Ray Massey
7 min readSep 5, 2022


A Tale of 2 People in 2 Democracies in 2 Countries.

We used to be Friends — The View From Britain.

Over the pond in Americay, Land of The Free, Daffy D was still trying to catch up on his paperwork. There had been way too much to read when he was in that Whitewalled house, so for most of his time he did not really read anything of any importance at all. This was for 2 reasons, and he counted them off on his Junior fingers. Firstly and most importantly, he knew he had not written anything himself so therefore whatever else there was could not be of any importance — Cognito Ergo Sum. He did not of course actually use this Latin phrase because he did not know of it. Nor did he speak Latin, but he had had some Lawyers previously who seemed to like it a lot. Well, truth be told I don’t really know Latin as a language either, but I do know what the phrase means so I can pretend to be knowledgeable without saying so. And that’s a similarity because Daffy likes to pretend he understands things too — even really difficult stuff actually. And he knows Words, lots of Words.

Whilst he was sitting there in the Egg Shaped Room he had made up something new and he was pleased about it. He had got bored with News and Newspapers thinking that they could tell it however they wanted. And, he also realised that it was annoying to have to put up with some folks ‘thinkin’ different to him and then ‘writin’ it down. So he had made up DaffyWorld. Here it was only things that came from him that were acknowledged. Otherwise they were roundly condemned as ‘Made Up’. He soon found lots of Things and People to shout this phrase about. And he found that all those little Minions would also shout it for him whenever he wanted. He did not notice that they were singing along with this because they wanted to keep the good money rolling in, Oh No. He thought, it was because they thought, it was a MAGA idea !!

And so it was if you wanted to stay in the team and on the job that he (or his Unappointed Lieutenants) had given you. And so it was that some of his Baggage Train folk finally understood the concept of: “What can be Given can also be Taken Away”.

Now that he was back home in his old chair at Okefenokee MagaLaygo he felt more comfortable. Well, as comfortable as anyone could possibly get having to sit on that spindly reproduction Louis 15th furniture that was everywhere. Slyly promoted as: Purposely handcrafted with the best WipeKleen Surface that DuPont can produce and formed from the Finest Carolingian Particle Board. He remembered that back when he was in that Egg Office he had had a bigger desk and he had had a bigger chair too, and it could spin round. However, it was a bit confusing because there were lots of phones and lots of people came in through a door that looked like the wall and spoke to him all the time, sometimes all at once. But you could always get a Coke whenever you wanted, and there was helicopter too — that was cool.

He counts off ’Secondly’ on his fingers and thinks again — then he thinks back about all that reading he avoided. He was/had been/maybe should still be/maybe will be again Mr Big of the USA so he rationalises the situation. He was supposed to read all those papers and he hadn’t quite finished doing that had he? So he made the obvious decision to bring them home with him then he could deal with them in his own time. Some of them even had notes on them to remind him of their importance — his Government has only 3 levels of classification for its documents — Confidential; Secret and Top Secret. So that made it easy, he would spread them out and get to those ones first. What on Earth could be wrong with that ?? Then he looked at all these Effing B-eye people arriving at his door wearing those neat jackets and taking his boxes back.. They had already accused him of ‘Insurrection’ whatever that was so this is just more Government harassment innit ? Maybe he could say all these things were Fake and then ignore them like he used to?

Meanwhile Americay continues to have to endure the unreal world with Daffy’s RealFakeMadeUpNews promotions still being issued even though he is now OutOfTheEggShapedRoom. He gathers like minded Big Children to him like an apostle — whilst enervating millions of others to re-arm themselves against the Proactively Patriotic Paradiddles who were obviously a major Homecoming threat to The/his Republic.

So Daffy begins to plot his far too likely, re-emergence onto the political stage whilst Anti-vaxxers, AntiAnti everything vaxxers and Covid deniers jostle for air time with Eco sceptics and Climate change ‘specialists’.

All looking to make up whatever curved stories will grab news headlines. Disappointingly it all seems to have been left to ‘Smokin Jo’ to make the obvious democratic course corrections on his own — But I fear he is trying to steer with a broken paddle.

Over here we have our own Daffy, he’s called The Boris Bombshell.

