Discontent Provider

2026 seems to have started a tad late for the chaps - but not through want of trying. They emerge from their hibernation to find things much as they were before, however. Sometimes, even a Prime Ministerial Crisis just seems like another wearisome chore, do it not? In other news, Foxy re-encounters an old flame.

Having skipped a few weeks, the chaps are back at it with some quasi-plausible excuses for their (doubtless keenly-felt) absence. This week finds them deploring their contemporaries' unsettlingly public willingness to shit all over their offspring.

Pagan pranks and pumpkins abound as the chaps in the Happy Place prepare to chill spines, curdle blood, and carefully space out jump-scares as they give themselves over to the undiluted pleasure of The Holiday Special Episode.  Sort of, anyway.

Huddled together in their somewhat chilly autumnal Happy Place, the chaps - who have never exchanged a cross word or bark - find themselves pondering how cats and kittens who are ostensibly on the same page can be at odds. It's probably for the best - the alternative is being a mindless zombie - but at the same time, it's a bit rough on those who believe in a Universal Consciousness. 

A chill that's sharper and more penetrating than anything Autumn can normally provide permeates the Happy Place this week as the chaps realise (with suitable horror) that they are - to some extent and for a moment only - in agreement with a reviled political figure. It shook them, cats and kittens - so much so that reflecting on the casual idiocy and hypocrisy of Humanity was like drinking from a pure mountain spring...

News of moles and questionable decisions by the CPS have the chaps pondering the murky world of espionage this week: is it wot it used to be? Does it matter? Would a blind folkie and a stone-deaf Lurcher make effective secret agents? These (and other questions) are answered this week - and you don't even have to hold bird-shit smeared paper over a candle to find out what's what. 

Foxy unearths a childhood memory courtesy of a President who appears to have trouble recalling what day it is this week. Consequently, the chaps find themselves considering a much-maligned pachyderm, drawing some questionable comparisons, and realising only now - in this very instant - that they missed a chance to make an Ionescu allusion that would have made them look terribly clever and well-read.

The chaps attempt to retain their much vaunted stiff upper lippery in the face of yet another end of the world that didn't happen - although take some solace in the fact that even the wildest passages in Revelation are by far from being the least believable noises being made this week. Better luck next time, eh, cats and kittens?

The chaps try their hands/paws at the Scientific Method this week by attempting to determine whether or not ignoring reality really can make it go away. It appears that it can't - but sadly, that doesn't seem to matter.

In an episode rendered unfashionably late by Foxy's pretty face requiring medical treatment, the chaps ponder the timeless cycle of Nature and the equally eternal treadmill-like grind of Human frailty and beastliness with particular reference to how quickly awful people will jump to the defence of awful people.

As the baking heat of Summer begins to retreat, the chaps retire to their Happy Place to review the season. TL:DR - they've seen better. They've seen worse too - but what kind of pessimistic scrotes would they be if they lead with that? All in all, it's been no Summer of Love - and small wonder, eh what?

As the chaps settle into the sun-dappled, grassy splendour of their Happy Place, they are comforted to no end to learn that the obvious fiction of geographical boundaries is still widely-respected. Perhaps their little nook will one day earn Internationally-recognised Statehood? If so; get ready for unregulated gambling and a blanket ban on poetry (or any other metaphor-driven art-form). 

With the shells, cluster F-bombs of the Culture War getting dangerously close to home, the chaps - like the despicable conchie cowards they are - decline to participate in the hostilities; instead, they repair to their Happy Place to consider the remarkable prospect of a Donald Trump interview wherein the POTUS seems to be making a genuine effort to come across as only around 20% as much of a dick as usual.

With the crew being once more up to full strength, perhaps it's not to be wondered at that the chaps are feeling a mite cocky. Certainly their attitude towards the Established Order of Things could get them into a spot of trouble at Asda - but isn't that all for the best? 

Due to an injury, Discontent Provider is only about half the podcast it normally is - but one presses on, do one not? No use crying over ... Well; no use crying altogether, really - at least not in some circles. Anyway; all that aside, the Happy Place is the place to be if you're looking for a scholarly appraisal of Labour's First Year in Government.