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David Cameron's legs.
This article made my day when it was published last week. It's just hilariously pointless.
From the Daily Mail, by Jan Moir.
David Cameron has the most annoying legs in British politics. In fact, the Tory leader has the most annoying legs in Britain, full stop.
His ankles are as prettily turned as a showgirl's. His knees are too shapely. Above them, like great crags of sinew, lurks the beefy heft of the Cameron thighs. Ug, ug, ug.
Yet worst of all are his calves. Oh God, how I hate those smug calves! There is something about the Tory leader's hideous orbs of compressed, calfy muscle - testament to a cycling habit that keeps him in favour with the eco-nuts - that makes me want to beat them black and blue with a bicycle pump.
Perhaps I would hate Gordon Brown's calves, too. Which I imagine to be white and mottled, like the skin on boiled milk, shaped like rugby balls and covered with a furze of tufty black hair. The point is, voters never see the Prime Minister's naked legs, thank goodness.
Gordon does not cycle to work in cheeky Lycra every morning. If Gordon goes to the seaside, it is under duress and inside sensible country casuals.
If Cameron hits the beach, however, it's a photo-op to be exploited to the max. Before you can say 'nice legs, shame about the policies', the old melon calves are unfurled and out on display, like coconuts in a shy.
This year, his legs have become more familiar to me than the ones on my own kitchen table. He is relentless. He is shameless. He is also suspiciously hairless. Does he wax or pluck, I wonder?
Informed Westminster thinkers tell me that he is a very ambitious plucker. Yet like the former publicist that he is, Cameron understands the power of image. This summer, he and glossy Samantha were photographed scampering bare-legged together on a Cornish beach.
The resulting pictures were a perfect way to semaphore to voters that here was a humble, stay-at-home politician who had tightened his belt and holidayed in Britain in the wake of the credit crunch.
A few weeks later, the crafty Cams were on another holiday, sailing around the Turkish Riviera on a luxury yacht. No photographs of that little jaunt appeared in newspapers, as you might well imagine.
Now Advent is upon us and Cameron is at it again. His official Christmas card features a tasteful black and white photograph of his family sitting together on the sofa at home. In the picture, Cameron gazes into the eyes of his disabled son, Ivan, who is lying across his lap.
As a family photograph, it is utterly charming, depicting the love and deep bond between father and son without being mawkish or sentimental. Yet once the image is put on public display in a manner such as this, it all becomes rather awkward.
Whatever way you look at it, the image-conscious Cameron appears to be using the patchwork of his family life - with all its inherent joys and sorrows - as a big, fat, sympathy-arousing vote catcher.
The photograph has an unmistakable echo of Michelangelo's Pieta, an image guaranteed to throw a grappling hook into even the chilliest corner of the female psyche.
Girls, if you don't like being manipulated, look away now.
Of course, the Cam fam has form in this department. Just a few months ago, a poignant snap of Cameron cradling one of his children was used by his wife's upmarket stationery company to help sell its Christmas cards.
It was all a mistake, said the Tory leader at the time, although it appears to be the kind of mistake he is happy to keep making. However, in his world, nothing like this is accidental.
Can you envisage Gordon Brown pulling such a cheap trick? It is unimaginable.
People like to laugh at the Prime Minister's lack of presentational skills and inability to ad lib like a holiday camp emcee. Yet in the face of Cameron's endless onslaught of political suavity, Brown's inarticulate speech of the heart begins to look more like a badge of honour than a liability.
Not that this will ever win him any friends or influence the electorate. For it is not what you are but what you are perceived to be that is so important today.
Politics used to be known as showbiz for ugly people, but not any more. Now politicians are groomed like X Factor contestants, their images burnished and all blemishes banished if they are to step into the spotlight and stay there.
In today's beauty contest of political life, it is not enough just to be clever and good. You must be a clever, good, handsome, virile, caring type of Dad-man with ostrich egg calves and the ability to look pious yet cosy on the front of a Christmas card.
So far, the latter is something that only the baby Jesus has managed, but David Cameron ain't giving up yet. In contrast, Gordon Brown is away in a manger with the fairies. In this slick and shallow world, he hasn't got a prayer.
From the Daily Mail, by Jan Moir.
David Cameron has the most annoying legs in British politics. In fact, the Tory leader has the most annoying legs in Britain, full stop.
His ankles are as prettily turned as a showgirl's. His knees are too shapely. Above them, like great crags of sinew, lurks the beefy heft of the Cameron thighs. Ug, ug, ug.
Yet worst of all are his calves. Oh God, how I hate those smug calves! There is something about the Tory leader's hideous orbs of compressed, calfy muscle - testament to a cycling habit that keeps him in favour with the eco-nuts - that makes me want to beat them black and blue with a bicycle pump.
