DUFF & NONSENSE!

"Hence shall we see, If power change purpose, what our seemers be"

I know, I know, I have used that quote from 'Measure for Measure' many a time and oft - perhaps too oft!  Even so, Shakespeare's sceptical words are demonstrated over and over again in the world of politics.  Today's Parliament is a prime example.  In 2016 members of the House of Commons voted by 544 to 53 in favour of granting the people a referendum on whether or not to leave the EU.  The people (dread word!) voted 52% to 48% to leave.  'End of', you might suppose, but this is politics!  Whilst it is true that no parliament can be bound by its predecessors, in this case they are bound by the will of the people which, you might suppose, takes precedence over everything. 

Today, a majority of Parliamentarians are, in effect, undoing their flies (or lifting their skirts) and pissing on the people!  They despise us and believe we are ignorant serfs incapable of even getting close to, say, the intellectual heights of, say,  'Monsieur' Dominic Grieve MP (he's half French!), the arch-Remainer who has been plotting with the 'poison dwarf' who chairs the House to seize control of Government business.  It is an abhorrent business but what is truly worrying is that no-one knows how this will end, although the likelihood is it will be very bad and possibly (probably?) very, very dangerous. 

So far - but only so far! - these wretched politicians do not arrest us or shoot us but to quote a homily from a great American President, "Stick around, kid, you ain't seen nothin' yet!"

 

 

No, I'm not dead yet!

In fact, I am no where near dead, I'm just knackered!  By the time I get back from Taunton, usually having kicked my heels in the waiting-room as the medics try to get my bladder in the right condition, all I want to do is put my feet up and snooze - so no change there then!

However, tomorrow I have a relatively late start so I will try and compose something but don't expect anything very illuminating - waddya mean, ya never do!

Your (late) Monday Funnies: 14.1.19

Sorry for the delay but I really needed a good nap - and by Golly, I had one!

A young doctor had moved out to a small community to replace a doctor who was retiring.  The older doctor suggested that the young one accompany him on his rounds, so the community could become used to a new doctor.

At the first house a woman complains, "I've been a little sick to my stomach."  The older doctor says, "Well, you've probably been overdoing the fresh fruit.  Why not cut back on the amount you've been eating and see if that does the trick?"

As they left, the younger man said, "You didn't even examine that woman? How'd you come to the diagnosis so quickly?"

"I didn't have to. You noticed I dropped my stethoscope on the floor in there? When I bent over to pick it up, I noticed a half dozen banana peels in the waste bin. That was what probably was making her sick."  The younger doctor said "Pretty clever. If you don't mind, I think I'll try that at the next house."

Arriving at the next house, they spent several minutes talking with a younger woman.  She said that she just didn't have the energy she once did and said, "I'm feeling terribly run down lately."

"You've probably been doing too much for the Church," the younger doctor told her.  "Perhaps you should cut back a bit and see if that helps."

As they left, the elder doctor said, "I know that woman well.  Your diagnosis is almost certainly correct, she's very active in the church, but how did you arrive at it?"

"I did what you did at the last house. I dropped my stethoscope and, when I bent down to retrieve it, I noticed the vicar under the bed."

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Two women friends had gone for a girls' night out.  Both were very faithful and loving wives, however they had gotten over-enthusiastic on the Bacardi Breezers.

Incredibly drunk and walking home they needed to pee, so they stopped in the cemetery.  One of them had nothing to wipe with so she thought she would take off her panties and use them.

Her friend, however, was wearing a rather expensive pair of panties and did not want to ruin them.  She was lucky enough to squat down next to a grave that had a wreath with a ribbon on it, so she proceeded to wipe with that.

After the girls did their business, they proceeded to go home.

The next day, the husband of one of the women was concerned that his
normally sweet and innocent wife was still in bed hung over, so he phoned the other husband and said: "These girl nights have got to stop! I'm starting to suspect the worst. My wife came home with no panties!!"

"That's nothing," said the other husband, "Mine came back with a card stuck to her ass that said..... 'From all of us at the Fire Station ... 
We'll never forget you.' "

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For those who believe in horoscopes this is serious!

During his routine medical check, Paddy asked the doctor, "Do you think I'll live a long and healthy life?"

"I doubt it", said the doctor, "Mercury is in Uranus right now."

Paddy said, "I don't go in for any of that astrology nonsense."

"Neither do I", replied the doctor, "But my thermometer just broke off in
your arse."

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At a wine merchant, the regular taster died and the director started looking for a new one to hire.

A drunkard with a ragged, dirty look came in to apply for the position.  
The director of the winery wondered how to send him away.

He gave him a glass to drink.

The drunk tried it and said: "It's a Muscat, three years old, grown on a north slope, matured in steel containers. Low grade, but acceptable.”
"That's correct", said the boss.

Another glass.
"It's a cabernet, eight years old, a south-western slope, oak barrels, matured at 8 degrees. Requires three more years for finest results."
"Correct."

A third glass.
"It's a pinot blanc champagne, high grade and exclusive,'' calmly said the drunk.

The director was astonished.  He winked at his secretary, secretly suggesting something.  She left the room, and came back in with a glass of urine.

The alcoholic tried it.

"It's a blonde, 26 years old, three months pregnant - and if I don't get the job, I'll name the father.

That's your lot and apropos the last 'Funny', my jokes improve with age!

 

 

 

Despatches from the Front #1

Just back from the dreaded 'Death Ray' machines.  Sorry about the lack of 'Funnies' this morning but, alas, I am too 'knacked' at the moment to put them up - just grit your teeth and I promise they will appear later.  I will also respond to some of the comments, for which many thanks.  Now I'm off for a jolly good nap!  Back later.

The Sunday Rumble: 13.1.19

Get fell in, you 'orrible lot!   I trust you all followed my orders and watched the first episode of the TV series that took you inside the, er, 'hallowed halls' of the Parachute Regiment.  Looking back some 60-odd years it struck me as a perfect example of 'everything changes, everything stays the same'.  Obviously the uniforms, the kit and the weaponry were different but the psychological approach to the recruits was the same.  I was worried that perhaps the 'softie, inclusive brigade' might have got to them but no, all the recruits were treated with equal amounts of total shit!  Excellent, so tune in to ITV next Thursday for episode 2.

 

And lo, I am happy today:  Sorry to harp on about my, er, condition which, actually, is perfectly OK especially when I hear about what other people are suffering but this morning I feel great!  Last night I slept like a baby for nearly seven hours instead of the usual getting up and going for a pee every two hours.  Dammit, those 'death rays' might have done the trick already!  I wonder if they will let me off the next four weeks?

 

The uber-PC mob strike again:  I hear that James Watson, one of the three men who discovered the DNA double helix which must have brought untold medical advances to Mankind, has been hounded by sundry self-appointed 'PC Commissars' for remarks he made a few years ago:

He had told a magazine in 2007 he was "inherently gloomy about the prospect of Africa" as "all our social policies are based on the fact that their intelligence is the same as ours - where all the testing says not really".

I have no idea whether that proposition is true or false not least because I do not know what the criteria is by which you define 'intelligence' and how you test it.  Nor do I much care because in my view people are people!

 

Mueller the mule, or the donkey:   And so it goes on and on and on!  As Ms. Clarice Feldman puts it at The American Thinker:

Despite spending millions of dollars, hiring 13 of the most vicious anti-Trump prosecutors available, and having allies in the DoJ and FBI continuing to delay congressional efforts to reveal the machinations of their anti-Trump colleagues, it is increasingly obvious that they have turned up no evidence of any Trump-Russia collaboration. (Something common sense would have indicated at the outset.)

One can only cry to heaven, or Washington, "How long, oh (Lord) Mueller, how long?"

 

A totally useless but fascinating fact:   I have mentioned before my peculiar habit in bed at night - not that one, behave! -  of sticking a radio ear-piece in my ear and listening to whatever is on.  Last night there was a science programme in which some swot informed us about the mysterious lives of viruses.  As the beastly little things can have a devastating effect on our lives I did my best to stay awake and listen.  What struck me enormously was when he told us the size of viruses.  Apparently, if you placed 50,000 of them in a line they would only just cross the diameter of a full stop - like this one.  Crikey!

 

So farewell then, Andy Murray:   A great deal of fuss has arisen over the fate of Mr. Murray, first that he is taking early retirement on medical grounds and second that he had a little cry at his press conference.  Most of it passed me by because first, I think 'plink-plonk' is a totally boring sport - and ladies' 'plink  (long pause) plonk' sends me to sleep!  Also, alas, Mr. Murray comes across to me as a man with whom I would not be over-joyed to share a pint one evening!  That is not to assert that my impression is true, obviously it is not, it is a mere impression.  Even so, crying in public because you can no longer play 'plink-plonk' is pathetic.  Man up, Murray!

 

I say, skipper, steady on!   According to The Mail on Sunday, the captain of a US navy submarine whilst on a break ordered not one, not two but TEN prostitutes to his hotel.  Gosh, those 'Yankee-doodle' sailors are real men!  Apparently, he was later relieved of command and stationed on shore.  Well, poor chap, he probably needed the rest.  I must await the expert opinion of our in-house US Navy correspondent, 'JK', to find out if this is normal behaviour!

