Telling the country to enjoy the heat while it burns, you have to wonder if Tice has lost all sense of reality
These are the doggiest of dog days. Times when hours turn into days and almost nothing happens in between. Days of precious R&R, when only a few politicians venture out, and then only to fend off accusations they are doing next to nothing and prove they are still alive. Much like the rest of us. The silliest days of the silly season. Days that are made for men like Richard Tice.
There are some politicians who have the gift of sounding as if they know what they are talking about. There are those who you suspect are bullshitting but still give the benefit of the doubt. Then there are the ones you only have to look at to know they are completely clueless in every way. Never within the same postcode as plausibility. A walking miracle because somehow they have managed to persuade their party association and constituency voters that what they really need is someone who is visibly dim and incompetent. August gives us space to celebrate these men and women. None more so than Dicky. The apex male of stupidity. The idiot’s idiot.
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