DUFF & NONSENSE!

What's up with Watts?

As regular readers will know I have long leaned on the expertise, and common-sense, of Anthony Watts, 'the onlie begetter' of the superb climate site Watts Up With That, and today he posts a riveting article on the current Californian fires which are ravaging the State - and the immediate area where he lives and works.  Somehow, this makes a general news story very particular and even personal.

One of the most stunning images I’ve ever taken. This is in the town of Paradise after the #CampFire swept through. All that is left of this street of homes is this American flag, still waving, still unburned. Photo and text by Spencer Joseph.

 

Why are Universities so 'stoopid'?

Time for a trip down the Time Tunnel, I'm afraid - and I am grimly aware that my own particular Time Tunnel is exceedingly long and getting longer!  Anyway, I will open my remarks with a single name which may, or may not, get the memory banks ticking away - Norman Geras!  I should, perhaps, put it this way - the late Norman Geras, 25 August 1943 – 18 October 2013, R.I.P.

He was an esteemed University teacher and a Professor Emeritus of Government at Manchester University.  He was also an out-and-out Marxist with, no doubt, the reddest of red underwear!  For years he ran a personal blog in which he put forward his Marxist ideas which I read and, of course, criticised fiercely - but never angrily because it was obvious that he was an exceptionally pleasant man and not one to allow his Marxist philosophy to stop him from lashing 'the usual suspects' on the extreme Left if they were more than usually 'stoopid'.  In other words he was an idealistic Marxist but one who never forgot his humanity.

I am reminded of all this by an article at The Coffee House written by Nick Cohen who has discovered that some moron at the 'University of Morons', aka: Reading University, have issued severe warnings to students and teachers that the words of Norman Geras must be treated with extreme caution under the 'anti-terrorist Prevent programme'!  The fact that Norman Geras spent his entire life in passionate opposition to any action likely to cause civilian casualties seems to have escaped these pen-pushing 'Pecksniffs'.  Read Cohen's article and be reminded, yet again, that the biggest dunces are usually found in Universities!

 

 

The last word on WWI

I meant to publish this yesterday but, disgracefully, I never quite got around to it.  It is a famous painting by one of my absolute favourite artists, the American John Singer Sargent.  It is entitled "Gassed".

Luckily, I once saw the original at the Imperial War Museum where, at some 2o feet long, it covered the entire end-wall of the gallery.  It deserves its place up there with the very greatest of war artistry such as the poems of Wilfred Owen.  Sargent was a superb painter as I learned when I went to view his work in a special exhibition in London a few years ago.

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 12.11.18

 

 

Ed and Linda met on a singles cruise; Ed fell head over heels for her.

When they discovered they lived in the same city, only a few miles apart, Ed was ecstatic.  He immediately started asking her out when they got home. Within a couple of weeks, Ed had taken Linda to dance clubs, restaurants, concerts, movies, and museums.  Ed became convinced that Linda was indeed his soul mate and true love.
Every date seemed better than the last.

On the one-month anniversary of their first dinner on the cruise ship, Ed took Linda to a fine restaurant.  While having cocktails and waiting for their salad, Ed said,"I guess you can tell I'm very much in love with you. I'd like a little serious talk before our relationship continues.
So, before I get a box out of my jacket and ask you a life changing question, it's only fair to warn you, I'm a total golf nut. I play golf, I read about golf, I watch golf on TV. In short, I eat, sleep, and breathe golf.  If that's going to be a problem for us, you'd better say so now!"

Linda paused- responded, "Ed, that certainly won't be a problem. I love you as you are and I love golf too; but, since we're being totally honest with each other, you need to know that for the last five years I've been a hooker.

Ed said, "I bet it's because you're not keeping your wrists straight when you hit the ball."

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A new priest, born and raised in Ottawa , is nervous about hearing
confessions, so he asks the older priest to sit in on his sessions.

The new priest hears a couple of confessions, then the old priest asks him to step out of the confessional for a few suggestions.

The old priest suggests, "Cross your arms over your chest, rub your chin with one hand and try saying things like 'Yes, I see,' or 'Yes, go on,' or 'I understand.'

The new priest crosses his arms, rubs his chin with one hand and repeats all the suggested remarks to the old priest.

The old priest says, "Now, don't you think that's a little better than
slapping your knee and saying, "No shit... what happened next?"

 

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Two cannibals were eating a clown.  One said to the other, "Does he taste funny o you?"   

The late great Tommy Cooper

 

My Grandmother starting walking five miles a day when she was 60.  She's 97 now and we don't know where the hell she is!

Ellen de Generis

 

His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork!

Mae West

 

One-armed butlers - they can take it but they can't dish it out!

Tim Vine

 

I was not a particularly small child.  I was the one always picked to play Bethlehem in the school nativity play!

Jo Brand

 

I thought I would begin by reading a poem by Shakespeare but then I thought why should I? He never reads any of mine!

Spike Milligan

 

I know a transsexual guy whose only ambition is to eat, drink and be Mary!

George Carlin

 

That's your lot, get back to work!

 

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 11.11.18

11.11.18:   Just writing that date - 11.11.18 - in my heading, gave me pause!  I have been watching the television coverage of events in Whitehall as thousands of representatives of different military associations, some of them harking back to the reign of Charles II, marched past the Cenotaph to mark, this year, the 100th anniversary of the end of WWI.  The phrase 'living history' is somewhat hackneyed but in a sense that parade and what it represents is exactly that - living history.  All those men and women marching past represent the warp and woof of British history over the past century or so.   Not, I hasten to add, the entirety of British history, just a part of it but even so as you follow the threads as they weave their way to almost all parts of the globe it gives you a notion as to what an extra-ordinary and epic nation this small, North Atlantic island really was in world historical terms.  Needless to say, our history, like everyone else's,  is the usual mix of 'the good, the bad and the ugly' because that is human nature.  Even so, I think there is much in it that is worthy of judicious pride.

ADDITIONAL:  Lest my soppy words above smooch you into a mellow mood of self-satisfaction, I urge you to read the 'Heffalump's' stern corrective in today's Telegraph!

 

Our American friends live between a rock and a hard place:  I am beginning to run out of the sheer number of natural disasters that keep crashing and smashing and bashing America.  Yes, I know it is a 'yuuuuuge' country but even so they do seem to have been suffering unduly recently and the nature of their sufferings is almost apocalyptic.  I wish them well - and soon! 

 

Sorry, Mr. President, but you just 'blooped' - big time!   For the headlines to read, in effect, that President Trump failed to attend a WWI memorial event in France because he might get his hair wet is 'stoopid' beyond belief.  We all realise that you have 'a hair problem', Mr. President, but as POTUS, sometimes you have to make a tiny sacrifice to acknowledge the truly 'yuuuuuuuuuuuge' sacrifice that your own soldiers made a hundred years ago.

 

Sorry, sorry, sorry - not many rumbles today all due to - yes, you guessed - those bloody "events, dear boy, events"!

 

More rumbles later  . . .

 

 

So it is treachery

 

I have kept quiet recently on the subject of Brexit - who cheered? - because I did not wish to believe what my suspicions were telling me.  Now, the truth cannot be ignored.  We, the majority of the British public, a majority established in an open and fair referendum, have been betrayed.  Mrs. May in particular, the government in general and the higher ranks of the Civil Service have lied and lied and lied again as they combined secretly to sell us out to the European State.  This is almost as rotten and foul as Chamberlain's cowardice and deceitfulness in 1938/9.  The Tory party will crash and burn at the next election - and they deserve it!

 

I, too, am "a theatre practitioner of colour", so gimme the dosh!

Before we go any further I have announcement to make:  my real name is David Bongobongo Duff and I am a man of colour!  True, the colour is, more often than not, puce rather than black with either the rage or the hysterical laughter induced in me by the never-ending stupidities of this mad, mad, modern world.  Also, as I never stop telling you, I am a man of the theatre, darlings!  So you will understand my colour-blind fury at the likes of Mr. Anthony 'Ekundayo' Lennon who is whiter than a white shirt washed in Persil but who decided to insert a new middle name to his title and then inform the world that he was really, really, honestly, cross my fingers and wish to die, black!  

Needless to say, this fairy tale makes some sense when you learn that 'Paddy Ekundayo' is actually the son of whiter than white, Irish parents, indeed to goodness, so they are, so they are, and probably the blackest thing 'Ekundayo' ever ingested in his life were the pints of Guinness he no doubt imbibed during his youth in the, er, Emerald Isle!  So what brought about this internal quest for a new identity?  Well, it might have something to do with the fact that the Arts Council was offering 'loads'a dosh' for a theatrical event in London in support of black theatre!  Suddenly, 'Paddy' felt the need to get in touch with his black 'otherness' and lo, 'Ekundayo' was born!

Needless to say, I have not only been in touch with my inner black otherness but also with the Arts Council to tell them that I have just finished a play based on the battle of Rorke's Drift in which several hundred Zulus were slaughtered by some frightfully decent British chaps.  I am still awaiting their reply!

 

 

The best of bad news!

I have just read that Justice Ginsburg (105) (85) has taken yet another tumble on some stairs in the Supreme Court.  Rumours that Justice Kavanaugh tied some thread across the top step are not to be believed - honestly!

To be serious, she is an exceedingly gutsy, old lady and I hope she makes a full recovery, but, if it helps persuade her to spending more time with her flowers or cats or biographies of Karl Marx or whatever, then I wish her a very speedy retirement!

After that, it's time for the rest of us to open that prime vintage bottle of Scotch we have all been saving up for a celebration!

Whither America?

Well, as you can see, I don't just ask myself easy questions and quite how I am going to answer that one in less than three volumes beats me!  So I tell you what, instead of attempting brain-aching analyses - who sniggered? - I will just ramble on.