 

On Tuesday Britain's 'brown stuff' will hit the fan:   I have avoided the subject of Brexit over recent days n0t just because it brings 'SoD' in here ranting and raving but because frankly I'm bored stiff with it all.  However, beneath my boredom there is an increasing amount of seething fury aimed not just at our useless government but even more so at the majority of hucksters, clowns and crooks who inhabit Parliament.  We didn't ask them to give us a referendum in order to make up what passes for their minds concerning in or out of the EU.  Even so, by a huge majority they did so and received an answer with a clear majority which told them that we wanted OUT!  With the assistance of that vile little toad who sits, or rather, perches on the Chair, they have now shaken British democracy to the foundations of Westminster.  Where it will end, I do not know but I think dangerous times are approaching!

 

No more tonight but I will try my best to tap out something next week as I enter my second dose of 'death ray' treatment!

 

 

 

And now I bring you good news - no charge!

This morning I indulged myself cruising through the Saturday Telegraph and there in the 'Books' section I came across an article by Christopher Howse bringing tidings of great joy.  Apparently, on January 24th a book will be released entitled: A Scribbler in Soho: A Celebration of Auberon Waugh.  He, as regular readers will have inferred over the years, was and still is my favourite commentator of all time.  His wit could almost be classified as 'a deadly weapon' and as Howse reminds us, many of Waugh's writings would not be published today.  Here is one example from way back:

Take the case of Nora Beloff who crops up in a new book, A Scribbler in Soho. This “celebration of Auberon Waugh” gives a version of his working life between extracts from his journalism in Private Eye and The Literary Review, which Waugh edited for 14 years under the proprietorship of Naim Attallah, whose idea the book was. In 1972 in Private Eye Waugh wrote that “Nora Ballsoff”, the veteran political correspondent of The Observer, whose age he gave as 78 (she was 53), “was frequently to be seen in bed with Harold Wilson and senior members of the previous administration, although it is thought that nothing improper occurred”.

Needless to say, she sued and won but, oddly enough, that was the only time he was ever sued.  Another of his targets was the late and unlamented Jeremy Thorpe:

The humour could go several steps beyond satire, as in his “hounding”, as he called it, of Jeremy Thorpe. Waugh stood against Thorpe in the 1979 election as a candidate for the Dog Lovers’ Party in order to draw attention to the bungled attempt to murder Norman Scott, whose Great Dane, Rinka, had been shot dead instead. Thorpe was defeated, though not by Waugh who got only 79 votes.

Again, as regular readers will know, I take every opportunity to remind people of his exceedingly wise words when he advised anyone who saw a politician on a soapbox to shout out, "Show us your willy!"  That still makes me giggle.  Anyway, buy the book when it comes out, there's plenty of Winter left and you may need the laughs!

 

Thank you, my faithful readers, thank you

Well, I did warn you that things might be a tad erratic over the next four weeks as the 'Darth Vaders' at Taunton Hospital unleash their deadly 'death rays' on poor little me.  To be honest, it's not the pain and discomfort that has reduced my 'scribbling' because actually there isn't any!  No, it's just the travelling time plus the 'yuuuuuge' amount of prep-time as I walk up and down swallowing glass after glass of water (God, I hate water!) until my bladder is primed and then, and only then, they switch on the 'death rays' which take about five minutes and are utterly and completely painless!  It is all very, very boring - and tiring!

One side effect which I had not factored in to this process is that I have lost interest in the news which, happily for y'all, means that I have nothing with which to 'bore for Britain'.  Fortunately, however, yesterday my weekly Spectator arrived and today I will be able catch up on those bloody "events, dear boy, events"!  You can expect 'incoming' later on today.  You have been warned!

 

 

Thank you, my faithful readers, thank you

Well, I did warn you that things might be a tad erratic over the next four weeks as the 'Darth Vaders' at Taunton Hospital unleashed their deadly 'death rays' on poor little me.  To be honest, it's not the pain and discomfort that has reduced my 'scribbling' because actually there isn't any!  No, it's just the travelling time plus the 'yuuuuuge' amount of prep-time as I walk up and down swallowing glass after glass of water (God, I hate water!) until my bladder is primed and then, and only then, they switch on the 'death rays' which take about five minutes and are utterly and completely painless!  It is all very, very boring - and tiring!

One side effect which I had not factored in to this process is that I have lost interest in the news which, happily for y'all, means that I have nothing with which to 'bore for Britain'.  Fortunately, however, yesterday my weekly Spectator arrived and today I will be able catch up on those bloody "events, dear boy, events"!  You can expect 'incoming' later on today.  You have been warned!

 

 

"Six Minutes in May" by Nicholas Shakespeare

Never mind all those momentous events that have rocked our poor old globe, the really important thing today is that I have had my first 'death ray' treatment and very nearly fell asleep on the couch as all those monstrous machines circled around me doing I know not what.  And so far I am not glowing in the dark!

Now, on to minor matters, like for example, the days when we came within a whisker of losing the war to Adolph Hitler!  I think I may have mentioned before that in an act of bookish self-flagellation I have started reading "Six Minutes in May" by Nicholas Shakespeare which begins with a detailed analysis of one of the greatest military cock-ups in British history - the Norway campaign in 1940.  It wasn't too long ago when I read another book on that subject and I can tell you that as a Brit the Norwegian campaign, or more accurately, the Norwegian fiasco is hideously embarrassing.  Nicholas Shakespeare is mainly famous as a novelist but don't let that fool you into thinking he might not be up to much as a historian - to the contrary, he is superb!  All of that, of course, is merely by way of an introduction to the even more vicious 'war' which broke out immediately afterwards in and around Westminster!

Chamberlain had dominated British politics from the mid '30s but as Churchill's constant warnings about the menace of Germany proved to be more substantial than the blank piece of paper Chamberlain had waved on his return from Munich, his position was severely weakened, and Churchill's grew.  In addition, 'the Holy Fox', a.k.a., Lord Halifax, now risen to the position of Foreign Secretary, was manoeuvring for what was likely to be an empty seat in No. 10. 

So far, so well known because the story has been told over and over but Mr. Shakespeare, as well as flexing his excellent talents as a historian, adds his novelist skills in describing the myriad characters occupying the heights of British society.  This brings what would have been an oft-repeated history to life in a way that I have never read - and enjoyed -  before!  It is, I am tempted to say, the very best history book I have ever read.  I hesitate to do so because I have read so many of the damned things that I can't remember them all!  Even so, I must warn you, particularly if you are a Brit, that it is an intensely shaming indictment of our military and political (non)leadership of that period.  Even worse, it emphasises the seditious thought that today, in the 21st century, nothing much has changed!

This is a terrific book and I urge you all to read it.

 

 

Heap big laugh from heap big squaw

For those of you who, sensibly perhaps, do not follow American politics as avidly as I do, this very funny cartoon from 'The American Thinker" succeeds in highlighting the ever increasing heights, or lows, perhaps, of Sen. 'Fauxcahontas' Warren who, after years of lying boasting and cheating about her Red Indian ancestry, finally took a blood test and found her Cherokee blood lines were so miniscule that Donald Trump is probably more Indian than she is!

Anyway, the other day she made the opening moves in her attempt to win the Presidential nomination for the Democratic party by having a 'chat to the folks' whilst standing in her kitchen - which I would guess is normally staffed by domestic servants!  Pausing for a moment during her boring monologue she reached inside her fridge and took out a bottle of beer from which she drank directly, like, 'ya know, she's jes' ordinary folks like y'all'!  I wonder how many times her PR people made her rehearse that shot?  Well, I mean it's not as though she was likely to know where her fridge was even situated!  Anyway, those very naughty boys and gals from The American Thinker published this cartoon and I hope they will forgive me for republishing it.

 

Priceless!

 

This might be interesting

I gather from the Daily Mail that a new TV programme is about to start in which sundry 'big names' will choose their 'icon of the 20th century'.  That is, their choice as to who had the greatest influence and why.  The choices will be made from various groups such as politics, arts, science, sport and so forth.  It is an intriguing idea and the choice of the most influential man or woman in politics during the 20th century is extremely tough.

A great deal depends on what is meant by "influence".  Many people, especially Brits, would choose Churchill but actually, in reality, such 'influence' that he exerted was diminished rapidly the day FDR took over - and a good thing to, in my opinion!  Equally, FDR did not so much influence affairs as follow where the power already existed - in the United States of America.  I think - and I must quickly admit that I have not thought this through in detail - that, alas, if it is 'influence' we are talking about, then it's the 'baddies we need to consider, men (or monsters) like the Kaiser, Lenin, Stalin, Hitler, Mao and such like.  When you add up how many 'zillions' of people they slaughtered it makes them exceedingly 'influential', if not in a good way!

Science is another area that is difficult to assess and to choose one person who was the most influential in the last century.  In contrast to the 'politicians' it is perhaps the 'goodies' who deserve consideration, particularly those who discovered or invented the means to cure those ailments that had slaughtered Mankind since forever.  No good asking me, I am hopelessly biased in favour of whoever invented the 'death ray treatment' that is, according to rumour, going to save me from 'a fate worse than death' - er, hang on, I thought death was the worst!  Anyway, good luck with that one.

As for sport, of course, there is only one absolutely obvious winner - (Sir) Lewis Hamilton, not that I'm biased, oh dear me, no!

 

 

Advance warning

Tomorrow I start four weeks of 'death ray' treatment which entails daily visits to Taunton Hospital.  The treatment itself, I suspect, will be a doddle but going backwards and forwards to Taunton will be a major pain in the arse, particularly the ones where I have to get up early in the morning which is, of course, against my religion!  Therefore, you might find that my posting here at D&N might become somewhat erratic - and who just said, "Waddya mean, it always is"?  Anyway, the usual crap service will begin again as and when possible.

