Let’s face it, Priti Patel looks like she’s very hard work. Mind you I’ll be honest that I can’t bear listening to her anymore.

Unfortunately, it appears that there is not going to be enough evidence to dump her. And that’s a shame. It’s shocking behaviour to see in any human being.

And she is, somehow, in the Cabinet, Home Secretary indeed. Leader and role model to the country and all that. Hmm.

As expected Bertie is sticking by her. No doubt because she’s pretty of course, added to the fact that he seems to have very little marrow in his backbone.

All his chuffing along like bloody Churchill, with the fist clenching, heho jolly rugger stuff. The mugger-duffing, bumbling bravado. Do you not get the impression that that’s all there is?

And so Madamoisselle Patel will carry on being pretty and painful (at least pretty painful) and what ever else she seems to excel at.

Oh yes. Bullying.

It will be as bad as seeing slimy Salmond walk out of the High Court, somehow admonished and looking smugger than smug can be, proclaiming the brilliance of his legal team (they had to be) and going on to be all virtuous and sickeningly statesmanlike. It’s all enough to make you be very ill in the gullet.

And of course, slime-ball denied all of the accusations. As did Priti. Hmm.

But this week Trumpy has out shone them all. The man who tells us he doesn’t believe there is a climate problem, does believe he may have sprung a quick cure for the coronavirus.

Injest bleach.

Yes bleach, poison, you know that toxic stuff that cleans toilet floors.

Talk about putting yourself in a corner? That’s a howler. His only advised possible escape clause was to say that he’d said it sarcastically.

But If you listen to the clip, you know he wasn’t being sarcastic. He was incredibly sincere. And that’s pretty obvious to anyone with anything resembling a head on their shoulders.

It’s all a bit beyond belief. Even Salmond and Patel wouldn’t have dared to try and worm out of that one.

So Lord help us all.

As if the world didn’t have enough on its plate without all these jokers telling us porkers.

You have to admit it. This is nay the finest hour for humanity.

Nor for Chinese diplomacy. The arrest of the poor doctor who subsequently died of the virus is not a move you can quietly brush under the carpet amidst a global pandemic. Nor the detention of the whistleblower journalist chap. And then we can again begin to look at all the other Chinese State’s affronts to justice and freedom.

China will take it full on the chin for this and so it should.

The world is fed up with nonsense talk. We can see through it and it’s all wearing very thin indeed.

Russia with its rubbish excuses, aka lies, about the two cathedral spire loving bruisers who had a cathedral spire admiring holiday jolly in Salisbury. And now the obvious truth that they did meddle in the 2016 election.

And in America itself now with Trump’s denial of climate change and his ongoing espousals of utter nonsense.

His flagrant, damaging, dishonest rhetoric.

The world deserves better than all this.

The only constructive thing I’ve done on the writing front in three weeks is to pen an email to the editor of Golf Monthly to inform him of another way to get the chance to play Augusta, after I read his recent article on the matter.

That way is to attend St Andrews University and be awarded the Bobby Jones Scholarship, which entitles you to a year at Atlanta State University, but more importantly, a free round on Augusta National.

My mate, Donald, won the scholarship back in 1983. I unfortunately didn’t, as I wasn’t aware of its existence then which is a bit of a downer. I’m not sure I would have been awarded it anyway. Donald is quite an impressive chap. If you’re not Prince Andrew and without family connections, then being invited to join the R&A at 21, suggests something large in the arsenal of personality. And indeed yes. Donald has personality.

We set up a golf tour business in the nineties, Highlander Golf, and promoted it by travelling throughout Germany and Austria in his old VW Golf, and knocking on the doors of unsuspecting golf clubs. We even took German lessons of which the only real upshot was Donald’s brief fling with our lovely tutor. Everything else was a bit of a verb’s bottom. Verboten and forgotten.

Anyway fun times looking back.

It was nice of the editor of Golf Monthly, Michael Harris, to respond to my email and look at my website.

But no job offer as of yet.

Funny that.

I expect he’s waiting till this Covid thing washes through, so he can get my contract sorted out, and we can have a bit of a lush lunch and maybe a few holes and all that.

Yes it’s gobsmacking that the Calderwood lady went up, with her husband, to their pad in Elie two weekends in a row (sorry but I don’t differentiate between Elie and Earlsferry, but maybe I’m not cognisant of a Gullane and Gillane thing going on here?)

Anyway, it’s gobsmacking because as the country’s chief medical officer she was the authoritative national face in telling everyone else to stay put in their primary homes.

And let’s not forget that her husband, a retired Colonel, went along with it (well I presume he did because he was up there with her).

But also crazy is the fact that the brilliant lawyer Gordon Jackson (Alex Salmond’s adjective) was voicing the names of two of his accusers in a ScotRail carriage between Glasgow and Edinburgh and during the trial. The Dean of the bloody Faculty of Advocates! QC and a’that.

In the space of two weeks, two heads of two of the pillars of our country’s esteemed and bedrock professional establishments, woefully and stratosphericically fall short in their behaviour. And at fundamental levels too. Leaving aside the retired Colonel bloke. We don’t want to bring the military in.

But what was Nicola Sturgeon playing at?

It was surely obvious that the chief medical officer’s position was untenable at the least. Give her another chance? I’m rather sure she didn’t want another chance (in fact I’m sure the thought of a quiet life in Earlsferry is rather appealing at the moment).

This was surely too mortifying for anyone, except maybe some mortal with a skin as thick as that of the incumbent President of the United States of America. But we know that’s not for real.

And Nicola should have got that.

It makes you wonder what soft hand she may have played with respect to the Alex Salmond accusations and how much she brushed aside, let off, there?

Anyway I would say she’s now been dealt a huge body blow.

Just like Donald across the water, whose looking decidedly flapped out by all this.

Surely now fair game, mask or no mask.

Now where is the orange sauce?