Nurse Ratched strikes again: Sorry, just one 'rumble' for now - but more later - because I am off to do my 'Nurse Ratched' act this morning as I visit an elderly - yes, even older than me! - relative who is quite dotty and lives in a care home. Not easy because she drives me nuts with her endless, mindless chatter but I absolutely must NOT snap because underneath her endless ramblings she is a sweetie. Back later!
And then it gets worse: I get back from my virtuous, not to say, saintly, duties to find the 'Memsahib' still in bed feeling unwell having thrown up. I warned her that the Grand Prix starts at 1.00 so the nursing service might be intermittent. She did not look impressed!
Never mind France, just keep an eye on Italy: As this blog never ceases to remind you, it will be Italy that kicks the foundation stone from under the edifice of the EU. Now, what's the Italian for 'Bring it on'?
Boring-snoring! I suppose it's unfair to blame the 'Rooskies' for the most tedious Grand Prix in years although I will because their circuit is totally useless. Actually, I went off and had a nap halfway through and when I woke nothing much had changed. Our frightfully, pukka, decent, British chap, 'the Right Honourable' Lewis Hamilton, just went round in circles and finished where he started - fourth! Something must be done!
Clever fella' that Fraser Nelson: You see, he speaks two languages fluently, English-English and Political-English. So, if like me you wonder what, exactly and precisely, Mrs. May is waffling on about when she deigns to grant the occasional interview to the 'smelly socks brigade', then the 'Ed of Spec' provides you with an excellent translation over at The Coffee House. Read it and weep!
Obviously, the 'Heffalump' reads this blog: I claim that fact having just read Simon Heffer's column in The Telegraph today. As you, my faithful readers do know, I always refer to the Liberal Democrats as the 'il-Lib-non-Dems'. Mr. Heffer puts it this way:
"On the rare occasions Lib Dems have crept into this column I have noted the paradox of their being called “Liberal Democrats”; they seem to be neither, as the last week has shown."
Stout fella, that 'Heffalump', and no, no, I don't mean he is overweight, a tad plump, perhaps, but I just mean that he is, er, 'right on', if that is the correct modern jargon.
And yet another! Er, that is, another 'frightfully, pukka, decent, British chap', and this one is called Anthony Joshua and he just beat another very decent chap from the Ukraine called Wladimir Klitschko in a heavyweight fight.
Pity that little squirt of a London mayor managed to grease his way into the photo but never mind him, let us all celebrate two colossal warriors who not only fought well and fairly but also managed to conduct themselves like gentlemen before, during and after the fight. Such a relief after the mega-silliness that pervades boxing these days.
It reminded me of the 'milling': Watching that fight brought back memories of 'milling'. This was a part of the selection course you had to undergo to join the Regiment. You were paired off with another 'wannabe' Para roughly - very roughly - by size and weight and you were both put in the ring wearing some very old and well-worn boxing gloves with little in the way of stuffing. They rang the bell and the idea was that you stood toe to toe for a minute bashing the brains out of each other. It was not considered 'the done thing' to duck and dive, taking it on the chin, or at least somewhere on the face, was what was expected. Needles to say, not being used to fighting, my opponent instantly bashed me in the face which made my nose bleed and my eyes fill with tears which meant that I could not actually see him. I blinked furiously to clear my vision but just as it came back and I drew my arm back to counter-punch (yes, pulling my arm back was not good fighting technique I learned later!) in came another punch! Consequently I staggered around half blind until in the end I just let rip with a wild swing in roughly where I thought my opponent might be standing. I felt a slight bump but then his blows ceased. In that pause I managed at last to clear my vision and, blow me down, there he was flat on his back. Apparently I had enjoyed a lucky punch! Mind you, he got up again very quickly and matters resumed their normal course. It was the longest minute of my life!
"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest": Having made mention of Nurse Radchet earlier, I cannot get my mind off that truly excellent film in which she featured. It is absolutely and definitely in my Top Ten Films, even if there are about forty such films in there! I really must get a DVD copy and watch it again - er, SoD, if you're reading this, it's my birthday in a couple of weeks - NUDGE-NUDGE, WINK-WINK!
No more rumbles today