 

A hero for our times

These days it is difficult to assign the title of 'Hero' to anyone because the poor little word has been gang-banged out of any meaning by constant repetition in the most ludicrous of multi-circumstances.  However, here and there an exception is to be found occupied by a true hero in the very best sense of the word.  Such an exception is Oleg Gordievsky, the Russian KGB officer who worked secretly for MI6 for years and who, thank heavens, managed to escape the gulag that is 'Mother Russia'.

I am prompted to these remarks by Alex Massie at the CAPX site who has just read Ben Macintyre’s The Spy and the Traitor which, within nano-seconds of me finishing this post, I will order up for my Kindle.  Gordievsky played his double game for years and no-one knew better than him the price he would pay if he was caught.  Also, I guess, the MI6 operators who, so to speak, 'nursed' him, played a long, dangerous game.  Our intelligence services are frequently sneered at for their general uselessness but, in the nature of the game, every so often they win a jackpot.  Thank you, gentlemen and thank you, Mr. Gordievsky and I hope you enjoy a long, albeit very secret, retirement in the Home Counties of England.

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 7.1.19

Start your working week with a smile - oh go on, try!

A priest dies and is waiting in line at the Pearly Gates. Ahead
of him is a guy who's dressed in sunglasses, a loud shirt, leather
jacket, and jeans. Saint Peter addresses this cool guy, 'Who are
you, so that I may know whether or not to admit you to the Kingdom of
Heaven?'

The guy replies, 'I' m Bruce, retired airline pilot from Toronto.'

Saint Peter consults his list. He smiles and says to the pilot,
'Take this silken robe and golden staff and enter the Kingdom.' The pilot goes into Heaven with his robe and staff.

Next, it's the priest's turn. He stands erect and booms out, 'I
am Father Bob, pastor of Saint Mary's for the last 43 years.'

Saint Peter consults his list. He says to the priest, 'Take this
cotton robe and wooden staff and enter the Kingdom.

'Just a minute,' says the good father. 'That man was a pilot and
he gets a silken robe and golden staff and I get only cotton and wood. How can this be?

'Up here - we go by results,' says Saint Peter. 'When you preached - people slept. When he flew, people prayed.'

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I was in my back yard trying to launch a kite.
I threw the kite up in the air, the wind would catch it for a few seconds, then it would come crashing back down to earth.
I tried this a few more times with no success.

All the while, my wife was watching from the kitchen window,
Muttering to herself how men need to be told how to do everything.
She opens the window and yelled to me, 'You need a piece of tail.'

I turned with a confused look on my face and said,
'Make up your mind. Last night, you told me to go fly a kite.'

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

A couple of old guys were golfing, when one mentioned that he was going to go to Dr. Steinberg, for a new set of dentures in the morning.

His elderly buddy remarked that he, too, had gone to the very same dentist two years before.

"Is that so?" asked the first old guy. "Did he do a good job?"

The second oldster replied, "Well, I was on the golf course yesterday, when a guy on the next fairway hooked a shot.

The ball must have been going at least 180kph, when it slammed me right in the nuts."

The first old guy was confused and asked, "What the hell does that have to do with your dentures?"

"It was the first time in two years, my teeth didn't hurt."

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A blind man enters a bar and find his way to a barstool. After ordering a drink, and sitting there for a while, the blind guy yells to the bartender, “Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?”

The bar immediately becomes absolutely quiet.

In a husky, deep voice, the woman next to him says, “Before you tell that joke, you should know something. The bartender is blonde, the bouncer is blonde and I’m a 6′ tall, 200 pound blonde with a black belt in karate. What’s more, the fella sitting next to me is blonde and he’s a weightlifter. The woman to your right is a blonde, and she’s a pro wrestler. Think about it seriously, mister. You still wanna tell that blonde joke?”

The blind guy says, “Nah, not if I’m gonna have to explain it five times.”

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Eight hours into his trial Paddy pleads guilty.  "Why didn't you plead guilty at the beginning and save the court's time?" the judge demanded.

"Well," Paddy responded, "until I heard all the evidence I thought I was innocent."

That's your lot - and who said 'Thank God for that?'

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 6.1.19

The things I do in bed!   No, not that sort of thing - behave!  I mean my habit of listening to the radio via an ear-piece.  Mostly, I am tuned to the World Service of the BBC and much as I detest that bloated organisation the World Service remains pretty good.  Last night I heard Mr. Jim Grant aka Mr. Lee Child, the inventor of the implacable Jack Reacher, being questioned by an audience.  I still remember my surprise at learning that he was an Englishman because his knowledge of the backwaters of America seemed immense.  Of course, his books are total tosh but they are 'tosh' of the very highest standards and, oddly enough, the fact that he is, so to speak, a foreigner living in the USA, makes him an exceedingly sharp observer.  He came across as very intelligent and humorous, a man you would be glad to have at your dinner table.

 

With history, read widely, read often:   That is the general message from 'Mike Konrad' at The American Thinker.  He begins his article with a perceptive quote from George Orwell:  "Who controls the past controls the future; who controls the present controls the past."  As someone who has over the last 79 years been forced to change my mind innumerable times as more and yet more history books are written I think Mr. 'Konrad' is exceedingly shrewd!

 

Right, get fell in, you 'orrible lot!  You will all report for duty on Thursday at 21.00 hrs. at ITV Channel 3 where, over the next three weeks they will be showing a year in the life of the Parachute Regiment.  I guess that much of it will be concentrated on the selection course and I do hope they still have the 'milling' and the 'log race'.  The first, as I have explained before, is where you are 'partnered' with another 'wannabe' Para roughly, very roughly, equal in height, weight and reach and put in a boxing ring with clapped out gloves where you stand toe to toe and proceed to bash shit out of each other.  The 'log race' is where a team of 6/7 men with ropes race against the clock to carry a 'yuuuuuuge' log (which seems to get even 'yuuuuuuger' as time goes on!) round a cross-country course.  Such fun!  I do hope nothing much has changed because then you will all understand that the Paras are a particularly fine selection of refined gentlemen!

 

"Oh for the gift that God would gie us", and all that sort of thing!  Well, Mr. George Will provides a view, although mostly centred on Germany and it is worth reading because sometimes the outsider sees best!

 

Christopher Booker makes a futile gesture to polish Chamberlain's reputation:   Any such effort from anyone is futile. Chamberlain was crafty and stupid and it is unbelievable that he persisted for so long in believing that a deal could be done with Hitler, especially after his shameful betrayal of Czechoslovakia.  Sorry, Mr. Booker, but that was a 'Big Fail'!

 

I have dipped into Prof. Hawkins' book:   God, I'm brave!  As far as I can make out, when it comes to the universe, first there was nothing, then there was a big bang, and lo, there was something.  The implication was that sooner or later there will be nothing again.  Really, really enlightening, no, really . . .

 

Oh, no, not our Wayne!   Apparently that clean-living, upright British gentleman, Mr. Wayne Rooney, has been nicked by the American equivalent of 'the old Bill' for "public swearing and intoxication".  I can't believe this of an honourable 'son of Liverpool' like 'our Wayne'.  Shurely shome mishtake, officer!

 

No more rumbles today

 

 

My Saturday morning ritual

Well, it is if and when I can get away with it!  Today the 'Memsahib' had a lay in so the coast was clear and I slumped into my recliner with both The Daily Mail and The Telegraph.  It takes me about 3.5 nano-seconds to skim through The Mail especially now that the new editor is a 'Remoaner' nitwit and the ever excellent Quentin Letts has sensibly taken his leave.  However,  The Telegraph, particularly on a Saturday, takes considerably longer.  Of course, I read it on the internet but on Saturday mornings I like to splurge out and get the real thing.  

Needless to say, I am, more or less, in sync with their political views and there's nothing quite like having one's own prejudices re-enforced by some smart-Alec experts.  However, as much as anything it is their 'Review' section I enjoy even though it costs me a fortune!  No, no, it's not the newspaper that costs but nearly always their book reviews point me at yet further treasures in the world of books which I simply must acquire!

Today, for example, there is a review of Adam Zamoyski's biography "Napoleon: The Man Behind The Myth".  I already have one of Zamoyski's Napoleonic histories which analysed brilliantly 'Boney's' truly 'yuuuuuuge' error when, in 1812, he decided to invade Russia.  In a way, I suppose, we must be grateful to old 'Boney' because perhaps, just perhaps, he was an influence on that other ego-centric maniac, Adolph Hitler, who possibly felt that he could do much better than that jumped-up Corsican and so he, too, invaded with much the same result!  

On a different subject, The Telegraph reviews the latest crime thrillers, a genre on which I have been hooked since I was ten and used to read my Mum's Agatha Christie yarns from the library.  Today, they are punting yet another 'Scandie noir' called "Red Snow" but this one is written by an Englishman called Will Dean who actually lives in Sweden having built his own house there and who therefore knows where-of he writes.  Oh well, another entry into my Kindle but I can't help wondering just how many books one can cram into that slim, plastic box?

