Boris is back to what he does best being rude

Boris is an acrobat, and don't you forget it.

He puts his foot in his mouth so easily these days, and is quickly becoming more widely criticised for it than your average politician.

Yet people still flock to see him, invite him to their dos where they either heckle or complain that he was rubbish. Or at least what he said was rubbish.

His recent appearance – and its aftermath – at a gay rights event enraged some guests so much that they walked out in protest.

What on Earth did the tousle-haired terror say to so upset them?

It was supposed to be a joke, but it was juvenile, offensive and pathetic.

The only person thinking it was funny, was the man himself.

The Mayor of London does not lead by example in his role at the best of times. And the Pride of London gala dinner at Claridges Hotel was no exception. What guests did not need, deserve or expect were crude jokes from the guest of honour which whether he intended it or not, demeaned their special occasion. He's not even funny.

Of course, MPs and others complained bitterly and those at the event also accused him of trying to turn the whole evening into the Boris Johnson Show.

But dears, that's what he always does.

Let's face it, the wannabe big-time politician hasn't got much under the blonde tresses and between the ears if he can't twig that he offends, upsets and insults in equal measure.

He thinks that because he is Mr Mayor, speaking in his own city, he can say what he likes.

I've heard him boringly pontificating in bars at various conferences. He was once ordered by his party to apologise to the whole of Liverpool about an article in The Spectator. He's also called George W. Bush 'a cross-eyed Texan warmonger, unelected and inarticulate'.

Why anybody would invite Boris anywhere and then be surprised when he totally, predictably, crosses the line, beats me. Just don't do it, people.

Remember that zip-wire he got stranded on during last year's Olympics? Well who on earth was daft enough to help him down?

Read Shirley Tart first in your Weekend Shropshire Star, every Saturday.