The BIG Question

I watched Question Time last night. I know I shouldn't but sometimes I forget and I just sort of stumble in. Before I know it I'm alternately chuckling and swearing, shouting at the audience of gimp-featured loons and muttering unrepeatable threats towards half the biased and deluded panel.

Of course there was the obligatory spotty child in the audience challenging the government from the high ground of her having studied economics at AS Level. And at one point there was a Canadian hippy calling out for love and peace or something - I didn't catch his drift, man, I was too busy laughing at his hair. Nice comic touch, BBC.

Otherwise it was most enjoyable, with a fine performance from Michael Gove and much backing from audience and panel alike for his unflappable  sensible straight talking. But I was most alarmed to find that Gordon Brown had been smuggled in. I thought he was happily retired to his dacha on the banks of the Volga; reward for his services to the Soviet master plan. But no, there he was, large as life in a big daft wig and calling himself Emily Thornbury. He was fooling no-one.

Gordon Thornbury-Emily-Brown

Nobody else could so effortlessly be that belligerent, ill-informed, pompous and just downright offensive. But at least we should be thankful for small mercies. It could have been worse, it could have been an Ed.