'IT ain't over till the fat lady sings' was said with great dismay from a morose member of the public when asked by a roving BBC reporter about the possible Brexit outcome on October 31.

This over-used proverb simply means that we can't presume to know the outcome of an event which is still in progress.

It is often used when a situation is nearing a conclusion.

I'm afraid this man 'in the street' clearly isn't following the Brexit crisis too closely.

Leaving the EU has seriously damaged our language. We have become the cliche capital of Europe (for now).

The exhausted electorate find all Brexit terminology incomprehensible following three years of politicians and broadcasters spouting out phrases that are becoming so repetitive they are bordering on the hypnotic.

A selection of other ordinary people who were 'Vox Popped' - the art of thrusting microphones in front of bemused shoppers for topical issues - agreed about the enigmatic 'fat lady' looming in the wings.

We simply don't know our backstops from our Brussels extensions.

But who is this fat lady?

Historians say it is the overweight sopranos of Wagnerian operas who finish off with a belting aria.

Another explanation says its popular use stemmed from Al Capone refusing to leave an opera house till a helmet-wearing overweight diva had finished her final lament.

It is still used in American sports commentaries to describe nail-biting games.

Back in a bemused Blighty, we all want the Brexit mess cleared up - as do our word-weary MPs.

Repeat after me: "We won't count our chickens and nothing is carved in stone."

As I write this column the chief EU negotiator has said a deal could be on the horizon.

Music to my ears.

The nation is hoping that when the fat lady sings at the Brexit opera house - she doesn't return for an encore.


IT must be a pain in the annus horribilis for Her Majesty.

Having watched The Queen's Speech I felt sorry for our amazing monarch in the House of Lords, weighed down by more jewellery than Elton John.

The Queen would have preferred to have been back home watching another 'Pointless' exercise on the Buckingham Palace goggle box - her favourite TV quiz.

When the next election is called it's back to the royal jewellery cupboard again.


"THE world hates me," wailed a woman who is famous for marrying a footballer.

The other female is the alleged 'she devil' in a private-turned-public spat. The accuser is also famous for marrying a soccer player.

Rebekah Vardy came out with her deluded quote because Coleen Rooney claimed that her one-time fellow 'wag' had sold stories about her to the tacky tabloids.

Who cares?

Sadly, the real tragedy here is that someone decided this drivel was in the public interest.

In a world where people and mobile phones have become joined at the lip we can only pray that such tiresome trivial stories do not become the norm.

In a journalistic career spanning 40 years I pray this is a blip.

The TV series Footballer's Wives was puerile enough.

This much-publicised and derided argument is just as unpalatable as fake news.


LEE Mack, Marc Almond and Miranda Richardson are three stars to emerge from our neighbouring resort of Southport.

Alas, they not yet earned enough fame to warrant a whole day's screen time tribute on the Talking Pictures channel.

On Saturday it's DB day - dedicated to actress Dora Bryan.

Our very own film buff Paul O' Grady will present a run down of Dora's movies, including A Taste of Honey.

Surely it's time time for a week's worth of films from Wirral's very own Hollywood legend, Glenda Jackson.


BY Jove ... the late Ken Dodd entered the record books for a marathon joke-telling session telling1,500 jokes in three and a half hours.

Now it looks like one of his favourite joke writers is heading the same way.

John Martin managed the following quips in less than a minute on a radio interview which was supposed to be plugging his new book.

Instead he got carried away.

The stand-up now needs a gagging order when it comes to doing interviews.

He revealed, in 60 breathless seconds, the following state of his life:

He believes his wife is now allergic to mistletoe. She calls him 'debit card' because their relationship is contact- less.

She hates him for two reasons - one because he never listens and the second ... he can't remember.

John then apologised for being late, because a lorry load of Vic inhaler had overturned on the motorway leading to a lot of congestion.


Eventually referring to his book on historic ambushes out today, he told his now silent interrogator that people can get it by going to Amazon.

'A long way to go but it's worth it,' John joked ... again ... and again.


A ha!

This is life imitating art.

Who can forget Alan Partridge's dossier of dross pitching his new TV ideas to the BBC commissioning boss.

He came up with Inner City Sumo Wrestling and Yachting Mishaps.

But his most banal concept was Youth hostelling with Chris Eubank.

Today, I had to re-read the Radio Times listings announcing a new Channel 5 series starting this Friday ... Caravanning with Shane Richie.


And finally

I read the news today, oh boy, and confess I was disappointed that topping the list of books people claim to have read but haven't is ... the Bible.

And that's the gospel truth ...

Peter Grant