“That one can convince one’s opponents with printed reasons, I have not believed since the year 1764. It is not for that purpose that I have taken up my pen, but rather merely to annoy them, and to give strength and courage to those on our side, and to make it known to the others that they have not convinced us.”
G.C. Lichtenberg (1742 – 1799), courtesy of 'Deogolwulf'
The title sums up my 'default mode' at the moment now that my friend has left for home and I am trying to catch up. However, before I get stuck into the fascinating comment thread to the post below I must give added emphasis to this video sent in by my e-pal, JK, which some of you might have missed.
It's always the little things that tell you so much about so-called 'Great People', in this case, JFK, a man who I particularly dislike because being young back then and even more 'stoopid' than I am today, I fell for all that Kennedy crap and looking back I am embarrassed. If only I had seen this little film then! DO NOT MISS IT!
Well, that is what they look like according to A E-P in today's Telegraph - if not something worse! I can still remember when John Brown, now Lord Brown, was chief honcho at BP and he took the huge decision to move into Russia using partnerships(!) with Russian companies as his way in. Deploying the full range of my detailed knowledge of international business - yeeeeees quite! - I remember muttering at the time something along the lines of 'there'll be tears before bedtime'. Of course, to begin with all was sweetness and light - and big profits - but alas, Brown, himself, was caught out in some minor peccadillo and resigned. By then it was becoming clear that if you shake hands with a Russian businessman you should count your fingers afterwards! In fact, there are very few Russian 'businessmen' because the vast majority, especially the mega-rich ones, are just good, old-fashioned crooks. Of course, they thrive in Putinesque Russia because the whole regime is a sink-pit of corruption.
Today, A E-P tells us that:
The Permanent Court of Arbitration in The Hague has thrown the book at the Russian state, or more specifically at Vladimir Putin and his Soliviki circle from the security services.
The$51.5bn ruling against on the Kremlin unveiled this morning has no precedent in international law. The damages are 20 times larger than any previous verdict. [My emphasis]
The ruling was unanimous by the three judges who, remarkably, were all chosen by the Russians! Of course, the complainants, Yukos-MGL-Khodorkovsky, will have one hell of a job collecting because so many assets abroad are under Russian diplomatic protection and Putin will simply tell them to 'проваливай' - that's 'piss off' to you and me. However, state-owned Russian companies are not immune and one of the prime targets will be Rosneft:
What they can certainly do – and have every intention of doing – is attacking the assets of state-owned companies that act as instruments of the Russian government. Above all, they intend to pursue Rosneft, the venture built from the expropriated assets of Yukos.
That means they also intend to pursue BP (indirectly), since BP owns a fifth of Rosneft shares as a legacy from the TNK-BP debacle. [My emphasis]
Golly-gosh, what an exciting life BP leads, screwed by Obama and his biased courts for spilling a bit of oil in the Gulf, and now screwed by association with Putin and his gangsters. What was that saying about 'long spoons' and 'supping with the devil'? However, 'Vlad the Impaler' will be choking on his vodka today because this comes just as the EU finalises what actually appear to be fairly strict actions against various Russian (ie, Putin's) national banks.
I can only repeat to 'Vlad' what I have been trying to say to the Euro-fanatics in Brussels - is eastern Ukraine really worth it?
And still this glorious global warming goes on and on which, of course, leads inexorably to yet more and more social activity. I am almost looking forward to a return to the norm when in the wind and rain we all wrap up in water-proofs and woolies and dash for cover ignoring friends and aquaintances as we head for the great indoors. But for now, it's all open doors and windows, neighbours forever popping in and out and, like to today and tomorrow, unexpected visitors rocking up to stay a night or two. I am not by nature gregarious which, I suppose, is characteristic of bloggers who traditionally slump before their keyboards, unshaven, unshowered and dressed in 'jim-jams' and dressing gowns safe in the knowledge that no-one with an ounce of taste and discernemnt would come within a mile. Of course, the 'Memsahib' has her fair share of visitors but, happily, because I am ensconced up here in the garret I don't need to meet and greet them.
Anyway, all of the foregoing waffle was simply my way of warning you that the bilge taps might slow the flow of blogging bilge to a trickle over the next day or two . . . and yes, I heard that burst of applause!
Two aliens landed in the Australian desert near a petrol station that was closed for the night. They approached one of the petrol pumps and the younger alien addressed it saying, "Greetings, Earthling. We come in peace. Take us to your leader."
The petrol pump, of course, didn't respond.
The younger alien became angry at the lack of response.
The older alien said, 'I'd calm down if I were you.'
The younger alien ignored the warning and repeated his greeting.
Again, there was no response.
Pissed at the pump's haughty attitude, he drew his ray gun and said gruffly, "Greetings, Earthling. We come in peace. Take us to your leader or I will fire!"
The older alien again warned his comrade saying, 'You probably don't want to do that!
I really think that will make him mad.'
'Rubbish,' replied the cocky, young alien. He aimed his weapon and opened fire. There was a huge explosion. A massive fireball roared towards him and blew the younger alien off his feet and threw him about 200 feet into a cactus patch leaving him singed and injured.
Half an hour passed. When he finally regained consciousness, he refocused his three eyes, straightened his bent antenna, and looked dazedly at the older, wiser alien who was standing over him shaking his big, green head.
'What a ferocious creature!' exclaimed the young, fried alien.
'He damn near killed me! How did you know he was so dangerous?'
The older alien leaned over, placed a friendly feeler on his crispy friend and replied,
'If there's one thing I've learned during my intergalactic travels, you never mess with a bloke who can loop his penis over his shoulder, then stick it in his ear.'
Dan was a single guy living at home with his father and working in the family business. When he found out he was going to inherit a fortune when his sickly father died he decided he needed to find a wife with whom to share his fortune.
One evening, at an investment meeting, he spotted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her natural beauty took his breath away. "I may look like just an ordinary guy," he said to her, "but in just a few years, my father will die and I will inherit $200 million."
Impressed, the woman asked for his business card and three days later, she became his stepmother.
Women are so much better at financial planning than men !
The room was full of pregnant women with their husbands. The instructor said, "Ladies, remember that exercise is good for you. Walking is especially beneficial. It strengthens the pelvic muscles and will make delivery that much easier. Just pace yourself, make plenty of stops and try to stay on a soft surface like grass or a path."
"Gentlemen, remember -- you're in this together. It wouldn't hurt you to go walking with her. In fact, that shared experience would be good for you both."
The room suddenly became very quiet as the men absorbed this information.
After a few moments a man, name unknown, at the back of the room, slowly raised his hand.
"Yes?" said the Instructor.
"I was just wondering if it would be all right, if she carries a golf bag while we walk?"
Brings a tear to your eye, doesn't it? This level of sensitivity can't be taught.
My ex-mate Rupe: Yes, alas and alack, my mate Rupe and I have parted company after 20-odd years together. They were happy times, none happier than when he sent me - free of charge(!) - a satellite dish and a 'magical-do-flicker-recording-thingie' that even I could work. Also, he provided some terrific programmes like The Wire and 'Farx Noos' with all those blonde ladies and their fright-white teeth. And, yes, I know that 'Farx Noos' is to the Right of the political spectrum but it still has a long way to go before it catches up with me! Even so, my 'financial advisor', aka: the 'Memsahib', who does the books, so to speak, informed me the other day that we were paying Rupe £67 a month! I nearly swallowed the glass of very cheap red wine I was drinking at the time because, of course, I can only afford cheap red wine - and now I know why! I then checked the TV schedules and realised that 90% of what I watch on TV is available on Freeserve and that includes Sky News which, as I have mentioned before, I have on constantly but with the sound off! So, sorry, Rupe, don't think it hasn't been fun - but it's been expensive fun!
Don't ever mess with D&N:It is never a good career move to mess with this distinguished but occasionally brutal blog. It was back in January 2011 that David Ruffley MP made his first entry into these columns when I gave him a good kicking for sticking his nose so deeply into the expenses trough at Westminster. Since then he has had two further smackings from me which might account for, but not excuse, his bad temper recently during which he gave his girlfriend a slap. The 'feministas' are outraged - and for once they are right - and so to is his constituency party who look likely to insist on his resignation. So farewell, then, David Ruffley, what a pity you won't be missed!
Now you see it, now you don't: Pesky complicated things those weather stats. Here's an example from the swots at NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration). It shows global temperature anomalies for land and sea from 2000 to 2013 and you will note - Shlock-Horror! - that over that period temperatures have risen by +0.04C!
But that's because, like me you are not used to reading graphs so you probably failed to notice that the year 2000 was particularly, perhaps unusually, chilly which means that starting from there produces an upward line in temperatures. However, if you start from 2001 through to 2014 you get this:
The birth of a behemoth: Oh, no, not another book! Yes, I'm afraid so, and if the behemoth concerned is the rise and rise of America then you can bet that a book on the subject is going to be equally enormous. Still, I have to have it and I blame that Leftie mag, The Staggers, for my temptation. I mentioned the other day that I had bookmarked their site, especially the 'Culture' section where their book reviews lurk waiting for the unwary - me, that is! - and I knew then that no good would come of it. Here is an extract from the review quoting from a paper written by an FO official in November 1928 describing the 'new world order':
Although the UK was “still staggering from the effects of the superhuman effort made during the war . . . loaded with a great burden of debt . . . [and] crippled by the evil of unemployment”, it was better off than most. The empire was still intact – albeit in an altered state – and the domestic polity had survived the arrival of mass democracy in 1918, notwithstanding scares such as the General Strike of 1926. But in 1928, a year before the Wall Street Crash, one country stood supreme above all the others. In the United States, the official wrote, Great Britain was faced “with a phenomenon for which there is no parallel in our modern history – a state twenty-five times as large, five times as wealthy, three times as populous, twice as ambitious, almost invulnerable, and at least our equal in prosperity, vital energy, technical equipment and industrial strength”.
Foodies are frequently foolish: How about that for a piece of prize alliteration? But it's a fact, some foodies are just so damned precious. Earlier this evening I enjoyed some slices off a shoulder of lamb with crisped skin, roasted potatoes hard on the outside soft on the inside, leeks, runner beans and carrots plus, of course, a jug of gravy made mostly from the juice of the lamb. In other words, a bog standard, British Sunday lunch/dinner. It was perfection! Not a mention, not a hint, not a taste, of all that 'foodie' stuff with which they ruin perfectly good meals. I read menus in restaurants and become quite excited by the main ingredient but then as I read further comes line after line listing all the other precious extras that come with it and my appetite, along with my patience, evaporates! Why can't they just leave good food alone?
Regular readers will know of my, shall we say, erratic reading habits. I never seem to have less than three books on the go at any given time. Just recently the situation worsened due to all this glorious 'global warming' which, being a rarity here, leads one into outdoors country and seaside temptations, to say nothing of snoozing gently on a lounger under the shadow of a tree, and the pile of books grows higher! However, I want you all to know that I spoke to myself in a very severe manner the other day and promised that I would get a grip of my lackadaisical reading habits. I was particularly conscience-stricken by the fact that I had started Margaret MacMillan's superb history of the run-up to WWI but then been distracted by other books that, I don't know, just seem to have turned up! Anyway, a few days ago I returned to WWI and, even though I am fairly well-informed of the lachrymose details, Ms. MacMillan's pelucid English and shrewd judgment kept me enthralled - up until this morning!