First of all, and I may well have said this before, I am yet again amazed and totally admiring of the men who composed the US Constitution.  It was, and it remains, a creation of genius and I am proud to say that most of the men concerned were of Anglo-Saxon stock, raised in the tradition of British law developed piecemeal over centuries.  Not the least of its qualities are the subtleties of the checks and balances which serve to restrain 'mere majorities'.  We are about to see these tested to extremes in the immediate future following the mid-term elections.

To paraphrase the old saying, 'the demographics, they're a-changin''!  More and more Americans are congregating in 'Big Cities' where a proletarian-socialist philosophy finds a natural audience.  Trump did well to galvanise his more rural supporters but one senses that they are a diminishing force.  My first re-action to the mid-terms was that Trump should have a relatively easy ride to a second presidency but thinking about it, I am not so sure.  He, himself, is about to undergo a severe test of his political stamina.  With both houses in GOP control it was a feathered nest for this egotistical man 'to strut his stuff'.  The next two years will be exceedingly different during which his armour-proper will be constantly affronted and attacked and he, the ruler, will be subject to merciless lèse-majesté.  Never mind the politics, will his psyche stand up to the strain?

Even so, it is worth remembering that Trump is not the GOP!  I suspect that ideology does not rank high in Republican circles.  Their leadership, being mainly stacked with practical men eager for a deal (and an earn!) do not on the whole spend too much time on political philosophy!  Even so, now might be the time for them to concentrate on deeper things and to attempt to discover what it is that concerns more of their fellow citizens.  To give but one simple and obvious example - women!  Their vote is crucial and the mostly men who run the GOP need to work out what it is that turns so many women 0ff their party?  The all too obvious nature of their less than attractive leader might be one factor and so perhaps the GOP leadership needs to ask itself whether they really do need this 'good ol' boy' President to run again?  The smoother, more emollient Mitt Romney might be a better bet!

It is all exceedingly complicated and, alas, I have barely scratched the surface - so no change there then!

 

 

 

Now the Dem infighting will get vicious

Now, following the, er, success of their vaunted 'Blue Wave Trickle', the Dems have a major internal problem in deciding who to choose to take on the 'Ginger Ninja' in 2020.  The field is crowded with 'wannabe' candidates but, as viewed from 'over here', there appears to be a paucity of talent.  Today's Telegraph offers a list of 'runners and riders' most of whom  come under the general heading of crooks, crocks, crumpet and crap - although I would hesitate to append particular titles to particular individuals!

The internecine warfare which will soon break out should provide us all with some amusement during the forthcoming year.  My guess is that given the juvenile state of mind of the contemporary Democratic party, the 'old crocks' are simply wasting their time which is a pity in Bernie Saunders' case because if we, 'over here', have to put up with 'Jezza' Corbyn then why shouldn't our Yankee-doodle friends have a dose of 'good ol' Bernie'?  If I had to put money on it at this very early stage, I think I would bet a dollar on Mr. Corey Booker, about whom I know next to nothing but who possesses the 'yuuuuuge' advantage of being the same colour as 'Obamarama' which will melt the hearts and wallets of Democrats everywhere!

Mind you, he will have keen competition from Ms. Kamala Harris who has the considerable advantages of being not only black but also brown and, even more, she's a woman - in this day and age, need I say more?  A very brief skim of her record indicates that she has considerable intelligence - not surprising given her Indian genes! - so my guess is that she will be a favourite.

Needless to say, after that piece of deeply analytical reasoning, the fact is it could be any of them and I still have a soft spot for 'Fauxcahontas' who reduces me to giggles!

 

 

The worst possible outcome for the Dems

Dammit, my Yankee-doodle friends, I do wish you would adjust your clocks to Her Majesty's royal timetable because I was awake all night listening to the mid-term results drip in and this morning I am totally 'knacked'!  I may have to take to my bed later on but- hey! - that's not unheard of!

Let me explain my heading.  The very best outcome for the Dems would have been a total defeat across the board.  Of course, the Dems would have taken that as a disaster but they're not very bright, are they?  If they had been given a smart slap across the bottom and sent to bed without any supper, they might have snivelled but they would have got the message that their current juvenile politics are not very impressive to 'yuuuuuuge' segments of the American public and that might have forced some of their leadership to grow up! 

As it has turned out, the Dems have achieved the worst outcome.  They have 'achieved' their minimal victory in capturing the House which will simply encourage the political juveniles, er, like the 78-year old Nancy Pelosi, to double down on every possible legal obstruction they can hurl at the President which will gradually bring the government of the USA to a halt.  The American people will just 'luuuuurve' that and will, no doubt, show their, er, appreciation in two years time!  In fact, my guess is that over the next two years the Dems will provide Mr. Trump with a certain victory at the 2020 Presidential election.  I am not totally convinced of the solidity of the economic surge that Trump has produced but if he is constantly attacked and distracted  over the next two years and prosperity begins to crumble then he will be able to point his little fingers at the Democrats and blame them.

Meanwhile, of course, sensible people, especially sensible Democrats, trying to understand this election will ask the obvious question - what happened to that 'Blue Wave'?  Yes, a tiny ripple washed up on the beach but barely enough to even wet the shoes of the President.  If I was a Dem, "which thank the Lord I'm not, Sir", I would be exceedingly uneasy!

 

 

The pros and cons of mass slaughter!

As we approach Armistice Day at its 100th anniversary of the end of WWI, I am deeply grateful to The Telegraph for publishing today two thoughtful and learned essays, one arguing in favour of Britain taking part, the other arguing in favour of neutrality.  I would urge you all to read both of them and make up your own minds.

Personally, I have never doubted that we were right to fight, although I will never stop believing that the way we fought it was monstrously stupid!  As I have written before, many a time and oft', perhaps, too many and too oft', no British government could allow the Atlantic/North Sea coast to be held by a foreign and hostile adversary.  Yes, it happened in WWII and look what it cost us and how very near we came to defeat because of it.  Also, and quite apart from our defence needs, we need to recognise that because we controlled the sea-lines of western Europe we had a Grand Strategic weapon in our hands which would, in fact it did, win us the war.

What we should not have done is to allow the stupid Generals to mount utterly useless attack after attack after attack on the Western Front which cost us dear and achieved little.  Instead, we should have remained on the defensive and concentrated on slaughtering the Germans wholesale as they attacked us!  In the meantime the Navy should have exerted all their strength in tightening the noose around Germany which, as it happened, eventually forced a starving German population to surrender.

There, ex-Cpl. Duff has spoken, carry on!

 

 

 

The Russians have a sense of humour - 'hoonoo?

And this, the Admiral Kuznetsov, is merely the 'biggest and bestest' joke of the lot!  I am not sure who the Russian equivalent of 'Mutt 'n' Jeff' are, let's just call them 'Muttski 'n' Jeffski'!  Anyway, they are the splendid representatives of the Russian proletariat who have contributed to the hilarious history of the (not very) good ship, Admiral Kuznetsov!

Alas, I lack the time and energy to provide you with the concise history of this doom-laden 'ship of fools' but you can read all about it over at The American Thinker but I urge you all to set your coffee mugs to one side as you do so - new keyboards can be expensive!  Perhaps the greatest virtue of this article is that it makes me feel microscopically better about the two British aircraft carriers which, since they lack any aircraft, might just as well be stuffed full of £10-notes and then sunk!

 

 

 

Right, pay attention, America!

I could not resist typing these words because I know how much you rely on me, an elderly and exceedingly grumpy old Brit, for sound and serious advice on how to run your country - at this point, could I ask the gentleman at the back to please re-holster his 'yuuuuuge' six-shooter?

To be serious, this is a critical day for the world's leading nation.  If two years ago, Trump and the GOP had lost it would have meant a gradual descent into the mire of a corrupt and irresponsible Clintonian swamp.  However, today we have experienced the incredible - because no-one forecast it - presidency of a true eccentric who, despite doing and saying things which were anathema to the 'politically correct' preachers and praters on the Left, has actually achieved some very real success.

Of course, this has sent the leadership of the Democrat party into a mouth-foaming insanity of the most dangerous type.  They have ceased to think, to judge fairly, to speak with quiet reason, instead they have degenerated into a rancid mob.  If you, my American friends, allow these people the chance to, er, 'grab Trump by the pussy' so to speak, you will have started a political and legal landslide of tectonic proportions.  Around the world your real enemies can hardly wait!

Get out and vote Republican, you may have to hold your nose to do it, but just consider a 'Pelosi-an' future!

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 5.11.18

Some of the best from the top shelf!

 

 

Snotty Receptionist

Yesterday I had an appointment to see the urologist for a prostate
exam. Of course I was a bit on edge because all my friends have
either gone under the knife or had those pellets implanted.
The waiting room was filled with patients.  As I approached the receptionist’s desk, I noticed that she was a large unfriendly woman who looked more like a Sumo wrestler than woman.

I gave her my name, and in a very loud voice, she said,
“YES, I HAVE YOUR NAME HERE.  YOU WANT TO SEE THE DOCTOR ABOUT IMPOTENCE, RIGHT?

All the patients in the waiting room snapped their heads around to
Look at me, a now very embarrassed man. But as usual, I recovered quickly, and in an equally loud voice replied,
“NO, I’VE COME TO INQUIRE ABOUT A SEX CHANGE
OPERATION, BUT I DON’T WANT THE SAME DOCTOR
THAT DID YOURS.”

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A lovely Australian Poem.




Goodbye Granddad

Poor old Granddad's passed away, cut off in his prime,

He never had a day off crook - gone before his time,

We found him in the dunny, collapsed there on the seat,

A startled look upon his face, his trousers around his
feet,

The doctor said his heart was good - fit as any trout,

The Constable he had his say, 'foul play' was not ruled
out.

There were theories at the inquest of snakebite without
trace,
Of red-backs quietly creeping and death from outer space,

No-one had a clue at all - the judge was in some doubt,

When Dad was called to have his say as to how it came
about,

'I reckon I can clear it up,' said Dad with trembling
breath,

'You see it's quite a story - but it could explain his
death.'