Perhaps I would hate Gordon Brown's calves, too. Which I imagine to be white and mottled, like the skin on boiled milk, shaped like rugby balls and covered with a furze of tufty black hair. The point is, voters never see the Prime Minister's naked legs, thank goodness.
Gordon does not cycle to work in cheeky Lycra every morning. If Gordon goes to the seaside, it is under duress and inside sensible country casuals.
If Cameron hits the beach, however, it's a photo-op to be exploited to the max. Before you can say 'nice legs, shame about the policies', the old melon calves are unfurled and out on display, like coconuts in a shy.
This year, his legs have become more familiar to me than the ones on my own kitchen table. He is relentless. He is shameless. He is also suspiciously hairless. Does he wax or pluck, I wonder?
Informed Westminster thinkers tell me that he is a very ambitious plucker. Yet like the former publicist that he is, Cameron understands the power of image. This summer, he and glossy Samantha were photographed scampering bare-legged together on a Cornish beach.
The resulting pictures were a perfect way to semaphore to voters that here was a humble, stay-at-home politician who had tightened his belt and holidayed in Britain in the wake of the credit crunch.
A few weeks later, the crafty Cams were on another holiday, sailing around the Turkish Riviera on a luxury yacht. No photographs of that little jaunt appeared in newspapers, as you might well imagine.
Now Advent is upon us and Cameron is at it again. His official Christmas card features a tasteful black and white photograph of his family sitting together on the sofa at home. In the picture, Cameron gazes into the eyes of his disabled son, Ivan, who is lying across his lap.
As a family photograph, it is utterly charming, depicting the love and deep bond between father and son without being mawkish or sentimental. Yet once the image is put on public display in a manner such as this, it all becomes rather awkward.
Whatever way you look at it, the image-conscious Cameron appears to be using the patchwork of his family life - with all its inherent joys and sorrows - as a big, fat, sympathy-arousing vote catcher.
The photograph has an unmistakable echo of Michelangelo's Pieta, an image guaranteed to throw a grappling hook into even the chilliest corner of the female psyche.
Girls, if you don't like being manipulated, look away now.
Of course, the Cam fam has form in this department. Just a few months ago, a poignant snap of Cameron cradling one of his children was used by his wife's upmarket stationery company to help sell its Christmas cards.
It was all a mistake, said the Tory leader at the time, although it appears to be the kind of mistake he is happy to keep making. However, in his world, nothing like this is accidental.
Can you envisage Gordon Brown pulling such a cheap trick? It is unimaginable.
People like to laugh at the Prime Minister's lack of presentational skills and inability to ad lib like a holiday camp emcee. Yet in the face of Cameron's endless onslaught of political suavity, Brown's inarticulate speech of the heart begins to look more like a badge of honour than a liability.
Not that this will ever win him any friends or influence the electorate. For it is not what you are but what you are perceived to be that is so important today.
Politics used to be known as showbiz for ugly people, but not any more. Now politicians are groomed like X Factor contestants, their images burnished and all blemishes banished if they are to step into the spotlight and stay there.
In today's beauty contest of political life, it is not enough just to be clever and good. You must be a clever, good, handsome, virile, caring type of Dad-man with ostrich egg calves and the ability to look pious yet cosy on the front of a Christmas card.
So far, the latter is something that only the baby Jesus has managed, but David Cameron ain't giving up yet. In contrast, Gordon Brown is away in a manger with the fairies. In this slick and shallow world, he hasn't got a prayer.
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There's no way I'm reading that much about DC's legs! Just no way!
I reckon they're pretty good though, being the cyclist he is!
I reckon they're pretty good though, being the cyclist he is!
gyrase
you're writing skills are unparalleled, if that makes sense
It's not me, it's from the Daily Mail. I'm just posting it!
Thats just weird that someone pays so much attention
It was funny when he got his bike nicked though
Stupid prick shouldn't have chained it to a bollard where someone could just lift it off and ride it away
It was funny when he got his bike nicked though
Stupid prick shouldn't have chained it to a bollard where someone could just lift it off and ride it away
Absurd
I'm suing for theft of intellectual property.
i sit just me, or do his legs look rather... fanciful 
Hah, ok, thanks.
Brown is much worse at using his family to promote himself and his party. At least DC is trying to show the world he is just a family man with, kids. Gordon Brown, for the first time in history, had to use his own wife to bring him on stage in a grotesque spectacle of endoresment to show us all that "i love him, won't you too?"
Go on DC, I'm voting for you.
Go on DC, I'm voting for you.
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