Despatched by the 'Memsahib' into the blistering heat, at least 21 degrees - what are you Aussies sniggering at? - I duly shopped for the weekend and then wandered innocently along through Sherborne market and, goodness me, there was the second-hand bookseller and his stall - what a surprise - well, even if he's there every Saturday it was still a surprise to me - honest! So I browsed - it would have been bad manners not to - and there, before my horror-stricken eyes, was temptation! A fairly slim volume called: Shadowplay: The Hidden Beliefs and Coded Politics of William Shakespeare by Clare Asquith. I simply couldn't resist!
The book purports to be an analysis of the life and works of WS which 'proves' that he was a secret Catholic recusant. At that point two of his plays instantly came to mind - King Lear and Measure for Measure. The latter, a play with Catholic religiosity at its very centre, mocks the central, God-like character of the Duke of Vienna as a bumbling prat whose actions and judgments are mostly ill-conceived and nearly disasterous. In King Lear we have a sustained tract telling the stories of not one but two families who are denied any earthly redemption as a cold, implacable universe squidges them out of existence as though a giant Monty Python foot has descended on them. Even worse, and even more cruel, both men, Lear and Gloucester, are given brief moments of glorious hope and happiness before - squelch! - and they're dead! "As flies to wanton boys are we to the Gods/ They kill us for their sport", says Gloucester. Hardly the message of a dedicated Catholic, I feel!
Even so, I bought the book and I will read it because it is important to try and read as many interpretations of that quiet, crafty, observant and highly intelligent scribbler from Stratford as you can. Also, it is important not to assume that - hey! - Will Shakespeare agrees with me! We all want to feel that somehow he is on our side even, or perhaps especially, the Catholics. I have personally come a cropper on several occasions for that lazy style of (non)thinking. Even so, and despite the fact that I have only just finished Chaper One, I have been given cause to read Clare Asquith, or the Countess of Oxford and Asquith, to give her full title, very carefully indeed. In her opening chapter she provides a brief history of the Catholic/Protestant clashes which started with Henry VIII, continued through his son's brief reign and on into Queen Mary's regime and finally into that of Elizabeth I. She emphasises the undoubted cruelties inflicted on Catholics but rather skims the retaliation when they had power. For example, she admits that under Mary, 270 Protestants were burned at the stake but she emphasisesthat under Elizabeth 207 Catholics faced a similar fate. She fails to remind us that Mary only reigned for 5 years where-as Elizabeth held power for 45 years, so Mary's 'kill ratio' exceeded Elizabeth's by a huge margin. In addition she makes great play of the 'tens of thousands' of Catholics who perished, unrecorded, in various jails but somehow I don't think prison conditions were any better in Mary's reign!
There is a site you can visit which contains a critical review of her book by David Womersley, an 'EngLit' swot from Oxford. To say that he was underwhelmed puts it mildly! There looks to be a fairly waspish (but entertaining!) exchange of opinions in the comments thread demonstrating that a punch-up between university swots makes a 'Glasgie' punch-up look like a vicar's tea-party. I am not going to read the whole thing because I do want to read the book first and without prejudice - or at least, not too much prejudice. However, I am always and forever suspicious of books which have words like "hidden beliefs" and "coded politics" in their titles, it smacks of all those silly books purporting to prove that someone other than Shakespeare wrote his plays. Come to think of it, one of the prime fantasy candidates for that role is Edward de Vere, former Earl of Oxford and therefore part of Ms. Asquith's family!
Today I was sent a newsletter from Classicfm, the classical music radio station here in the UK. It had a section on historical insults from one musician aimed at another. My God, they're worse than luvvies! Some of the commenters are quite witty and I have added one or two of their remarks to the mix. Click on the link and you can read some more:
"Listening to the fifth symphony of Ralph Vaughan Williams is like staring at a cow for 45 minutes." - Copland
"I like your opera - I think I will set it to music." Beethoven
What about Reger's letter to a young composer who has sent him a composition to look at: 'I am in the smallest room in my house. I have your composition in front of me. Soon it will be behind me.'
"All you need to write like him is a large bottle of ink." Stravinsky on Messiaen
"It's beautiful and boring. Too many pieces finish too long after the end." Stravinsky on Handel's Theodora
"The musical equivalent of St Pancras Station." Sir Thomas Beecham on Elgar
"Wagner has beautiful moments, but awful quarters of an hour." Rossini on Wagner
Is that a bad thing? A rack of baby backs and a pint of Newcastle Ale... Nothing wrong with that
"The audience expected the ocean. Something big, something colossal, but there were served instead with some agitated water in a saucer."Louis Schneider on La Mer
My heading, according to Alexander Smoltczyk writing in Der Spiegel, is the current descriptive term for France - as used by the French themselves! Herr Smoltczyk undertook a tour of France following the route of the famous bicycle race in order to guage opinion and conditions in the 'real' France outside Paris. Given the nature of his 'investigation' it provides no deep analysis but one gains the distinct impression that France is on the wrack. Like all western European countries it is facing enormous difficulties in absorbing mass immigration but it is doing so under the added burden of a declining economy. Here in Britain we face a similar problem but, as the IMF pronounces today, we do so on the back of an economic recovery. (How sound it is will be the subject of another post another day but for the time being just keep your fingers crossed!) The French, by contrast, appear to be on an ever steepening decline, a living (just) and gasping example of socialism at 'work'. Those seriously contemplating the joys of a Comm-Lab coalition (I refer to Mr. McCluskey's wing of the Labour Party which pays all the bills for Miliband's wing.) should take serious note of socialism red in tooth and claw operating in France. It has been an unmitigated disaster and, as I never cease to repeat, in the final analysis it is entirely the fault of a stupid electorate. The confused - demented? - state of French voters is perfectly captured in this excerpt:
Rothermel [a French worker] rails against taxes, but also says he thinks retirement at the age of 56 should be perfectly normal. He says he doesn't like people who just hang around doing nothing or those who take advantage of the welfare state, even though he himself is reliant on the system, receiving government-subsidized social housing and also health care benefits.
This blog, or at least, its typical 'ros beef' owner, is always happy to take a swing at France and the French but I do so only in the way that all nations enjoy a dig at their neighbours. The fact is that I like France and the French - well, perhaps Parisian waiters excepted - and I think it is hugely important that they remain propserous and stable. A passing remark by a French ex-Para reported in the article to the effect that he and some other comrades from his regiment are contemplating the pros and cons of a take over by force may just be idle boasting - or at least, I hope it is.
I ask because there has been some clown-like hilarity in his response to recent events. First, he spent several days flexing his muscles and pronouncing his absolute and determined opposition to the appointment of 'Juncker the Drunker' as Chief Honcho to the EU. Whilst cutting this masculine pose and, so to speak, flashing his pecs 'n' abs, the other EU leaders sneaked up behind him and whipped his pants down. The next thing we see - and I still can't quite believe the photo - he is greeting 'his new best friend', the afore-mentioned 'Junker the Drunker', with a high five! And this buffoon pretends to be the Prime Minister of Great Britain. One thinks back to several truly distinguished predecessors and imagines that they must be wriggling with embarrassment in their after-life.
Then we have 'Mr. Macho', pursing his tiny little lips and frowning fiercely into the cameras as he rages against the wickedness of 'Vlad the Impaler', urging - nay, almost ordering - his fellow EU leaders, especially the French, to sacrifice economic activites with Russia as a punishment for the downing of Flight MH17. It then transpires that Britain has an enormous number of Anglo-Russian trade deals including some hefty armaments contracts. It also becomes known that the Tory party is up to its trouser pockets in contributions from Russian oligarchs domiciled in Britain which - natch! - they refuse to return.
On reflection, perhaps, a gag might work better than the red nose, or better still, a hood so that I need never look on that silly man ever again!
I'm sorry because I failed to warn you that I would be going AWOL yesterday. Actually, it took me a bit by surprise because we had a sudden conglomeration of appointments with both of us going in different directions at different times and with only one car! Then, prompted by this glorious global warming, I suddenly decided on a surprise BBQ so we invited friends over and I repeated my superb kebab-cooking skills - sorry, did someone say something? We drank, or perhaps gulped is a better word, what seemed like several gallons of rosé which, on a very warm Summer's evening is really the only drink.
And the reason why I am not surprised stems from a link sent to me by Andra with excerpts from a book called In the President's Secret Service: Behind the Scenes With Agents in the Line of Fire and the Presidents They Protect by a man called Ronald Kessler. I checked his Wiki entry and he seems to be a very distinguished and reputable correspondent so I think his reportage can be believed. He wrote the book after interviewing a large number of past and present Secret Service agents who, when you think about it, are the men who get to know their presidents better than anyone. What clinched my belief in its accuracy was my total lack of surprise at their conclusions regarding their previous masters:
JOHN & JACQUELINE KENNEDY *A philanderer of the highest order.*
*She ordered the kitchen help to save all the left-over wine from State dinners, mixed it with fresh wine and served again during the next White House occasion.*
LYNDON & LADYBIRD JOHNSON *Another philanderer of the highest order. In addition, LBJ was as crude as the day is long. Both JFK and LBJ kept a lot of women in the White House for extramarital affairs and both had set up early warning systems to alert them if/when their wives were nearby. Both were promiscuous and oversexed men.*
*She was either naive or just pretended to not know about her husband's many liaisons.*
RICHARD & PAT NIXON *A "moral" man but very odd, weird, paranoid. He had a horrible relationship with his family and was almost a recluse.*
*She was quiet most of the time.*
GERALD & BETTY FORD *A true gentlemen who treated the Secret Service with respect and dignity. He had a great sense of humour. *
*She drank a lot!*
JIMMY & ROSALYN CARTER *A complete phony who would portray one picture of himself to public and very different in private e.g. would be shown carrying his own luggage but the suitcases were always empty. He kept empty ones just for photo ops. He wanted people to see him as pious and a non-drinker but he and his family drank alcohol a lot! He had disdain for the Secret Service and was very irresponsible with the "football" with nuclear codes. He didn't think it was a big deal and would keep military aides at a great distance. Often did not acknowledge the presence of Secret Service personnel assigned to serve him.* *She mostly did her own thing.*
RONALD & NANCY REAGAN *The real deal, moral, honest, respectful and dignified. They treated Secret Service and everyone else with respect and honour, thanked everyone all the time. He took the time to know everyone on a personal level. One favourite story was early in his Presidency when he came out of his room with a pistol tucked on his hip. The agent in charge asked: "Why the pistol, Mr. President?" He replied, "In case you boys can't get the job done, I can help." It was common for him to carry a pistol. When he met with Gorbachev, he had a pistol in his briefcase.
