Colonel Moseley's Summer Awards
What ho, readers: cor what a scorcher! By the time you read this, I hope the summer weather has remained temperate with none of the vulgar extremes of last year. The Wizard of Oz doesn’t play well in Oxford Road or Stoney Lane.
Referring, however obliquely, to unleashing powerful forces of nature, did you notice the prescience of my piece on my least favourite things? Written some weeks before, I had no idea that immediately on publication Birmingham would sadly be relegated and Mr Prescott so entertainingly exposed. With some trepidation over the apparent power of my Parker fountain pen, I thought this month I would share with you my Top Ten Silly Season Awards for this summer to date:
Most apparently reluctant hostess: did you see the Queen’s expression at all those children making the pristine garden of Buckingham Palace look so terribly untidy? There goes my chance of an MBE; the Mem will not be pleased.
Most plastic: A tie between Sezer and Grace from Big Brother for their behaviour towards those labelled “freaks”. Sadly, even now they don’t understand why the great British public loathed them.
Person you would least like to sit next to on the ‘plane to Ibiza: It’s the rotund and sexist John Mc Crirrick, by a short head from Cherie Blair.
Best Big Brother housemate: it has to be Pete for his tolerance and the remark about loving people for their differences. Hopefully, he has also managed to improve understanding of Tourette’s Syndrome without losing his dignity.
Dreariest World Cup TV commentator: Mick McCarthy, by a short header from David Pleat. One begins to understand why Roy Keane was so cross.
Saddest retirement: Michael Owen. Life can bring disappointment, even when you seem to have everything
Best Wimbledon commentator: John McEnroe by a street. You cannot be serious if you think there’s any other contender.
Best TV moment: when Sir Cliff grandly rubbished his own wine. Nice one, Gordon!
Undiscovered day-time reality TV gem: Coach Party on Channel 4. It was a mobile big Brother featuring thirty days of backbiting, pettiness, bickering and tantrums: the essence of the triviality of the modern British summer.
Most deserving of retirement: you guessed it, still John Prescott…please!
My commiserations to those of you unlucky enough not to win an award this summer: to paraphrase Andy Warhol, in the future we shall all have an award for fifteen minutes, so it might be your turn next! Pip, pip!
* this piece also appeared in Birmingham 13