DUFF & NONSENSE!

Mini Macron minces on but not very far!

 

 

Well, we all waited with baited breath - er, your breath was baited, I trust! - to see just what the highly-charged 'brainiac', 'Mini' Macron would do to the French economy.  Er, well, not much, actually, according to Matthew Lynn at The Coffee House.  

In fact, the reforms are typically timid. Just take a look at some of the detail. Companies will be allowed to by-pass industry-wide union agreements and hold a referendum on employment changes. Really? It is hard to see many thinking that is a great innovation. After all, who knows what crazy stuff the staff will vote for? Multi-national companies might be allowed to shut plants in France even if they make profits elsewhere. Well, that should be normal. A real reform would let them close plants they no longer required, and get rid of staff they don’t need, regardless of overall probability. There will be some minor caps on wrongful dismissal pay-outs, and some extra exemptions for companies with fewer than fifty staff. And, er, that’s about it.

At the same time, all the major barriers to hiring new staff are left in place. France will still have some of the highest payroll taxes in the world. Social security charges add 45 per cent to the wage bill in France, compared with 13 per cent in this country and 19 per cent in Germany. It still has the 35- hour week. It has among the most generous parental leave in the world – mothers get 34 weeks for their third chid, and both parents can take three years out with their job held open. And so on.

Needless to say, the major French unions immediately declared their virulent opposition and promised strike action which, bien sure, the police unions will be happy with because that will give them plenty of work and beaucoup overtime!  The chances of any improvement in the French unemployment rate of 10%, with youth unemployment at over 20%, is somewhere between 0.0% and -0.1%.  According to Mr. Lynn, these pathetic changes are on a par with those little 'Mini' Macron introduced when he was Finance Minister for the utterly useless President Francois Hollande.  After a great splurge of publicity, the only item of any real significance was the deregulation of long-distance buses.  Well, as a former bus-driver myself, I can applaud that but it hardly galvanised the French economy.

Now, what's the French for 'Must do better, Emmanuel, or your grandmother, oops, sorry, I mean your wife, will get very cross'?

 

 

Is my pal Google really my enemy?

I have no idea but I know a lady who does - Ms. Zephr Teachout who, apart from looking very attractive and having a delightful name, is also an associate professor of law at Fordham University.  Today, writing in the WaPo, she issues a warning blast on her trumpet aimed at the over-bearing, brutal bullying by Google.  She sets the story thus:

This summer, a small team of well-respected researchers and journalists, the Open Markets team at the New America think tank (where I have been a fellow since 2014), dared to speak up about Google, in the mildest way. When the European Union fined Google for preferring its own subsidiary companies to its rival companies in search results, it was natural that Open Markets, a group dedicated to studying and exposing distortions in markets, including monopoly power, would comment. The researchers put out a 150-word statement praising the E.U.’s actions. They wrote, “By requiring that Google give equal treatment to rival services instead of privileging its own, [the E.U.] is protecting the free flow of information and commerce upon which all democracies depend.” They called upon the Federal Trade Commission and Department of Justice and state attorneys general to apply the traditional American monopoly law, which would require separate ownership of products and services and the networks that sell products and services.

Well, if you are part of a group called "Open Markets" then that is more or less what you would expect them to say.  However, the plot sickens, ooops, sorry, thickens. 

Google has been funding New America for years at high levels. Within 24 hours of the statement going live, Google representatives called New America’s leadership expressing their displeasure. Two planned hires for the Open Markets team suddenly were canceled. Three days later, the head of the Open Markets team, the accomplished journalist Barry C. Lynn, received a letter from the head of the think tank, demanding that the entire team leave New America. The reason? The statement praising the E.U.’s decision against Google was, according to New America President Anne-Marie Slaughter, “imperiling the institution.” (As of this writing, Slaughter has denounced the story as false, claiming that Lynn was dismissed for failures of “openness” and “collegiality.”)

"Failures of openness and collegiality", yeeeeees, quite!  Needless to say, on this subject as with so many others my detailed knowledge is sketchy to say the least but somehow, in some way, in recent times I have become vaguely aware that the bosses of these mega-giant communication companies are giving the impression that the world, nay, the universe, is theirs and they are the masters of it.  Time for a right good kick in the arse, methinks!