 

 

Alas, another film I will not be watching

Not, I hasten to add, because it is badly made, I must wait for the critics to tell me that, but because it is on a subject, or rather, two subjects whom I adore - Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy.  These two clowns have, off and on, lit up my childhood, my adolescence, my grown-up years, my middle and my old age.  Like the very best things in life their main quality is their simplicity, no, no, not the fact that their characters are simpletons but because their humour derives from pure simplicity.  Even so, as an ex-amateur actor who has tried playing comic roles and failed not 'big time' but 'small time', I am all too well aware of how difficult it is to extract laughs from audiences.  But these two masters of the art had audiences around the world howling with laughter at their antics.

I gather that this film deals with the final stages of their careers when, having fallen on hard times, they were forced to undertake live tours of war-weary Britain in the late '40s, early '50s, playing in some of the most down-trodden areas in 'this septic Isle'.  Both short of money, both saddled with mega-wife troubles - well, they were both daft enough to keep on marrying multiple numbers of women! - and both, alas, out of favour with Hollywood which had definitely moved on.  The film has received good reviews and the two actors concerned have been highly praised but, even so, I really don't think I could bear to watch it.  Instead I will stick with my memories of being reduced, over and over again, to shrieking, helpless laughter.  Thanks, 'fellas'!

 

 

To Trump or not to Trump, that is the question

I'm not being lazy here, or at least no more lazy than I usually am, in urging you all to read a fascinating essay by Jonah Goldberg at The National Revue on the subject of President Trump's character.  It is doubly interesting because he admits to a fairly strong disagreement with his buddy of many years, Roger Kimball, another writer like Goldberg who is always worth reading.  The debate (argument?) is worth reading because they are both confirmed conservatives.  Alas, when it comes to the 'true' nature of Donald Trump they clash head on!

In essence, Goldberg accuses Kimball of half conceding Trump's character weaknesses but remaining stoically loyal because what Trump is mainly doing is actually true-blue conservative policy.  Goldberg, on the other hand, will have none of it.  In his view Trump is, in Hollywood language, "a dirty rat" and ignoring his 'yuuuuuuge' fault lines will eventually damage the conservative cause irrevocably.

Please read the article and let me know what y'all think.  In the meantime, I will be plodding manfully round the shops in Yeovil in the wake of the 'Memsahib' as, amongst other things, she exchanges the lovely fashion wear I bought her for Xmas because it was the wrong size, the wrong colour and the wrong fashion!  You would think, after 54 years of marriage I would have learned the futility of choosing outfits for her!

 

Dodgy Duff nicks another one!

Yes, I'm at it again but, dammit, I am a long-term subscriber to 'The Speccie' so it's my right, innit?  Anyway, this is the work of Mr. Ross Clark at The Coffee House in which he offers some truths on the subject of Britain's economy as we approach Brexit.  For God's sake don't anyone tell 'SoD', he'll throw a fit!

Britain is, of course, in a Brexit-driven recession of its own making, while other EU countries are powering on ahead without us. We know this because some Remainers keep telling us so. It’s obvious, isn’t it: we cut ourselves off from European markets and manufacturers will leave rustbelt Britain in droves to relocate their factories elsewhere in the EU.

There is just one problem with this analysis. While it appears to be confirmed every time the CBI, IMF and others publish their forecasts, it is becoming increasingly hard to square with the cold, hard economic data. This morning, IHS/Markit published its monthly Purchasing Managers’ Index (PMI) for manufacturing – a measure of business activity which leads official government statistics on the economy. The survey takes data on economic activity directly from businesses and boils it down to a single score between 0 and 100, where anything over 50 denotes economic expansion and anything under 50 denotes contraction. The PMI for UK manufacturing in December rose to 54.2, up from 53.6 in November, beating the forecasts of most economic commentators. Meanwhile, the PMI for Eurozone manufacturing fell to 51.4 in December, from 51.8 in November. The survey indicated contraction in French (49.7) and Italian (49.2) manufacturing. The index for Germany stood at 51.5. Only Ireland (54.5) and the Netherlands (57.2) can claim faster-expanding manufacturing sectors than the UK.

Some of the unexpectedly good performance in the UK, suggests IHT Markit, is down to businesses stockpiling parts ahead of what they fear might be a messy Brexit. Maybe, but if they are stockpiling parts it does rather indicate that they are committed to continuing with manufacturing in the UK – if they were fleeing to the Eurozone, that would be showing up in the statistics. Stockpiling of parts is certainly not the whole of the story – manufacturing exports are up, too. And while some Remainers will inevitably scoff that our factories are only performing well thanks to the fall in the pound since 2016, that is the whole point of having a floating currency. The reason why the Italian economy, for example, is in the permafrost is because it is shackled by the euro, whose exchange rate is disproportionately influenced by economic conditions in Germany and which, as a result, cannot fall so as to make Italian products more competitive.

Actually, Britain’s industrial revival pre-dates the 2016 fall in the pound. With the exception of a small dip in the early months of 2016, UK manufacturing has now been expanding since 2013 – a run of success which has been unprecedented in the past 30 years. For years, manufacturing had been draining away to Asia and our economy was becoming ever-more dominated by services. In Britain, that trend now seems to have been arrested. That is good news for the UK as a whole but for the manufacturing regions in particular. Unfortunately, thanks to the rearguard Remain campaign and its need to talk down the UK economy, we can’t seem to see it as such.

Given all the "end of the world is nigh" hysteria - hoodathunkit?

 

 

This post is of no interest to anyone except me!

That's me as in 'me, Me, ME'!  Like most blokes, I suppose, I have always enjoyed a cooked breakfast.  In fact, 'back in the day', I always enjoyed making a cooked breakfast when we had friends staying and, though with all due modesty, I say it myself, they were excellent.  I don't like them swimming in fat and I want my fried bread to be crunchy but not set in concrete and my eggs to be filled with runny yolks that pour all over everything when you bust them.

Now for reasons I will not go into because they pertain to my old-age idleness over recent years, I haven't had a 'cookie', as I call them, for years.  However, today was the day!  For reasons I will not bore you, this morning we went to a neighbouring village called Sturminster Newton and on the way back we passed through Stallbridge Village in which there is a small, privately-owned super-market called Dikes which has run for over a hundred years!  There is a photo taken in 1912 of their 'delivery van', an enclosed cart drawn by a horse!  Naturally enough, when shopping, the 'Memsahib' turns left for Sherborne which has two mega-supermarkets plus, of course, numerous other shops many specialising in ladies wear and such like!  Need I say more?

It must be a dozen years since we last looked in at Dikes.  It was pretty good back then but today it is superb.  Their fruit and veg look ten times fresher and more appealing that Sainsbury's.  But best of all is their café which serves a whole range of meals including 'cookies' to taste, so I had two eggs, fried bread, two rashers and a tomato all well splashed with brown sauce accompanied, of course, by a LARGE tea which comes in a suitably LARGE mug with an equally LARGE teabag - I had two of those to wash everything down!

Even a wordy, old bore like me cannot think of the words to describe how excellent it was.  Guess where we will be doing our shopping in future!

 

 

What would old Bill Shakespeare have made of 'King' Donald?

I suppose at this early stage of his 'reign' it would not be clear whether it was to be a 'Tragedy' or a 'Comedy', probably both, a 'Tragi-Comedy'.  Whilst it has all been tremendous fun so far, you can't help thinking that the worst is yet to come.  For example, I spotted a brief item in the 'meeja' that 'King' Donald might decide not to run in 2020.  Such an abject withdrawal would surely be a massive wound to his equally massive ego so I doubt it will happen unless, of course, 'Commissar' Mueller actually produces enough dirt to threaten 'King' Donald with a spell in the Tower, or whatever the American equivalent is. Because, and let's face it, 'King' Donald has the best, that is, the slimiest lawyers in his 'Kingdom' so Mueller will need an iron-cast charge sheet wrapped in nuclear resistant material to pin anything on him.  I suppose another possibility is that 'King' Donald simply gets bored with it all and decides that he would rather spend time in his Florida resort surrounded by admiring acolytes, especially if they have long blonde hair and 'yuuuuuge' breasts!

On the other hand, given his massive ego, it is more likely that he will pull up the drawbridge, man the ramparts and defend himself to the very last acolyte.  After all, his opponents are the saddest, sorriest bunch of twits any sitting President could hope for, ranging from a teen-age girly to an old-age pensioner via a fake Indian and some useless 'wannabe' kid with acne who goes by the nickname of 'Beto' - yeeeeeeeees, quite! - who raised $70 million dollars but then failed to even defeat the detested Senator Cruz.

Well, old Bill wrote some plays with three parts but the Tragi-Comedy of 'King' Donald might need double that!

 

 

 

I know it's not Sunday but . . .

It feels like it.  So instead of slaving over another of my highly intelligent and lucid posts (don't say it!) I am going to ramble about this, that or the other as and when they occur to me.  There will be a break at lunchtime because now that I am a fully qualified 'old geezer', instead of seeing in the New Year with glass in hand, I went to bed at 10.30 and today the 'Memsahib' and I, with some equally elderly friends will be lunching, sedately, at a local pub/restaurant.  Actually, this New Year started rather promisingly because this morning I woke up to a cloudless sky and bright sunshine!  Needless to say, that didn't last because by now - 10.30am - it has clouded over.  Oh well, it was ever thus!

