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COULD it be? Could Liz Truss, the underdog’s underdog, roar from her hobbled start to become the greatest prime minister ever? If she does everything I say?

IT’S quite the thing for power couples like Big Dog and I to take a sabbatical. So, after three bloody hard years, we’re having a break from Downing Street.

IT’S regrettable and you should really be more mature, but sometimes there’s no denying it: you want sex.

You can hold a crocodile’s mouth shut with one hand, enabling you to give him the wanker sign with the other.

WAKING upside down, dangling from one of the abbey bells, my foot tethered to the clapper with my ceremonial velvet sash, I make a mental note.

THE patriarchy in Hollywood has denied me the chance to be a movie star, even though Cats wasn’t my fault. So I’m cutting out the middleman and putting myself in these.

IN five days, Liz Truss will become prime minister even though the country has no idea who she is. They’re meeting for the first time over tapas.

Widely regarded as the cultural capital of Ireland, this beautiful city boasts a rich history and proud identity, all of which has been entirely eclipsed by Ed Sheeran’s Galway Girl. 

FANTASIES of being forced into sex are common. Fantasies of being obligated to go down are non-existent, because the blowjob you’re guilted into pleases nobody.

Is your favourite Bond Timothy Dalton? You may be entitled to compensation.