 

Pass the sick bag - quick!

This photo from The Telegraph should come with a 'XXX' rating but I have every confidence in the sturdy nature and strong stomachs of my readers.  The real worry is that one or two of them might actually be thrilled by it - yeeeeees, quite! 

 

 

"Oh, the horror, the horror!"

 

Oh dear, what a pity, never mind

It's always a disappointment when a famous person you admire turns out to be something of an A1 shit!  Thus, for example, I have always admired the art of Edgar Degas.  

I particularly like the way he portrays ballet dancers, not always in elegant poses under the lights, but back-stage or in the rehearsal rooms where you can almost sense their aching limbs and muscles.  Then there are the statuettes of the dancers, particularly this one, called 'Little Dancer Aged Fourteen' which I once saw in Paris and which entranced me: 

Someone once bought me a tiny faux-model of it which I still have and I love it!  Then there were his equine pictures where he made the horses look as elegant as ballet dancers:

So all in all, what's not to like?  Er, well, him, actually, according to an article in The Paris Review which deals with a book written after his death by one of his models:

Degas, as seen by the model Pauline, is no stoic devotee of the Muses but a curmudgeon subject to sudden bouts of theatrical self-pity, always on the verge of collapsing into melancholy ruminations over his failing sight, his oncoming death. The artist famous for his deft public quips becomes, in private, a mealymouthed, repetitious prattler, retailing twenty-year-old anecdotes for the two-hundredth time. Instead of zingers (e.g., Gustave Moreau is “a hermit who knows what time the trains leave”), the model is obliged to de-escalate incoherent rants about Jewish conspiracies and feign interest in foggy reminiscences of trips to Italy and bouts of pubic lice. This Degas is not only tedious company but a volatile and occasionally violent taskmaster, liable to punch Pauline in the back or threaten her with a hammer when the session isn’t going as well as the artist would like, and perfectly capable of firing her for reading a book or—virulently anti-Semitic as he was—posing for a Jew.

Oh dear, "what a falling off was there"!  Still, at least the good news is that now I know why I am a talentless bum, it's because I'm too nice - sorry, did you say something?

 

 

And so it goes on ... and on ... and on

I do not intend to spend too much time on a running commentary of the Brexit 'negotiations'.  No-one on the outside really knows what is going on and I suspect that applies to many on the inside, as well!  It is all smoke and mirrors and alcoholic fumes - and you can guess where they emanate from!  So far, it seems to be running the way I suspected it would with the Berlin-Brussels apparatchiks doing everything in their power not just to thwart British intentions but to do so in the most insulting and arrogant way possible.  I warned months ago that their dislike for the British was inherent but now that we are making an effort to leave their rotten edifice their dislike has become visceral.  Of course, this is to be expected from the apparatchik-class whose handsome living and salaries and expenses and pensions are obtained without the boring necessity of actually facing an electorate.  Any threat to their gravy-train will be resisted with utmost fury and vindictiveness.

Fortunately (in a way), it will also be resisted with utmost stupidity because as their belligerence becomes ever clearer, and as the resulting train crash looms, then two other sets of people will suddenly wake up to the threat.  The first will be the actual leaders of the 27 different nations who will begin to assess the collateral damage of a no-deal rift likely to be inflicted on them if relations with one of the biggest economies in the world turn sour.  Unlike Juncker and Barnier, these various prime ministers and presidents actually have to be accountable to voters.  The second set of people who will watch proceedings carefully are the British people who have already voted to leave.  The British are far from perfect but over the centuries they have experienced a long history of excitable Europeans attempting to bully us and they have a sort of in-built resistance.  If Juncker and his cohorts continue to brandish their rubber truncheons then the more the British people will insist on leaving.

Personally, I have always thought a deal to be unlikely so if we simply walk away without one then so be it.  Yes, it will be uncomfortable but nowhere near so uncomfortable as it was in 1940!

 

Is American 'justice' rotting from the top down?