*She was very nice but very protective of the President and the Secret Service was often caught in the middle. She tried hard to control what he ate. He would say to the agent, "Come on, you gotta help me out." The Reagan's drank wine during State dinners and special occasions only otherwise they shunned alcohol. The Secret Service could count on one hand the times they were served wine during family dinner. For all the fake bluster of the Carters, the Reagan's were the ones who lived life as genuinely moral people.*
GEORGE H. & BARBARA BUSH *Extremely kind and considerate, always respectful. Took great care in making sure the agents' comforts were taken care of. They even brought them meals. One time she brought warm clothes to agents standing outside at Kennebunkport. One was given a warm hat and, when he tried to say "no thanks" even though he was obviously freezing, the President said "Son, don't argue with the First Lady. Put the hat on." He was the most prompt of the Presidents. He ran the White House like a well-oiled machine.*
*She ruled the house and spoke her mind.*
BILL & HILLARY CLINTON *Presidency was one giant party. Not trustworthy. He was nice mainly because he wanted everyone to like him but to him life is just one big game and party. Everyone knows about his sexuality.*
*She is another phony. Her personality would change the instant cameras were near. She hated, with open disdain the military and Secret Service. She was another who felt people were there to serve her. She was always trying to keep tabs on Bill Clinton.*
ALBERT GORE *An egotistical ass who was once overheard by his Secret Service detail lecturing his son that he needed to do better in school or he would end up like these guys, pointing to the agents.*
GEORGE W. & LAURA BUSH *The Secret Service loved him and Laura Bush. He was also the most physically in shape who had a very strict workout regimen. The Bushes made sure their entire administrative and household staff understood that they were to respect and be considerate of the Secret Service.*
*She was one of the nicest First Ladies, if not the nicest. She never had any harsh word to say about anyone.*
*BARACK & MICHELLE OBAMA *Clinton all over again - hates the military and looks down on the Secret Service. He is egotistical and cunning. He looks you in the eye and appears to agree with you but turns around and does the opposite. He has temper tantrums.*
*She is a complete bitch who basically hates anybody who is not black, hates the military and looks at the Secret Service as servants.*
Now, be honest, does any of that come as a surprise? Anyway, many thanks to my ace roving reporter, Andra!
Where-as we tend to bumble blindly and ineptly into our man-made disasters, 'the cousins' do it properly after much detailed discussion and planning. And, of course, being American they do their man-made disasters so much bigger and better than us. Happily, given that Hollywood seems incapable of producing any good films nowadays, we can all sit back and watch and be entertained over the next few years by the gradual blacking out of New England. Such fun!
You can read all about it in The American Spectator in an article written by William Tucker. He tells us that the 'Greenies' of New England are determined to follow the earlier example of California despite the fact that in 2000 California was facing blackouts and in desperate attempts to set matters right they are now hugely reliant on natural gas and Californians now pay twice the national average for electricity. Needless to say, industry can't get out of the State fast enough!
As an indication of the looming crisis in New England, the Governors of the six States have already held their first emergency meeting:
Last week the governors of the six New England states met in an emergency session at Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, to discuss what to do about the pending crisis. Significantly, they asked the premiers of five of Canada’s provinces to attend. That makes sense because if the region is going to get electricity from anywhere it is probably going to be from north of the border.
The Canadians are there because they are the likely suppliers of the natural gas, or they would be if the 'Greenie' democrats would allow pipe-lines to be dug. These, of course, are virulently, sometimes violently, opposed by the 'Greenies'.
In a hell-bent campaign to rid itself of any form of dirty, messy “non-renewable” energy, New England has been closing down coal and oil plants for the last decade. In 2000, 18 percent of New England’s electricity came from coal and 22 percent from oil. Today it’s 3 percent coal and 1 percent oil. Meanwhile, natural gas — the fuel that everybody loves until you have to drill for it — has risen from 15 percent to a starkly vulnerable 52 percent, just behind California.
There’s only one problem. New England doesn’t have the pipelines to bring in the gas. Nor is anyone going to allowed to build it, either. Connecticut and Massachusetts are only a short distance from eastern Pennsylvania, where fracking for natural gas has leapfrogged the Keystone State into third place for overall energy production. Yet a proposal by Sempra Energy of Houston to expand its existing pipeline from Stony Point, New York, has already met fierce resistance from people who want nothing more to do with fossil fuels and construction is highly unlikely.
It has often been said that the real aim of the 'Greenies' is to introduce socialism by reducing the entire population to stone age conditions. It certainly looks as though they are giving it a go in New England!
This first 'Funnie' is for Ortega my Spanish e-pal but it should give you all a smile to start the week:
A Spanish Teacher was explaining to her class that in Spanish, unlike English, nouns are designated as either masculine or feminine.
'House' for instance, is feminine: 'la casa.'
'Pencil,' however, is masculine: 'el lapiz.'
A student asked, 'What gender is 'computer'?'
Instead of giving the answer, the teacher split the class into two groups, male and female, and asked them to decide for themselves whether 'computer' should be a masculine or a feminine noun. Each group was asked to give four reasons for its recommendation.
The men's group decided that 'computer' should definitely be of the feminine gender ('la computadora'), because:
1. No one but their creator understands their internal logic;
2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else;
3. Even the smallest mistakes are stored in long term memory for possible later retrieval; and
4. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your paycheck on accessories for it.
The women's group, however, concluded that computers should be Masculine ('el computador'), because:
1. In order to do anything with them, you have to turn them on;
2. They have a lot of data but still can't think for themselves;
3. They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they ARE the problem; and
4. As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you had waited a little longer, you could have had a better model.
TWO OLD MEN DECIDE THEY ARE CLOSE TO THEIR LAST DAYS AND DECIDE TO HAVE A LAST NIGHT ON THE TOWN. AFTER A FEW DRINKS, THEY END UP AT THE LOCAL BROTHEL. THE MADAM TAKES ONE LOOK AT THE TWO OLD GEEZERS AND WHISPERS TO HER MANAGER,
'GO UP TO THE FIRST TWO BEDROOMS AND PUT AN INFLATED DOLL IN EACH BED. THESE TWO ARE SO OLD AND DRUNK, I'M NOT WASTING TWO OF MY GIRLS ON THEM. THEY WON'T KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.'
THE MANAGER DOES AS HE IS TOLD AND THE TWO OLD MEN GO UPSTAIRS AND TAKE CARE OF THEIR BUSINESS.
AS THEY ARE WALKING HOME THE FIRST MAN SAYS, 'YOU KNOW, I THINK MY GIRL WAS DEAD!'
'DEAD?' SAYS HIS FRIEND, 'WHY DO YOU SAY THAT?'
'WELL, SHE NEVER MOVED OR MADE A SOUND ALL THE TIME I WAS LOVING HER.'
HIS FRIEND SAYS, 'COULD BE WORSE I THINK MINE WAS A WITCH.'
'A WITCH ??. . WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU SAY THAT?'
'WELL, I WAS MAKING LOVE TO HER, KISSING HER ON THE NECK, AND I GAVE HER A LITTLE BITE, THEN SHE FARTED AND FLEW OUT THE WINDOW... TOOK MY TEETH WITH HER!'
The teacher asked the class to use the word “fascinate” in a sentence.
Molly put up her hand and said, “My family went to my granddad's farm, and we all saw his pet sheep. It was fascinating”.
The teacher said, “That was good, but I wanted you to use the word “fascinate, not fascinating”.
Sally raised her hand. She said, “My family went to see Rock City and I was fascinated”.
The teacher said, “Well, that was good Sally, but I wanted you to use the word fascinate”.
Little Johnny raised his hand.
The teacher hesitated because she had been burned by Little Johnny before. She finally decided there was no way he could damage the word “fascinate” so she called on him.
Johnny said, “My aunt Carolyn has a sweater with ten buttons, but her tits are so big she can only fasten eight!”
And, no, it's not because I slept in this morning. It's because SoD and partner were here, so blame him! Alas, given the dismal week that has just passed, sorry, but I suspect most of my rumbles will be on the sombre side. And here's an exceedingly gloom-inducing starter:
Apparently, Dunlop is a specialist in Russian history and current affairs who seems to have concentrated on Rusia's recent dealings with its Caucasian neighbours. The essence of his proposition is that it was the Russian government of the drunken President Yeltsin, aided by his new Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin, who instructed the Russian Security(?) Service to bomb the flats in Moscow in 1999 which killed over 300 Muscovites and, blame being falsely laid at the door of Chechen terrorists, allowed Putin to launch his vicious war against Chechenya. This occurred very usefully just before the election which Putin won handsomely from an admiring Russian electorate. Read the whole thing and judge for yourselves.
Here is the conclusive reason why we must leave the EU: For some considerable time I have noted stories here and there concerning the Left-wing bias of the Italian judiciary which is aided and abetted by their legal system, a system, incidentally, shared by most other European states. The stories of judical bias arose from the fanatical (I use the word carefully!) campaign by various Italian magistrates to persecute their former Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi. He suffers from several heinous defects, if you are a Left wing fanatic, that is, because a) he's rich, b) he owns a huge media empire, c) he kept being elected by the Italian people and d) he obviously enjoys life! You need to read the analysis of his persecution through the Italian courts written by Nicholas Farrell at The Coffee House. The 'Hungarian dwarf', formerly the President of France, is undergoing a similar process now that he is out of power. And by now, all of us in England have followed the trials and tribulations of the McCann family at the hands of the Portuguese legal system. All these examples, and no doubt many more, indicate that the European legal system is as far removed from the British system as it is possible to get and yet our government seems to approve of the European Arrest Warrant which will allow these monstrous regimes to drag us across the Channel and into their clutches if they, on the flimsiest evidence, desire it.
'Fauxcahontas' speak heap big BS:Well, we already know that 'Fauxcahontas', aka, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, tells heap big lies because she claimed that her Cherokee roots, er, 1/32nd at best 'guestimate', entitled her to entry into Harvard Law School under their minority rights programme. Yeeeees, quite! According to The National Review she has now laid out her political 'philosophy' for the benefit of the Democrat party but, of course, she would never, ever dream of running against her dear friend 'HillBilly' for the candidacy, no, no, honestly, she swore an oath to the nearest totem pole - or perhaps I misheard and it was the nearest opinion poll - but anyway, just in case it's of the very slightest interest to the Democrat party, here are her eleven, er, 'philosophical' beliefs. No, I'm not going to republish them here, you have suffered enough reading my rubbish but if you are of a masochistic tendency or you need a good laugh you can go read them for yourself. Incidentally, and I know my record in forecasting American politics is somewhere between crap and rubbish but my guess is that sometime between now and 2016, 'HillBilly' will implode and 'Faucahontas' will allow herself to be dragged reluctantly to the race - yeeeeees quite!
When will the Kaiserin tell us what to do? Well, she probably won't tell us what to do about 'Vlad the Impaler', she will merely set an example by doing absolutely nothing herself. After all Germany and its industry is well and truly hooked on Russian oil and gas.Her French poodle will not bark because in the Autumn they are due to deliver two new, French-built warships to the Russians worth £1.9bn and, mon Dieu, they need the money! And she knows that her lieben Freund, David, despite him pursing his little lips and frowning into the cameras to prove just how really, really cross he is with Vlad, will also do nothing because the City of London is earning 'gazillions' shifting Russin dosh around the world.
What do you call a collection of hypocrites? I ask because we saw several thousand of them in London yesterday:
And I gather there were hundreds of thousands in Paris as well. They were demonstrating their love for humanity by protesting against Israel's action in Gaza. Of course, as the first of hundreds of rockets were fired haphazardly into Israel by Hamas they uttered not so much as a squeak. One assumes that their love for humanity stops at Israel's frontiers. Anyway, I need a suitable collective noun to describe them when en masse - over to you.
So those who began the current war in Ukraine – the direct cause of the frightful murder of so many innocents on Flight MH17 on Thursday – really have no excuse.
There is no doubt about who they were. In any war, the aggressor is the one who makes the first move into neutral or disputed territory.
And that aggressor was the European Union [My emphasis], which rivals China as the world’s most expansionist power, swallowing countries the way performing seals swallow fish (16 gulped down since 1995).