'This here exploration mob had been looking at our soil,

And they reckoned that our farm was just the place for
oil,

So they came and put a bore down and said they'd make
some trials,

They drilled a hole as deep as hell, they said about
three miles.

Well, they never found a trace of oil and off they went,
post haste,

And I couldn't see a hole like that go to flamin' waste,

So I moved the dunny over it - real smart move I
thought,

I'd never have to dig again - I'd never be 'caught
short'.

The day I moved the dunny, it looked a proper sight,

But I didn't dream poor Granddad would pass away that
night,

Now I reckon what has happened - poor Granddad didn't
know,

The dunny was re-located when that night he had to go.

And you'll probably be wondering how poor Granddad did
his dash--

Well, he always used to hold his breath

Until he heard the splash!!

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A young man was lost wandering in a forest, when he came upon a small house. He knocked on the door and was greeted by an ancient Chinese man with a long, grey beard. "I'm lost," said the man. "Can you put me up for the night?"

"Certainly," the Chinese man said, "but on one condition. If you so much as lay a finger on my daughter, I will inflict upon you the three worst Chinese tortures known to man."

"Ok," said the man, thinking that the daughter must be pretty old as well, and entered the house.

Before dinner, the daughter came down the stairs. She was young, beautiful, and had a fantastic figure. She was obviously attracted to the young man since she couldn't keep her eyes off him during the meal.

Remembering the old man's warning, he ignored her and went up to bed alone. But during the night, he could bear it no longer, and sneaked into her room for a night of passion. He was careful to keep everything quiet so the old man wouldn't hear.

Near dawn he crept back to his room, exhausted, but happy. He woke to feel a pressure on his chest. Opening his eyes he saw a large rock on his chest with a note on it that read:
"Chinese Torture 1: Large rock on chest."

"Well, that's pretty crappy," he thought. "If that's the best the old man can do then I don't have much to worry about." He picked the boulder up, walked over to the window and threw the boulder out. As he did so he noticed another note on it that read:

"Chinese Torture 2: Rock tied to left testicle." In a panic he glanced down and saw the rope that was already getting close to the end. Figuring that a few broken bones was better than castration, he jumped out of the window after the boulder. As he plummeted downward he saw a large sign on the ground that read:
"Chinese Torture 3: Right testicle tied to bedpost."

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After 35 years of marriage, a husband and wife came for counseling.
When asked what the problem was, the wife went into a tirade listing every problem they had ever had in the years they had been married.

On and on and on: neglect, lack of intimacy, emptiness, loneliness,
feeling unloved and unlovable, an entire laundry list of unmet needs she had endured.

Finally, after allowing this for a sufficient length of time, the therapist got up, walked around the desk and after asking the wife to stand, he embraced and kissed her long and passionately as her husband watched - with a raised eyebrow.

The woman shut up and quietly sat down in a daze.

The therapist turned to the husband and said, "This is what your wife needs at least 3 times a week. Can you do this?"

"Well, I can drop her off here on Mondays and Wednesdays, but I fish on Fridays."

(Note to Whitewall: Nothing personal intended here, 'Whiters', honestly!)

 

That's it, get back to work!

 

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 4/11/18

In which I come down off the fence:   As you may have noticed, I have been exceedingly reticent in forecasting the outcome of the American mid-terms.  Part of my reason/cowardice is because I have a long and, er, less than distinguished record of forecasting electoral results.  The other day I hinted - indicated - suggested - that possibly the Dems would not achieve the magnificent victory on which they have set their hearts.  Today, I am prepared to "boldly go where no man has gone before" and forecast that they will fail to take either the House or the Senate!  Now, I confess that I am partly driven in this by my desire that the Dems receive the kick in the crutch that they fully deserve.  You would think that having already received one kick a mere two years ago when they seriously - no, I mean it - seriously believed that 'HillBilly' was a worthy candidate for the Presidency that they would 'box clever'.  No chance!  Their stupidity, as exemplified by the Kavanaugh campaign, has obviously metastasized.  They deserve everything which - I guess! - is coming their way on Tuesday.

 

"Regrets, I have a few . . ."   But not that many, I am happy to report and anyway most of those I do have are pretty piffling in the great scheme of things.   However, one that continues to niggle away at me is that I missed my chance to direct "A Midsummer Night's Dream".  I was lined up for the job but just as I started to work on my ideas the 'Memsahib' decided that it was time for us to move house so the world was denied the chance to view my butchery and dear old Will slept easier in his tomb!  Part of my disappointment was that I had decided to use the Mama Cass version of that lovely song "Dream a Little Dream of Me" as a musical motif.  I love her version of it and I think it would have worked well but, alas, now we will never know!

 

Bring back hanging?  Yes or No?   As the murder rates in the UK drive relentlessly higher I was still somewhat shocked to see that the latest stabbing took place 'down 'ere in Bridgewater, Zummerzet, oo-ar, oo-ar'!  Dammit, that sort of thing is not permitted in our rural county, it's the sort of thing they go in for in London and 'ooooop north'!  According to a quick run through of the breaking stories, our local version of Dogberry and his Watch (aka: the 'Zummerzet' Constabulary) appear to be arresting anyone and everyone who lives in Bridgewater but no doubt they will eventually sort out who the 'perp' is.  In the meantime, I wonder if it is time for me to bring back my 'campaign' for the re-establishment of hanging for those found guilty of murder?

 

Obama is just another old publicity tart:   I thought, in my usual mixture of ignorance and old-age, that it wasn't quite the 'done thing' for retired Presidents to come out on the hustings and get involved in national elections.  Perhaps I am wrong but even so I do find it a bit distasteful for the old 'queen' to totter out and attempt to strut his stuff.  Happily, I understand that he is playing to half-empty houses but, I wonder, will he notice?  "There's none so blind as them wot can't see!"

 

And so we bid farewell to Lord Jeremy Heywood:   First, I must make clear that for anyone to die at the age of 56 of cancer that was only discovered a year ago is a tragedy for him and his family.  As for his record, mostly as the senior civil servant within the government, he quickly became 'the Sir Humphrey of all Sir Humphreys'!  Whether he was any good is impossible to say not least because how could anyone define what "good" was in such a role.  I fear the worst but, alas, I will have to await the history books before I decide and, yes, "I should live so long my life already!"

 

Sorry, I forgot to tell you:   Yes, I'm in 'lurve' again - Big Time!  The lucky lady is a Hollywood star called Cameron Diaz.  Yes, yes, of course I have heard of her but until yesterday I had never seen her.  However, clicking around the TV channels I came across a film called "Knight and Day" and, no, me neither until I saw it yesterday.  It also 'stars' the vertically-challenged Mr. Tom Cruise - and he was excellent, too!  Don't ask me what the film was about, just think James Bond on 'speed'!  It was totally bonkers but so bonkers that I never stopped laughing.  Most of all, though, I was very taken with Ms. Diaz who has a bewitching, cheeky smile which totally entranced me. 

 

Sorry, I must go into my darkened room:   Well, in just over an hour the second episode of "The Little Drummer Girl" will commence and I know from hard experience that I will need to concentrate really hard, not something I'm very good at, so a wee nap might be essential!  

 

No more rumbles today

 

 

 

Oh dear, another lady steals my heart - MDQA

I refer, of course, to 'My Darling Quanta Ahmed (MDQA)' and no, I had never heard of her until today when she appeared - where else? - at The Coffee House.  She is not only brainy, being a qualified doctor, but she is also highly intelligent.  Needless to say, she is also exceedingly attractive!  I would display a photo of her if I could work out how copying and pasting photos actually works!

Anyway, she has written a tremendously good article for The Coffee House and I urge you all to read it.  It provides one of those very rare glimpses into Muslim life and thought which offers a gleam of hope for the future.

 

 

Our American friends are not the only ones approaching a crunch point!

As James Forsyth points out at The Coffee House, there has been an ominous silence on 'the Brexit Front'.  Apparently, there are a multitude of 'conversations' going between 'us and them' but not a whisper as to the likely outcomes.  Even worse, Mrs. May seems abundantly cheerful - and that can only mean bad news!  The 'Leavers' in the cabinet suspect that they are about to be trounced with a take it or leave it deal which will give them the difficult decision as to whether they meekly submit or resign and risk bring down the entire government.  The fact that 'Oily' Robbins, Mrs. May's, er, 'trusted' civil service advisor seems to be 'on the missing list' fills me with foreboding.  What's the little slug up to?

Shortly, we will find out but I fear the worst!

 

Students get a lesson in Econ. 101

I really am too good to you people!  I am the 'cheerer-upper' who never stops giving and today, courtesy of Guido, I bring you the happiest of happy tidings - the National Union of Students is close to bankruptcy.  My only surprise is that it has taken so long!  Given their gormless stupidity as evidenced in their endless and utterly useless demos and their irresolute resolutions on subjects about which they know next to nothing, I am amazed that they have staggered on for so long.

I hasten to add that I do not imply that all students suffer with the sort of brain damage evidenced by their 'Union'.  I remember, back in the day, 'SoD' and his mates at 'Uni' treating the political nitwits of the NUS with the contempt they deserved.  He and his pals concentrated on the two critically important aspects of student life - the beer and the girls!  Quite right, too!

Do not, under any circs, miss this - and that's an order!!

Dammit, my ex-best friend, 'Rupe', has nicked the best film of the year, nay, the decade - although I'm not sure whether he still owns Sky TV - and tonight it is featured on one of the Sky film channels.  I refer, of course, to Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.  I wrote a 'rave review' of this back in January.  Today, I am just so 'hacked off' that I can't watch it because, due to me and 'Rupe' falling out over his exorbitant prices, I no longer have access to Sky TV.  The only good thing is that I am now absolutely determined to buy a DVD version of it.  It really is a superb example of film-making at its best.  A simple, if tragic, story taking place in the smallest of small towns in America.  The acting is of the very highest quality and if I tell you that the lead is played by Frances McDormand there is no need to say more.

 

My forecast, so no need to worry about it happening!

