Screaming blue merde for 1,000 years, I give you: The perpetually petulant French

 THEY used to say there were only two things you could be sure of in this life – death and taxes.

Well, you can add another to that dismal list. You can always be sure that in whatever situation, the French will act with petulance and bad faith.

We’ve learned, over these past thousand years, that’s just how they are. The perennial losers. Always bitter, always hysterical, always determined to do Britain down.

We’ve just discovered the hopeless President Emmanuel Macron effectively STOLE nearly five million Covid vaccines from Britain earlier this year.

These were AstraZeneca vaccines manufactured at the Halix site in the Netherlands. They were destined for British people. But Macron had them diverted to France and the EU.

He connived with European Union chiefs to make sure that we lost those vaccines.

A British government source described his actions as “out-rageous” and “an act of war”. Why he did it is obvious. France, like the rest of the EU, was miles behind in getting its people vaccinated.

That’s because the EU was so bureaucratic it took them months and months to approve the vaccines. Which is just one reason why we left the awful institution.

Fishing licences

Macron was getting a lot of stick from the perpetually furious French. They looked over the Channel and saw our hugely successful vaccines rollout — when they had just about managed to vax an elderly bloke called Rene or something.

So Macron nicked our drugs, pure and simple. British people might well have died as a consequence of that.

Then there’s the fish. Ooh, the French have got themselves worked up into a right old paddy about that.

Not content with having one of the longest coastlines in Europe, they are demanding more and more access to our fishing waters.

Their half-witted government minister Clement Beaune has been rattling his puny sabre. He said of us: “They think they can live on their own and badmouth Europe as well. And because it doesn’t work, they indulge in one-upmanship, and in an aggressive way.”

They don’t like the fact we are now a free and independent state and can do what the hell we like.

They don’t like the fact we are now a free and independent state and can do what the hell we like.

That sticks in Beaune’s craw, just like a semi-digested bit of garlic. If more French fishermen don’t get their licences sorted out, France will cut off the UK’s energy supplies in time for Christmas, he threatened.

Just try it, you Gallic pygmy — and see what happens. Still, we should have been ready for all this. The French act with spite every time the UK is mentioned. They always have.

And you may remember their then President Charles de Gaulle vetoed us from joining the Common Market for a quarter of a century. This was after we’d given De Gaulle a safe place to live when France surrendered (as ever) to the Nazis.

And after we and the Yanks had liberated his wretched country. De Gaulle was happy to enter into a common market with the people who had destroyed France.

But not with the country that had saved its skin. So, merci beaucoup, big nose. Now the French are screaming blue merde because we’ve had the temerity to leave the dreadful EU.

Hell, you’d think they’d be glad. But no, they are driven by a relentless, corrosive envy of the proper country just 20 miles across the Channel. It was ever thus.

My mission to help the sex-mad house spiders

SEX-crazed spiders are invading our homes, I read in The Sun.

I have looked around but haven’t seen any of them yet.

I even left packets of spider condoms near the corners of the window and behind the fridge.

All unopened so far.

I don’t object to spiders coming into my house to have sex.

It’s better than them doing it outside, in full view of the general public, isn’t it?

Twitter, please go down too

SO Facebook goes down for a few hours and people suddenly find themselves having to talk to actual, real-life people for a change.

Please can the same thing happen to Twitter – except make it a month or a year.


THE real star of the Conservative conference was Ben Houchen, Mayor of the Tees Valley.

Boris is known to think very highly of the bloke.

That’s because he gets things done.

The red wall successes in the North East weren’t down to BoJo – people like Houchen had been preparing the ground for years.

Watch him. He’ll go a long way. He’s a nice chap but he also takes after his uncle.

That’s Keith Houchen, a former striker for Hartlepool. Tough as old boots.


SHAKESPEARE’S sonnet Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day? is the nation’s favourite poem, a survey has revealed.

Really? I mean, it’s OK – if you like that sort of thing.

But I suspect the vote was rigged.

Because completely ignored in the list was the poem I wrote for The Sun on Valentine’s Day a few years back.

It went: “Roses are red, Margate’s in Thanet, I’ve got a todger, the size of a planet.”

No disrespect to old Will, but I’m sure in a free vote mine would win hands down.


EVERYONE hates Insulate Britain. They’re the deranged crusties who have been blocking our motorways in the name of fighting climate change.

Some motorists physically dragged them off the road. An opinion poll said only nine per cent of the public sympathised with the protesters.

The leader of the group, Roger Hallam, said he would still block a road even if there was an ambulance taking someone to hospital.

He lives on a farm in Wales where there are six – count ’em, SIX – diesel-guzzling vehicles on his land. And his house has the worst possible energy rating.

The man is a hypocritical idiot.

If he ends up flattened like a hedgehog, then few people will lose much sleep.


COLLIE dogs are even cleverer than we thought, scientists have just discovered.

They can remember loads of stuff and work things out. Hmm. Think they’ve been looking at the wrong collies.

Fifteen minutes spent watching my half-collie try to get a large branch through a small space would change their minds.

Her cunning technique is to hold the branch in the middle. And then run at full speed towards the small space so that her teeth get knocked down her throat. Einstein she ain’t, bless her.

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