noblesse obleedinhell

 

Breezed into Aunty Teresa's full of the joys.

She looked up from the inauguration of  the new American President playing fitfully on the TV.

Normally I'd enjoy such footage, ie the preening leftie TV pseuds of bankrupt media groups doing their sick parrot routine over an election result they don't like but for some reason this year my heart isn't in it.

"Oh not this," I said.

"What's wrong with you? Your man got in," mused Aunty Teresa brightly.

I sighed, a deep soulful one from central casting.

Presently the words came.

"It matters not what I say or write about Mr Trump," I intoned warmly. "People still insist I'm his greatest supporter. They'll probably write it on my tomb stone. Heeler The Peeler... Trump Supporter... Hic Iacet."

Hic Iacet indeed bold readers which of course is Latin for: "Sorry. I've been drinking and spilt some on my jacket."