However, one item caught my eye in the news today, Darlings, and that was the courageous behaviour of Mr. Jimmy Osmond who is playing 'Capt. Hook' at the Birmingham Hippodrome in their Xmas panto.  Mr. Osmond, you may recall (if you are old enough!), was 'the kid' in the Osmond Brothers singing group decades ago.  Anyway, midway through a performance he suffered a stroke but, bless his performer's soul, he insisted on carrying on to the end before being rushed off to hospital.  Well done, Jimmy, but I can't help wondering how many members of the audiences who watched my performances secretly prayed for me to have a stoke?!

Another headline that caught my eye was truly shocking, well, to me anyway, because it rather destroyed my constant sniping at Chicago as the murder capital of America.  In the last two years the murder rate has actually dropped!  Mind you, the 'windy city' still managed to 'off'' more people than LA and 'Noo Yawk' combined, both of whom have larger populations than Chicago.  'Still 'n' all', jolly good show, Chicago and keep up the good work!

Now I'm off to the Kings Arms in the neighbouring village of Charlton Horethorne where I intend to lunch 'not wisely but too well'!

Well, I managed that OK so I am all set for 40, or perhaps 400, winks in my recliner chair but before I do I must confess that I am a practicing masochist because, as I think I mentioned a few days ago, I have launched myself into Nicholas Shakespeare's terrific book "Six Days in May" which tells the utterly depressing story of the Norwegian 'campaign' (or farce, if you prefer) which took place under Churchill's command as First Lord in 1940.  It made Gallipoli look like a rather well-planned and executed triumph!  After this major military cock-up, within a few weeks they appointed Churchill as Prime Minister!  True, he was quite good at the politics but as a military commander he was another "Cpl. Jones"!  Anyway, time for another few pages of self-inflicted agony before I nod off.

And talking of matters military, did you notice that brief story in the 'meeja' which reported that Germany was seeking recruits for its armed services from neighbouring countries?  Well, good luck with that one, 'Mutti'!

I am going to sign off now and spend the next few hours desperately trying to find anything half-watchable on the 'telly' - yes, yes, I know, fat chance!

 

 

 

Read this - and that's an order!

Andrew Sullivan, a 'never-Trumper' of the first order, has come out in support of President Trump which is a bit like 'the Moggman' saying 'Jezza' isn't all bad!  In an exceedingly 'punchy' article at Zero Hedge, he lays into the political/military establishment in Washington saying, in effect, that not only are they stupid but monumentally stupid because they persist in repeating their stupidity over and over again.  He is responding to the outrage expressed by the Washington elite(?) at Trump's (apparent) decision to withdraw American forces from sundry hell-holes round the world in which they have floundered, bravely but uselessly, for decade after decade.

I confess that I still can't make up my mind about Trump.  His manner (and even his manners) leave me totally confused.  However, his stated (but not yet enacted) promise to withdraw American forces from the political/military swamps they occupy struck me as long overdue.  As Mr. Sullivan states with brutal clarity, the Washington elite is 'shocked, I tell you, shocked' by this overturning of their decades old plots and stratagems which, including Vietnam, have achieved virtually nothing except filling the spaces in Arlington cemetery.

Please read Mr. Sullivan, he tells it so much better than I can.

 

 

Your Monday funnies: 31.12.18

Some side-splitters - no, honestly! - for you to tell at your drunken New Year's Eve party:

When everybody on earth was dead and waiting to enter Heaven, God appeared and said, "I want the men to make two lines: One line for the men who were true heads of their household, and the other line for the men who were dominated by their women." I want all the women to report to St. Peter."

Soon, the women were gone, and there were two lines of men. The line of the men who were dominated by their wives was hundreds of miles long and in the line of men who truly were heads of their household, there was only ONE man.

God said to the long line, "You men should be ashamed of yourselves; I created you to be the head of your household! You have been disobedient and have not fulfilled your purpose! Of all of you, only one obeyed. Learn from him."

God turned to the one man, "How did you manage to be the only one in this line?"

The man replied: "This is where my wife told me to stand."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

A young cowboy sitting in a saloon one Saturday night recognized an elderly man standing at the bar who, in his day, had been the fastest gun in the West.

The cowboy took a place next to the old-timer, bought him a drink and told him of his great ambition to be a great shot.

‘Could you give me some tips?' he asked.

The old man said, 'Well, for one thing, you're wearing your gun too high - tie the holster a little lower down on your leg.'

'Will that make me a better gunfighter?'

'Sure will.'

The young man did as he was told, stood up, whipped out his .44 and shot the bow tie off the piano player.

'That's terrific!' said the cowboy. 'Got any more tips?'

'Yep,' said the old man. 'Cut a notch out of your holster where the hammer hits it - that’ll give you a smoother draw.'

'Will that make me a better gunfighter?' asked the young man.

'You bet it will,' said the old-timer.

The young man took out his knife, cut the notch, stood up, drew his gun in a blur, and then shot a cuff link off the piano player.

'Wow!' exclaimed the cowboy 'I'm learnin' somethin' here. Got any more tips?'

The old man pointed to a large can in a corner of the saloon. 'See that axle grease over there? Coat your gun with it.'

The young man smeared some of the grease on the barrel of his gun.

'No,' said the old-timer, 'I mean smear it all over the gun, handle and all.'

'Will that make me a better gunfighter?' asked the young man.

'No,' said the old-timer, 'but when Wyatt Earp gets done playing the piano, he's gonna shove that gun up your ass, and it won't hurt as much.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

And now a very fine selection of one liners to entertain your guests at your New Year party, er, if you can still speak, that is, and they haven't all passed out!

• I just got back from a pleasure trip.
  I took my mother-in-law to the airport.
  ***************************
  * I’ve been in love with the same woman for 49 years!
  If my wife ever finds out, she'll kill me!
  ***************************
  * What are the three words a woman never wants to hear when she's making love?
  "Honey, I'm home!"
  **************************
  * Someone stole all my credit cards, but I won't be reporting it.
  The thief spends less than my wife did.
  ***************************
  * We always hold hands.
  If I let go, she shops.
  ***************************
  * My wife and I went back to the hotel where we spent our wedding night; only this time I stayed in the bathroom and cried.
  ***************************
  * My wife and I went to a hotel where we got a waterbed.
  My wife called it the Dead Sea.
  ***************************
  * She was at the beauty shop for two hours.
  That was only for the estimate.
  She got a mudpack and looked great for two days.
  Then the mud fell off.
  ***************************
  * The Doctor gave a man six months to live.
  The man couldn't pay his bill so the doctor gave him another six months.
  *******************************
  The Doctor called Mrs. Cohen saying,
  "Mrs Cohen, your check came back."
  Mrs Cohen answered, "So did my arthritis!"
  ******************************
  * Doctor: "You'll live to be 60!"
  Patient: "I am 60!"
  Doctor: "See! What did I tell you?"
  ************************
  * Patient: "I have a ringing in my ears."
  Doctor: "Don't answer!"
  ***************************

Finally, my very best wishes to you all for a happy, healthy 2019

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 30.12.18

Yes, yes, I know I'm a bit late and you're right, I did have a bit of a lay in this morning but now I have to go off and visit an elderly (ie: even older than me!) relative in her nursing home, so you will have to wait for 'the full Monty'.  However, here is an opening 'rumble':

Another total tit runs our armed forces:   Dammit, 'SoD' beat me to this one in a comment below but I will have my say.  The "total tit" concerned is Mr. Gavin Williamson MP, a young greaser with ambitions far beyond his capabilities who is, God help us, our shiny new Defence Secretary and who insists that he will put the 'Great' back into 'Great Britain' by opening bases round the world.  By golly, that will have 'Vlad' shaking in his snow boots, and it will certainly wipe that smug smile off the face of Comrade Xi Jinping-Pong, the 'Dear Leader' of China Inc.  Or not!

 

All this 'whizzy-do stuff' is doin' my 'ead in!   Mr. Jeremy Warner, always a shrewd observer, explains some of the impact of the electronic technology revolution which is upending our world as we once knew it.  Mind you, it has happened before.  I have just finished the chapter in my 'History of England from the Romans to Today' which covers the industrial revolution of the 19th century.  Now that really shook things up, not just here but all round the globe.  Time to fasten your seat belts!

 

I couldn't resist nicking this:

Image by Richard Terrell of Aftermath

My thanks to The American Thinker.

 

"Six Minutes in May":

Written by Nicholas Shakespeare tells the extra-ordinary circumstances in which Churchill became Prime Minister. It opens with 'Winnie' in the Admiralty facing the chances of a German invasion of Norway. The German plan was locked as tight as possible but even so various hints and surmises leaked out.

Made aware of these rumours, British Intelligence dismissed them. As late as 8 April, Military Intelligence issued a paper, 'The Possibilities of German Action against Scandinavia' which 'did not support any probability of a Scandinavian invasion'. At the Admiralty, Capt. Ralph Edwards, the new Deputy Director of Operations (Home) recorded in his diary that the German military chiefs would never allow such 'a mad expedition to sail'.

So no change there then! And yes, some of you may remember that I was once a proud member of British Intelligence despite only being a Corporal. Mind you, Hitler was only a Corporal, too!

 

I may have to murder Hercule Poirot:   I may have mentioned before that the 'Memsahib' is a great fan of TV murder mysteries and so far over the Xmas period Channel 10 has featured non-stop murders most of them investigated by that fat, short-arsed Belgian with the irritating accent.  I have watched so many of them, so many times, that I practically know the scripts off by heart!  Thus, it may be necessary for me to devise a cunning plan that would fool even Poirot himself and 'off him' once and for all!  Alternatively, of course, it may have to be the 'Memsahib' I see to but the problem there is that she is an excellent cook!  What's a fella to do?