Happily - in fact, exceedingly happily - I have never experienced American justice at first hand and my second-hand knowledge of it is sketchy to say the least.  Even so, to 'tell truth and shame the devil', I would not trust it an inch!  Today, in the always thoughtful National Review (NR), there is an article on Trump's decision to grant Arizona Sheriff Joe Arpaio a full pardon.  This somewhat cantankerous old police chief has constantly flaunted the decisions of various courts by continuing to seize anyone on mere suspicion that they might be an illegal alien despite the fact that being such is a civil offence not a criminal one and is therefor outside the remit of police authority.  The judges had had enough of being flaunted and they were on the point of seizing the Sheriff himself, until President Trump intervened with his 'Get Out of Jail Free' card.  As the NR reminds us, Trump could have kept his clumsy hands off the legal system and let it run until the process produced a result which, if guilty, he could then have set aside with his pardon.  Instead, he has squished the entire legal process out of existence.

No sooner had I read that than I flicked on to The American Spectator and there read a fulminating piece by Larry Thornberry who maintains that the only reason being an illegal alien is not a criminal offence is because Left-wing activist judges have bent the law to make it so.

Judicial overreach is a lot bigger threat to a justice system worthy of the name than Trump’s decision to weigh Arpaio’s long career of public service and effective crime fighting against what was clearly a political prosecution. Various lawyers in black muumuus (aka judges) decided they didn’t like laws preventing folks across the planet from waltzing into America whenever they felt like it and ordered Sheriff Joe not to enforce these laws. Joe refused to go along with the gag, and got a contempt of court conviction for his devotion to duty.

He also provides two salutary reminders that compared to the last two Democratic Presidential interferences, Trump's was 'little league' stuff:

Bill Clinton’s Justice Department give two thumbs-up to an assortment of villains, whom Billy-Bob then pardoned on his way out of 1600 with the furnishings?

And:

President Obama pardoned drug dealers in battalion-sized units, allowing them to return to school yards and street corners where he apparently believes they belong.

That, of course, makes me lean more to the NR's view and they sum up their judgment, thus:

Arpaio is a hero to the populist Right, but his theatrical, inhumane imprisonment policies, ham-fisted immigration enforcement, and all-around witless showmanship had become so toxic that he got soundly thrashed in his latest reelection bid in a Trump-friendly county. No one serious about immigration restriction should want Arpaio to be the poster boy for the cause, but that is clearly what Trump considers him, and his pardon makes the point rather emphatically. Better than dumping this pardon on a Friday night would have been never granting it at all.

Of course, as a lily-livered Brit, I still can't get my head around the notion of electing sheriffs, let alone judges!

 

 

More music - sorry!

This is rapidly turning into a 'musical Monday'!  No sooner had I produced my 'grump' about musical snobs than I turned to the NRO - no, no, that's not an orchestra, it's the National Review On-line, an American conservative magazine.  Today, one of their fairly regular contributors, Jay Nordlinger, has the first of two articles on the famous maestro, Arturo Toscanini.  The review is, as we say, mixed!  Toscanini was both adored and detested.  Ah well, the price of fame, I suppose! 

I used to have a book by a distinguished music critic who posed the question as to whether conductors were really necessary at all?  It is not for a man who does not understand the difference between a crotchet and a quaver to attempt an answer to that one!  I only ever met one professional conductor, the late Vernon 'Tod' Handley about whom I wrote some nine years ago when I read that he had died.  He had some strong views on conducting, partially instilled in him by the late Sir Adrian Boult.  Anyway, Mr. Nordlinger's second article on Toscanini will be published tomorrow and I look forward to it.

Even so, dammit, I still kick myself for failing to pay attention to both maths and music in my 'youf' - stupid boy!

 

Dammit, foiled again!

I was looking forward to kicking off the week with a major grump about Classic FM who, with absolutely no consideration for their listeners, will keep playing gorgeous music that sticks in what passes for my brain, such that I go to sleep running the melodies in my head and then wake up the next morning with them still repeating endlessly over and over.  Yesterday, and again this morning, it was the duet from The Pearl Fishers by Bizet.  Fortunately for the neighbours, the 'Memsahib' has strictly forbidden me from attempting to actually sing these melodies out loud!  So, round and round they go inside my head and I was about to moan and groan about it when this morning, in The Telegraph, I saw a critical article on Classic FM.  Instantly I about turned and now I am going to hurl myself in their defence.

