Is there any point me blogging on the latest rubbish that passes for political debate in the UK at the moment? Is not the ridiculousness of it all so obvious that nothing needs to be said? Boris Johnson may or may not have touched the knee of a fellow journalist at a raucous boozy Spectator lunch decades ago. This is is biggest political headline at the moment. Isn’t that what journalists do at raucous boozy lunches? Didn’t that used to be half the point of being a journalist or columnist or reviewer in London? That you could get sloshed at lunchtime and have affairs with fabulous colleagues?
Who the hell cares whether or not Boris Johnson once made a pass at a piss-up in his younger days? In my younger days plenty of women groped my thigh under the table at boozy get-togethers (and a few men have tried it on too). Should I be writing to their employers demanding they be sacked?
My advice is: don’t make a pass at a woman who enjoys the sound of her own self-righteousness more than she enjoys sex.