 

 

No more rumbles 

 

 

The one and only prognostication for 2019 worth reading

No, it is not mine, what do you think I am, some sort of hyped-up fortune teller?  Don't answer that!  Normally, not only do I resolutely ignore my own prognostications but I refuse to read those of other people but, as in so many things, there are always exceptions.  In this case, the exception comes in the elegant form of 'MDJ', the proto-mother of my children, er, if I had it in me and if she would ever answer my many letters!  I refer, of course, to 'My Darling Jane', aka, Ms. Janet Daley of The Telegraph who has bravely and elegantly offered her forecast for 2019 which is wittily illustrated by the cartoonist 'Bob'.

I urge you all to read her brave words with which I mostly agree - but then I would, wouldn't I?

 

 

How long will the 'Ginger Ninja' last in 2019?

I ask because the anti-Trump hysteria - I use that word deliberately - is fast reaching a crescendo.  Of course, there is no doubt that Trump's persona is less than lovely, in fact, it is, at times, embarrassingly childish but, hey, he was elected President fairly and squarely under their system!  Of course, his squealing opponents are hurling all sorts of accusations to the effect that it was 'the rooskies wot dunnit' but so far no hard evidence has come to light and anyway how much, er, 'foreign aid' did 'HillBilly' receive?

Two long, tedious years have gone by whilst 'Commissar' Mueller has put the squeeze on anyone and everyone who ever shook hands with the President in order to build a case against him.  Surely in the next month or two he will have to publish the charge sheet if only to justify the 'yuuuuuge' cost of his 'investigation'.  I will drop dead with shock - no, really! - if he fails to come up with something.  You don't duck and dive all your life in Big Business without getting dirty hands and as Trump's judgment is less than brilliant I suspect his are very grimy indeed!  Mind you, exactly the same could be, and is, said of 'HillBilly' and the Clinton Foundation.

Even so, it is now clear that not only are the political knives out for Trump but also the political machine guns and tanks and nukes wielded by a half mad Democratic party!  They are determined to 'git their man'!  Thus, we will soon see how much of Trump is bellowing hot air and how much real guts for a long and damaging struggle.  Or to put it another way, will he fight or will he flounce?

 

 

Humbuggery - 'Noo Yawk Times' style!

They care, they really, really care about our fragile planet do the 'lardy-arse' humbugs, like Mr. Arthur Sulzberger Jr., who run the wretched fish and chip wrapper that is the New York Times!  They thrashed 'The Donald' for unwinding 'St. Obama's' gentle, caring climate policies thus making 2018 "one of the most discouraging years in recent memory for anyone who cares about the health of the planet."  In fact, they thundered, 1918 was "a year marked by President Trump’s destructive, retrograde policies, by backsliding among big nations, by fresh data showing that carbon dioxide emissions are still going up, by ever more ominous signs”.  Shockin', truly shockin'!

But then some scruffy, dandruff-ridden oik from a down-town rag asked the NYT whether or not they would join a movement to ban the use of private jets which are 'yuuuuge' producers of carbon.  Answer came there none!  Perhaps, because:

The Times offered 50 wealthy readers the chance to join its writers on a luxury private jet tour around the world earlier in 2018.

Travelers joining the $135,000-per-person world tour got to ride in style on an “exclusively chartered Boeing 757 with first-class, fully lie-flat seat.” The world tour was set to begin at Times headquarters in New York City on Feb. 8, and last through March 5.

The tour was expected to net The Times upwards of $6.7 million, which is part of Sulzberger Jr.’s plan to “monetize” the paper’s name in an era where news agencies are struggling. In fact, Sulzberger gave guests a behind-scenes-tour of The Times’ headquarters before their 26-day tour, according to a brochure.

Given their vicious attack on the 'Ginger Ninja' this raises a truly 'yuuuuuuuuuuge' question of overwhelming importance - would you even want to wipe your arse with a copy of the New York Times?

https://wattsupwiththat.com/2018/12/28/the-ny-times-was-silent-when-thedcnf-asked-if-it-would-support-banning-private-jets-why/

 

 

 

More thieving but at least I pick goodies!

And anyway, I had a lousy night last night and I feel exceedingly 'knacked' today, so, alas darlings, I am not at my most creative - and I heard that!  This extract is from Mr. Michael Brendan Dougherty writing at my next best favourite magazine The National Review.  With a name like that you can guess that Mr. Dougherty's blood is well tinged with green!  Even so, he is an astute observer of politics 'over here' and 'over there' where he is based.  He has some warnings for the EU and because they are sensible and shrewd you can take it that they will be ignored!  This is a brief extract to give you the flavour and I urge you to read his article in full:

The European Union is a brilliant and insidious construction. Franco-German interests are obviously paramount. But it attracts the political class of smaller countries by removing difficult questions of governing from their parliaments and providing offices of authority without accountability that seem to have more shine than their national governments. Because Germans don’t want to be seen as utterly dominating the bloc, the political offices at the very top are doled out generously to second-tier members such as Belgium, Poland, Slovakia, and Portugal.

That lack of accountability is an important advantage. Theresa May has to answer a British public about the deal she negotiated with Brussels. Whom would hold Brussels accountable for bungling the other side of the negotiation? If Britain crashes out and pulls continental business interests down with it, all because European negotiators were too intransigent, who gets to fire those negotiators? Who holds them accountable? No one. They have nothing to fear. [My emphasis]

 

 

Oi, 'Postie', you got the wrong stamp!

It is always and forever a source of snorting, derisory humour when Big Business gets it wrong which, happily, they do on a regular basis.  Today, according to The Telegraph, it is the turn of Her Majesty's Royal Mail which has issued a set of stamps in remembrance of the D-Day landings.  Here is one of them:

'Ooops, belay that order to off-load here, this is not Normandy, this is Dutch New Guinea'!  With faces redder than their post boxes, the Royal Mail bosses have been forced to apologise and withdraw the stamp because not only was the photo taken 8,000-odd miles away from Normandy but those are not brave British 'Toms' but a bunch of equally brave 'Yankee-doodles' doing their duty!

Just wait 'til I next see my 'Postie', er, not that that is very likely, he gets up to do his job hours before me!

 

 

This says it all, elegantly and accurately from a man who knows!

Oh 'strewth, guv'nor, I been an' gone an' dunnit again!  Er, thieving, that is, but in my defence, I usually confine my activities to thieving from first class people with considerable expertise and who know very accurately where-of they write.  In this case, Mr. Anthony Browne, former Europe Editor of The Times.  At this point I throw myself on the mercy of Mr. Browne and The Spectator and plead the public's, well, my 15 readers anyway, right to be informed.  Defence rests, m'Lud!

A no deal Brexit would be the EU's fault

I stood next to Jean Claude-Juncker, then president of the European Council and prime minister of Luxembourg, when news flashed up on the TV screens of the astonishing rejection by French voters of the draft European Constitution in their 2005 referendum. He could have responded in so many ways, to try to understand why the voters in traditionally one of Europe’s most Europhile countries emphatically rejected further EU integration. But his immediate response, without drawing breath, was: “They will just have to vote again.” In fact, the French voters weren’t trusted to give the right answer second time around, and so the treaty was pushed through the French parliament instead. Dial forward 13 years, and Juncker is now president of the European Commission, and Britain’s government has been trying to agree a Brexit deal with him in the response to the UK’s own referendum.

It now seems increasingly likely that the UK and EU will not reach an agreement, and that the UK will leave in March 2019 with no deal. The Government has gone into full no-deal planning mode. Business groups are issuing dire warnings. Conservative MPs are already threatening to resign the Tory whip if we “crash out” of the EU.

The blame game has already started: if we do leave the EU without a deal, whose fault would it be? It is almost certain that many people on both sides of the Channel will point fingers at the UK government, and the PM in particular. The chaos and division on the Tory side has certainly given many reasons to do so. The British chattering classes love nothing better than to blame Britain – and even better, the Tories.

But it takes two sides to reach an agreement. And this comes back to the instinctive intransigence and unwillingness to compromise of the EU. There is plenty of fault on the EU side, for leaving the UK with a draft treaty so one-sided that it seems inevitable that Parliament will reject it. Even then the EU refused to compromise at all when Theresa May asked for some wiggle room. Many helped push the EU and Juncker in this direction. Some are already pointing fingers at Tony Blair, who has been abusing his position as former prime minister to actively lobby for a second referendum. To the extent he has had any effect, his efforts would have made a deal less likely. Irish diplomats have been quoted as being delighted in how they managed to get the EU and Juncker to weaponise the Northern Irish border. But the Irish government also fears that it may have overplayed its hand – that their great triumph could backfire and lead to a no-deal Brexit, of which the biggest victim would be Ireland.

Yet there is a problem deeper than this. In twenty years of being involved with EU politics, I have come to realise that, although the EU has many much-publicised flaws – and indeed many great strengths – there is a fundamental flaw that underlines them all which is rarely mentioned. It is at the root, not just of the troubled Brexit negotiations, but of the EU’s mounting problems with the European public. It is the fundamental reason why the UK is leaving in the first place, and why Switzerland and Norway could never join. It is why a prime minister with no democratic mandate was imposed on Italy, whose voters responded by electing populists. It is why Eastern European countries are electing leaders who rail against the EU. It is why the EU hates referendums, and works to overturn them if it gets the wrong answer. It is why the principle of subsidiarity – doing things at national level where possible, and only at EU level where necessary – is comprehensively ignored. It is why every country that joins the EU is forced by treaty to join the Euro whether or not they want to. It is why national leaders consistently fail to deliver the EU to their citizens, and so end up trying to deliver their citizens to the EU – just as David Cameron did after his pre-referendum negotiations, and Theresa May is valiantly trying to do now.