I don't quite know why but these forthcoming mid-term elections 'over there' have me fascinated.  Normally, I have the good sense never to attempt a forecast because I cannot even see the bottom of my cavernous ignorance.  However, today I am breaking with my practice and offering y'all my, er, cloudy vision.

There was much 'yadda-yadda' a few months ago concerning the 'blue wave' that would dash 'El Trumpo' on the rocks of a 'yuuuuuuge' defeat.  Given his, shall we say 'eccentric' behaviour, I shrugged and thought so be it.  But . . . but . . . as we enter the last straight I am not so sure.  I do not believe, or at least, I do not want to believe, that most Americans are sympathetic to the mass hysteria up-chucked by the Dems and their troglodyte supporters.  Their version of the wickedness and cruelty of their "fascist" President is so far from the truth as to be laughable.  Yes, he is a bit of a prat but, so far, on the big things he has done rather well.  The economy is sparkling, jobs are up, he took the grenade out of Fat Boy Kim's hand, he put the boot into all that Chinese cheating - so what's not to like?

Then there was the unbelievable stupidity of the Democrat leadership mounting that 'kamikaze' operation against Justice Kavanaugh.  It was as though 'Mr. Maggoo' was steering the kamikaze bomber towards the enemy's ship but somehow managed to steer it into their own battleship!  After that farrago, it seems to me that the mood changed.  This was not the action of a sensible, intelligent opposition operating in a democracy but more like that of shouty, foul-mouthed, street agitators.  The question arose, could you actually trust such people to organise a piss-up in a brewery?

None of that, of course, is imply that the GOP is home and dry.  To quote (yet again - yawn!) that old nostrum, "you'll never go broke under-estimating the Great American People" (or the British for that matter!)  Thus, it is necessary to define what is meant by win or lose in this election.  In my opinion, given the screeching fervour of the Dem supporters, a failure to win either House would, of course, be a complete disaster.  The 'experts' seem to indicate that they will just fail to take the Senate which, of course, gives the 'Ginger Ninja' the chance to appoint another Justice to the Supreme Court.  The House vote outcome is similarly fraught and a failure here would lead to massive reverberations inside the Dem machine.

Mr. J. T. Young at The American Spectator poses a fascinating question that I have yet to see raised anywhere else: "What if Democrats fail?"  he suggests:

And liberals will have two full years to sit and stew about it. If after two years of President Trump, imagine what frustration will build behind another “defeat” and two more years.

Like the self-deluded Powerball players, just winning “a few thou’” will not do. They cannot bring themselves to wear the same old duds, catch the bus again, or go home to their “fixer-upper.” And most especially, they cannot face showing up to work the next morning and having to say “yes sir, no sir” to the boss they have mentally fired a million times.

No! They will spend their now paltry seeming winnings on more lottery tickets. They will double-down. They will play even longer long-shots.

I can't wait!

 

 

 

Silliness - totally dopey, daft silliness!

Alas, the fact is that neither of us, me or the 'Memsahib', can help ourselves from practising this ridiculous habit on the first day of every month.  What happens is that one or other of us, usually her because she has a better memory than me and can remember the date, will sneak up to the other and chant "Pinch, punch, first day of the month, no return, white rabbit!"  I only mention it today because for the first time in months I remembered the date and she did not.  Of course, this was immediately followed by me cavorting round the bedroom, hoopin' 'n' hollerin' and shouting "I WON, I WON!"  You would think that at our advanced, very advanced, age we would know better.  Nah!  No chance!

Farewell, Cicely Berry, R.I.P.

Alas and alack, the 'Grand Old Lady' of Shakespearean voice production is now silent, having died a few days ago at the age of 92.  I refer to the late, great Cicely Berry who was for very many years the voice coach at the RSC.  I am sort of glad that I never met her in my tiny and very amateurish 'career' as a Shakespearean actor and director.  I suspect her reaction to my efforts would have been even more withering than that of my old RSM when I was a young soldier!

I first became aware of her via the late John Barton's superb TV series Playing Shakespeare which opened an entire Shakespearean universe to me.  From both of them I learned (some of!) the vast intricacies of delivering Shakespeare's lines.  If you have attended a Shakespearean production and been bored to death, it was very probably the inability of the actors to understand the subtleties of the verse and how to deliver it.  The standards reached by the RSC in those earlier years were simply superb and Cicely Berry was a very large part of it.

Perhaps that gloomy Dane puts it best:

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it,
as many of your players do, I had as lief the
town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air
too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently;
for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say,
the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget
a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it
offends me to the soul to hear a robustious
periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to
very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who
for the most part are capable of nothing but
inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such
a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it
out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.

 

 

Thank God for The National Review

As you will have noticed I am not much of an original thinker.  I simply cruise the world-wide media sites and either pinch their sensible ideas or hold them up for public ridicule.  Well, original thinking is hard work and I am, by nature, a lazy 'git'!  Thus, today I point you in the direction of the NR, in general, and Mr. David French, in particular.  Sound fella', that David French, and today he contemplates the tricky situation as the caravan of refugees/chancers (you choose) approach the US border and, in effect, he repeats Cpl. Jones' sound advice to Capt. Mainwaring in Dad's Army: "Don't panic!"

He suggests that 'the Ginger Ninja' should shift his twitter finger into neutral and keep his tone steadfast and calm.  Mr. French reminds him that sending 5,000+ troops to the border will availeth him naught because the law specifically forbids American troops being used in a law enforcement role.  Of course, they can act as a logistics department to help the proper law enforcement authorities do their job but that is all.  

Needless to say, both sides of the political divide are using this for their own ends.  'El Trumpo' is strutting his stuff to impress his supporters and is well aware that the more he does it the more it will enrage his Left-wing opposition and encourage them into even greater levels of hysteria which should help swell his own support in the midterm elections.  It's an exceedingly dangerous game to play because heavily armed national forces against ill-disciplined  mobs is the equivalent of lighting up in an ammunition dump!

 

 

About this 'poverty' nonsense

Standby, here comes a Duff joke - in all senses!  If I had a quid for every time I heard Corbyn and McDonnell sobbing out the word "poverty", I would be a rich man!  I know, I know, it's the way I tell 'em!  So yesterday and today, following the Chancellor's Budget speech, the wailing women of the Labour party, and that includes the men, have been sobbing and beating their breasts and calling down the wrath of Karl Marx onto the brutal head of 'Phil the Pill' Hammond.  Apparently, this latter-day Scrooge will soon fill the streets with emaciated kiddie-winkies dressed in rags.  Er, well, actually, most of the kiddie-winkies I see on the streets are over-weight Billy Bunter lookalikes and, so I am assured, their rag-like appearance is actually the height of 'Youf fashion, innit?'

Anyway, it sort of drove my mind back to my childhood, the first five years of which were spent during WWII.  I, of course, was evacuated from London to the green fields of Surrey and I can't say I ever experienced a pang of hunger.  Then my Mum picked me up and we moved back to London and then back to Surrey again.  She (and I) had to exist entirely on her weekly wage.  Again, I may not have been the most fashionably-dressed schoolboy and I was a bit on the thin side but again, I never went hungry.  I sort of sensed that money was always tight but it never bothered me - or any of my similarly situated mates.

The screeching hypocrisy, if not down-right lying, of the Labour MPs is a disgrace.  In their world, if a kiddie-winkie does not have the latest X-box and an endless supply of burgers and chips to fill their bulging bellies, they are impoverished!  Judged by their appearance, some of the fatties on the Labour benches could do with a dose of impoverishment!

As for Hammond's budget, it was, of course, a typical 'mandarin' construct in which dollops of dosh were carefully weighed and then handed out to different sections of - dread words! - The Peeps!  How they must have congratulated each other on their masterful cleverness but I can't help wondering if the junior office boy didn't pipe up at some stage and ask where all the dosh was coming from?  If he did, I strongly urge him to look for a new career!  There was only ever one aim for Hammond to attempt and that was to reduce our nation debt.  His budget will send it even higher and the undoubted fact that Corbyn/McDonnell would have sent it to Mars is neither here nor there.  All around the world national debts are driving ever upwards and it is unsustainable.  When it stops, they will spin to earth like a shot-down aircraft and the resulting crash will be - dare I say? - yuuuuuuuuge'! 

If I had spare money, I would buy gold!

 

 

Problem solved!

Yesterday I confessed to be suffering with concentrated 'brain-ache' as I tried to unwind the intricacies of John le Carré's latest spy yarn "The Little Drummer Girl".   However, last night being a typical TV night there was the usual barren desert of offerings so I decided to re-watch the recording I had made of the first episode - and yes, before you all drop your cups of tea in amazement, I did manage to record it all properly - God, I'm good!  Even more amazing, I think I understood what is going on.  However there are two problems to my understanding anything.  First, will I remember it by next Sunday when the next episode plays?  Then, there is what I call my 'Einstein problem'.  You see, I have lost count over the years of the number of times I have read explanations of his theories and yelled triumphantly, "I've got it! I've got it!  At last, I've got it!", then rushing through to explain it to the 'Memsahib the memory gates come crashing down and - zip! - it's gone again.  So, I may have to keep replaying that recording right up until episode 2 starts by which time I will have memorised the entire script!

Oi!  Wake up . . . I'm talking to you . . . this is important . . . !

 

 

'There's an awful lot of hot air in Brazil'!

Alas, my normally encyclopaedic knowledge of, well, everything, really - don't say it! - does not extend to Brazil.  Such knowledge as I have of that great country is limited to the exceedingly miniscule nature of the shorts worn by Brazilian lady volleyball players!  Thus, the news that a very Right-wing gentleman has swept into governmental power with a whopping big majority after 20-years or so of Left-wing corruption, sort of fills me with joy but, alas, I read that he has strong views on the exceedingly lax nature of social behaviour in his country so I must hope that his prudery does not extend to the 'short-shorts' of lady volleyball players!

