It's a Bit of a Puzzle

  It is still very windy here in Orkney. I've gathered up a dozen snapped-off daffodils this morning. The lid of the compost bin has broken in bits. I've gathered up some, but the rest are probably flying out to sea. With the neighbour's chickens.

Who do you suppose has Trump been having peace talks with? Iran denies it. Apparently it was with the Speaker. Is that Mr. Northern Speaker in the House of Commons?

That might account for why Tehran is so puzzled by Trump's assertion that he's had "very good talks" with someone. Got the wrong Speaker on his speed dial.

Or, wait, was it the Metatron? 

If so, it wouldn't surprise me that Trump can phone a celestial heavyweight. That would explain a lot. No doubt the Metatron would get straight on it, and issue a few instructions to Archbishop Sarah, Pope Leo, the Grand Pooh-Bah Mufti and the Chief Rabbinate to put the word out and get Hormuz open again.

This business in a residential area of Golders Green is a bad one, and no mistake.  Harakat Ashab al‑Yamin al‑Islamia (“Islamic Movement of the Companions of the Right”) have claimed the honour of burning the ambulances. Brave balaclava'd boys. 

Time for a surgical extraction of your thumb from your bum, Prime Minister. British citizens being targeted for intimidatory tactics in London. Maybe this isn't the time to be introducing anti-Islamophobia measures. Read the room, sweetheart. Count the burning ambulances.