid up, off sick and generally out of action for the last few weeks. A pretty frustrating time – not least for the people close to me who have had to listen to me moaning about ALL THE EXCITING THINGS I AM NOT DOING – but one small consolation has been that I have been able to keep up to date with the way politics is going in the UK at the moment in lots of detail.

And by ‘consolation’ I of course mean ‘incredibly depressing experience’ because politics in this country is currently right down the toilet, up the U bend and lodged in the sewer behind a big plug of grease, baby wipes and half a disposable nappy. In fact British political life currently looks a bit like this FATBERG, but with Farage’s grinning face on it:

Anyway, the upside of all this is that I am now a Certified Expert of Matters Politic, having recently graduated from the University of Twitter. (Don’t worry, it’s a real qualification, not one of those fake ones you always read about in the Daily Mail. I have definitely put in the hours.)

Ask me anything! Here’s a few FAQ to get the ball rolling:

Q – Is the UKIP Calypso racist?

A – What an outrageous suggestion! Firstly, how could a white man singing in cod-‘Jamaican’ accent about the evils of immigration be considered racist? It makes no sense. Also, surely the brave championing of the calypso genre by lovable Mike Reid (self-appointed guardian of the nation’s morals since 1984) will make sales of Calypso music go through the roof! He’s like a cultural ambassador.

Moreover, I checked on the Daily Mail comments and apparently saying this is racist is like saying ‘it’s racist for a black man to sing opera’ (because white people own opera, as we all know).

Lastly, only a true genius would think of rhyming ‘misdemeanours’ and ‘vacuum cleaners’ – surely an Ivor Novello is just around the corner?

(Sidebar – was anyone else deeply disappointed that the UKIP victory song wasn’t sung by THIS Mike Read instead:?)












Q – so, if the UKIP victory song isn’t racist, then UKIP aren’t either?

A – No, absolutely not. The fact that Nigel Farage doesn’t want to live next door to Romanians or hear foreign languages on the bus just shows his softer side, his adorable vulnerability.

(If he has such a problem with foreigners, it must be a terrible trial for him to actually go to the European Parliament, or indeed his own front room, poor love. My heart goes out to him.) Also, the recent alliance with the racist, far-right, Holocaust-denying, Janusz Korwin-Mikke demonstrates Farage’s steadfast commitment to cultural diversity.

Another foreigner too – this time a Pole! How upsetting for Nige. SAD FACE. :(

Obviously there are countless other examples to UKIP’s long term commitment to embracing the full gamut of political opinions; I will leave you to peruse these at your leisure:

Q – How important is charisma in a leader?

A – Charisma is vitally important in a leader, especially leaders who wish to begin wars or lead their groups into suicide pacts or ‘coalitions with the Tories’ as they are sometimes known.

Obviously, being a charismatic leader can sometimes lead you into a spot of bother, for example when you start wars because you feel a bit grumpy and someone’s eaten the last bit of bread and you only have the crust left and everyone knows you don’t like the crust. Or when your psychiatrist keeps telling you that Charismatic is just another word for sociopath.

Q – So what is a bad leader then?

A – Oh this is easy! There are some very obvious things you can do to not be a bad leader.

Firstly you mustn’t be too passionate. Or obviously Welsh. (If you must be Welsh, you must be discreet about it.)









Or too grumpy.

gordon brown





Worst of all, you mustn’t be a grumpy man pretending to be cheery because the papers say you look too grumpy. They hate that, when you do the thing they said you should do. It’s like their worst thing:







You mustn’t be too posh.


Or too common.

images (2)






NEVER be a woman –







– unless it’s this woman.









NEVER EVER wear a jacket that looks like a working class person’s jacket, because wearing a working class person’s jacket is disrespectful in the extreme.


Being able to eat a sandwich in public without dropping anything is also incredibly important, apparently.

One of these men is a strong charismatic leader, and the other is hopeless. Can you tell which one is which, just by looking at a photo of them eating a bacon sandwich. Of course you can! Anyone could. It’s easy isn’t it? Good.




Actually there’s only two things that save you from being a bad leader. You must be able to wear this outfit.










See? don’t that lot make you feel so SAFE?? You get it now, don’t you?

And secondly –  be able to lie in a REALLY SINCERE WAY.











Q – Gosh this is confusing.

A – shhhh, don’t worry – this man will tell you who to vote for! And everything will be JUST FINE.










Q – so who will win the election next year?

A – THAT’S ALL WE HAVE TIME FOR TODAY! More of your questions tomorrow….

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