The good people at Displaced Nation asked me to join a motley crew of expats, repats, and otherwise displaced types to discuss Brexit and the presidential carry-ons on the far side of the pond. Gawd knows they asked me but I chucked my two-penneth in anyway. Obviously, it was a virtual panel. We didn’t actually get together to navel-gaze over our americanos, more’s the pity.
Our verdict was delivered a few days ago. Sadly, though, a few of my best lines were left out…
Back here in old Norwich, ‘to trump’ means ‘to break wind’ in local parlance. There’s definitely a whiff in the air and it ain’t pleasant. And what happens when the bad smell doesn’t deliver?
Don’t know why. Maybe Yanks just don’t like fart jokes? Anyway, you can read the full piece here.
Perking the Pansies 
It’s a whiff that is spreading world-wide. Glad I’m not a twenty year old.
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Me neither 😦
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two countries divided by a common language – Winston Churchill (another old fart)
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😀
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Oh, my. When I read the title, the first thing I tight of was Trumpski. Y are so right on.
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Thank you 😀
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Lovely bllog you have here
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Thank you.
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