The Prime Minister’s re-presenting of her vilified “deal” for a third time, with a fourth possibly on the horizon, appears to confirm Einstein’s edict: Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Rather ripe don’t you think, considering the constant harping mantra of Brexiteers to the effect that “remainers just want to keep asking the same question until they get the reply they want”. We may not have a prime minister by the time you read this, but any hope that the replacement is going to get us anywhere is sinking faster than the Titanic. All that remains, like an audio version of the Cheshire Cat are the thundering, stupid voices of the Attorney General, Speaker John Bercow and Squeaker, Nigel Farage.

The annual equestrian event which turns the whole country into gamblers will be upon us again this Saturday, as dog food fans empty their wallets at the bookies in an attempt to predict which short, bad tempered man (or woman) can whip his (or her) steed successfully around a four-mile course whilst forcing it to jump over obstacles twice its own size. 

Now known as The Randox Health Grand National, the whole ghastly business is sponsored by a global clinical analysis company not without its own controversy. In February 2017, two Randox employees were arrested on suspicion of perverting the course of justice amid allegations of data tampering within Randox Testing Services, used by many Police Forces in England and Wales for forensic toxicology and roadside breath-tests. As of November 2017, around 50 criminal prosecutions for driving offences had been dropped in what BBC home affairs correspondent, Danny Shaw, described as “the biggest forensic science scandal in the UK for decades”. Police forces are reviewing over 10,000 criminal cases that could have been affected by the alleged data manipulation, including some sexual and violent crimes. Chief Constable James Vaughan, the National Police Chiefs Council’s lead on forensics, said he could not remember a forensic science failure “of this magnitude”. A worthy sponsor then.

Day two of the three-day gambling binge is dedicated to Ladies Day, during which Dickensian old lechers wearing binoculars and possessing very little dress sense can patronise The Ladies as they are poured from their expensive cars to pose around and drink champagne until they fall down. Because these unreconstructed dinosaurs’ only discernible talent lies in describing impractical millinery, a lot of them only work during Aintree’s most famous weekend, or on royal occasions requiring the oiliest obsequious deference. 

The deserted pier’s only sign of occupation this Mother’s Day weekend was the two red-bodied alien mannikins, which look as though they have been designed to frighten the life out of small children. You will know by the time you read this whether or not the promised reopening has taken place. Stranger things have happened at sea.

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