Our aim is to please: In the Comments thread to the post below, my long-serving commenter, DM, made a request for a photo. Actually, he has been such a faithful follower of this blog for so long that I was minded to award him a Long Service & Good Conduct medal but, alas, I couldn't find too many examples of 'Good Conduct', for which read 'agreeing with ME! Even so, he deserves something so here is his request:
'Plods 'n' Carps': Can you believe it? Courtesy of 'my mate Rupe' and sundry other providers of televisual entertainment to the gentry, I have a choice of what seems like 500 stations and yet last night I had not one, not two but three of my favourite 'Plods 'n' Carps' shows all on at the same time! Actually, to be truthful there were no 'plods' last night but there were two 'carp' shows and one 'politieagent' show - that's Flemish for 'policeman' and I refer to Salamander on BBC4. It's total tosh, of course, not least because the storyline depends on believing in a secret society amongst the ruling classes of Belgium whose membership runs to hundreds and who all seem to wear tiepins in the shape of a salamander (bit of a clue there, eh, Holmes?). Still, it's entertaining enough and last night's episode ended with a truly shocking bang!
Then there is Hostages on Channel 4 whose storyline sets new records in total toshness but whose innate absurdities leave you wondering how on earth the writers are going to get themselves out of this or that fix. Alas, one's sympathies for the family concerned are of such negativity, they are all ghastly especially the sulky, twattish kids, that one desperately hopes that they will all be killed!
But then, last night came the first episode of True Detective on Sky Atlantic starring Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey. Now, I would even watch Mr. Harrelson read The Guardian, he is a superb film actor, and although I am not so familiar with Mr. McConaughey I hear good things of him. Well, the first episode was ok-ish. The problem is that it is set in Louisana where they all speak remarkably like the Somerset hayseeds who surround me and are thus almost totally incomprehensible. For example, hitherto Americans always answered an instruction with an "OK" which at least was clear but nowadays they mutter something that sounds like "or-ry" which I gather means 'alright'. Anyway these two, I guess, 'true detectives' muttered and mumbled there way through the first episode which took longer to watch than I thought because I had to keep rewinding the recording to try and understand what they were saying. It truly was a murder mystery! Anyway, I will keep you briefed as it unfolds.
OK, or perhaps I should have said 'or-ry', as I mentioned 'plods' in my title I must give a rave review for an absolute corker of a show on BBC2 on Wednesday nights - and yes, I know it clashes with the 'footie', but catch up with the previous episodes and watch it! Last Wednesday's episode sent me to bed chuckling at the audacity of the female plod who is being persecuted by her colleagues and who succeeds in trouncing the lot of them.
Gold taps: What is it with gold taps? Whenever there's a revolution, like Ukraine today, people flock into the dictator's palace and always, but always, there are gold taps! Not real gold, of course, just gold-looking. I mean, my dears, simply too, too, common. The dowager Duchess of Downton Abbey would not approve!
Play Streets - what a good idea: Er, well, just so long as it isn't my street!
According to The Telegraph, several cities are encouraging certain streets to be closed off for three hours in order to allow the kiddie-winkies to play outdoors. I'm not sure how keen they are on the idea, as they come out blinking through their red-rimmed eyes in the daylight after several hours transfixed in front of their favourite porn sites - well, you don't think they watch the equivalent of 'Children's Hour', do you? Well intentioned, I suppose, but these schemes depend heavily on not having a bad-tempered, 'kiddie-winkie'-hater who values silence above all else living on the street!
'Sorry' is the hardest word: It must be because none of the three senior Labour party apparatchiks who in their youth worked in various top jobs in the precursor to the current 'Liberty' organisation and who, 'back in the day', supported efforts by paedophiles to change the law so that children down to the age of four could be permitted to have sex with adults. None of them - 'HarryHarperson', her husband, Jack Dromey and the exquisite Patricia Hewitt - have managed that word, possibly because it has more than one syllable, or perhaps, because they are too ashamed - although I doubt they are!
Lord Emsworth makes me laugh: I have never read a word by P. G. Wodehouse but more by accident than design I have taken to watching the current TV series of Blandings on BBC1 on a Sunday evening. The tales are not witty, or subtle, or sophisticated - they are just plain - silly! That, of course, places Wodehouse at the heart of the very best of English humour which in the main appeals mostly to children and to old men. I may have to start reading him.
No more today, see you tomorrow!