As to the rest, well, he seems determined to tear down all the governmental 'stitch-ups' that put unions in charge and turned nationalised industries into cash machines for politicians, so that is "A Good Thing".  Alas, he also seems unduly enamoured with all things military and half his cabinet is likely to be made up of army officers.  Splendidly gallant chaps, I'm sure, but not, on the whole, usually very bright!  From well over this side of the Atlantic I will be fascinated to watch Snr. Bolsonaro's efforts and I wish him and his long-suffering people, especially the lady volleyball players, every good fortune, er, but I will not be holding my breath!

Read more from an excellent article by Snr. Jorge Carrasco at CAPX.

 

 

 

Mummy, my brain is hurting!

Well, of course, I watched the first episode of the latest John le Carré yarn called "The Little Drummer Girl".  Needless to say, I will have to watch it all over again, probably several times, in order to understand it (or parts of it!) but, hey, that's le Carré for you, easy he is not!  I am not sure that all the complexities were strictly needed.  I remember his superb TV version of "The Night Manager" was, relatively speaking, fairly straightforward so quite why this had to be so confusing I do not know.

Mind you, there were some cracking scenes in it, particularly the passage up on the floodlit Acropolis which was beautifully filmed.  Two characters sprang out instantly.  The totally bonkers but highly intelligent Martin Kurtz (Michael Shannon) who played the role of - and I put this politely - a highly eccentric senior officer in the Israeli Intelligence Services.  Also highly impressive was Florence Pugh playing the role of Charlie, a young English actress with, one suspects, a hidden backstory that will eventually be revealed.  This lady was not beautiful in the way of Elizabeth Debicki in "The Night Manager" - who, incidentally, has still not replied to my multiple letters! - but there was something, I can't quite pin it down, in her face that made her very watchable.  Also, she had some sparkling dialogue which helped to concentrate one's attention on her.

If you missed the first episode then I urge you to find it on one of those 'play-back-thingies' and then set your recording machines for the next episode on Sunday!

 

 

'Mexit'!

At last, 'Mutti' Merkel is on the way out!  Not, I hasten to add, that she was a bad woman, on the contrary, she mainly steered a steady ship of state along a fairly straight course whilst, quite properly, always remembering that the interests of Germany came first.  Her greatest error, in fact, came when she lost sight of that imperative and invited every Tom, Dick and Harry, or more precisely, every Abdul, Ishmael and  Ahmed to stroll into Germany and Europe.  Also, the brutal treatment of Greece meted out entirely at the request of the stupid euro-fanatics in Brussels is now reverberating in both Britain and Italy, to say nothing of Eastern Europe.  To judge her record accurately, we must wait for the history books to be written - 'I should live so long my life already'!

 

Your Monday Funnies: 29.10.18

Can anyone tell me the time, I'm a bit confused . . .

 

Paddy and Murphy, working on a building site, when Paddy says "sod this, I fancy a day off on the sick, I'm going to pretend I'm mad, and they'll send me home". So he climbs up in the rafters, hangs upside down, and starts shouting "I'm a light bulb, I'm a light bulb".

The foreman comes over and says "Paddy you're mad, pack your stuff and get out!", so he packs his stuff and heads off. Murphy starts packing his stuff up as well, so the foreman says "where the hell do you think you're going?"

To which Murphy replies "well, you don't expect me to be working in the bloody dark, do you!!"

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

 

Pat and Mick walking down a street in London and Pat happens to look in one of the shop windows and sees a sign that catches his eye. The sign said:
'Suits £5.00 each, Shirts £2.00 each, trousers £2.50 per pair'.

Pat says to his pal, 'Mick, will you look at that! We could buy a whole lot of dose, and when we get back to Ireland, we could make a fortune. Now when we go into the shop, you be quiet, okay? Just let me do all the talking cause if they hear our accent, they might not be nice to us. I'll speak in my best English accent.

'Roight y'are, Pat, I'll keep me mouth shut, so I will.' says Mick.

In they go and Paddy, in his best English accent, says 'I'll take 50 suits at £5.00 each, 100 shirts at £2.00 each, and 50 pairs of trousers at £2.50 each.

'I'll back up my van and ......'

The owner of the shop interrupts, 'You're from Ireland, aren't you?'

'Well...yes,' says a surprised Pat. 'How de hell d' y' know dat?'

The owner says, 'Because this is a dry cleaners.'

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

 

 

Two blokes living in the Australian outback saw a couple of jobs advertised by the Queen of England. She was looking for footmen, to walk beside her carriage.

They applied and were very happy to be flown to London for an interview with Her Majesty.

She says to them: “Because my footmen must wear long white stockings, I must see your ankles to be sure they are not swollen or misshapen."

After they show her their ankles, the Queen says: “It is also important that you don’t have knobby knees, so I need to see your knees too.”

Once she has seen their knees, she says: “Now everything appears to be in shape, so I just need to see your testimonials.”

Nine years later, when the pair are finally released from prison, one of the blokes says to the other:
”I reckon, if we just had a bit more education we would have got that job!"

That's your lot and can someone tell me the time - bloody clocks, I think I cocked up changing the times yesterday!

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 28.10.18

Needless to say, on this morning in which some looney turned the clocks back an hour, I am all over the place.  Even so, I will endeavour to keep all my faithful readers supplied with the wit and wisdom of Cpl. Duff - don't say it!

 

Brexit - the 'clincher'!   For all those who still cling to their soppy-soft love for the EU - and yes, that includes you, 'SoD'! - the tin-pot dictators of Brussels have shown the mailed fists that hide beneath their soft kid gloves.  The European Court of Human Rights (no sniggering because that's probably an offence as well!) have now proclaimed that critical comments aimed at Islam and/or Islamists are verboten!  An Austrian lady who gave two seminars on Islam including the information, as written in the Koran, that Mohammed married a 6-year old girl and consummated it when she was 9-years old, was fined.  The ECHR has now extended that decision and it has forbidden any critical Islamic commentary whether it is true or false. You can read all about it at The National Review.

 

We'd be better off with Dogberry and his pals:   Or, to put it another way, the Police Force should be locked up!  As always, Peter Hitchens says it all so much better than I ever could:

Many of us who have had dealings of one kind or another with the modern police suspect that, if we go to them, they will probably manage to mess up the case, ably assisted by the CPS, while also giving our full personal details to the suspect.
Even if they get it right, the criminal will be ‘spared jail’ by a feeble judge. Simpler to let it go.

And by coincidence, The Mail reports today that three police officers involved in the Stephen Lawrence case of 25-years ago are to be interviewed under caution for possible misconduct in public office.  It carries a maximum penalty of life imprisonment but I strongly advise you not to hold your breath!

 

More Mohammed:   Dammit, I have only just stumbled on Douglas Murray's article on the 'Cocklecarrots' who sit on the ECHR who have forbidden us all from being rude about Mohammed and his 'religion'.  His final paragraph says it all and I, for one, endorse it:

For my own part I don’t care a jot for the ruling of the ECHR and will continue to say what I like when I like. I trust that across Europe many other people will respectfully reserve the right to do the same.

 

Ok, I surrender!   Well, I have just read the latest review of Max Hastings' monumental history of the Vietnam wars - and yes, there was more than just one of them.  I have resisted buying it, despite the 'rave reviews', because I am still plodding my way through The Story of England by Sir Roy Strong and I have only just reached the Georgian period, er, not that it isn't a terrific read but there's a lot of it!  Anyway, I have just read the review of Hastings' book in The American Spectator by Roger Kaplan and I have decided to give it a go.  I will have to buy a hard-back edition because I suspect there is will be several maps and whilst I worship my Kindle it's just not very good with maps.  Of course, if my ever-lovin' son reads this perhaps he will save his dear, old Dad a few quid by buying me a copy for Christmas!  

 

Alas and alack:   I lunched not wisely but too well!  A short break will be required to allow me to rise up to the seventh level of inner awareness.  When I descend, I will re-join you.

 

We're doomed, I tell you, doomed!   According to WUWT, 'The Graun' is cutting back on its global warming blog spots mainly run by Dana Nuccitelli, a West Coast nutjob prophet of 'The End is Nigh' because of AGW.  'Little Georgie Moonbat' was unavailable for comment - so not all bad then!

 

Sorry, had to pop over to Mexico:   Thank God for my private jet that whisked me across the Atlantic to Mexico so that I could cheer (Sir) Lewis Hamilton on to his World Championship victory!  (Well, dammit, a man may dream, may he not?)  Jolly good show, (Sir) Lewis!

 

No more rumbles today

 

 

Your really 'yuuuuuuuge' test is plodding closer, Mr. President

The 'refugee' (inverted commas intended) column is approaching closer to the southern US border.  How President Trump deals with it could be the making or the breaking of his presidency.  I wish I could offer some sensible advice but, alas, I have none.  Any extreme action, from welcoming them in with open arms, or opening fire on them, would be disastrous.  I do not have great faith in the President's intellectual abilities so I hope that he is surrounded by shrewd advisors who will have thought through the pros and cons of the various actions that are possible.  He will need to demonstrate firmness but not unthinking brutality.  Needless to say, whatever he decides to do will be met with hysterical shrieks from his media and from his (dis)loyal opposition.  Even so, as the Kavenaugh imbroglio demonstrated, he can at least depend on the Dems to demonstrate their inherent 'stoopidity' which may, over time, do him some good.

 

 

Give that splendid 'Yankee-Doodle' a Knighthood!

It might be a busy morning for me today but before I put on my chauffeur's uniform and drive the 'Memsahib' to the shops (such fun!) I just had to record my immense gratitude to Mr. Matt Delacambre from Louisiana.  He it was  who spotted some nutter trying to smash the glass that protects one of the only four copies of the Magna Carta on display in Salisbury Cathedral.  He grabbed the man and held him down until help arrived.

I must confess that I was truly shocked at this example of vandalism because, whilst I am not usually given to emotion over the historic detritus that litters our old Kingdom, I do believe that the Magna Carta is an unbelievably important document.  It is important not to over sentimentalise it, after all, it was just the recording of deal struck between some 'robber' barons and an even bigger 'robber' king but it is the greatest example of one of those 'damned unexpected consequences' that constantly riff through history.

