What if the the newly minted French president Emmanuel Macron’s older wife, Brigitte, was shortish, overweight and had discernible facial hair?
They are 39 and 64, and this week former Italian prime minister, father of subtlety and half-brother to Donald Trump, Silvio Berlusconi, called the French leader’s wife his “beautiful mum”.
“We have a 39-year-old guy [as French president] with, however, good work experiences, and, above all, with a beautiful mum who has taken him by the arm ever since he was a boy,” Berlusconi said in Italian media, during a campaign event in Monza, near Milan.
Readers, remember Berlusconi has a penchant for younglings and his latest squeeze is 49 years his junior?
Brigitte Macron is a very normal, older woman. She is the type of woman you see every Saturday afternoon in the supermarket aisles of Coles Mowbray or weekdays at Jimmy’s supermarket between work and school.
Say what? Are you vision impaired? My husband sees them all the time.
I had to use a calculator to figure 58 minus 24 equals 34, which is kind of embarrassing, but not in a Donald Trump kind of way.
What would a 34-year-old husband possibly have to offer a 58-year-old wife (me).
Well, I imagine he might not need glasses to gently pluck my errant facial hairs.
I expect he might not have started snoring and would not stand out in the local craft beer bar or at Ed Sheeran concerts.
What, on the other hand, would be the advantage to him of being wed to a shortish, cuddly, randomly cranky me?
I can cook. That's about it. Frankly, I'm boring as batshit. I love nothing better than a hot shower after a day at work and get overly excited by the sight of Jude Law or the sounds of Serge Gainsborough.
Why only on Thursday, did a man of my vintage suggest I ‘calm down’… music to my ears. (Note to self: Why when I'm told to calm down, am I tempted to say bugger off?)
I like my music either really, really loud, or so quiet it's barely audible. While I'm at it, I'm crap in the morning if you happen to find me before I've read two newspapers and had a cup of instant coffee.
And yes, I'm the kind of woman who got really excited by this weekend’s wet weather forecast and the chance to buy some new books (hardback from a bookshop) and watch a repeat of the new Fargo TV season
On my plus side, I can work a smart TV and do manage to feed the poodles and cats at the same time every evening.
If you ask me ‘what’s for dinner’ at precisely the wrong moment I might come back with something witty like ‘tonight chef has prepared a light as air, cheese soufflé, with micro salad washed down with a cheeky unwooded chardonnay and followed by a chocolate mousse and autumn’s finest late raspberries and a quenelle of meander valley cream’. Or, ‘in your dreams’.
In return, I would not ask much of my younger husband. A hot water bottle on a cold night and the occasional block of peppermint chocolate or Kinder Surprise egg. Hold on?
On another matter.
I love nothing better than a hot shower after a day at work and get overly excited by the sight of Jude Law or the sounds of Serge Gainsborough.
Funniest thing I've heard in a while, US President Donald Trump’s claim that he’s the worst treated politician, ‘EVER’ (ever ever ever). Right, so John F Kennedy is still alive, reading Greek classics with his brother, Robert?