Ignoring repeated and increasingly urgent warnings from Moscow, the EU – backed by the USA – sought to bring Ukraine into its orbit. It did so through violence and illegality, an armed mob and the overthrow of an elected president.
Yesterday, The Mail enclosed a reprint of part of their edition dated December 17th 1914. The main heading says it all:
GERMANS BOMBARD THREE ENGLISH TOWNS
Back then there were two main types of fighting ships, the battleship and the battlecruiser. The former were heavily armed - and armoured! - which made them heavy, slow and ponderous. The latter were just as heavily gunned but were thin-skinned which made them fast. The German fleet stationed just across the North Sea had both but the Kaiser was unwilling to risk his newly created fleet in its entirety. However, he did give permission for the fast battlecruisers to mount raids across the North Sea to 'tweak the lion's tail'! Perhaps one imperative for this raid was to show the German public that revenge had been exacted for the recent destruction by the Royal Navy of Adm. von Spee's squadron in the South Atlantic.
Anyway, the battlecruiser fleet dashed across the North Sea and bombarded, er, Scarborough, Whitby and Hartlepool! Three more totally useless military targets cannot be imagined. I do not wish to be disrespectful to the memory of the 44 dead but I can't help wondering if the looks of those three north-eastern, coastal towns weren't improved slightly by the bombardment!
Of course, the British battlecruiser fleet, along with the battleships, was stationed well up north in Scapa Flow, Scotland, but immediately raced south to catch the Germans but they were too quick and made their escape back to Wilhelmshaven. The reason the British fleet was so far north was because the Admiralty had decided long before that in the event of war there would be no close blockade of the German port in the style of the Napoleonic wars - because it wasn't necessary. All the Royal Navy had to do was block off the top of the North Sea which could be done easily from Scapa Flow. No German Admiral would be mad enough to try and fight his fleet through the Straits of Dover.
However, this and other high-speed, pin-prick raids by the German battlecruisers, whilst they achieved nothing militarily, did cause enormous alarm amongst the British people living in these coastal towns. Questions were raised in Parliament! Something must be done! Thus it was that the decision was taken to move Adm. Beatty's battlecruiser fleet south to the Firth of Forth near Edinburgh. At this point the old law of unintended consequences took over.
Beatty was a rumbustious man with an ego the size of one of his ships but, alas, his strategic thinking did not match! His overal commander, Adm. Jellicoe was the exact opposite, a man for whom the word 'taciturn' was designed! He was a supreme naval strategist but he lacked the Nelson ability to imbue his subordinates with his vision. Suffice to say that Beatty and Jellicoe never hit it off but the decision to move Beatty and his battlecruiser fleet down to the south seperated the two men and they never had the chance to meld.
This lack of communication and understanding was to have profound effects in 1916 during what I call 'The First Battle of Britain', that is, Jutland, when the chance to destroy the German fleet in its entirety was lost. But that, as they say, is another story . . .
It's hard not to laugh when a man's hat is blown off in the wind and he trips and falls in a puddle whilst chasing it and is then run over by a bus. Well, it is when you know the man and he's a total pain in the rectum! When similar events afflict an entire country, and moreover, one that it is under the command and control of murderous, thieving gangsters then, in a gloomy world, one is deeply grateful for a chance to cry with laughter rather than anguish.
So an article in Spiegel has risked causing my keyboard to short out as the tears of laughter roll down my cheeks. Some economic swots in Zurich have produced this table comparing the cost of individual seats in the World Cup stadia when worked out against total construction costs:
South Korea/Japan 2002: estimated $6,000 per seat
Germany 2006: $3,200
South Africa 2010: $5,000
Brazil 2014: $6,500
Russia 2018: $11,500
The cost of each seat in the main World Cup stadium in St. Petersburg is estimated to be around $16,500. The stadium was started in 2007 and - please don't snigger - was expected to be finished at the end of 2008:
It was supposed to cost $415 million, but current reports indicate the price tag has risen to as high as $1.2 billion. The opening is now planned for 2016. To be on the safe side, the city of St. Petersburg recently even considered constructing a back-up stadium with 25,000 seats just in case.
The late and dead crafty Prince Grigory Aleksandrovich Potemkin-Tavricheski, the constructor - 'builder' is an insult to a noble profession - of all those Potemkin villages which so entranced Empress Catherine as she watched the happy peasants dancing and prancing happily(!) for her on her grand tours must be enjoying a ghostly laugh of his own when he realises that an old Russian tradition, roughly translated as 'bullshit baffles brains' is still going strong helped, no doubt, by the fairly recent examples of Stalin's tractor stats.
Still, one feels a twinge of sympathy for Sports Minister Mutko (or possibly 'Mugco'!) who had the temerity to seek to put a ceiling on all stadia costs. Enter stage right, with smoke and drums, Gennady Timchenko, the owner of Russian engineering and construction company Stroytransgaz. He is an old mate comrade of 'Vlad the Impaler' and not only is he opposed to any limits, he is actually demanding even more money! So, word to the wise, 'Mugco', old chap, shut the fuck up, take the bung and live a long life!
Needless to say, all these bright, new, shiny Potemkin stadia will never be used again. The big ones can seat 75,000 people but the average gate for the top teams in Russia is 12,500. It's all hilarious until you suddenly remember the ordinary people, thousands of whom have probably been thrown out of their homes to make way for all this Putinesque grandeur. Pass the sick bag!
The editorial in this week's Spectator is rather unusual in that it has allowed itself to become a tad emotional which , as we all do know, is frightfully un-English. (Actually, it's not but one must nod in the direction of mythology!) It is a eulogy in praise of the recently deceased (er, politically, that is) Michael Gove, the former Minister of Education. I sense the passionate pen of Fraser Nelson behind it because he has always shown a strong interest and support for Gove's reforms. But alas, Gove's many enemies have "shouted more loudly than those who benefitted from new schools". 'Dim Dave', under the influence, no doubt, of Lynton Crosby, his Aussie string-puller, has caved under pressure and sacked the one outstandingly successful minister in his entire cabinet.
In his place we have a lady who has been an MP for exactly four years so how she will stand up to her enemies in the teaching unions, the local authorities and her own department, no-one knows. Her political history is minimal but she did have the guts to speak up against homosexual marriage saying that civil partnerships were to be praised but that marriage was for men and women only. She is a practicing Christian which probably informed her view. She will need 'the shield of faith' to defend herself over the next few months as her enemies pile on the pressure during the run up to the next election. Either she will follow orders from Cameron & Crosby and keep things quiet by giving a little here and a little there, or she will demonstrate once and for all that she is an honourable feminine successor to an energetic, intelligent, tough and principled man. We shall see . . .
In the meantime I leave you with this thought - Michael Gove to succeed 'Dim Dave'!
Prior to his first election and during the first year or so I was fairly neutral concerning Barack Obama, not least because I, and just about everyone else, knew next to nothing about him. However, as time went on I became more and more alarmed. It has been obvious that Obama has conducted a very clever political operation which has maintained his pose as a leader loftily above mere detail whilst quietly surrounded himself with almost anonymous apparatchiks who in various areas have contrived to drive through policies aimed at changing America forever. Thus today we see organs of the State, normally assumed to be politically neutral, being bent to partisan actions many of which are outrageously illegal and the fact that the Department of Justice(?) has been so subverted that it takes no action is simply one of the more egregious examples of moral corruption at the centre of the Great Republic.
In the past few weeks it has become clear that the American government is not prepared to defend its frontiers, at least, the southern frontier. In just a few weeks, with the connivance of the Obama regime, tens of thousands of central American children plus the usual number of adults have simply walked into Texas and Oklahoma. Obama's response has not been to call out the National Guard and simply shut down the border, instead, he is demanding that Congress cough up $3.7bn to pay for care homes for these children as they are 'processed'. Of course, there will be no normal processing, they will eventually be granted a green card and allowed to stay. In time they will take American citizenship and, this being the crucial factor for the socialist Democrat party, they and their families as they grow up will resolutely vote Democrat in every election!
My e-pal, Whitewall who comments here regularly, writes fondly of the Anglosphere, a concept with which I have much sympathy provided one does not invest it with more than sentimental attachments. However, the demographics of America already point to a huge Hispanic population possibly destined to be a majority - particularly if the southern borders are, in effect, wide open. The largest member of the Anglosphere is about to drop out!
Commentators with far more knowledge and experience than me have already pointed to the flimsy nature of what passes for American foreign policy. Almost from the start Obama spent his time apologising to sundry dictators around the world whilst simultaneously showing his disdain for old allies - and I don't just mean Britain. For most of my life 'sophisticated' cosmopolitans have deplored the sight of America blundering hither and thither round the globe allegedly in defence of democracy but with barely concealed national interest playing its part. And, yes, sometimes it was both clumsy and bloody, that's just the way great powers operate, but on the whole I believe the post-war world has developed better than if the USA had simply retreated into 'Fortress America' as it did in the inter-war years. Anyway, we are now approaching a post-American world which will last for at least half a century, probably more. And so, to all those Leftie sophisticates I can only say, 'howja like them apples?
ADDITIONAL: Last night I saw Obama mention the murder of God knows how many Americans on the plane shot down over the Ukraine. I assumed it was a brief clip but this morning I read that it was in fact the sum total of his remarks on the subject before he went off on a 15-minute speech, filled with jokes, about how bad the Repubclicans were for blocking his spending plans on transport infrastructure. I was wrong. He doesn't hate Americans, he just doesn't give a flying fig for them!
So that's it, then, is it, Dave? You demote the one man in the cabinet, Michael Gove, who has actually achieved a roll-back of socialism in our schools, and you chicken out of sacking Ian Duncan Smith who let it be known in no uncertain terms that he would not go quietly. And for the absolutely critical job of appointing 'our man in Brussels' you chose an ex-PR consultant, Lord Hill, about whom 'nobody knows nothing'! Remind me, Dave, what was your non-job before you entered politics ... ah, yes, public relations. Anyway, it was out with the old and in with the new irrespective of anything really, let alone intelligence and ability, and as your marketing expeience will have taught you, rebranding, or at least, repackaging, can sometimes work. A few more ladies on the 'telly' during the election run-up is not a bad idea but only if they're hot - and most female pols are hideous! - or, if they actually know whereof they speak - and that's a rarity.
Still, nobody (ie, me!) gives a stuff for who is minister of works, pensions and/or equal opportunities because there are only two really serious appointments. The first is your PR man, Lord Hill, and he couldn't be more mysterious if he was head of MI6! Then there is your foreign secretary, and you have chosen Phillip Hammond, a man described by Quentin Letts (a shrewd judge of men) in The Mail as "a crashing bore". Nothing wrong in being boring, especially in the Foreign Offce. However, I just hope he recognises that his first and main enemies, worse than the Brussels lot, are the ardent Europhiles in the Foreign Office. If he can treat them with the well-deserved contempt he showed for our generals and admirals at the Ministry of Defence then he might be in with chances.
Still, Dave, at least you can comfort yourself that life is now rather simple, so even you should be able to manage. There are only two items on your agenda as prime minister. The first is to win the next election, and the second is to get us out of the clutches of the EU. Right, carry on!
Well, he must have done. Only a few weeks back I was advocating that what might be called the regular fighting forces on land, sea and air be cut back and instead money diverted to what I call e-warfare. So, today, according to The Telegraph, Dave follows Cpl. (ret'd) Duff's excellent advice:
The Armed Forces must adapt to deal with “unseen enemies”, David Cameron says as he announces a £1.1 billion investment in the military to tackle new threats to national security. The Prime Minister will say that spending on “intelligence and surveillance” equipment, such as drones, is a “national necessity”.
