Will wine chucking Boris Johnson baby mama Carrie Symonds go the same way as the ‘Carrie’ of creepy crooner Sir Cliff Richard’s 1980s song?
Described on his ‘official’ YouTube channel in the comments section by some as “magical” and “one of his greatest hits” in spite of being frankly weird, a seriously strange video of Cliff Richard singing ‘Carrie’ on The Kenny Everett Video Show is something that could sum up what could soon happen to Carrie Symonds next.
Focused on the lyrics “Carrie doesn’t live here anymore” as the contemptible Christian crackpot ‘Cliffy’ croons in the mist outside a café-bar, the continuation with “Carrie used to live on the second floor… Sorry that she left no forwarding address… That was known to me, Carrie” could soon apply to Boris Johnson’s latest baby mama.
Quite deservedly under fire as to failing to explain who really funded payment of the vast £200,000 bill caused by Peter Jones loathing Miss Symonds’ demands for a quite unnecessary makeover of their perfectly habitable Downing Street flat, Boris Johnson – who still faces an ongoing inquiry also into who paid for the December 2019 Mustique holiday nearly 16 months later also – is on the ropes. Like Teflon, he may bat these investigations away, but with his “psychopath” nemesis – as some have branded him – Cummings having “gone rogue,” this time things are beginning to stick.
Of the imaginary ‘Carrie’ in the 1980 song – written by ‘Devil Woman’ songwriter Terry Britten – all-round oddity Sir Cliff told the Mail on Sunday in November 2008:
“It’s a mysterious song because you never really know what it’s about. A guy turns up in the neighborhood asking where Carrie is. The very last line goes: ‘Carrie doesn’t live, doesn’t live…’ You’re left thinking: ‘Is she dead? Has she been murdered?’”
Now, with public outrage turning up the heat in ‘Costly Carrie’s’ Westminster lair, will this ‘Modern Day Lady Macbeth’ puppet mistress ‘survive’ her “date with her own kind of fate”? Some might think that, but we couldn’t possibly comment.
A graduate of the London School of Economics, Matthew Steeples is a writer and marketing consultant. He conceived The Steeple Times as a media arena to fill the void between the Mail Online, The Huffington Post and such organs as the New York Social Diary in 2012.
As her chirping crooner chum Christopher Mason parties in prison-orange pants with her other mates, ‘Grubby Ghislaine’ Maxwell languishes in a paper jump suit; look at who and what she’s missing out on in the Hamptons… For her, it’s Krug-less via a bit of “Orange Is The New Black.”