Which one’s Mutt and which one’s Jeff. God, they make our lot look brilliant.

(I’ve been missing again. Sorry. Finding it hard to shake the shingles and the lung infection. But I’m getting there.)

I hear lots of people saying that the trouble with Ireland is that we elect the wrong people.

Well, maybe we could do better.

Maybe we do have someone, yet to present themselves, who can solve the housing sand health problems.

You know, there are lots of good things about Ireland.

I won’t list them. But, generally speaking we’re doing ok, education, social welfare, treatment of pensioners and a few other areas.

We’ve an election coming. 

And I know there are some who will say that we don’t really have much of a choice when it comes to how we vote.

Mind you, the ones who shout loudest about how useless and stupid out public representatives are, always seem to vanish around polling day.

And when that day comes I will be eternally grateful that I don’t have to choose between the likes of Boris Johnson and Jeremy Corbyn.

God help them, I almost feel sorry for the Brits.

No. I DO feel sorry for them, partly because their problems are going to be our problems.

Look at the pair of them.

On one side a boorish idiot who doesn’t seem to be able to get dressed in the mornings and wanders out with the shirt hanging out and the tie crooked before starts his litany of lies for the day.

Johnson is not just accused of being a liar, his is a proven liar. And a proven philanderer.

He, apparently, isn’t sure how many children he has.

He will say anything which he believes will make him popular, back any horse he thinks will win and blather and waffle when asked a hard question.

That much he has in common with Jeremy Corbyn who has “more or less” tackled anti semitism in Labour though it still appears to thrive.

He doesn’t know where he stands on Europe and seems to want to nationalise everything in Britain which has been privatised over the decades. Admirable but fanciful. He hasn’t the foggiest where he’d get the billions to do it.

Mutt and Jeff. Laurel and Hardy. Abbott and Costello.

At least those guys were trying to be funny. 

No matter how much scorn you pile on Leo Varadkar and Micheál Martin, they aren’t, thank God, as dumb, unreliable or dishonest as the choice being offered to Britons next Friday.

I’ll be up all night watching counts.

And= believe it or not, despite our many big problems, counting our blessings.

1 thought on “Which one’s Mutt and which one’s Jeff. God, they make our lot look brilliant.

  1. gerryfloyd

    We have TweedeLee and Tweedledumber, Tweedlegunner and Tweedlegoner


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