[...]
The new military funding package, to be outlined when the Prime Minister visits the Farnborough International Air Show, includes an extra £800 million investment in an intelligence, surveillance, target acquisition and reconnaissance package. [My emphasis]
Of course, £800 million is peanuts compared to what is required to make our e-warfare services effective in both defence and offence. Still, it's a beginning. Now what they have to do is sack even more generals, admirals and air marshalls and then, regretfully, lay off yet more line infantry which will mean the disappearance of many old and fine regimental names. But it must be done and the eventual savings put into turning a very much smaller British army into a self-contained special forces formation. In other words, all recruits will have to pass stringent special forces type selection courses before being accepted. Our army needs to be smaller, fitter, tougher and trained to the very highest degree on the new types of 21st century weapon systems.
Through gritted fingers, if that is quite the expression as I type this out, let me suggest you watch Channel 4 tonight and over the next few weeks as they show the selection course for the Royal Marine Commandos. (Of ocurse, they won't be showing the hair dryers, curlers, nail varnish remover and all the other stuff marines need in the field but take the word of an ex-Para - they have it!)
It seemed like only minutes after Dave picked Lady Butler-Sloss to head the witch hunt enquiry into alleged paedophile activities 30-odd years ago that the dandruff-ridden hacks of Fleet Street began raking through her embarrassing connections to, er, well, paedophile activities 30-odd years ago! Not, I hasten to add, that she herself was involved but her late brother was since he was Attorney-General at the time and he appears to have firmly squashed any detailed examination of the accusations.
And yet still Dave picked her to head an enquiry that is already suffused with conspiracy theorists having multiple orgasms! Well, to be fair, Dave didn't actually pick her. Theresa May, his Home Secretary and a lady with her eye on his job, did that but it was Dave who had to endorse the decision and defend Lady Butler-Sloss against the first salvoes of incoming as her background history gradually became public, so the shit sandwich is definitely on his plate! I can understand that Dave knew absolutely nothing about her Ladyship but what about those highly paid, Old Etonian advisors with whom he surrounds himself? One can only suppose that none of them bothered to check the background so it looks as though the renegade Dominic Cummings, about whom I wrote recently, was correct when he dismissed them as, so to speak, politically dumb, Public School eye-candy!
Mind you, Lady Butler-Sloss must have been sloshed herself to accept the job in the first place knowing her brother's involvement; and then for her to become rather fierce in insisting that she would carry on despite the growing criticism might indicate the Lady emptied the decanter! Anyway, she's gone now and Dave must eat his shit sandwich in public whilst Mrs. May tries not to smile with those frightful shark's teeth of hers!
An elderly man in the Atherton Tablelands in Queensland had owned a large farm for several years. He had a large pond in the back. It was properly shaped for swimming, so he fixed it up nice with picnic tables, a barbecue and some apple and peach trees.
One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, as he hadn't been there for a while, and look it over. He grabbed a twenty litre bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. As he came closer, he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond.
He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end.
One of the women shouted to him, 'We're not coming out until you leave!'
The old man frowned, 'I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond naked.'
Holding the bucket up he said, 'I'm here to feed the crocodile...'
Well done, 'The Speccie':In the face of this howling gale of national hysteria concerning old pervs and gropers from decades ago which seems to have blown all commonsense out of the window, the dear old 'Speccie' has not one, not two but three articles this week advising our less-than-glorious leaders to calm things down. The heading to Matthew Parris's excellent piece says it all: "There's no fighting paedophile panic. But I'll try". Douglas Murray bemoans the lack of any authority figures these days who might knock some sense into the scaremongers and Rod Liddle does, well, a Rod Liddle, need I say more?
Thank God it's nearly over: Tonight is the final performance in the latter-day Ring Cycle otherwise known as the World Cup. I use the word 'performance' not in the sense of athletic abilities demonstrated but in the strictly theatrical sense. As far as I could see from the various bits and pieces I watched before invariably dozing off, most of them could get jobs as film extras in big battle scenes after they retire because they can fake serious injury better than any luvvie can. Should any player (what an appropriate word!) inadvertantly sneeze you could bet the deeds of the house on at least three opposition players falling to the ground writhing in agony. I think Will's advice to the 'players' is pertinent:
suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special, o'erstep not the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others.
"Adrift": No, no, not my mind, the film I watched last night. You see, I fell asleep during the footie and woke up somewhat refreshed so I didn't feel like going to bed. Flicking around aimlessly I tried the movies channel and inadvertantly caught the film "Adrift" about 15 minutes in. I remembered vaguely that the story line was that some people on a yacht in the middle of nowhere all entered the water and were unable to get back up the smooth sides of the vessel. It was sort of intriguing, enough anyway to keep me watching to the end. However, having missed the beginning in which, presumably, the characters were introduced I remained confused as to who was who and who was paired off with who. Anyway, it was fairly gripping not least when I realised that on board was a sleeping baby belonging to one of the couples. The writer/director added a touch of sadism by showing that the mother had left a baby alarm on deck so that when the child awoke and began to scream they could all hear it in the water. Not a great film - the ending is confused and confusing - but good enough to keep me up.
The social event of the season:Oh yes, indeed, yesterday was THE event for which every 'wannabe sleb' would die for a ticket. I refer, of course, to our annual church fête to which flock thousandshundreds dozens of people. There was added spice to the occasion because we now have for the first time a 'vicarette'. Alas, I missed the lady, probably because I had my nose buried in the home-made cake stand! Also, to be honest, I found a new-to-me Linwood Barclay thriller on the second-hand book stand so I thought to myself, what the hell am I doing here with all these old ladies when I could be home reading a book by one of the very best thriller writers in the business? In the immortal words of several generations of News of the World reporters, 'I made my excuses and left'.
Who do I cheer for? Germany vs. Argentina in the World Cup Final. Both old enemies of Britain, well, the Germans are, the Argies are latecomers, but still . . . who do I cheer? I suppose if they both play as tediously cagey as all the semi-finalists played then like last night I will doze off. So perhaps I will just applaud brilliant play from whichever side produces it. - and may the best team win!
The recent kerfuffle between Berlin and Washington which ended - or at least, this round ended - with the Berlin Head of Station for the CIA being booted out - I was tempted to write 'jack-booted out' but restrained myself! - indicates some seismic shifts are occurring beneath the surface of international relations between the two countries. Actually, rather than being just a squabble between a normally happily maried couple it may be more like a 'three in the bed' scandal because, of course, Russia is involved, too. There is a 'MUST READ' article in Spiegel which sums up the delicate state of German foreign policy today. It is headed "Germany's Choice: Will It Be America or Russia?" and that about sums it up.
Con Coughlin in The Telegraph puts the Anglo-American defence of its spying activities against Germany quite bluntly - "We spy on the Germans because we cannot trust them!" Given that Spiegel reports an almost even 50/50 split between those Germans who wish to remain pro-America and the West, and those who want closer ties to Russia, Coughlin's suspicions may be sound. However, it should come as no surprise that Germany, two or three generations after the war and after decades of war guilt which has enforced a somewhat supine attitude to its foreign policy, should finally 'grow up' and feeling its teen-age muscles decide to be far more independent. As far as Europe is concerned it is, of course, the biggest, strongest, new kid on the block. As the French are belatedly discovering, where once Germany used to be the poodle they took 'walkies', now it's the poodle pulling them!
Now, more than ever, it is essential that we get out of the EU which acts simply as a sort of German hijab to cover German intentions. In the meantime, our dearly not-beloved 'Ministry for Foreigners' should be undertaking some very clear, longterm thinking on future British policy. Well, it would make a change!
Of course, they're not my "glad-ish tidings" but those of Mr. Dan Hodges, the columnist for The Daily Telegraph. But first, a word about Mr. Hodges, himself. I had not realised that he was the son of Glenda Jackson, a superb actress but now the grim-visaged Labour MP for Hampstead & Highgate. An American critic described "her helmet of hair and gashed features" which sums up her appearance exectly. She was born a 'scouser', Birkenhead, to be exact, and ever since has remained faithful to the extreme Left nonsense that 'scousers' imbibe with their mother's milk. Nothing wrong with that, she might be mistaken - or daft - but at least she has stuck to her principles even when it cost her political advancement under Blair, a man I suspect she detested even more strongly than Maggie! So, Mr. Hodges has interesting antecedents. Even more interesting is that whilst he is a Leftie he has eschewed the extremism, or perhaps I should describe it as the dogma, of his mother and, according to his Wiki entry, he seems to decide political matters as much on reason as on passion. He is also personally a very brave man. He stood up to some racist louts in a pub who were slagging off some blacks and was 'glassed' by one of them and blinded in one eye.
Anyway, today in The Telegraph, he takes a long, cool and, er, one-eyed look at the recent polling history for the forthcoming election. His forecast, subject to the usual caveat that no 'Shlock-Horror' scandal breaks out, is that Labour will definitely lose. UKIP will wither on the vine when people find themselves alone inside the voting booth and the vast majority of the turncoats will return to the Tories. Regrettably, he reckons that the LibDems will do better than their current miserable poll ratings but the good news is that those returning to the fold will be the ones Labour was banking on to vote for them. If Hodges is right then, dammit, through gritted teeth I hope the LibDems do better - but definitely not too well!
Mr. Hodges indicates that it is not possible to forecast a Tory win with any certitude, he suspects that another coalition might have to be formed. To set an example to you all, I will now commence a strict regime of daily prayer that 'Dave' sneaks back in with a small but just about workable majority which will mean that the Tory Right, mostly anti-EU, will have their well-polished brogues on his throat. I expect all of you to join me in this daily ceremony!
'Pathetic' barely describes the pathos of yesterday's public (non) service unions attempt to mount a strike. Poor - well, not exactly poor, really - old Arthur Scargill must have cried in his beer as he saw the miserable turn-out. "Eee bah goom", he probably muttered to himself, "It we'ren't like that back in't good old bad days!" Indeed not, and thank God for it, or to be precise, thank 'that woman!' for it. The days of millions, not a few thousand, bringing the railways to a halt, blocking the docks, shutting the mines, closing government offices and schools are long gone. Fraser Nelson has an excellent analysis in The Telegraph. However, what has suddenly dawned on me is that ever since 'that woman!' ran the country there has been a gradual but inexorable change of opinion amongst ordinary people. Up until her arrival the automatic response from the public was that government knows best and the state will take care of everything. Now they are beginning to realise that in very many instances the opposite is true. As Nelson points out in one telling detail:
Most state secondaries have now applied for self-governing “academy” status, reaching out for the freedoms the Coalition offered. Good teachers, it seems, quite like the idea of performance-related pay. The free schools that the NUT so vigorously opposes are so popular with parents that there are three applications for every place, and they have proved more likely to be rated “outstanding” than council schools. Reform, it seems, is working.
The Lefties all chanted "Ding, dong, the witch is dead" when Maggie Thatcher died but she's having the last ghostly laugh as her spirit rolls on and on.
Er, well, um . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . sorry, Prime Minister but, you see, it's all frightfully complicated because it's not 'goodies' versus 'baddies' (or even 'black hats' versus 'white hats' because they all wear the same ghastly tea-cloths) like it was in the old days because as far as I can see they're all more or less bad but choosing who is actually worst is quite beyond me. I mean, normally we could watch who Vlad chooses to support and then back the opposition because he always supports real villains but in Syria he seems to be backing the man who in comparison to his opponents seems really rather reasonable.
