John Gibson: Wonder if Robert got my card?

How cruel could you get? If only we can take matron’s word for it, Robert Mugabe (rantin’ Robbie to his criminal cohorts), was drawing his last breath in a hospital bed in Singapore. The dreaded prostate cancer.

He was yet to receive my get well card, presumably delayed in the post. For ever, hopefully. They flew him to Singapore by private jet. For private treatment.

A monster by any standard. Mugabe’s death would not be mourned by many in Zimbabwe. Indeed, many would celebrate it.

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Talking cruelty, watching the BBC trailers for the new Matt Lucas series has been torture enough. Designed for viewers with nowt between the ears.

For viewers addicted to another concoction financed by the money-to-burn BBC, the hapless Pointless.

Afterwords . .

. . . from the Chic Murray fund of funnies: “We’d got stained glass windows in our house. It’s those damned pigeons.”

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