To hell in a (high priced) handbag

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By Henry Shires

Is it just me or is “H” an angry letter?

HELL, HITLER, HATE for starters. Hezbollah and Hamas for seconds.

But then of course there are also “happiness” and “hope”. And “hamsters”.

To which I would have to reply – Pauline Hanson, homophobia and Hampton’s Got Talent (wisely cancelled after only the very first pre-production meeting!).

A bit of an inbetweenie is, or are, Hipsters.

On the one hand they are ubiquitous, uniform and up themselves. But on the other hand, we have been keeping two (snared via AirBnB) in our micro garden shed for a couple of years. And have found them to be an excellent alternative to hamsters as pets. Although their constant diet of artisanal grass fed food products does make them relatively expensive, their beards are now wonderfully lustrous to the touch due to a daily post shampoo-rinse of filtered water diluted Bragg’s Organic Apple Cider Vinegar.

One “hatful of hallow”, to quote the Greatest Living Englishman “Sir” Morrissey of Salford – coming out this summer (and you thought he did that years ago – oh no missus!) – is Donald Trump. Or The Donald. Or as I prefer, simply The Dump! If he forwent the comb-over he would be a red headed, red faced Colonel Kurtz from Apocalypse Now. Without any of Marlon Brando’s intellectual weight or gravitas.

Or, if you are more of a Kubrick fan, the Major T.J “King” Kong (played by the genuinely named actor Slim Pickens) in Dr Strangelove or ‘How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb”. Who ends up riding the atom bomb all the way to its terrible destination. Ultimately out of sheer gung-ho bigotry and idiocy.

But, all I can say in closing is that, if he becomes the Prez, with his finger squarely on the button, if not the pulse of either his electorate, or even basic humanity, then when the Donald inevitably goes completely quackers…you’d better DUCK!

I am currently planning to continue the tradition commenced in the last issue of getting an Apocalypse Now reference into every one of my columns.

From now until you either expire with boredom. Or ‘by fire, by water, sunshine, in the night time, by high ordeal, by common trial. Or in your lonely slip. Or by barbiturates’.

To paraphrase Leonard Cohen.

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