Until the EU accepts this flaw, it will fail to address it, and will continue its losing battle with European public opinion. The EU has at its core not a sense of fairness, but of coerciveness. There is a belief not in doing the fair and pragmatic thing, but that “building Europe” or “protecting Europe”, justifies forcing countries to do things they don’t want to do. I used to speak to British cabinet ministers before and after they went into European Council meetings, and frequently saw them defeated on the most reasonable measures – but they felt compelled to claim a completely fictitious victory in public. Every time the Commission forced a country to do something they didn’t want to do, officials would see it as a triumph. I remember the delighted face of an EU official who had outmanoeuvred the UK government and forced it to abandon its long held objection to adopting EU crimes. Flush with victory over a democratically elected government, he crowed to me: “it is a rules based system. They have to follow the rules.”

But rather than making the EU stronger with contented members and good friends as neighbours, this coercive attitude risks destroying the EU, and alienating natural allies such as the UK. Negotiations work best, and lead to more sustainable results, if each side has a sense of what is fair for the other side. That is the instinct of many EU member states and politicians that I have spoken to. But the EU as a whole does not operate like that. If the more powerful side of a negotiation tries to force the other side to agree unfair terms, the negotiations either break down or the result is unsustainable. When David Cameron got offered virtually nothing in his negotiations with the EU because they thought they could get away with it, the UK electorate ended up voting for Brexit. Theresa May now faces the same problem.

Leaked communications from the EU negotiators saw them boasting they retained all control. Their objective was not a fair deal between partners, but to use their leverage to get what they could. Fair enough you might say, but such an approach risks the outright collapse of the deal, and longer term bitterness.

Many on the other side realise that the EU’s intransigence risks causing a no-deal Brexit. Yanis Varoufakis, the celebrated former Greek finance minister who carries scars from his struggles with EU negotiators, warned recently that the EU had “declared war”on the UK, and that “You do not negotiate with the EU because the EU does not negotiate with you.” The Polish prime minister Mateusz Morawiecki warned just before Christmas that the EU’s “harsh” behaviour would derail Brexit, and urged them to help May.
The present existential crisis for the EU is an opportunity for reform, to give up its coercive ways and become more flexible, to focus on serving member states rather than controlling them. To become a club confident enough that it can be generous rather than threatening when people want to leave, to have as its ambition deals with its neighbours that both sides see as fair. But there is little sign that the EU is learning those lessons, with leaders insisting the solution to the crisis is “more Europe”. Insanity, said Benjamin Franklin, is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. If the EU carries on the same, the results won’t be different. It will be more crisis.

 

Anthony Browne is a former Europe Editor of the Times, and director of Policy Exchange

 

 

An American genius in Paris

There was one highlight during my grumpy Christmas vigil and that was a film of "An American in Paris" - no, no, not that one with Gene Kelly - this was a balletic version designed by Christopher Wheelden (no, me neither!) who is, apparently, a titan in the world of ballet.  It broke the traditional balletic barriers in that there was both dancing and singing which there needed to be because it featured the music of that true musical genius, George Gershwin.  Of course, it was difficult for me to judge exactly because the Gene Kelly film version is seared into what passes for my memory banks.  Even so, it was superb and the staging left me open-mouthed with a mixture of admiration and drooling envy because, bugger it, my little theatre in Twickenham could not have achieved 1% of the special effects they produced.  If any of you can download a version of this production onto your computer-thingies, I urge you to do so.  In the meantime, from me, a tip of the hat and an exceedingly large 'thank you' to the  late, great George Gershwin.

ADDITIONAL:  Good grief, I just checked Christopher Wheelden on Wiki and discovered that he is English and was born in Yeovil which is about 20 minutes down the road from Chateau Duff!

 

 

Thank the Lord that's all over for another year!

As I have indicated elsewhere, I am not a lover of Christmas.  I don't mind the religious aspect of it, if Christians wish to celebrate the alleged birth of their iconic leader then good luck to them so long as they don't go bonkers on the bell-ringing given that the nearest church to me is about a hundred yards away!  No, it's the commercial part of it that I detest not least because over the years it has more or less engulfed the serious side of it.  Most Europeans, I believe, simply concentrate on the religious aspects and the rest of what we Brits call 'Christmas' is over and done with in a day.  Very civilised and infinitely less tacky!

All of that, of course, leads me to the 'man' himself, Jesus Christ, and the central question - did he ever exist?  Every year I ask myself that question and promise that I will undertake a serious enquiry into the truth or rumour of it all.  Alas, I never get round to it.  The few pathetic attempts I have made always lead me into a maze of 'maybes', 'possiblys', 'he said', 'she said' and so on, ad infinitum!  Not that it matters, to me at any rate, because it is not the man himself that really matters but the message and there can be no doubt that the message is supremely intelligent. 

You can take all the other philosophical meanderings from the, er, 'greatest minds in the history of the world', and stick 'em where the sun don't shine because the essential message (allegedly) preached by Jesus Christ is both superb and sublime as a guide in how to conduct your all too brief life on this earth.  Alas, the words themselves were not considered enough by the creeps and crooks who quickly decided to enfold them into a corporate body.  Needless to say, as with most 'corporations', it was not long before they split and divided and then determined to put the other lot out of business!

And yet … and yet … the message lives on.  Like most good advice it is mostly ignored but there it stands as a constant reminder.  I don't know if you ever existed, Jesus, me old mate, but if you did then I owe you one!

 

 

Your 'Ho-Ho-Ho' Xmas Eve Funnies

For all those like me who can't stand all this Xmas crap, here is something to cheer you up - and, no, that is not 'JK' on his bike - behave!

A multi-national company held a reception to celebrate Christmas. The waiter gave each guest a glass of champagne, but on inspection, each guest noticed that their glass contained a fly.

The Swede asked for new champagne in the same glass.
The Englishman demanded to have new champagne in a new glass.
The Finn picked out the fly and drank the champagne.
The Russian drank the champagne, fly and all.
The Chinese ate the fly but left the champagne.
The Israeli caught the fly and sold it to the Chinese.
The Italian drank two thirds of the champagne and then demanded to have a new glass.
The Norwegian took the fly and went off to fish.
The Irishman ground the fly and mixed it in the champagne, which he then donated to the Englishman
The American sued the restaurant and claimed $50 million in compensation.
The Scotsman grabbed the fly by the throat and shouted, 'Now spit out all that you swallowed.'

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Q: What do you call a kid who doesn't believe in Santa?
A: A rebel without a Claus.

Q: Why is Santa so jolly?
A: Because he knows where all the naughty girls live.

Q: Why is Christmas just like your job?
A: You do all the work and the fat guy with the suit gets the credit.

Q: What do you call Santa if he also lives in the South Pole?
A: Bi-Polar.

Q: What did Santa sing when he went down the chimney?
A: "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."

Q: What nationality is Santa Claus?
A: North Polish.

Q: Why does Santa Claus go down the chimney on Christmas Eve?
A: Because it soot's him.

Q: What do you call Santa's helpers?
A: Subordinate clauses.

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One particular Christmas season a long time ago Santa was ready for his Christmas run... but there were problems.

Four of his elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mother was coming to visit.
This stressed Santa even more.  When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where.
More stress.

Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys.  So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whisky.
When he went to the cupboard, he discovered that the elves had hid the bottle and there was nothing to drink.

In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor.  He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from.  Just then the doorbell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door.

He opened the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.  The angel said, very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas Santa. Isn't it just a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Isn't it just a lovely tree? Where would you like me to stick it?"

Thus began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree!

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Finally, a particularly dry one from one of my favourite poets:

'Merry Christmas, nearly everybody!'    Ogden Nash

 

To be serious for a moment, I do wish all of you a splendid and enjoyable Christmas - no, really - I mean it - honest - would I lie to you?

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 23.12.18

I may have to give up blogging:   Nah!  Not really, so don't get your hopes up, but it is dispiriting for me to read people like Julie Burchill in the Telegraph who with apparently effortless ease says everything I want to say about the rotten BBC in superb prose summed up in this deadly stab to their decaying, corporate heart: "Oh, to have Orwell alive and back working at a BBC that appears to have taken 1984 as a How to Doublespeak manual!"  Honestly, I'd give my right arm to dream up a line like that!  Oh well, bit like my acting, I suppose, it shows the difference between the 'ams' and the 'pros'.

 

Alas, Paddy's pants are down for the last time!   My foreign readers will be perplexed by that intro line so I will explain.  I refer to the late 'Paddy' Ashdown who was, amongst many other things, the leader of the LibDem party and who, following a short illness, died unexpectedly yesterday at the relatively early age of 77.  During his distinguished career he had an extra-marital affair with a lady and the dandruff-ridden oiks of 'Fleet Street' instantly labelled him as 'Paddy Pantsdown'!  In his youth, he served in the Marine Commandos, or the 'Rock Apes' as we Paras always called them.  I never agreed with much of his politics but, in the general scheme of things, he was a good and honourable servant to the British state and I salute his memory.

