You’d see all that commotion the other day over the Kids Company charity.
Camila Batmanghelidjh, boss of said organisation, was hauled up along with chairman of the trust Alan Yentob and together were asked to explain what had happened to a £3 million government grant.
The entire affair was a mess, as was the lovely Camila in her garish garb, dressed like a bunch of over-ripe bananas. She was ridiculed by MPs for a “non-stop spiel of psychobabble” and a “torrent of verbal ectoplasm”.
Kids Company folded in August after Scotland Yard announced an investigation into claims that the charity had failed to report allegations of sex assault at its centres in Bristol, Liverpool and London.
What a helluva mess Camila whatshername makes, and that is without Yentob sitting next to her – although they do make a lovely couple.
Huw’s at Ten
I’ve nothing against the Welsh. I’ll even sing you a chorus or two of We’ll Keep A Welcome. Tell you something, I once queued for Harry Secombe’s autograph, but never anything by Max Boyce. But I’m getting to the point, give me a break.
Of all the newscasters, Huw Edwards niggles me most. Because Huw, every time he’s on, makes me nervous. It’s his particular style, always seeming to have everything not quite under control. Always the shifty eyes on a sheaf of papers littering his desk, as was the case the other night when he had to deal with a couple who’d suffered several miscarriages.
I well realise I’m nit-picking, but Huw, sometimes you’ve got me as jumpy as you are.