Pushed and pulled, this way and that, over the following centuries the fundamental essence of the document was never quite lost and then, gradually, they were built upon and it evolved into the foundation of our system of law upon which our liberties depend.  Perhaps of even greater importance was that its principles were taken across the Atlantic and lodged in America so that as we have gradually declined, America has grown and perpetuated its essence.  It is, perhaps, singularly appropriate that this precious document was safeguarded by an American citizen.

Thank you, Mr. Delacambre, I am truly grateful and should we ever meet, the drinks are on me!

 

 

It's 'Techie-Time', you lucky people

As you know, due to the Typepad teaboy spilling his tray of tea over the computer-thingies, there have been some problems contacting this world-famous site.  Of course, I instantly contacted the President of Typepad Inc. who, alas, in shock at my call, spilled his ice-cold dry martini over his Bermuda shorts, he being on a cruise in the Bahamas at the time.

Instantly, his personal, private secretary contacted me - well, rumour has it that she's on board with him!!! - with this message:

Thanks for your message.

Your blog loads securely at ttps://duffandnonsense.typepad.com/. Are you using a different URL to access the blog?

We recommend using the secure URL ttps://duffandnonsense.typepad.com/ to access your blog.

A URL like www.duffandnonsense.typepad.com
is not correct and will not load securely.

Needless to say, I didn't understand any of that, so in desperation I contacted my IT Manager, er, Lawrence Duff, actually, a.k.a. 'SoD'.  He offered this advice:

Now ref Typepad, it’s rather strange. All of your “regulars” – me included - had https://duffandnonsense.typepad.com in their browsers, not www.duffandnonsense.typepad.com . I just type “du” in the address and it immediately comes up with your blog. However, my browser, and obviously many others, this week chose to change from the known value of https://duffandnonsense.typepad.com to one that none of us ever uses or has ever used www.duffandnonsense.typepad.com . That’s really odd. I suspect Typepad messed up something but don’t want to admit it.

The solution if people are still suffering is to type the https://duffandnonsense.typepad.com address into the browser, or click the link, to get the browser back pointed at the correct address.

And no, I didn't understand any of that either!  Happily, most of you 'out there' are far more intelligent than me and will understand it.

From my record of contacts it looks as though most people are getting through OK but if you are still having difficulty you can e-mail me at: david@davpat.co.uk

 

 

 

 

Why are sex pests so ugly?

Should you doubt the veracity of my question - you wouldn't dare! - would you? - just take a look at this latest Lothario, Sir (for how long one wonders?) Phillip Green.  Actually, he looks a bit like me when I played Falstaff!

 

I will not ruin your day by printing a photo of Harvey Weinstein but to me, they could be cousins at least!  Mind you, and this is important, nothing has been proven against (Sir) Phillip but according to the Telegraph he induced several ladies, upset, apparently, by his unwanted sexual advances, to sign Non-Disclosure Agreements (NDAs) in return for 'loadsa' money'.  Alas, the 'dandruff-ridden, smelly socks brigade' from Fleet Street (or thereabouts) began nosing around and poor (well, actually, stinking rich) Sir Phillip was forced to fork out half a mill' to buy the services of some top-class 'silks' (no, no, they're not tarts, they're lawyers - behave!) to enforce an injunction against the Telegraph and stop them publishing.

Alas and alack (or goody-goody according to your taste!), up pops Lord Peter Hain (and he's no angel either!) in the House of Lords and lets the secret out of the bag.  Cue: a re-enactment of a Bateman cartoon, everyone was shocked, I tell you, shocked!  Well, not me because one of my oldest friends was in the 'rag-trade' years ago when he and 'Phil' were just beginning.  Suffice to say, my pal was not impressed!  The good news, I suppose, is that the ladies concerned banked Phil's money and because they have not broken their NDAs they get to keep it.  Simply too, too delicious!

 

 

Let's hope it's NOT the start of something big!

The famous words of Cpl. Jones from 'Dad's Army', "Don't panic Capt. Mainwaring!" spring to mind as I contemplate the bombing campaign mounted in the USA against various Democrat party leaders and supporters.  Surprised, I am not!  Even from this far away the viciousness of inter-party feuding 'over there' is clearly discernible. In the opinion of this ex-Corporal, we should all 'hang fire' before offering opinions one way or t'other.

First of all, though the targets were on the Left it does not prove that the bombers were from the Right.  As America approaches the absolutely critical mid-term elections it does not require a modern Machiavelli to remind us that the perps could be Lefties hoping to produce a surge of support in favour of the Democrats.  Equally, it could be a collection of knuckle-draggers from the Right determined to 'off' some of the worst characters on the Left.  So, best thing is to remain 'schtum' and wait for evidence.

Even so, that such a diabolical scheme was even attempted is, to an outside observer, a damning indictment of the state of American politics which has sunk into maelstrom of vindictiveness not seen for some time.  As a Brit, I keep reminding myself that what kicks off 'over there' often repeats itself 'over here', so we need to watch ourselves!

 

 

I blame Barney Magroo, or maybe 'JK'!

For the benefit of any new visitors to these distinguished columns who are puzzled by my heading, let me explain that Barney Magroo is a 'Purveyor of Fine Wines and Spirits' to the gentry of Arkansas, especially 'JK', one of his most faithful customers!  His, er, 'vineyard', whilst famous the length and breadth of the Ozark hills, is not easy to find because of its constantly shifting location, due, I am told, to the frequency of unannounced visits by the Revenue authorities - yeeeeeees, quite!

What I had not realised is that 'good ol' Barney', fed up with keeping one step ahead of the authorities, had moved into the money-lending business.  I now have it on very good authority - er, Zero Hedge, actually -  that 'there be trouble up in them thar money-lending hills'!  They explain it this way:

That brings me to what may be this cycle’s Countrywide Financial, Bank OZK (OZK – USA), formerly known as Bank of the Ozarks.

It was a bit of a head scratcher when I first heard of these guys a few years back; why were a bunch of guys in Little Rock, Arkansas so focused on funding risky Miami condo developments? Aren’t there plenty of local banks who are perfectly willing to lose globs of money at this game?

I reached out to a friend in hard money lending for a perspective, “I wouldn’t touch the crap they’re lending on at twice the interest rate.” 

 

In the interests of friendship, I can only urge 'JK' to ignore Barney's sales spiel and just stick to drinking his product - do not, under any circs, lend him any money!

 

 

All is well - for the time being!

The lovely Laura from Typepad, who I just know lives in California and has long legs and blonde hair and perfect teeth - dammit, a man may dream, may he not? - sent me this reply to my mild - no really, very mild! -  complaint

Hi David,

Thanks for your message. We had some server downtime today (October 24) but we've finally resolved this and you should start to be seeing things loading much better now.

I hope this helps! Please let us know if you have any further questions or concerns.

Thanks,
Laura

So, in the classic terms of the BBC, "Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible" which will be tomorrow morning 'cos I'm off to bed!

 

Testing, testing - my temper, that is!

Hang in there, people!

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Do NOT uncross your fingers!

Now, about that nice, kindly, tolerant and democratic Mr. Khashoggi

As usual, it takes PJMedia to set matters in context and ask a few tricky questions.  Perhaps the trickiest comes down to this: "Why Would the Washington Post Hire Someone Like Jamal Khashoggi?"  It's a fair question given that the Left-wing, up-market 'WaPo' which caters mainly to the 'metro-political' elites in Washington and constantly demands, in 'Lady Bracknell' style, decency and fairness and yet they hired a man well known for being a keen supporter of the Muslim Brotherhood which, as an organisation, would urge the slaughter of the entire non-Muslim world and a great many Muslims as well if they belonged to the wrong sect.

Khashoggi actually wrote this in the 'WaPo' just this year:

The United States’s aversion to the Muslim Brotherhood, which is more apparent in the current Trump administration, is the root of a predicament across the entire Arab world. The eradication of the Muslim Brotherhood is nothing less than an abolition of democracy and a guarantee that Arabs will continue living under authoritarian and corrupt regimes. 

Meanwhile, in 2012 Mohammed Morsi, a Muslim Brotherhood candidate in Egypt wrote this:

The Qur’an is our constitution, the Prophet is our leader, jihad is our path [my emphasis] and death in the name of Allah is our goal …

Today we can establish Sharia law because our nation will acquire well-being only with Islam and Sharia. The Muslim Brothers and the Freedom and Justice Party will be the conductors of these goals.

That doesn't sound too kind and cuddly, does it?  And nor does this:

Sharia law, once established, allows for the beating of disobedient women (Qur’an 4:34), the devaluation of women’s testimony (Qur’an 2:282), the devaluation of women’s inheritance rights (Qur’an 4:3), the taking of sex slaves (Qur’an 4:3, 4:24, 23:1-6, 33:50, and 70:30), the death penalty for leaving Islam (Qur’an 4:89), and much more that hardly provides for a “free society tolerant of all viewpoints.”

But the late and not very great Mr. Khashoggi thought it was 'right on' and presumably so did the gormless editorial board of the Washington Post.  Did any of that justify Mr. Khashoggi's brutal murder?  No, but it does mean that I will not waste any Kleenex tissues weeping for him!

 

 

How to cod people with the help of CoD

Fake news doesn't come much 'faker' than when the US company 'Crowds on Demand" is involved.  This outfit, based in Beverly Hills (why am I not surprised?) will supply any number of people to help swell the ranks of whatever protest or demo you are organising.  As Zero Hedge puts it "Crowds on Demand provides pop-up "protests, rallies, flash mobs, paparazzi events and other inventive PR stunts," according to its website."  It is a wise adage that you should not trust people at first sight but it is absolutely imperative when you see crowds of people!

