How regional tokenism works

I have been on another foreign trip this week, to a place far more remote and extreme than my usual jollies, and this one was actually properly work related as well. I have been Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop North.

As you may know, BUBB has an Office of Regional Tokenism in Leeds or some such hellhole, to give the impression of true national inclusivity rather than the usual London-centric (and Oxford, naturally) focus of such things.

I feel obliged to mention members in the blog sometimes lest people forget what BUBB is actually supposed to be about. I also like to, in terms that are in no way praise by numbers or patronising, big (or Bogg) up their work. This trip to the wilds of Northernland therefore gives me the chance to gushingly extol the virtues of the "wonderful" work of some of my "amazingly talented" Northern members. Some of their brolly initiatives are are fantastic, all the more so considering that they are Northern and poor and wotnot, and operating in some of the dampest conditions known to man.

Northerners are reet canny like, proper gradely, the gear, and ruddy marvellous.

That should cover it.

Canopy Finance Group

There are rumours circulating that I was seen pushing in the queue to get into the Canopy Finance Group's (nice rebrand, guys) silver jubilee reception yesterday. The very idea that I would do whatever it takes to gain access to the House of Lords is entirely without foundation. And when I say without I do of course mean with.

So much competition it is literally beginning to hurt

This whole health service bill has been wonderful. Never mind the fierce arguments raging on the battleground of ideology, the impassioned debates about an incredibly emotive and vital issue that goes to the very core of our society. That's all mere trifle to the main pudding here.

It has right boosted my profile.

I am being mentioned in places I would never previously have had exposure in. In what can be painted as a struggle between the left and the right I have somehow managed to unite both sides of the political spectrum.

Competition in the NHS? It's a great thing and never better illustrated than by the race from all sides to ridicule me in print.

After Crispin Shitts' nonsense in the Fail the other day, now the Morning Star has come out and called me an "ever eager privatiser" and one of Cameron's "NHS vandals".

This is brilliant. While as a brollinger bolshevik the Morning Star is a little bit too pint of bitter for me it illustrates just how far my fame is spreading. In fact if I get pulled any further in different directions I may need to see a doctor.

I must finally be doing something right if I have been slagged off by the Daily Mail

Did you see it? Everyone's favourite right wing complete arse of a columnist who isn't Richard Littlejohn. Or Melanie Phillips. Or Jan Moir. Or Jeremy Clarkson. Or any of the countless others, Crispin Shitts, has written about me in the Daily Fail.

"Among those attending David Cameron’s health ‘summit’ in Downing Street this week was the richly comic figure of Sir Robin Bogg, a ‘Brolly Sector’ schmoozer who has wormed his way into Whitehall and writes a Pooterish blog which almost defies satire.

‘Bogglet’, as he is known, loves to make politicians feel comfortable in the presence of esteemed beings such as his good self. What a shiny button he is! And the ultimate gampagne socialist. One of his recent blogs is positively poetic about the beneficial blessings of premier cru gampagne."

Firstly I have never been known as Bogglet. Then he says "schmoozer" and "wormed his way in" and "gampagne socialist" as if they are bad things. I am proud to be known for such things, it is what I do.

And my blog defies satire does it? He should try reading my spoofer Sir Stephen Bubb's (see here for his brilliant parody of Shitts' shite, just after his toss about George Carey).

The ultimate irony of course is that someone with a track record of outrageous, self serving writing as Shitts should take me to task for the same. If he's not careful I shall do what I always do when something angers me - write a sternly worded epistle to the Times. And if he really riles me I shall invoke the wisdom of a Russian to tenuously back up my arguments. Either Catherine the Great or Trotsky. Or maybe whoever ordered Markov's killing.

As ever my enemies would do well to remember Markov (click here). You don't hear much of Dylan Twirley these days do you, eh?

Fur lined umbrellas

I have a message for Edward Martins, chief executive of Julia's Hospice. He made some quip in Brolly Weekly about me and fur lined umbrellas or brolly bikinis (brollinis) or something. If he wants saucy pictures of me, he only has to ask. Though I am saving my fur lined bikini for a special occasion - such as my investiture at the House of Lords. My sequinned ermine 2 piece is to die for. In the meantime, how about these?

Health worries

I almost regret offering to write MY report on competition in the NHS for Dave. The amount of abuse and hassle it has caused is definitely bad for my health. As I keep saying, competition is not a dirty word. Arsetwattingcockwittedegotism is. But not competition. Competition should be encouraged in the NHS. Unless that principle is extended to rational debate in which case opponents of what I say should be silenced or slagged off. Take note Shirley Williams.

Fortunately the plus side of being invited to Number 10 yesterday to schmooooooooze far outweighs the negative reaction I have had from people, including BUBB members who are questioning my integrity by assuming to speak on behalf of all umbrellas in this debate, even those who disagree with the NHS reforms because of the adverse reaction it will have on their beneficiaries.

The meeting yesterday was called by David Cameron and was about marmite. Only people who love marmite were invited. Their views were then taken as evidence that everyone loves marmite.

As Cameron said afterwards "there are a few myths we need to bust about the NHS. Such as the one about us saying we'd preserve it."

Still it could be worse. Pity the health of the poor sods who attended an evening with Sir Robin Bogg in Kent at the weekend, back in the village I was born in. Yes, that's not a typo - I am Kent through and through, so much so that people often shout Kent at me as I walk down the street. While meeting up with relatives I was able to display my amazing capacity for hypocrisy by accepting champagne from one of the bankers I routinely lay into on my blog. Probably paid for by the bonuses I decry. Gampagne socialism once again.

Perhaps I should give up talking about health service issues for Lent for the good of my health. What I won't be giving up is all of the cosy lunches I keep being invited to. Or my traditional sanctimonious blog post about what I am giving up for Lent followed by some guff about heading to a church on Ash Wednesday to get my forehead smudged. I haven't written it yet but rest assured I will. Or if you can't wait then just look back at the last 458 years on my blog as it won't change much I expect.

Youthful promise

BUBB has launched its excellent (cos we say it is, so there) report into the growing problem of a generation of young umbrellas being unemployed and cast onto the spoke-heap. The Commission behind this report was chaired by Rabid Megagrand MP, an apt choice. No one knows better than him the pain and damage that can result from not being rewarded with a job that fulfils your dreams and youthful promise.

NOTE: No young unemployed people were harmed, or even employed in the production of this report.