We have approached the Americans for guidance but they seem to be as clueless as confused as us. You could try a trans-Atlantic 'phone call to the President but I have it on excellent authority that now he is on the home run to retirement his sole concern is his golf handicap and it's awfully difficult to get through to him. We've asked 'C' to contact his opposite number at the CIA but he tells us that at Langley they're far too busy spying on Germany to bother with the Middle East. (NB: I wonder if they know something we don't?!)
Of course, in one sense, Prime Minister, there really isn't a problem for you to worry about. I mean, we haven't any spare cash these days and even if we had those scallywags always take the money and do the opposite of what you want. And as you know well, our army is struggling to make up enough numbers to mount the Trooping of the Colour, and as for our Navy, well, a single aircraft carrier but without planes says it all, really. So what I'm suggesting, Prime Minister, is that being unable to decide who to support is "A Good Thing" because, of course, even if we knew we couldn't actually support them anyway!
Well why not? He wants to assist us to die by allowing creepy, swivel-eyed 'doctors' to 'off us' if we say, as we all do from time to time, that we're fed up and enough is enough, or if our relatives shout loud enough that they just know that poor old gran'dad really doesn't want to live any more. And anyway, why shouldn't we help 'Fatty' Falconer to an early exit? His efforts in government with his old buddy Blair were mostly a complete waste of oxygen and this idea which he is pushing through the Lords is a disaster hurtling towards us all.
Prof. Theo Boer, unlike 'Fatty' Falconer, actually knows where-of he speaks because he, as a Dutchman, was a tremendous supporter of euthanasia when the idea was pushed forward in Holland twelve years ago. The Professor poo-poohed his opponents when they warned that allowing doctors to help patients to commit suicide would open the floodgates on the numbers of such killings. They were right and he was wrong, as he now admits with genuine shame because the number of such deaths doubled in twelve years. In neighbouring Belgium thay are about to pass a law that will allow doctors to assist children in suicide! As Prof. Boer puts it in The Daily Mail:
In 2001 The Netherlands was the first country in the world to legalise euthanasia and, along with it, assisted suicide. Various ‘safeguards’ were put in place to show who should qualify and doctors acting in accordance with these ‘safeguards’ would not be prosecuted. Because each case is unique, five regional review committees were installed to assess every case and to decide whether it complied with the law. For five years after the law became effective, such physician-induced deaths remained level - and even fell in some years. In 2007 I wrote that ‘there doesn’t need to be a slippery slope when it comes to euthanasia. A good euthanasia law, in combination with the euthanasia review procedure, provides the warrants for a stable and relatively low number of euthanasia.’ Most of my colleagues drew the same conclusion.
But we were wrong - terribly wrong, in fact. In hindsight, the stabilisation in the numbers was just a temporary pause. Beginning in 2008, the numbers of these deaths show an increase of 15% annually, year after year. The annual report of the committees for 2012 recorded 4,188 cases (compared with 1,882 in 2002). 2013 saw a continuation of this trend and I expect the 6,000 line to be crossed this year or the next. Euthanasia is on the way to become a ‘default’ mode of dying for cancer patients.
Remember the likes of David Steel and sundry other pro-abortionists who absolutely assured us all that, no, no, there would be no mass killings of unwanted babies if doctors were allowed to conduct abortions. Today, in this country, we kill nearly 200,000 unwanted babies a year.
I have been living dangerously this afternoon, let me explain. A few months ago I watched the first episode of a BBC thriller called "Happy Valley". It was so impressive that I used my mate Rupe's magical-digi-recording-thingie to record the remaining five episodes but, as is usual with lackadaisical and forgetful me, I never got around to watching them. However, yesterday, before the footie, I watched episode two and, totally enthralled, today I spent the entire afternoon watching to the very end. The 'Memsahib' was not amused!
I must tell you that it is a terrific thriller, both a police procedural but also a domestic and psychological drama. The acting was superb from top to bottom. We may not be very good at much in this country these days but, boy, do we produce some excellent actors and in this case their talents were not wasted but re-enforced a terrific story line, exceedingly well-written and directed. I gather you can now buy discs or e-thingies that will allow you to play this series and I urge you all to do so. However, a warning to my foreign readers. The story is set firmly 'oooop north where they speak right, proper foony, if tha' knows wot ah mean!"
It is a thriller that thrills - and frightens - and in places the violence is brutal. In other words, it is a story for grown-ups - don't miss it!
Being, as you will have already judged, somewhat to the political Right of Ghenghis Khan you will wonder if it is an attack of advanced and galloping infantilism that has made me book-mark The New Statesmen site. As you all know, the average age of the readers of the 'Staggers' is 171/2 and that of its writers around 231/4. This is not surprising because belief in the religion of socialism is usually confined to the very young or the incurably stupid elderly. Happily, most of us grow out of it.
And yet . . . and yet . . . that wonderful site, Arts & Letters Daily, pointed me towards an essay by Simon Heffer, a man who on the whole makes me look like a bit of a 'pinko', on the subject of the historiography of the First World War which has been published by the 'Staggers'. Hard to believe Heffer is in such Leftie company, I know, but it's a terrific read. The only slightly embarrassing thing - well, I don't embarrass easily! - is that his summary of the very many histories written on this complex subject made me uneasily aware of my ignorance despite the bravado with which I proffer opinions on this blog. Still, none of you regulars ever pay any attention to my opinions anyway so it doesn't really matter.
And talking of ignorance, nowhere outside of knitting and mending broken domestic devices (ask the 'Memsahib'!), am I more ignorant than on the subject of quantum physics, and this despite the fact that I was hooked on the subject back in the mid-eighties and since then I have read numerous books on the subject. Dammit, I even attended a lecture on the subject at Oxford given by some super-swot who looked about 14-years old!
Even so, certain curiosities stuck like, for example, the fact that you can 'capture' a couple of photon 'twins', that is, tiny particles of light energy which are 'twinned' in the sense that they share particular physical characteristics such as 'spin' (not 'spin' as you and I understand it but similar-ish). You can separate these 'twins' by sending one hurtling off into space, obviously as it is a light particle, at the speed of light which is absolutely and definitely as fast as you can go in this universe of ours. So far, so what, but the fascinating thing is that if you alter the spin on the particle here on earth it will alter the spin on its 'twin' that is already several zillion light years away!
This cosmic connection can’t involve any signals passing between them: it would have to be quicker than light. The only explanation is that photons inhabit a reality beyond the space and time in which we live out our existence.
So, my recommendation to you all is to book-mark the 'Staggers' but avoid reading their political stuff, especially if you are in the middle of drinking tea or coffee - it could ruin your keyboard!
It's half time in the semi-final between Brazil and Germany and the score is - wait for it - 5-0 to the Germans. And it's not as if the Germans were playing that well, it's just that the Brazilians have obviously put their boots on their wrong feet! I can't watch anymore, it's simply too embarrassing. I mean, if it was England I wouldn't be too surprised but Brazil . . . ?
Anyway, I'm off to bed but I can't help wondering if when I wake up in the morning the news will be about the Barrios errupting and burning down Rio? If you were dirt poor with little or no chance of ever getting out of the slums and your sole pleasure in life was following the exploits of your national football team then you might, just might, swallow your rage as the government spends 'gazillions' building useless stadia on corrupt contracts for the international rich-set to swan in and watch the games you can't afford to see but, when your team is utterly humiliated inside the first 25 minutes of the match, well, what would you do?
Well, I just hope the good people of Brazil can contain their feelings and not give their cruel and useless government any chance of cracking down on them even harder than is the daily norm. And I hope in the very near future, as they get the next round of extravagant bread and circuses (without any bread for them) in the form of the even more wretched and profligate Olympic games that they will continue to control themselves.
Peter Oborne in The Telegraph lifts the curtain on that ultra-secret world that exists in no-man's-land between ministers and their senior civil servants. Mr. Oborne sums up the dilemma, thus:
This letter [see original story] is neither more nor less than a statement of British constitutional practice. It sets out in clear terms how the constitutional role of the civil service has evolved in Britain over the last 200 years.
It is certainly true, as Mr Maude asserts, that the civil servant has a duty to carry out his or her minister’s instructions. But the letter does not challenge that. It merely adds that civil servants must also consider the interests of their own department.[My emphasis]
This is also true. Permanent secretaries are the accounting officers for the department that they head. Bear in mind that it is by no means unusual for ministers to issue instructions that, if carried out, would be deeply damaging to the national interest, or conflict with basic decency.
In such cases, it is emphatically not the task of civil servants to further their career by ingratiating themselves with ministers, but to warn and to advise, using the long constitutional memory that the civil service embodies.
Mr. Oborne is a wordsmith by trade and he knows how to use words to effect but I disagree with him. In my view, it is certainly right and proper that a senior civil servant should disagree, even disagree strongly, with a minister's policy but it must be done in private. The top departmental civil servants should have the freedom, in extremis, to approach the Cabinet Secretary and express their views to him and request that they be passed on to the prime minister of the day. But there the matter ends and - unless they resign on principle - there-after they should execute the minister's wishes to the full extent of their ability.
It is the job of politicians to make policy and, in the end, face us, the electorate and answer for it. Contrary advice having been given, it is the job of the civil service to implement that policy to the very best of their ability irrespective of private or departmental misgivings. I would be particularly interested in reading Mr. Gove's views on this given that he has had to fight, virtually single-handed, against not only teacher unions, local authorities and sundry quangos but also his own Ministry of Education which, according to several reports, is staffed almost entirely by Left-wing apparatchiks determined to foil his policies.
Sorry Mr. Oborne but I strongly urge you to redraft that article!
Yes, of course, Dave has lots of 'best friends', well, so long as he remains prime minister that is, but today his, er, salon has a new member, albeit, an unacknowledged, secret member. This new 'best friend' must remain incognito for various reasons. First he is exceedingly ugly, lower-class and - quelle horreure - he's from Liverpool. Yeeeeees quite! Even more reason for hiding him away is the fact that he's the capo di tutte capo in the Unite union. But what makes him invaluable to Dave is that 'our Len' is Ed's bank manager!
If, like several commentators, you have wondered exactly what Ed 'Milipede' is for let me tell you that it is no good asking him! The only one who knows is 'our Len' and as we gradually approach the next election then 'our Len' will let Ed know what he is for. By way of an overture, 'our Len' is helping the Fire Brigades Union, National Union of Teachers, Unison, Unite, Public and Commercial Services Union and GMB to all go on strike this Thursday. Of course, only about roughly the same percentage of the membership as originally voted in Len's union election (that is, 15% of the total membership) will actually take part but even so, all over the country people, or 'voters', as Dave likes to think of them, will be inconvenienced, irritated and in some cases out of pocket and they will look to 'our Len's' glove puppet and ask what he and the Labour party intend to do about it?
The reply, if honesty and brevity have any part in it, will involve a four-letter word followed by "all!" and of course a well brought up blog like this would not stoop to such crudity. So the two Eds will be deeply in the brown stuff as 'our Len' barks out his orders to them with threats of withdrawing the union funds he provides if they demur. Inside No. 10, Dave and his OE toffs will breaking open the champagne. And at Labour party HQ, 'Ed 'n' Ed' will be sobbing in their beer and thinking that with 'friends' like Len who needs enemies?
