A 'yerdie-durdle-burdle' corker! I know, I know, obscure to the nth degree even by my 'gobble-de-gook' standards but regular readers (or perhaps that should be 'reader') will know that Saturday nights here at Chateau Duff are strictly reserved for BBC4 on which at 9.00pm sharp they usually show a 'Scandie' thriller. For the last few weeks they have tested my patience with a whole series of "Beck", arguably one of the most boring policemen ever invented. But last night they showed a Danish thriller - and I do mean thriller! It scared the pants off me and I nearly had to shout for the 'Memsahib' to come downstairs and hold my hand! If you have one of those 'catch-up thingies', give it a try. It's called "The Keeper of Lost Causes". (Incidentally, my catch-all name for all things Scandinavian comes from that old puppet show which featured a Swedish chef who just kept repeating "Yerdie-durdle-burdle". Well, it made me laugh!
Dylan push back: My remarks concerning Mr. Bob Dylan and his Nobel Prize for Literature(!) has found some resistance from his fan club in the comments to the post. Good, I enjoy an exchange of views. However, next Sunday I am going up to London to see Stoppard's play "Travesties" which features his version of the late Tristan Tzara, the inventor of Dada-ist poetry. His technique was to take a Shakespearean sonnet, cut it up word by word, throw the results in a hat and then pull them out one by one to be read as a new - and better - poem. Yeeeeeees, quite!
The Scots Nats are shouty-pouty kiddie-winkies: True, I did not watch or listen to much of the SNP conference last week but the bits I did hear quoted on the news indicated that were anyone 'brave-hearted' enough to stick a needle into their leader, 'Mrs. MacDumpling', they should stand well back because the jet stream of escaping hot air could be dangerous! Not-so-bonnie Scotland is flat broke (and getting broker by the day) and only the soppy English would take it on as a partner. If she truly thinks that the 'Kaiserin' would warmly welcome a country even more bankrupt than Greece she needs her 'wee heed' examined.
Mrs. May needs to tread carefully in her kitten-heels: The honeymoon is over - let war commence! Our new PM faces an unusual situation. Her opposition party are a shambles and she can look across the chamber with complete confidence. However, if she looks over her shoulder she should tremble. Also, she should look hard and carefully along the front bench where, I suspect, traitors lurk. The 'Hefferlump', in today's Telegraph, points the finger at that master of 'all things to all men' operator, Phillip Hammond, her Chancellor. He was once anti-EU but then became a 'Remainer' and has now accepted high office in a Brexit administration. Also, according to Heffer, the Treasury is now a law unto itself and out of control. And then there is Angela Rudd . . . !
Now is the time for all good Brits to do their duty: Right, you 'orrible lot, stand by your beds and get ready to receive your orders! Later this month you will all get fell in on the cliffs over Dover, facing out to sea. On receipt of the order, you will all about turn, drop your trousers and bend over. On the next order, you will all fart - just as that Russian aircraft carrier sails down the English channel! That'll show 'em!
Thank God for m'Learned Friend, Ms. Anna Raccoon: When it comes to legal matters I am even more of a dummy than on most other subjects. Thus, I have avoided commenting on the 'rape case' involving Mr. Ched Evans, the well known (although not to me!) footie-player. For the sake of my foreign readers, he and his mate were charged with rape and although his mate got off, he was found guilty but after a couple of years the Appeal Court released him to face a second trial. This later trial found him not guilty not least because, so we are told, the judge allowed the behaviour of the, er, lady concerned to be made public. Cue shrieks and wailing from the 'Feminastis'. I had no views either way until I read Ms. Raccoon and found out to my considerable surprise that the lady concerned had not actually accused Mr. Evans of rape for the simple reason that having drunk enough booze to fell a sailor, plus having imbibed cocaine and marijuana, she couldn't remember a single thing about the entire night! It was the 'Old Bill' who pressed the rape charges to court. I still do not have anything useful to say concerning the case but Ms. Raccoon does - and it's worth reading.
Sorry, more Brexit: But, exceedingly good sense on the subject by my e-pal, Tim Newman who puts it all together so much better than I could.
Dammit, those Aussies have ruined my Saturday evening: Referring back to my first 'rumble' this morning in which I raved about last night's 'Scandie' thriller, I was looking forward to another one next Saturday but ... but ... I read this morning, shlock-horror, that next week we are going to be offered an 'Aussie' thriller! Fortunately, I have a little button on my 'do-flicker-thingie' which produces instant English sub-titles so at least I won't have to struggle with all that 'fair dinkum, mate' stuff! It's called "The Code" and I must beg my Aussie e-pals not to tell me the plot!
Econ. 101 from Tim Worstall: As published at Forbes, with my emphasis:
We cannot yet say that economic policy in Venezuela is sensible but we can say that one economic policy is now, finally, sensible. The law hasn’t changed as yet but it appears that the government is allowing price controls on food to wither away. As a result there is now food in the shops in those areas where the withering is happening. This is in accord with the basics of the standard, possibly even neoliberal, economics of such things. When things cost what they cost then they are available. When prices are fixed below what they cost then things don’t exist. It’s obviously a pity that has taken years of dearth for the Bolivarian socialists to understand this most basic part of econ 101 but they do seem finally to have got there.
No more rumbles today