 

An opinionated blogger can't make his mind up:   Er, that's me, in case you're wondering - waddya mean ya noo already!  Like everyone else in the world I am not at all sure what Donald Trump is up to but he seems to be determined to pull in American power from around the globe.  This raises the great question first posed by those two supreme historians, Sellar and Yeatman, who in their masterpiece, 1066 and All That, asked is this "a Good Thing or a Bad Thing"?  Certainly, post WWII history indicates that unleashing American power round the world has, shall we say, mixed results - for all concerned.  On the other hand, not having any American power anywhere might produce the nastiest of strategic conditions - a vacuum!  Answers on a post card please!

 

Sorry, Shakespeare - again!   I am in a schizophrenic rage/ecstasy on the subject of 'our Will'.  Last week I was spitting nails at the news that some total twat had produced a *version* of Richard II which lasted an hour and a half!  Unbelievably, one of Britain's greatest actors, Simon Russel Beale, had agreed to play the lead!  Apparently, the ruthlessly hacked text was delivered at ultra high speed - so good luck with that one, you muppets who actually bought tickets!  But then, this afternoon, by accident, I found a 1996 film version of Twelfth Night on my 'telly'.  I had never heard of it but it contained the very best of British acting talent.  The filming was superb and the acting impeccable.  Who the hell directed this masterpiece, I wondered?  Then I saw the credits and, of course, the name came up - Trevor Nunn!  He is, according to Wiki, 'a very naughty boy' when it comes to marriage but he is a genius at directing Shakespeare.  I have forgotten how many of his productions I have seen over the years and wished I had 1% of his talent and understanding.  This quotation from him says it all:

“Shakespeare has more wisdom and insight about our lives, about how to live and how not to live, how to forgive and how to understand our fellow creatures, than any religious tract. One hundred times more than the Bible. I’m sorry to say that. But over and over again in the plays there is an understanding of the human condition that doesn’t exist in religious books.”

 

More on the Trump, er, strategy:   As I indicated above, a mere ex-Corporal like me is hardly qualified to comment on strategy but I suspect that Mr. Victor Davis Hanson might be.  He writes at the National Review:

[On] matters of entering or leaving the Middle East, U.S. strategists in the cases of Syria, Libya, Afghanistan, and Iraq must develop a more coherent rationale to justify long-term occupations — to convince Americans that these increasingly numerous and optional interventions (whether six months or 18 years) enhance U.S. strategic advantages, and in cost/benefit analyses are worth the human and material costs of maintaining them. So far, we rarely receive any real information on what the actual ends are, and whether the means to obtain them are sufficient or justifiable, at a time of $21 trillion in national debt and a seeming absence of gratitude from those we seek to help.

 

No more rumbles 

 

 

American politics are exceedingly 'IFFY'

According to reports, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, 85, is undergoing surgery for cancerous growths in her chest.  She is a devoted Left-wing liberal which is not, in itself, a 'Bad Thing' but given that she is one of the nine members of the Supreme Court, it is an exceedingly 'Important Thing'!  Especially so as the Democrats appear to be lurching further and further to the Left partly, but not entirely, due to the antics of the ignorant clown in the White House.

Sorry to repeat myself - and I heard that! - but it is ever more crucial that the SCOTUS remains firmly locked into a conservative majority.  We Brits, including me, do not always appreciate the subtle power of the Supreme Court in American politics which acts like a drag anchor against the extreme antics of their political classes.  Thus, whilst I genuinely wish Justice Ginsburg a recovery from her malign disease, I also pray that she takes the hint and retires from the Court thus allowing the President to appoint another 'Kavanaugh-type' Justice who bases his judicial philosophy firmly on the Constitution, not the latest Left-wing fad!

President Trump will not last, not because he is wrong about everything (he isn't!) but more because he is so un-Presidential.  In America there is a still an aura of, dare I say, majesty surrounding the office and any occupant of the White House, never mind how rat-like they are, must make every effort to live up to the standards required.  In your case, Mr. President - Big Fail!  I suspect the Democrats will make even greater advances over the next couple of years and the chances are that Trump will lose the next election - if he doesn't flounce off in a huff anyway!

So please, Justice Ginsburg, just 'eff off' and enjoy your remaining years and let us see a SCOTUS firmly locked in (small 'c') conservative hands, especially if and when the government of the USA falls into the hands of extreme Left-wing mouth-dribblers!  I should add that IF Joe Biden is the candidate and IF he wins, neither of which is a given, then perhaps the 'Leftie' onslaught might not be too damaging but "IF" is a small word with "yuuuuuuge" possibilities!

 

Everywhere you look there are 'stupid women' and even more stupid men!

Honestly, they are everywhere, I tell you, everywhere!  For once in his miserable, cretinous life, 'Jezza' was spot on when he described Mrs. May as a "stupid woman" yesterday in the Commons.  Of course, when caught out by the cameras he did what all communist politicians do constantly and lied through his crooked teeth but nobody believes him except, of course, most of the monumentally stupid women in the Labour party.  (Pause for a round of applause to those few brave lady MPs on the Labour side who acknowledged what he had really said and criticised him for it!)  I would also ask you to pause and consider the cacophony of shrieks and screams from all the female Labour MPs if someone like 'Boris' had been caught saying something like that - "Oh, the horror, the horror!"  Incidentally, where is the British version of '#METOO' hiding?  

Moving from the generality of 'stupid women' to a specific, let us consider the case of Ms. Fiona Onasanya MP, the now less than Honourable Labour Member for Peterborough, a town in which, I suspect, the 'Peeps' all look suspiciously like each other given that they freely elected this particular lying liar!

She insists that she is a practicing Christian who faithfully follows the example of Jesus Christ (or Jeremy Corbyn depending on the circs!) despite lying through her over-large teeth in order to avoid a police charge of speeding in her car.  She was ratted out by her companion and even the hard-nosed Commissars of the Labour party have tossed her overboard and insisted that she resign from the Party and her seat.  She, needless to say, is suggesting that she might stay on as an 'independent' MP, well, handsome parliamentary pay and perks are not to be sneezed at!

At least now, us chaps can relax in the comforting(?) knowledge that when it comes to intelligence and honesty, women 'pols' are no better than the men!

 

 

'Greenie-Warmers': the joke that never stops giving

Over the years I have lost count of the number of 'Greenie-Warmers' who have attempted to paddle their way to the North Pole because, of course, the arctic ice is melting due to the infamy of Mankind and our greedy ways.  Needless to say, one by one, they have become stuck in the ice and had to be rescued.

Today I bring you - no need to thank me! - a variation on this long-running joke.  An 'electric car', driven of course by solar power because we can't have all the little penguins poisoned by diesel fumes.  Also, and this is really, really important, the car was built from plastic waste!  

This superb vehicle was designed and built for the sole purpose of driving to the South Pole, er, quite why I do not know but, alas and alack, it only made it so far before, well, actually, it began to snow - who could have expected that in this over-heating world?  Also, it was Antarctica's summertime so obviously the expedition's leaders were not British because we Brits know for a certainty that anytime you fancy a Summer trip to the seaside, you just know the weather will go bad on you!

Anyway, this heap of plastic rubbish, ooops, sorry, I mean this plastic waste motor vehicle and its dim, dumb occupants were forced to abandon their 'Greenie' mission but we should all applaud and thank them for providing us all with a giggle in these trying times.  In the meantime, I suppose they might as well drive their vehicle to the nearest Council tip and dump it there!

https://wattsupwiththat.com/2018/12/19/solar-voyager-forced-to-abandon-mission/

 

 

God bless 'Jack Reacher'!

As I may have mentioned recently, one of the worst side effects of my current medical glitches is that I have lost the desire to read which is extraordinary given that I am a 'bookaholic' of countless decades who rarely if ever leaves home without my Kindle or a book even, or especially, on a visit to my barber for a hair cut - well, barbers do tend to rattle on a bit, usually about 'footie' or something equally boring!  So, finding myself with no interest in reading was a bit of a shock.

Happily, yesterday I had to visit Specsavers in Yeovil to have new lenses put in an old frame.  I was told it might take an hour which made my heart sink because Yeovil is not exactly the most exciting place in which to kill an hour!  Suddenly, I remembered that almost opposite was Waterstones - for the benefit of my foreign readers that is the leading, perhaps sole surviving, book-shop chain in Britain.  I thought that a mooch round the shelves might re-kickstart my reading habit.

I still have some weighty history books to finish reading on my Kindle so I decided to scope out the 'Thriller' section to see if anything caught my eye.  I should add that I have been a lover of 'thrillers' since I was a nipper and used to read my Mum's Agatha Christie books.  Needless to say the first one I came across was the latest Lee Child yarn featuring - natch! - the indomitable Jack Reacher.  Also, needless to say, being a hardback edition just before Xmas it was a fairly hefty price, so I cruised through the older, softback editions hoping I might find one I hadn't read.

BINGO!  I came across "ONE SHOT " written in 2005 which some how, in some way, I had missed completely.  I bought it and during the rest of the day and the evening I read through to about halfway.  Tosh, of course, but terrific tosh with an intricate plotline and a fascinating cast of characters.  I was engaged on family duties this morning - 'SoD' passing through and giving me earache on Brexit! - but for the rest of the day I will have my nose buried in the book, just like old times!  My gratitude to Mr. Child and his invention, Mr. Reacher, is enormous.