Bush-whacked!

 

BUSH-WHACKED!

I’M SURE the Land of the Free got the leader it at last deserved when big, brash Bill Clinton made it to the White House. 

Just as Ronald Reagan was upstaged by a chimp in that classic film Bedtime For Bonzo, so his wimpy successor George “Read My Lips” Bush was ousted by a man he himself recently referred to as a “bozo”. 

Clinton claimed his meteoric rise was inspired by Kennedy (and look what happened to him), but will people in years to come recall exactly where they were when this so-called “dynamic Democrat” was elected? 

 

After 12 years of Bush, either as president or vice-president, I reckon most Americans would have voted for Ronald McDonald just for a change.

But frankly, would you trust a guy who publicly admits smoking pot but insists he did not inhale? Why, that’s liking dining at the Ritz and saying you chewed the food but didn’t swallow! 

No doubt the saxophone-playing ex-Governor of Arkansas (that’s where you aim for Texas and miss) is really a decent bloke behind those Robert Redford looks and all-American smile - despite being a self-confessed fan of Elvis Presley (the Burger King of Rock ’n’ Roll).

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

STANDBY POUR L’ACTION!

MY UNFORESEEN lay-off (due to illness) has forced me for the first time to endure the dubious delights of daytime TV (well, it beats housework, I guess). 

This would seem to consist largely of tedious talk shows, sub-standard soaps (aren’t they all?) and wacky word games which channels daren’t inflict on us in the evenings. No wonder more and more mums are going back to work!

However, head and shoulders above all these shows is the French version of Gerry Anderson’s Thunderbirds, screened in five-minute episodes on Tuesdays and surely soon to become cult viewing? 

After the title there’s some classic dubbed dialogue such as “Attention, papa!” and “Qu’est ce que c’est, Virgil?” 

C’est magnifique, mes canards!

 _________________________________________________________________________ 

A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

CONTRARY to vicious rumours, Smith on Saturday is still alive and quipping and has not yet been finished off by the Dreaded Lurgy (thanks for the get-well cards, ladies). 

The recent non-appearance of this column led to speculation that Smithy had been (a) secretly running for President of the United States, or (b) assassinated by irate ET readers (at last). 

Rest assured, there’s life left in the old hack yet!

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(This column was originally published in the Northamptonshire Evening Telegraph on Saturday, 7 November, 1992)