Flying across the pond we return to the remaining British Isle that is now back to being detached from Europe by the Ditch instead of being joined by a connective Seaway. Yes that’s us Brits walking away from Friends, Allies, interesting food, quirky buildings and Major Commercial markets just because some of our lifeless Oldies had a hissy fit about it being called Europe.

Anyhoo, we now have our own philanderer/Leader/Prime Minister, but our one — unlike the American with the excellent hair back in the 90’s — is not really very good at it. Our Blonde did it whilst he was in Office too — and probably in the Office as well. But its some of the previous flings that haunt him — and a famous one of these was with an American. He was finally re-snared by an English Political Party Worker and yes she is Blond. They have produced 1 or is it now 2 additional kids to add to his existing team. He has unfortunately named the first one Wilfred. Its like he is living in the previous previous Century Century. You may think that name is going to be a bit off putting to his proto friends in Kindergarten. But I expect the opposite — it will probably get him invited to all the ‘right’ homes — and then obviously offer direct entry to the better student clubs when he gets to Oxbridge. Hopefully under his own steam unlike our collection of Royals at University.

The Bombshell was asked publicly, not too long ago, how many children he actually had altogether — and spectacularly failed to be able to offer any comprehensible reply. His actual response was some thing like ‘Ah Well, Humph, phwoar, Mumble, anyway, you see’. Its now become embarrassingly noticeable that he does this quite regularly — it was probably a useful pass phrase at the Bullingdon Club annual meeting — Phwoar/Eh/What. Just before he got round to Poking The Pig.

Early in his innings, our Number One managed to put in a good period when the Health/Science Top minions were dealing effectively with the Pandemic. So he should get some credit for not Effing it up altogether. But even then the Bombshell got himself Covid infected twice and was gravely ill. Nonetheless, he still only managed to offer small thanks to our Health Service. I guess he was probably annoyed not to be able to go to an expensive Private Hospital with a better class of wine and servants, as there were too many media eyes on him already. Consequently he was forced to get better in the clutches of our excellent National Health Service.

What finally did for the Bombshell was not his endless media documented liaisons with other Blonds of the Female persuasion — no it was his stunning Upper Class arrogance, who would have thought it ??

He readily appeared on TV Lecterns alongside the Believable and Trusted Top Minions as they announced more and more restrictive measures to contain this voracious and often Terminal outbreak. Rules were made up about not leaving your house unless the Police could believe you. More rules were generated to prevent people from visiting the sick and the frail either in their own homes, homes they had been moved to, or in crowded Hospitals. Countless families endured the personal shame and embarrassment of not being able to say goodbye to loved ones before their deaths. Caustic and fervently enforced limits were placed on any form of gatherings for any reasons — especially outdoors. People thought Social Distancing was for shops until markings on footpaths began appearing everywhere.

In the midst of all this The Bombshell Privately Partied using the Governments own back garden — and he even invited people from other Offices; Other Buildings and Other Organisations. He encouraged ordinary staff members to assume that none of these restrictions should apply to them. He encouraged ordinary staff members to assume they were above all these rules and rightly so! One of his most trusted Lieutenants got in his car to drive him and his family hundreds of miles for a day out and then talked B*****ks about testing his eyes ! Finally the Blonde's cover was blown by a set of Mobile Phone Photos taken at several of his Lacunal rule neglecting socially disdainful gatherings and parties.

So the Bombshell is also out of office now — but the phantom lingers. We have outright War on our Eastern Marches, threatening many of the still fragile Ex Soviet Nations living right next to this conflict. Along with Europe we have descended into the biggest recession since the 1945 post war era. We have inflation that is just starting to gallop and its not done yet. The forecast is currently for an eye watering ‘off the known scale’ rate by this Christmas. Although there is currently a race to see who is going to replace him at the trough. You would think that any Politician might see that Leadership and Representation are still needed on the National stage. But our Blonde decided that this was not for him and was in fact a good enough excuse to go off on an extended Holiday in Greece. Hope the Greeks enjoyed his company?

Meanwhile the replacement has been announced today — its Thatcher risen again. God Help Us All.

Be Well



Ray Massey

Intelligent, sensitive, humorous writer — new to this stuff. Offering life comments and observations from a Grumpy Old Man.