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Straight from the greater world of icky ugliness to your personal space. Sorry about that.

Approx Reading Time-11Here we go again. Trump spoke (well) in Saudi Arabia, the last drops of the Premier League season were shaken out of the bottle and a string of emoji earned a couple an appearance in court. Bring on the comet.

 

 

 

Trump travels to Saudi Arabia, speaks the foreign tongue of logic.

As your subconscious drove you across whatever uncharted mental desert last night, something strange happened in the sands of the Middle East. The target of Internet cynics the world over, Donald Trump actually sounded like a politician, articulating the difference between Islam, and the extremists that fight in its name. Objectively it shouldn’t be regaled as a win, but 2017 has been a featureless, barren landscape regarding gubernatorial logic.

In a sabre-rattling speech within the borders of a long-time US ally, Saudi Arabia, to reiterate their commitment to take down an old enemy, Iran, with an arms deal to the tune of $147b, Trump accurately wrapped his tiny tiny hands around the handle of the blade and carefully trimmed the parts he desired, as opposed to his usual technique of blindly hacking at the issue, like a drunk who has vaulted the counter at the kebab shop and looks to gain as much free meat as possible before being turfed out.

During his speech in Riyadh, Trump stated “we are not here to lecture — we are not here to tell other people how to live, what to do, who to be, or how to worship… drive them out of your places of worship, drive them out of your communities.”

At the risk of editorialising…who are you, and what have you done with the tangerine man we know?

 

Arsenal lose Champions League spot to Liverpool, John Terry walks off.

This morning, the fleeting embers of seasonal Premier League optimism were doused with the ice-water of cold fact. For some, the season has ended in abject disappointment, and the only thing left to do is to broadly laugh in their droopy faces. Wocka wocka. The long-suffering (albeit, one could say, extremely entitled) fans of Arsenal and Manchester United would have to reconcile themselves with the fact that Champions League football is against beyond them, and for those people, I’d elevate my voice to how I’d address a toddler on the cusp of tantrum: whatever is there to wooooo.

Elsewhere, in the blue streets of London, Chelsea halted their game against Sunderland to bid farewell to club stalwart, and massively not nice person, John Terry. After 717 appearances for the club, Terry has done it all. He’s got the wife of his teammate pregnant, he’s racially vilified fellow players and he led the concourse drinking session on 9/11 where himself and teammates mocked and threw food at American tourists agape at the news from New York. On 9/11. Goodbye John Terry, the footballing world, save for a suburb in London will not miss you, x.

 

Emoji doubles as intent to rent in Israel, world’s most ludicrous precedent set.

If there’s ever a push to return to mid-’90s action movie fare, but entirely crafted by a cynical millennial, then surely “Intent 2 Rent” will be the title. Over in Israel, other than a the sound of a judge’s heart breaking, a hammer met gavel to conclude that an emoji was the tool of wrongdoing, that a landlord was mislead by a couple who entered a “binding agreement” for a place they were going to rent, but ultimately didn’t. The message that proved aforementioned intent sits below:

The people I feel sorry for, other than all of us, are the legal professionals in court who had to make their arguments about the true meaning of a squirrel holding a balloon apropos to the tenets of tenant law. Moreover, it’s worth mentioning that the couple in question looked at the apartment, but found it unsuitable.

The lesson here, kids, is emoji: not even once.

 

The top five Tweets from overnight:

 

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