Richard Lutz reports on another blighted week in Old Blighty. 

It seems I’m knocking out this piece from the Planet Ga-Ga. Aka Great Britain. The past seven days make little sense. It goes something like this:

First, Britain’s Supreme Court hears allegations that Boris Johnson may have been a bit economical with la verite when it came to explaining the suspension of Parliament to Her Majesty. Hey, what’s so bad about a Prime Minister lying to a monarch, and probably the country’s most popular figure, anyway?

Then comes ex-Prime Minister David Cameron admitting on radio that he asked for the Queen’s help in defeating the Scottish referendum and she tipped her crown to that request. He confided to 55 million listeners the contents of a private conversation with the sainted royals. A real no-no as he went around the studios hawking his book.

Then came a real sleazo moment. A woman repeats her allegation she was trafficked to spend a tete a tete or two with the Duke of York. She said she was seventeen at the time. Andrew denies all. 

Well, there’s more to come on this green and pleasant land set in a silver sea. The Labour Party, waiting in the wings for a general election, is trying to oust its own deputy leader, Tom Watson. It’s using the age-old trick of dropping his deputy position so he is out of a job. Watson is the rumbustuous number two who disagrees with Corbyn on everything. The Left wants to see the back of him. Most probably to ensure it never gets into Downing Street for the next billion years. 

As for the shambling wreck that are the Tories, the titular government of this roiling divided country, enough said. Johnson creates havoc wherever he goes; even a bland photo op in a hospital children’s ward turns whacky when he denies the media is present. He says this as TV cameras whir all around him. Whaaa….?

This is a disjointed deeply broken country. In a month, we supposedly leave the EU. But nobody knows for sure. About anything. Anywhere.