FORMER DUP Councillor David Clarke, who says he faced bullying of such severity within the party that he ended up in hospital, has finally found a place of serenity. He’s now sipping green tea in a political Zen garden where the only sound is bamboo chimes tapping playfully in a light breeze and the gentle distant hum of Buddhist mantras: He’s joined the TUV.

Within a political philosophy like unionism, which feeds on a rich but bitter stew of lost supremacy, empire nostalgia and progress allergy, the DUP was for years the sound system of impotent rage. But in recent times, the TUV has taken anger to undreamt of new heights and depths – and unthought of new places.

In the 1953 biker movie The Wild One, a small-town girl asks the leather-clad bad boy of the title, played by Marlon Brando: “Hey, Johnny, what are you rebellin’ against?”

Johnny replies: “Whaddya got?”

Not for a second would I accuse TUV leader Jim Allister of being a rebel, but if I was to paraphrase the question and ask “Hey, Jimbo, what are you whingein’ against?” then the TUV leader couldn’t do better than repeat Johnny’s answer; because if you’ve got something, he’s whingein’ about it.

Which makes me wonder whether David has made the right career move. I don’t know DUP leader Jeffrey Donaldson, but he seems to me like the kind of guy who would be likely to provide a soft and receptive shoulder for a sob, with his permanent semi-smile and his shiny lapel fish. Jim, on the other hand, doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d pat you on the back of the head if you threw yourself inconsolable into his arms.

Maybe I’m wrong, because appearances can be deceptive. Maybe in private Jim’s a regular Florence Nightingale for political reps with hurt feelings and Jeffrey’s more the pull-yourself-together type. 

Whatever the case, David’s about to find out whether the grass really is a richer mix of blue and yellow on the other side. Maybe he’ll finally find peace at an anti-Protocol meeting up the country sitting between Jim and Jamie in a draughty gospel hall watching the blood pressure of 50 pensioners rise up towards the corrugated iron roof.

Let’s all hope so. For everybody’s sake. 

Did FM spell the end for Nolan in the A.M.?

HEAR me out here. You may well want to dive in and tell me to wise up, but hold fire for a few seconds and see if maybe some of this can make sense.

A while ago the BBC’s Radio Loyal Ulster disappeared from the AM channel on my car radio, where I’d been happily listening to it for decades (no, not in the same car – shoosh you). It’s now available only on the FM frequency and, me being me, I’ve never bothered to lock the channel in on one of the saved channels. That means when I want to get Ormeau Avenue’s latest take on this little corner of Paradise I’m reduced to fiddling about with the dial to find it.

BREAKFAST COUP: Cool FM say the Paulo, Rebecca and Pete show has overtaken Nolan
2Gallery

BREAKFAST COUP: Cool FM say the Paulo, Rebecca and Pete show has overtaken Nolan

Also a while ago – a lot whiler ago – I stopped listening to the 90 minutes of breakfast bedlam that is, or used to be, the Biggest Show in the (Non-Existent) Country. I won’t bore you with the details, suffice to say that I’d had enough of listening over my tea and toast to the same old mangy cats with their tails tied together over a clothesline clawing and caterwauling their fury about the union’s demise. I’d like to say that my decision was key to the Nolan Show’s slide down the hit parade, but for some years after I abandoned him the big guy continued to rule the ratings roost.

So, is the fact that he’s beside the new No.1 morning station, Cool FM, on the dial in my car – and presumably that of thousands of others – part of the reason that the former cock of the walk is now a feather duster? Has the audience for another glass-shattering whingefest about the Bobby Storey stadium or the Casement funeral been whittled away by the move to FM and the show’s close proximity to people with Rory McIlroy accents running Taylor Swift records and Spar advertisements?

What a way to go.

Is the news from Moscow really all that different?

THE election in Russia is a foregone conclusion we’re told. No matter what happens, Vladimir Putin will be returned. UK journalists have been lining up beneath the onion domes in Red Square to intone gravely about the slap in the face of democracy that is the Russian election system. 

And I don’t really have a problem with that because I reckon Putin’s an egomaniac who will do whatever it takes to make sure he’s once again riding horses bareback on the evening news when the last – or more likely the first – ballot is counted.

But watching the British Bulldog snuffle and sniffle its disapproval of Johnny Foreigner’s election practices is likely to raise a wry smile when you think about how the anchor on Good Morning Moscow might introduce a news piece about the coming election in Blighty…

The British government will fight the upcoming election with a fifteen million pound war chest donated by a friend of the ruling Conservative Party.

Businessman Frank Hester, whose company has been the beneficiary of half a billion pounds worth of health technology contracts, has given fifteen million of the contract money back to the Conservative Party which gave him the contract.

Mr Hester is best known for his tech know-how, his can-do business attitude and his enthusiasm for having black women MPs shot.

What might Muscovites think about the quality of British – or more accurately English – democracy after hearing that report on the Tories’ campaign finances?

What might they think about the fact the ruling party’s election is going to be financed by money from a bloke that they made incredibly rich? Might they think that when you peel back a few layers of the Red Square onion domes Putin’s version of democracy and that of the Tories are not a million miles apart?