It’s a hard life mothering Royal rug rats, but a much harder job being Allah, and inexpressibly tricky trying to evoke sympathy of you’re Meryl Streep. Yet all of these celebs seem to find time to express their views. Have Your Say is alive and well if you have nothing much to say.
The Duchess of Cambridge has opined that parenting is tough. Especially if your son is going to be next but one after Prince Charles aka George VII: imagine having to prepare somebody for the appalling experience that’s going to be.
Mind you, it’s made a lot easier by the 37 flunkies, 4 spin doctors, £7million a year one gets paid, and the fact that one’s mother in law is Lillibet2.
And anyway, the chances are that her son will never be King, because in 60 year’s time we will be the English Republic….at best.
The person above even that for whom I often feel sorry is God. Being God requires you to be a headless chicken of many roles.
You are, at any given time, in everything, in the detail, moving in mysterious ways, love, great, and on our side every time we fight. And at the end of all that grind, you don’t exist. It’s a bloody hard act to keep going, let me tell you.
I mean, you don’t exist but have to be available at all times. It’s like being the ghost of the Flying Doctor.
God help us! God love us and save us! God save the Queen! God in Heaven! Rush-about-busy-busy-work-work, that’s God. Who doesn’t exist. Except that he is great, and for many people he does exist under an alias, Allah. To prove he does exist, Allah works in the minds of the mad (being in everything, an’ all) and persuades them to bomb, behead and run over people to, you know, get the word out there. Move over Jehova, Allah-Akubar!
Last year he toured France, at Christmas he was in Germany, and yesterday he was in Spain. He drives a gun-metal grey Peugeot 308 Station Wagon, registration number AA1. Interpol asks anyone who spots this ethereal chariot to immediately drive like the clappers in the opposite direction.
Here at Slog HQ we were absolutely gobsmacked, stunned and disgusted to learn that Hollywood Superstar Natalie Portman was paid only one third of what her male co-star got to star in some unmemorable piece of doodoo a few years back. Whereas TV oddball Jerk Legless pulled down $18zillion for his role in Pussy IV, Natters had to scrape by on just $6zillion. And she’s the one with the pussy.
Studio spokesperson Efram Litzt told The Slog, “Ms Portman’s pussy has never been grabbed by President Elect Trump, and so obviously that is bound to depress her valuation”.
But feminist icon Beryl Steep was outraged, informing the media that her “march with a million” against Donald Trump would include a “non-negotiable demand that this bogus President we don’t recognise lunge at Mrs Portman’s pudenda on Day One of his fake Presidency in order to set things to rights”.
Unconfirmed reports from Camp Trump suggested later that the P-E had already confirmed his eagerness to comply with the request, but they couldn’t be sure due to the excessive Presidential dribbling in action at that time.
In an unexpected move, Jeremy Corbyn intervened in the dispute to demand a cap of £14 11s 6d an hour on the salaries of all actors, and equality of earnings for LGBT thespians. When told of the development, Ms Steep asked “Who?”
Meanwhile, Waspi Überstürmbagfüherin Ivanelda Kant told the Western Mercury Gazette that she would be writing to Prime Minister Theresa Mayormaynot to suggest politely that Waspi victims be allowed to work down the mines without forgoing any further parts of their not as yet received pensions. The Gazette splashed the story on page 82.