This is simply too, too delicious but according to the 'Noo Yawk Post' (a somewhat Right-wing newspaper!) 'Ol' Big Ears' is intending to do the dirty on 'HillBilly'. Word is that very confidential talks have taken place between the ghastly Valerie Jarret, Muppet-Master-in-Chief to the, er, Commander-in-Chief whose golf handicap is coming along nicely since you ask - you did ask, didn't you? - and possibly the most hilarious American politician since . . . well, just think of the dippiest dipstick of the lot, double it, and there you have 'Fauxcahontas', aka, 'Big Chief Bullshit', or Sen. Elizabeth Warren:
Doesn't she look just right, you know, authentic, as a Red Indian squaw? Here she is saying "How!" to all the tribal chieftans in, er, Massachusetts! I mean, you can just see the Cherokee in her coming out, can't you?
Anyway, 'Ol Big Ears' has never forgiven Bill for various slights over the years especially during the nomination campaign between him and Hillary and he would delight in dishing the Clintons, man and wife, by throwing his support behind 'Faucahontas'!
As for 'Fauxcahontas', her claim to being 1/32 Cherokee came when, entirely by coincidence I'm sure, Harvard Law School gave her a professorship via the Minority Races list. Handy that! As for her politics, just think Presidente Hollande and multiply by ten and if you can see where France is headed then the USA will rapidly follow if the American electorate is daft enough to vote this phoney-balloney woman into office.
First of all, apologies in advance if I inadvertantly publish any of these 'funnies' twice over. My 'Inbox' is a mess and requires a really good Spring clean but, hey, it's Summer now so it will have to wait! Incidentally, I don't know what Tasmanians have done to incur the scorn of the rest of Oz!
Two Tasmanians were sitting around talking one afternoon over a cold beer.
After a while the first Tasmanian says to the second, "If I was to sneak over to your house and make love to your wife while you was off fishin’, and she got pregnant and had a baby, would that make us related?”
The second Tasmanian crooked his head sideways for a minute, scratched his head, and squinted his eyes, thinking real hard about the question.
Finally, he says, "Well, I don't know about related, but I reckon it’d make us even."
A Jewish daughter says to her mother, "I'm divorcing Nathan. All he wants is sex, sex and more sex. My vagina is now the size of a 50-cent piece when it used to be the size of a 5 cent piece."
Her mother says, "You're married to a multi-millionaire businessman ! You live in an 8 bedroom mansion ! You drive a $250,000 Ferrari ! You get $2,000 a week allowance ! You take 6 vacations a year and you want to throw all that away . . .
Some one-liners, all in the worst possible taste, I'm delighted to say:
A Muslim has died whilst training to be a skydiver. The BNP School of Diving said they had no idea why his snorkel and flippers did not open.
Such an unfair world:- When a man talks dirty to a woman it's considered sexual harassment. When a woman talks dirty to a man its $10.50/min (charges may vary).
Just booked a table for Valentine's Day for me and the wife. Bound to end in tears though; she's crap at snooker.
They say that sex is the best form of exercise. Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think 1 minute and 15 seconds every 6 months is going to shift this beer belly.
Right, that's your lot, back to work, it's nearly ten o'clock and the boss will be in!
'Ya gotta have the poifict beach body':According toThe Telegraph this morning, it is now de rigor to have the sort of abs 'n' pecs that line up like guardsmen if you wish to be seen on the better sort of beaches, you know, the sort you find in the Carribean, or Mauritius, or, er, Sidmouth in South Devon where, as it happens, I was a few days back. Here's a photo of me:
Er, I'm on the right, or is it the left? I'm not sure - perhaps I should have gone to Specvsavers. Anyway, I can tell you that as I strolled nonchantly along, well, more like hobbled and tippy-toed because its a pebble beach which absolutely ruins your manly gait, I could see the ladies nudging each other and pointing at me. And, yes, I know the average age at Sidmouth is around 82 but just as it takes an old drinker to really appreciate a superb claret, so, the final accolade for a bit of manly beach candy like me is the approval of some ladies who have, so to speak, been around the block a few times!
Bloody, bloody postal service! Obviously the Royal Mail has cocked up again because I failed to receive my invitation to The Spectator Readers Tea Party - yes, I know, shockin', shockin'! Given the amount of free publicity I provide for them here at D&N to my huge readership - sorry, did you say something ? - it can't be that they left me off the list. Here is a photo of Taki (wearing a tie, of course, because although he's a love-rat of the first order, he is, of course, a gentleman) and Michael Heath, the cartoonist:
The footnote to this photo is as follows:
Taki and Michael Heath (the only person who has been at the Spectator longer than Taki) He’s brought a bottle of 1995 Lagavulin for me, to make up for the one he drank at the same event last year.
I have tried to ignore the Rolf Harris show:It's been difficult because he's been everywhere you look in the media for the past, well, forever, really! By and large, I tend to accept whatever juries decide which is not the same thing as believing that they are always and forever right.Rape and sexual assault cases, being usually private occurrences, are particularly difficult to prove and I would have thought accusations made after 30+ years were almost impossible to decide upon with accuracy. But, as I say, I do not know the details of this case - but I know a man who does! I am grateful to the redoubtable Anna Raccoon for pointing me in the direction of James Rothbard's blog in which he applies some cool reasoning to a very complex matter. I'm not saying he is right but then I'm not saying the jury was right either. 'I dunno' seems to sum up my position!
Just follow the money:Because of my shuffle leap into the 21st century with MS 8.1 (or is it 1.8?), I have rather lost touch with the chap who runs Coyote Blog and even worse I have forgotten his name - mea culpa! However, I have found him again and as usual he is spot on. In this post he derides the constant accusation by the 'Warmers' that the sceptics are receipt of huge amounts of money from 'Big Oil'. The fact is exactly the opposite:
The big money has always been in climate alarmism. Climate skeptics are outspent a thousand to one. Here is just one example:
It sounds like the makings of a political-action thriller. The National Geospatial Intelligence Agency (NGA) has awarded Arizona State University a five-year, $20 million agreement to research the effects of climate change and its propensity to cause civil and political unrest. [...]
I can tell you the answer to this study already. How do I know? If they say the security risks are minimal, there will be zero follow-up funding. If they say the security risks are huge, it will almost demand more and larger follow-up studies. What is your guess of the results, especially since the results will all be based on opaque computer models whose results will be extremely sensitive to small changes in certain inputs?
'Big Oil' and the Koch brothers might have 'loadsa' money but it's peanuts compared to 'Big Government'!
Brief, to the point - and funny:Here's a couple of 'quickies' that made me smile. The first came from the lovely Andra who features so regularly in my Comment threads:
After Nigeria was eliminated from the world cup the Nigerian captain personally offered to refund all the expenses of fans who travelled to Brazil.
He said he just needs their bank details and pin numbers to complete the transaction.
Aw, hell, it's Sunday so relax and enjoy:According to the experts, the greatest 'tapper' of them all and I am obliged to Paco of Paco Enterprises for providing the link.
And I never knew she was married to Glen Ford, one of my favourite actors of 'yonks' ago.
And, lo, my faith in sport was restored:Well, not that it was that high in the first place given that our rugger buggers failed miserably in Oz, our batters and bowlers should have stuck to rounders and our over-paid footie plonkers played like big girls, so, it was a real pleasure to see Lewis Hamilton romp home first in the British Grand Prix. And to put the icing on the cake, the final of the men's singles at Wimbledon between Federer and Djokovic was a titanic struggle between two superb athletes both of whom played the game like gentlemen. Not the least of its virtues was that neither of them indulged in that up and down pumping action with a closed fist so beloved of 'Andy McGrunt'. I am led to believe that it has vulgar connotations but of course I wouldn't know what they were!
I admit that it is with a fair amount of uncertainty that I disagree with Mr. Hitchens so let me begin by emphasising one huge point on which we are both in total accord - 'it woz the Huns wot started it' - as he makes clear:
Since Fritz Fischer’s great and damning account of his own country’s undoubted attempt to seize world power by shock and force, the truth has been quite clear.
Germany started the war because she wanted and hoped to gain enormous prizes through a swift victory, first over France and then over Russia. She encouraged Austria to be inflexible toward Serbia in the hope that this would happen, and the plan worked. It was not the first time that a country had carefully fostered a pretext for war, and it will certainly not be the last. Most readers in Britain and the U.S. will be able to think of recent examples.
I’d add that there’s no real doubt that Germany began the war. I really don’t know why anyone bothers to argue otherwise. The great German historian Fritz Fischer established this beyond all doubt in his unmatched work of 1961 ‘Griff nach der Weltmacht: Die Kriegzielpolitik des kaiserlichen Deutschland 1914–1918’ This was published in English with the emollient and evasive title ‘ Germany's Aims in the First World War’ . A more accurate (if slightly sensational translation, as the word ‘grab ‘ is slightly more violent and demotic than ‘Griff’) would be ‘A Grab for World Power - The War Aims of Imperial Germany 1914-1918’. Perhaps ‘Grasping for World Power’ would be more accurate, if less literal, as is often the case in translation.
I have read Fischer's book and it is a damning indictment of the German ruling class who, it should be emphasised, were passionately supported by large swathes of the German people including much of the so-called 'intelligentsia'. And whilst on the subject of the German ruling class of that period it is worth stressing what a deeply peculiar bunch of people they were from the Kaiser downwards and including the military who were not servants of the state but personal servants to Kaiser Wihhelm who was himself arrogant, cowardly, psychotic and stupid beyond belief. Unlike Britain which was ruled by a monarch with considerable influence but no power and in which senior soldiers took orders in the monarch's name but which originated from politicians whose power was equally diffused by party politics and representative government and which could, therefore, be altered or at least argued with, in Germany the Kaiser's word was the first and last word! So, there is absolutely no doubt that Germany had worked out a detailed grand strategic plan and was determined to execute it in 1914.
Now, the Hitchens, frère et frère, can argue from the comfort of the clear bright light and the perfect vision of hindsight. Thus, they can list the multitude of horrors that ensued and no-one, least of all me, can argue with it. I will not linger on the 'mud and blood' which anyone with an iota of feeling may imagine from simply looking at your local war memorial or reading the war poets. Instead I will follow Hitchens' accusatory pointing finger and contemplate the crumbling collapse of Great Britain that followed over the next century and which, I hope and pray, has now reached rock bottom. In fact Hitchens, in his angry despair, points to a collapse in the whole of European culture and civilisation since 1914. Again, I can agree up to a point with that whilst not falling prey to the silly notion (not his, to be fair) that Edwardian England, the French belle époque and the last grandeur of the Austrian empire were somehow the pinnacle of civilisation. But he is surely right to emphasise that much of life today barely qualifies as civilised and the roots of evil are to be found in the collapse of post 1914-18 Europe.
Even so, trembling and doubtful as I gaze on the wasteland, I still maintain, not so much that we should have fought, as that we had no choice but to fight. My argument needs must be of the 'if, but or maybe' variety which never comes across so well as the litany of historical horrors told by Mr. Hitchens. Nevertheless, everything I have read about the nature and character of Wilhelm II, to say nothing of the militaristic 'bombastards' with whom he was surrounded, confirms my belief that even if we had refused to enter and that France had fallen, the German ruling class would have imposed dire restrictions on us and our fleet. No doubt they would have insisted on pinching some of our empire territories which, given that we were losing money on many of them, might have been an advantage. However, the Kaiser was a naval obsessive, which is why he spent 'zillions' building a fleet to match the British and was then forced to let it, and the tens of thousands of men who would have been much better employed on the western front, rot away uselessly in harbour. Yes, Mr. Hitchens is entirely right to say that Germany's main aim was east into Russia and south east into Asia but had we ducked the decision then Wilhelm would not have let slip the chance to exact penalties on us in general and on the Royal Navy in particular which would have left our trade routes undefended. With the French ports in the Med and the Atlantic under German control they would have been at his mercy - and so would we!
