It was the sincere prayer of the late Duke of Edinburgh, that, following his demise, he would return to Earth s a bug or a virus and wipe out great numbers of its human population to make room for wildlife,presumably so that his own offspring and their friends would have sport shooting it.

The Duke’s last Will and Testament, unlike those of lesser mortals, stipulated that it must remain secret for 90 years after his death. If I live to be 169 perhaps I will be in the queue to read it.

The revelation that Boris Johnson opened his Downing Street garden to large numbers bringing their own booze in May 2020 infuriated those of us who followed Government orders, enforced by police, to remain virtually under house arrest, unable to visit our closest families, in good or ill-health, or in mourning.Those Government orders were quite reasonable in the circumstances. Like many others my family were unable to attend the funeral of one of the family (my wife’s sister’s husband)  in Lancashire. He didn’t die of Covid. But somehow or other Johnson seemed to be about to get away from the consequences of public anger by blaming those who served under him.(In more civilised times inviting guests to bring their own booze was regarded as the mark of a cad).

But the revelation that Bojo and his cronies were partying in Downing Street last year when the Monarch was kneeling alone in Westminster Abbey in a vigil prior to the Duke of Edinburgh’s

funeral, seems about to cook Bojo’s goose. 

I had intended to head this Blog “Transmigration of Assholes?” 

On reflection I remembered that in the scheme of things ordained by our Creator, assholes

have a useful function.

For the life of me I cannot imagine either the late Duke of Edinburgh or the current Prime Minister

competing with them.

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