Britain's politicians are redefining the phrase 'running for office'
Excitement is building amongst the running fraternity here in Llanyllanllan. The annual fun run (though quite what's fun about running 13.1 miles) is looming and us joggers are getting up to speed with our training.
Not that you'd know it. Most of us tend to keep a low profile, what with our middle-age spreads, gravitationally-challenged bottoms and varicose-veined legs. And that's just the 'younger' set.
No, we stick to quiet country lanes and cover up with generously proportioned rainproof running jackets and jogging 'pants'. Throw in the hats, glasses, gloves, sweatbands and neck Buffs and you're likely to glimpse more flesh beneath a burqa.
So tell me, why can't the same be said of our politicians? Every time you turn on the news these days they're either dashing out of their London townhouses looking like a demented, half-naked Mr Blobby at the start of a marathon, or returning drenched in sweat, moobs jiggling in every direction as they just about manage a gasping "good morning" to reporters asking whether they think increasing the higher-rate tax band is likely to improve productivity in the workplace or is just a giveaway for millionaires.
As wet t-shirt competitions go, it's enough to put you off your Weetabix.
Do they have no shame? Do they not have their own personal gyms to wobble their wibbly bits in? Of course they do. It's just that they want to be seen to be 'fit for purpose', as evidenced by Magic Grandpa Corbyn suddenly appearing in an outdoor gym (?!) in Islington a couple of days after unnamed civil servants had all but read him the last writes.
As for 'our next prime minister', with all three of the remaining trio in the race taking to the streets displaying various forms of ungainly stagger of late, perhaps the injustice of the result being decided by a mere 160,000 members of the Conservative and Unionist Party could've been avoided had the 1922 Committee simply dragged them down to the Olympic Stadium and decided the matter over 10,000m.
With Theresa May brandishing the starting pistol...
A mutton for punishment, Black Sheep welcomes all comments. Email email@example.com to air your points of view. You can also read Black Sheep in Welsh Border Life every month
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