Garden

Back in the jardin anglais. So much has grown, overflown, gone out of shape in just two bare weeks of grim weather. I've been cutting back for Britain and cursing the shite Brexiteers in equal measure. The thought of Boris Johnson going to Brussels to be chummy with the institutions he has spent an opportunistic lifetime slagging off makes me virulently sick.

Tensions, however, feel lessened in the neighbourhood and I feel able to speak and chat again.

By the way, if you want to try and save the Labour Party from annhilation you can buy a vote tomorrow (monday) from 5pm until Wednesday at 5pm. See here.

And if you still think Corbyn is brilliant please read this very good article from a canny Marxist.