And talking of "crowds of people" why am I deeply suspicious of all those fairly well-dressed and healthy people marching through various central American states on their way to the USA?  I know the message on the Statue of Liberty reads "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free".  Why is it that I sense the hidden hand of that crafty Hungarian-American, George Soros, providing all those Venezuelan non-tired and non-poor "huddled masses" with 'a little help along the way' as they make for the US border where they will inflict a 'yuuuuuuuuge' embarrassment to the President as he attempts to do his duty and safeguard the borders of his country?

 

In 'real-politik', you can't pick your friends

So, gradually, very gradually, the 'truth' is oozing out concerning the execution of the Saudi journalist, Jamal Khashoggi.  He was no angel but even so it was a despicable act but, even worse than that, it was 'stoopid'!  After early hopes for some fresh air in the charnel house that is Saudi Arabia, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (MbS) has disappointed - Big Time!  It may take some time but eventually he will have to go.  Whether or not he goes quietly is difficult to judge.  A 'civil war' within the Saudi royal family would have tremendous repercussions around the Middle East.  Not the least of the effects might be the encouragement of Iran to start throwing its weight around in all sorts of directions.

In deciding where and when we, in the West, should exert our power between Saudi and Iran brings us to the dilemma once expressed impeccably by Dr. Johnson, "Sir, there is no settling the point of precedency between a louse and a flea."  They are both mad, fanatical 'hairies' of the very worst kind but, apropos my title above, we will need to pick our 'friend', distasteful as it might be, and then stick with it.  The 'friend', of course, is the one who is less likely to do you harm but well able to harm your 'non-friend'.

Finally, I want to place on record that, on the whole, by and large - and so far! - I think President Trump has handled it fairly well, which is to say, very much better than I expected.

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 22.10.18.

Some corkers today, thanks to my little elves in the joke mine!

 



A flat-chested young lady read an article in a magazine that stated Dr. Bumbutu in Africa could enlarge your breasts without surgery. So, she decided to go to Dr. Bumbutu to see if he could help her.

Dr. Bumbutu advised her, "Every day after your shower, rub your chest and say, 'Scooby doobie doobies, I want bigger boobies!"

She did this faithfully for several months, and to her utter amazement she grew a terrific D-cup rack!

One morning she was running late, got on the bus, and in a panic realized she had forgotten her morning ritual. Frightened she might lose her lovely boobs if she didn't recite the little rhyme, she stood right there in the middle aisle of the bus closed her eyes and said, "Scooby doobie doobies, I want bigger boobies."
A guy sitting nearby looked at her and asked, "Are you a patient of Dr. Bumbutu's?"

She said "Yes I am. How did you know?"

He winked and whispered, "Hickory dickory dock . . ."

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A refuse collector is going along a street picking up the wheelie bins and emptying them into his dustcart.

He goes to one house where the bin hasn't been left out, so he has a quick look for it, goes round the back of the house, but still can't see it.

So, against the rules of the refuse collector's code but in the spirit of kindness, he knocks on the door. There's no answer.

Being a kindly and conscientious bloke, he knocks again – much harder. Eventually a Japanese bloke comes to the door.

'Harro!' says the Japanese chappie.

'Gidday, mate! Where's ya bin?' asks the collector.

'I bin on toiret' explains the Japanese bloke, a bit perplexed.

Realising the little foreign fellow had misunderstood him, the bin man smiles and tries again.

'No mate, where's your dust bin?'

'I dust been to toiret, I toll you!'' says the Japanese man – still
perplexed.

'Listen,' says the collector. 'You're misunderstanding me.

Where's your w h e e l i e bin?'

'Ok. Ok ' replies the Japanese man with a sheepish grin ...

'I wheelie bin havin sex wirra wife's sister!

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A study conducted by UCLA's Department of Psychiatry has revealed that the kind of face a woman finds attractive on a man can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle.

For example: If she is ovulating, she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features. However, if she is menstruating, or menopausal, she tends to be more attracted to a man with duct tape over his mouth and a spear lodged in his chest, while being set on fire.

No further studies are expected.

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(I have a suspicion that I might have told you this one before but there's no bore like and old bore, so here you go .  . .

Wanda's dishwasher quit working so she called in a repairman.
Since she had to go to work the next day, she told the repairman,

"I'll leave the key under the mat.
Fix the dishwasher, leave the bill on the counter, and I'll mail you a check.
Oh, by the way don't worry about my dog Spike.
He won't bother you." 

"But, whatever you do, do NOT, under ANY circumstances, talk to my parrot!"

"I MUST STRESS TO YOU: DO NOT TALK TO MY PARROT!!!"

When the repairman arrived at Wanda 's apartment the following day, he discovered the biggest, meanest looking dog he has ever seen.
But, just as she had said, the dog just lay there on the carpet watching the repairman go about his work.

The parrot, however, drove him nuts the whole time with his incessant yelling, cursing and name calling.

Finally the repairman couldn't contain himself any longer and yelled,
"Shut up, you stupid, ugly bird!"

To which the parrot replied:

"Get him Spike!"

See - Men just don't listen!

 

The Sunday Rumble: 21.10.18

There goes Sunday!   I was in quite a good mood when I got up this morning - but then I read a column by Col. Tim Collins in The Mail.  In it, he describes the British Army, in fact, all the British services, as "chubby, drug-addled and right on".  One picture is worth a thousand words!

As usual, the fault lies with that collection of ambitious, smarmy, creeping bunch of wankers who constitute our High Command, none of whom has the guts to tell our effete politicians that Political Correctness might be OK for the Civil Service but has no part in a fighting army.

 

Is it time to reset our opinions of  'The Donald'?   I am not going to indulge in a forensic examination of his two years in the White House but where-as I began by flinching at some of his behaviour and trembling at some of his decisions, gradually, as I have peeped out from behind my fingers, I sense that perhaps, just perhaps, he is getting things more right than wrong.  His re-action to the hysteria over the Saudi murder has been a fine example of real-politik and up in heaven, or perhaps down in hell, the likes of Bismarck and Talleyrand are raising a glass in support.  Still early days, of course . . .

 

The 'Hefferlump' goes all out DD:   No, no, not David Duff but David Davis!  In a brief but pointed article in The Telegraph today, he urges Tory MPs who are hesitating over sending in letters urging Mrs. 'Muppet' to resign, to just get on with it and rid us all of that dim-witted woman.  Somewhat to my surprise, he throws his support behind David Davis as a new Prime Minister.  Well, Boris cannot be trusted and the 'Moggman' would not go down well in the country.  Davis, however, comes across as a fairly normal 'one of us' and his service in the SAS can only help. 

 

This made me giggle:    The American Thinker site is always worth a visit, not least for the witty cartoons they publish:

 Spot on, methinks!

 

Not sure I could cope with this one:   I refer to the latest history book produced by Max Hastings which, normally, I would snap up in seconds.  Alas, the title of this one is "Vietnam: An Epic Tragedy 1945-1975" and the prospect of wading through that unmitigated bloodbath is more than I can contemplate.  To be honest, the fact is that it will remind me in the most painful way of how wrong I was to support it 'back in the day'!  It also reminds me that whilst I am fascinated by the war at sea during WWI, I cannot read very much about the 'slugfest' that took place on land.  It shares with Vietnam an enormous casualty list and a cornucopia of stupidity from both the commanders and the politicians and, er, me!

 

"How high the moon?"   'I dunno' but apparently it's getting higher!  Or to be more precise, it's moving away from us, according to Prof. S. Fred Singer at The American Thinker.  He, being a proper swot, offers some scientific explanations but, with all due respect, I put it down to JK's habit, on full moon nights, of hurling empty bottles of 'Barney Magroo's Finest' in its direction as he bewails the loss of all those 'gals' in every port he ever visited!  Well, you can't blame the moon, I mean who wants to live next door to noisy neighbours!

 

Right, pay attention, all you 'Yankee-doodles'!   Your Commanding Officer, er, well, your ex-Corporal, actually, is about to give you your orders.  This afternoon you will stop watching all that 'stop 'n' start' version of rugby you play 'over there' and instead you will retune your TVs in order to watch (Sir) Lewis Hamilton waltz off with the F1 World Championship at the American Grand Prix.  (Actually, that was damned difficult to type given that I had all my fingers crossed as I did it!)  If any of you live nearby and you are handy with a Winchester rifle, please feel free to shoot out the tires of that damned Hun! 

 

(Sir) Lewis, Her Maj will not be amused!   My goodness, what an excellent race!  And what an excellent circuit!  So, decision time moves to the Mexican Grand Prix to be held at a circuit named after the late Rodriguez brothers, both of whom were killed at different times in motor races.  I once knew, very slightly, Pedro Rodriguez, a quiet man but a terrific racer.  Meanwhile, (Sir) Lewis remains poised to take the championship but we will just have to wait!

 

 

No more rumbles today!

 

 

Damn, Saturday mornings are hard!

As it happens, I don't usually do much in the way of reading newspapers, by which I mean the good, old-fashioned printed ones.  I buy the Daily Mail every week day and read approximately 15% of it.  The other 85% consists of 'slebs', Royals, ladies' clothes and accoutrements, 'Footie' and sundry other sports about which I care nothing.  I never buy the Sunday Mail because it is the same as the Daily Mail but ten times bigger!  However, on Saturday I buy both the Mail and the Telegraph and hence a sort of 'religious' hour, well, actually nearer three hours, ensues during which I brook no interruption as I plough my way through both of them.  Occasionally, as you can imagine, this results in a certain amount of domestic tension but let's not go there!

Of course, up here in the rafters of 'Chateau Duff', courtesy of all those nice 'whizzy-do' internet nerds, I can browse just about any media I want from around the globe.  Years of experience has honed my skills in choosing those sites where I will be informed, and those sites where I will be warned, and those sites where I am almost certain to fall off my chair with laughter!  WARNING!  Any attempt by any of you lot to place this distinguished site into any of those slots, except the first one, will bring down the wrath of Duff on your head!

