Politics, whales and dyspepsia: a weekend

So, Liberal Democrat Member of Parliament Mark Oaten enjoys the company of men "Brokeback Mountain" style...

So what?

I'm completely unconcerned with whether or not Mr Oaten enjoys the pleasures of rimming, watersports, fisting - whatever- with young chaps/constituents of the pay-per-hour variety. (although I am deeply amused that he backs "Trade Justice". Oh, how unfortunate...) I'm not even particularly bothered that he's a "married father of two." Tough luck, wifey - you marry a career politician, you should expect a certain amount of deceit, and hey, the kids will love their dad, whatever (after all, Cordelia Gummer got fed spinal cord in a bap and she hasn't hacked her father to pieces yet, has she? Has she?).

No, my main concern is the sheer stupid arrogance of a man who pays for sex with men, hypocritically condemns someone else for being caught in a similarly compromising position and still stands for the rather high-profile job of being leader of his national party, fully expecting his "little secret" to remain hidden.

Now that sort of arrogance shows a degree of delusion that really is beyond the pale. He paid men for sex and expected them to keep quiet about it, knowing that the tabloid press would be waving bundles of used notes at anyone who might just have the faintest hint of scandal...
What was he expecting?I mean, really?

Oh yes, and the whale died. Somehow I had a feeling it might: it was being lined up for a guest appearance on Celebrity Big Brother and it died of shame...

(As for my dodgy tum: much better thanks. I might brave some soup later. I'll spare you any further details, but let's just say all is "quieter")