The fact that today, via the European Union, modern Germany has achieved almost everything it desired in 1914 is sickening but that cannot be blamed on the likes of Lord Grey and the majority of his Liberal government. They knew that there was no chance of an honourable settlement with Wilhemine Germany, as Churchill put it, "The Hun is either at your throat or at your feet". Yes, men were slaughtered wholesale and apparently for no visible gain - except one! A jewel beyond measure - we remained a free country bending the knee to no-one.
So today sees the launch of HMS Queen Elizabeth II, the largest aircraft carrier ever to see service in the Royal Navy even if you could probably fit three of them inside an American carrier. Allegedly, there is a second one to follow and with tears (of pain not patriotism!) glistening in my eyes I can tell you that together they will cost around £6.2 billion! However, with the sort of political and strategic leadership that we have all grown to despair of, it seems that the second one will be moth-balled because we can't afford to fill the tank or something. Even with those two British behemeths added to the punting party which constitutes the Royal Navy these days, we still have more admirals than ships. Even so, none of them appear to possess more than 3.07 brains cells!
OK, OK, as an ex-corporal I admit that my knowledge of naval matters is limited but even so I cannot rid myself of the suspicion that these floating castles are as out of date as land castles. The only justification for aircraft carriers is to aid the projection of your power round the globe. Yeeeeeees, quite, what power? And what good will one operational aircraft carrier be when you consider its vulnerability in a modern age where some 15-year-old geek in his bedroom can close down computer systems at the press of a button, or, a missile (or multiple missiles) can hurtle in from space? As always, our admirals are intent on fighting the last war.
Of course, what they should be concentrating on is how they will defend these Islands against attack and in that scenario an aircraft carrier is a waste of space. What is needed is superb e-warfare measures and counter-measures. And I do mean the very best that our brainiest IT swots can come up with. In addition, we do not need big ships, we need lots and lots of little ships but all of them packed with anti-missile missiles - how many small missile ships could have been built for £6.2 billion? Their anti-missile defence systems deployed well out to sea would act as the first line of defence and be integrated into our land-based systems. This should provide as good a defence as possible against any enemy attempting a missile/drone/aircraft attack on this country.
And as it happens, we have an excellent site for testing these tactics - the Falkland Islands. There is no possibility these days of us emulating Maggie's crusade, we simply haven't the means. But we could institute the sort of defence system I have described above on and around the Falklands which should be able to stop any 'Argie' force long before it even reaches the Islands. The lesssons learned from that would be invaluable in planning the defence of Britain.
No, no, not for the beach, for the restaurant! Although we are going to the seaside - Sidmouth, to be precise. It's a superb, sunny, summer day today but tomorrow that rare state of affairs will be well and truly corrected according to the forecast. We went to Sidmouth last year and it is the quintessential English seaside town. Off the beaten track, so the coach-loads of tattooed chavs usually go elsewhere. There is absolutely nothing to do there except find the excellent sea-front hotel with its immaculate terrace and gardens that we found last year and enjoy a leisurely - very leisurely - lunch. I may, or may not, be in a fit state to post something this evening!
No, I didn't actually know that I had a friend in Nigeria, let alone a new, very best friend but I do! His name is Dr. Ibrahim Farhad and he is oviously a very, very nice man because he has explained to me that my partners in Nigeria - and, no, I was unaware that I had any partners in Nigeria, or anywhere else come to that- were intending to place a total of £200,000 in my account - and no again, I was unaware that I actually possessed an account in Nigeria. After that, my new, very best friend's e-mail became somewhat confusing but as far as I can tell, if I carry out certain functions, including assisting his son to open a bank account in the UK, then a shedload of dosh will come my way.
Naturally I was very excited by this prospect and eager to help my new, very best Nigerian friend but - calamity! - in my eagerness to oblige I pressed the delete button! Quelle domage!
Should I ever have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Neil Lyndon of the Daily Telegraph I will not hesitate to buy him a large drink. In a superb article in today's paper he stands up for the one in twenty 'dads-to-be' who decline the invitation, usually accompanied by severe moral torture, to be present at the birth of their offspring. Apparently, some of them are wracked by feelings of guilt for their cowardice but I can only join Mr. Lyndon in telling them to 'man-up' and 'stand tall' because a delivery room is no place for a man. I would feel pride in my absence when 'SoD' was born but honesty insists that I admit that it was not entirely my decision. It was a stern, not to say ferocious, Scottish nurse in the Queen Alexandra's Royal Army Nursing Corps (a QARANC) who, upon hearing the 'Memsahib' let forth a squawk of pain, took one look at me and said, "Oooot!" It wasn't just the fact that she out-ranked me that I skedaddled at speed and went for a smoke and a drink!
Were I to feel pangs of guilt, Mr. Lyndon, a veteran of delivery rooms, soon puts me right:
I now see it as my fatherly, comradely duty to pass on that kind of information, sparing no gory detail, to young men about to see service in that war zone for the first time. Nobody else – certainly not those fluffy NCT classes – will fill them in.
“You do know about the afterbirth?” I murmur solicitously, watching them go green with a certain satisfaction. Nobody told me. When it appeared – about five minutes after the main event – I was already cooing over my first-born son. “Dear God!” I exclaimed. “There’s another one arriving!”
And nobody tells you how hideously ugly and deformed babies are minutes after their arrival. My first look at 'SoD' as he was presented to me by 'Nursie' was a colossal shock because his head look as though he had been rammed inside a pencil sharpener! Well, I didn't know that babies' heads were like plasticene when they're first born. Anyway, my advice to young chaps awaiting a new arrival is 'pull a sickie', or get yourself arrested, or, well, anything really!
It was that master swot, Sir Isaac Newton, who stated that for every force exerted in one direction there was an equal and opposite force in the other. (Please, don't tell me I have not stated his theory correctly, I failed my O-level Physics 'big time'!) Anyway, in geo-politics, more or less the same thing goes on. Thus we have China, a hugely powerful nation puffed up with arrogance and a determination, after several centuries of mistreatment, to even a few scores by grabbing back various bits and pieces of territory they think is theirs by right. So far, so predictable.
However, equally predictable has been the beginning of an opposite force starting with Japan. My trusty spies at NightWatch report that the Japanese cabinet has agreed to a re-interpretation of their long-standing self-defence ordinance which was laid down after WWII and which limits Japan's armed forces from involving themselves in war unless the Japanese homeland is attacked. Now, at the behest of their prime minister that has been altered to include any attack on a friendly nation considered crucial to the defence of Japan.
So, the Chinese (and the North Koreans) have been exerting their force in one direction but it now looks as though Japan will be pushing back, and where they lead other East Asian nations will probably follow. What did that Chinese chap say about living in 'interesting times'?
I have just read Daniel Hannan's latest article in The Telegraph and as usual he makes very good sense. He describes the subtle but very real changes in the European parliament which is meeting for the first time since the elections - well worth reading. However, in a personal aside, he relates a recent meeting with an old Finnish patriot who had fought against Stalin. I will quote that part of his essay in full:
I spent part of the recent campaign criss-crossing Europe in support of free-market, Eurosceptic candidates. On one occasion, after a long day of canvassing in the industrial Finnish town of Lahti, we were invited to dinner by a local supporter, a ninety-year-old veteran of the war against Stalin.
He was enormously Anglophile, and brimmed with pleasure at being able to host us. We ate fish from the local lake that he had caught and smoked himself, and elk that he had bartered with a neighbour for more smoked fish. Afterwards he showed me the letter that President Mannerheim had written to his parents when his elder brother, then aged 21, had been killed fighting the Red Army. The Lutheran clergyman who brought the news, he told me, also brought his own call-up papers.
I replied that we politicians were too quick to use military metaphors, to talk about “fighting” for freedom or for justice or for independence. It was humbling, I said, to be the guest of a man who had literally fought for his country’s independence, so allowing later generations the luxury of doing battle with order papers and resolutions instead of howitzers and landmines. He grinned from ear to ear and, as we looked at each other, we felt that complete understanding that, in a common cause, erases language and geography. As I never tire of pointing out, patriots from different countries often find it much easier to get along than Euro-goodie-goodies.
It can’t work, this Euro-racket, not forever. It runs up against the reality of human nature, human loyalties. A huge bureaucratic edifice has been built on the flimsiest of foundations. It needs only one hard blow and the whole tower will shiver and crumble, releasing Europe’s nations again. Perhaps that blow will be struck by Britain. It wouldn’t be the first time.
For the benefit of my foreign readers, my title is based on the traditional and ancient British cry that goes up at the coronation of a new monarch. I am reminded of it by rumours of the political death of the Kaiserin and no doubt someone will wittily suggest that such rumours are grossly exaggerated! However, such is the essence of a report in Spiegel which, admittedly, was written last Tuesday (I missed it because, dammit, I am still learning my way around MS 8.1) and it suggests very strongly that Mrs. Merkel is under severe pressure from her socialist deputy with whom she is in coalition. He, needless to say, is an eye-ball swivelling euro-fanatic who is not only a supporter of 'Juncker the Drunker', the new EU President, but also an equally keen supporter of Hollande, Renzi and the other Med countries all of whom want German austerity diktats lifted, the money-printing machines switched on and more time to pay back the money they owe. According to Spiegel, the Kaiserin's power both inside Germany and inside Europe is on the wane. However, it should be noted that Spiegel is a Leftie paper and the wish may be father to the thought! Even so, the article is well worth reading because it is all too easy to view Europe entirely through British spectacles.
That said, the next three years are going to be fascinating. In fact, I would go further and say they will be looked back on as one of those historical pivot points. But first things first. The 'Scottish question' must be answered in September and I hope that it will be a firm decision in favour of continued union. Then, next May, the general election must be decided. In the last couple of days, Dave has struck a pose that will weaken UKIP's insidious attack on the Tory vote but it is essential that he continues that approach up until the election. Equally, I wish UKIP all the luck in the world as they try to broaden their appeal to the plebs 'oooooop north' which will erode Labour's vote. As an aside, I truly and fervently wish that the 'il-Lib-non-Dems' are slaughtered wholesale! The very best result, for me, at any rate, would be for Dave to be returned with a small majority. That will make him a captive of his Right-wing, anti-EU MPs and will keep him honest during the long and very tricky negotiations that will take place prior to the referendum in 2017.
Of course, the biggest 'unknown unknown' is what, exactly and precisely, Dave wants from this negotiation. I think we can all take it that he is, at heart, a pro-EU politician although I suspect that increasingly his hands-on experience with actually dealing with the ragbag of shysters who run this European racket may be opening his eyes to realities. If yesterday's pantomime in which he performed his mini-Maggie act to thunderous applause from his own party is reflected in a big jump in the polls then perhaps, just perhaps, he might have the nerve to play the game hard and if the Euros fail to give him what he wants, he might recommend 'OUT'.
Alright, alright, I know, but a man may hope may he not?
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