Why do I do it, you may wonder?  I rarely learn anything that I wouldn't learn from a good history book, and if I do learn something there is sweet f.a. I can do about it except laugh or cry.  Alas, I can only repeat the pathetic excuse of every drug addict in the world, 'I gotta have my fix!'  High Security documents are guarded with the mantra, "Need to Know", and the fact is I really do need to know the latest news and as soon as possible.  Like the 'druggie' I mentioned above, 'I gotta have my fix!'

 

 

The bitter-sweet tale of Laurel and Hardy

I suppose we never lose our fondness for the men - and it is nearly always men - who made us laugh when we were nippers.  For me that is always and forever Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy.  To be both fair and honest, I haven't seen that many of their films during my life but the memories of literally falling over, shrieking and helpless with laughter at various times in my childhood stick with me.  From time to time I come across one on the TV and, happily, most of them still make me laugh and chuckle.

I mention all this because there is an interesting article in The Telegraph today retelling their story, in particular their post-WWII experiences when, out of favour in Hollywood, they spent considerable time in England where they were well and truly loved.  It is also a story of a long and lasting friendship between the two men which, I gather, is highly unusual in show business.  Of course, like everyone, they had their problems and difficulties but they overcame them and stuck together to the end.  Metaphorically, I raise my hat and bow my head in memory and gratitude to two of the greatest 'clowns', a very honourable designation in my view, in the 20th century.

 

 

God bless (Sir) Mark Zuckerberg!

Let me start by owning up to the fact that I know next to nothing about (Sir) Mark Zuckerberg and even less about his 'whizzy-do' company Facebook.  I have never used its, er, 'services' and have absolutely no desire to do so.  Everything I read about it convinces me to remain aloof, up here in the tranquil heights of D&N.  Mind you, I am happy to offer my congratulations to (Sir) Mark for, in effect, making 'gazillions' of dollars out of bugger all!  That's true American 'get up and go'!

Not, of course, that he is universally admired, just the opposite, he is subject to an almost non-stop barrage of criticism, although I can't be bothered to dig into the detail.  Mind you, if the 'incoming' is really heavy, he can always take cover behind his stacks of 'dosh'!  However, today I am prepared to put my head above the parapet and say loud and clear, but not on 'Facebook', "Jolly well done, (Sir) Mark!", you have done me and all the peasants in this 'our septic Isle', an enormous favour for which we are all deeply grateful. 

What has he done, you ask?  Well, he has given Nick 'Cleggeron' Clegg a job and the ineffable 'piss-drip', plus his snooty wife with the fancy Spanish name, are departing these shores for 'Kal-i-forn-i-a' which is about as far away as he can go without us having to send him to Australia - and be fair, the 'Aussies' don't deserve him!  'The Cleggeron' will be very happy on the West coast where they are all drippingly wet, liberal petals, except, of course, the multitude of hard-working immigrants eager to do the bidding of the 'Sahib' and 'Memsahib', you know, just like in the smart boroughs of London that the Cleggs are so used to!  

Finally, there is the reputation that in the high ranks of all those Silicon Valley outfits, lying is thought of as a virtue, so the fact that he has a considerable number of public quotes from his past slagging off his new employers should earn him a bonus!  Also, and this will definitely earn him some prestige in the corporate hierarchy, he is a promise-breaker, as in for example, the time when he promised students, absolutely promised them, not to increase tuition fees.  They probably believed him - suckers!

Now, my advice to Mr. Zuckerberg, if he is desirous of being gently tapped on the shoulders with a sword by 'Her Maj' as she grants him a knighthood, is to quickly offer 'Dim Dave' Cameron a job, as well, and there-by get him off our shores, too.  That might get him a Lordship!  In the meantime, I would strongly advise any of my readers with shares in Facebook to SELL, SELL, SELL!

 

 

 

 

Should we shoot one in three of our senior civil servants?

Now, before you shudder at the thought, just remember that splendid French phrase 'pour encourager les autres'!  Also, to put a bit of determination in your spine, let me remind you that it is now blindingly obvious that, apart from the soaking wet Mrs. May, the main reason for the utter shambles of our Brexit (non)negotiations are the massed ranks of our civil service.  Of course, I am certain that there is a minority, a very tiny minority, of civil servants who are in favour of Brexit but the devilish cleverness of my scheme is that in only shooting one in three we are bound to get far more 'remoaners' than 'Brexiteers'!

As Charles Moore points out at The Coffee House:

Whitehall thinks Brexit is dreadful, so it tries to accomplish it not with maximum success, but with minimum damage. Its definition of damage is anything which separates Britain from the EU. It is an overwhelmingly negative and fearful frame of mind, and I am afraid Mr Robbins exhibits it.

The Mr. Robbins he refers to is that oily individual who has guided our utterly dim-witted Prime Minister into the 'slough of despond' in which she, and the rest of us, find ourselves today.  No doubt he plays on her very English desire to achieve a 'fair deal' based on sensible compromise.  Some of you may recall that when all this kicked off I pointed out in fairly blunt language that the Brussels hegemony had absolutely no intention of giving us even the pickings of their noses by way of compromise, a word whose meaning is unknown to them!  Quite apart from their instinctive dislike for Britain which drives many of them to take any available chance to give us a slap, they are also driven by rage that we had the impertinence, nay, the treachery, to damage their version (and please don't giggle) of "a shining city upon a hill"!  Well, I suppose if you are some dim-witted, mittel-European (I leave you to fill in the names!) barely qualified to run, say, Luxembourg, and you are suddenly jumped up into a position of power with an enormous salary and pension and expenses, then you would be cross at anyone seeking to de-rail your gravy train!

However, none of that excuses the behaviour, the treacherous behaviour, of our senior office boys 'mandarins' in condoning a lick-spittle approach to the Europeans.  Severe action needs to be taken against them.  I would suggest calling in the Saudi Arabian security services to do the job but perhaps that is a tad extreme, so perhaps instead, we should simply put Mr. Olly Robbins and his ilk in charge of the Dept. of Drains and Sewers where, I suspect, they will feel entirely at home!

 

 

Two films I will definitely NOT be watching

Unfortunately, the first is, er, well, "First Man", actually, the film that tells the story of Neil Armstrong the first man to set foot on the moon, and Buzz Aldrin the second man.  I haven't been to a cinema for years now but I was all set to book my ticket until I learned that the film-makers had decided not to show the moment when Armstrong and Aldrin planted the Stars and Stripes.

Following a howl of irritation from the 'GAP', the Great American Public, well, most of them, anyway, and including an outraged squeak from me 'over here', the Hollywood 'tosspots' have put out a range of miserable excuses which simply prove that none of them are fit to brush the moon dust off Armstrong's or Aldrin's space boots.  A truly great story of human endeavor and courage ruined by 'Leftie tosspots' - and yes, I am irritated!

The second film I will not be seeing is one I mentioned a few days ago - "Gosnell", the story of Kermit Gosnell, a genuine monster far beyond anything Hollywood could imagine in one of their 'fright films'.  This is the sub-human who ran a butchering factory in which (at least) seven babies who had survived his abortionist knife and were on the operating table, probably wriggling, were dispatched by a quick severing of their spinal cords.  Needless to say, you will search in vain for any mention of this film in any of the American Left-wing media, let alone the Democratic party or any of those shrieky bitches in the #METOO movement.  Daniel Sobieski tells it best at The American Thinker.  I will avoid the film simply because I might throw up in the cinema.  Happily, I can report that Gosnell is serving life without parole.

 

 

I am humbled, I tell you, humbled!

Well, when I think about it (which I do not do very often) I suppose being humbled is the story of my life!  Not, of course, that it stops me from being the jumped-up, opinionated, know-all that you all admire so much - and I definitely heard that one!  So it was no surprise to me that when it comes to reading, something of which I pride myself, that exceedingly distinguished man of letters, Mr. Jacob Epstein, stands supreme on a World Olympic pinnacle whilst I remain at the bottom of Division 459!  Even worse, the sheer, unbelievable range of what he reads turns me into a narrow-minded dunce.  Having read his essay on the subject, I am left with only one question - where the hell does he find the time to read so much?  Actually, I have a second question, how much of what he reads does he remember?

To be fair, Mr. Epstein answers that question courtesy of Montaigne:

Montaigne, who more than five centuries ago established the modern essay, grasped the point when he wrote, “I may be a man of fairly wide reading, but I retain nothing.” Retention of everything one reads, along with being mentally impossible, would only crowd and ultimately cramp one’s mind. “I would very much love to grasp things with a complete understanding,” Montaigne wrote, “but I cannot bring myself to pay the high cost of doing so. . . . From books all I seek is to give myself pleasure by an honorable pastime; or if I do study, I seek only that branch of learning which deals with knowing myself and which teaches me how to live and die well.” What Montaigne sought in his reading, as does anyone who has thought at all about it, is “to become more wise, not more learned or more eloquent.” As I put it elsewhere some years ago, I read for the pleasures of style and in the hope of “laughter, exaltation, insight, enhanced consciousness,” and, like Montaigne, on lucky days perhaps to pick up a touch of wisdom along the way.

Dammit, that paragraph reminds me sharply, like a kick in the shins, that for several decades I have been meaning to read Montaigne who, from the various quotations I have come across, strikes me as a writer and thinker on a level with William Shakespeare, than which etc, etc!

Mr. Epstein confesses to being a 'book accumulator', or perhaps that should be a 'bookaholic', of almost drug addiction levels but even he is forced to concede a secondary position when compared to his friend, the late Mr. Edward Shils:

As a book accumulator, I am a piker next to Edward Shils, who in a capacious three-bedroom apartment in Chicago had a library of roughly 16,000 volumes, in three languages, all of them serious, with another six thousand books stored in a house he kept at Cambridge in England. In one of the two bathrooms in his Chicago apartment, Edward had bookshelves built over and above the bath and commode. No flat surface in his apartment, including his dining room table, was uncovered by books (or magazines or papers).

Crikey!  I will never again complain about the couple of hundred books that clutter up my garret here, at the 'HQ' of Duff & Nonsense!