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The moron premium live: The last days of Liz Truss @WhiteBearTheatr

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Watching a play about Liz Truss, Britain's shortest-serving Prime Minister, might seem as appealing as dental surgery. After all, you may be dealing with the repercussions of her fifty-day leadership, such as higher mortgage rates. You might also be familiar with the term "moron risk premium," coined by an economist to describe the impact of having Truss and Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng in charge. Consequently, revisiting this time in 2022 may not seem like an enticing subject for a theatrical production. However, writer Greg Wilkinson’s unique portrayal of select aspects of Truss’s life, alongside a standout performance by Emma Wilkinson Wright, makes this a compelling work. While Wright doesn’t physically resemble Truss, she delivers a performance that captures her mannerisms, awkwardness, and platitudes. The play is currently at the White Bear Theatre . Presented as a monologue, Wright performs at a desk, on it, or even in a chair while singing karaoke—one of Truss's ...
My first working week...

My first working week ended with a whimper with the headache thing... But I had Friday off to do more of the job search thing. That bought about some more promising leads so I am optimistic there. But if all else fails... temping... while it doesn't pay so well... can cover the bills for the time being...

After meeting some ex colleagues at the airport I caught my first London cab.

As a bit of an aside, cabs like many things in London are such a scam here. While they are obliged to pick up people and take them where they want to go, when it is late at night the situation is different. Cabs will often not pick people up to take them home if they live on the opposite side of town to where they want to go. This has led to a proliferation of mini-cabs - both licensed and unlicensed - to fill the gap. It is an unfortunate problem that the unlicensed mini-cab drivers have been known to rape women trying to get home. But in a typical London response nobody wants to do anything about it as taking unlicensed mini-cabs off the street would mean a huge gap in providing transport for people to get home.

In this case a cab from Heathrow wasn't such a big deal, and I wasn't paying for it so I rode backwards and kept gawking out all the windows at the scenery and the other drivers. I have made a mental note that overly tanned mid-forties women tend to drive Merc convertabiles.

What to do on the Bank Holiday Long Weekend
It is the Bank Holliday weekend. The trains are late, the city is crowded, and the Notting Hill fair is happening but this is what I did today:

* Went for breakfast at Polly's at Hampstead Heath with Skye. It was a lovely tea house and it was decked out with old English wooden advertising that I knew Nurse would have been so excited about had he had been there. Apart from marvelling at the quality decor the breakfast wasn't too bad for the price. Spent another few hours in the heath reading the newspapers and enjoying the quiet (all except for a fun fair that was going on in the background).
* Rescued Skye's mobile phone. In a moment of insanity Skye dropped her phone into what you could say was once the garden of a basement appartment. Alas there were no stairs from the street to get to it. After a quick chat to a neighbour who told us he had neither a ladder nor a rope (and he wasn't warming to my suggestion about knotted bedsheets) I decided that it wasn't all that deep to jump down (or rather delicately CLIMB down) and fetch it. A few grazed knees and a broken plastic case was all that happened. So it was all good!

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