The 'perp' is some purist fanatic called Ivan Hewitt who is, allegedly, their Classical Music critic.  He is a staunch defender of BBC Radio3 which, from the very rare occasions on which I have tuned in, appears to favour anything and everything which is totally obscure, and the reason for its obscurity is because it is frequently tuneless, boring and unmoving!  I must confess that I paused before launching this defence of Classic FM because in the course of his article he brings in the 'Hefferlump' in his support, and no-one with more than three brain cells would take on the 'Hefferlump' in any sort of argument.  Here is an extract:

No wonder Classic FM makes some people angry. In a column in this newspaper, Simon Heffer once declared that if he failed to summon up the bile needed to write a really ferocious political column, all he had to do was turn on Classic FM, and within minutes he would be livid. I know what he means. There’s nothing more likely to make my blood boil than some honey-voiced Classic presenter telling me to “relax” and enjoy some “smooth classics”.

'Pur-lease', do me a favour!  Not all of us, in fact very few of us, have either the time, or the inclination, to sit down for an hour or more and listen to the 'Concerto for Euphonium and Cow Bells' written by some totally obscure Bulgarian modernist!  In fact, few of us have the time to sit and listen to the entirety of Beethoven's Fifth and were I to do so the 'Memsahib' might have something to say!  The other point I would make to both Mr. Hewitt and the 'Hefferlump' is that they do not have to pay for ClassicFM where-as I, and everyone else in this 'our septic Isle', has to pay for bloody BBC Radio3 and its endless, boring obscurities - and also for even bloodier BBC Radio1 with its non-stop, tuneless, talentless, pop rubbish!

Aaaah, that's better, it's always good to get these things off your chest!

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 28.8.17

Not that you Brit-lot deserve any given that you're all lazing around on holiday but perhaps they will give a smile to Michael in Houston as the rain pounds down.

A man is alone in an airport lounge. A beautiful woman walks in and sit down at the table next to him.

He decides because she's wearing a uniform, she's probably an off-duty flight attendant.

So he decides to have a go at picking her up by identifying the airline she flies for, thereby impressing her greatly.

He leans across to her and says the British Airways motto : 'To Fly. To Serve'?

The woman looks at him blankly.  He sits back and thinks up another line.  He leans forward again and delivers the Air France motto
'Winning the hearts of the world'?

Again she just stares at him with a slightly puzzled look on her face.
Undeterred, he tries again, this time saying the Malaysian Airlines motto
'Going beyond expectations'?

The woman looks at him sternly and says

'What the bloody hell do you want?'

'Aha!' he says, "Qantas". 

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

 

Three men are killed in a crash on Christmas Day, and all find themselves at St. Peter's gate....

St. Peter says to the men: "Seeing as it's Christmas time, you'll each need to show me something that symbolizes the spirit of the season, to get through the gate."

The first man fishes in his pocket and pulls out his lighter, and lights
it, and says: "Candles symbolize Christmas!"

St. Peter says: "Very well, you can go in."
 
The second man thinks for a bit (since he can no longer use his lighter), and fishes in his pockets and pulls out his keys. He shakes them a bit and says: "They sound like Jingle Bells!"

St. Peter says:"Very well, you may enter."
 
The third man thinks even longer.. and finally fishes in his pocket and
pulls out a pair of women's panties.
 
St. Peter, confused, says: "And what have you got there?"
 
The third man says: "They're Carol's!"

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

 

A young ventriloquist is touring Norway and puts on a show in a small fishing town. With his dummy on his knee, he starts  going through his usual dumb blonde jokes.
 
Suddenly a blonde woman in the fourth row stands on her chair and starts shouting, "I've heard enough of your stupid blonde jokes. What makes you think you can stereotype Norwegian blonde women that way? What does the color of a woman's hair have to do with her worth as a human being?  Its men like you who keep women like me from being respected at work and in the community, and from reaching our full potential as people.
 
Its people like you that make others think that all blondes are dumb! You and your kind continue to perpetuate discrimination against not only blondes, but women in general, pathetically all in the name of humor!"
 
The embarrassed ventriloquist begins to apologize, and the blonde yells:

"You stay out of this! ......I'm talking to that little shit on your lap."

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

 

Finally, some more examples of military officers' annual reports:

6. When she opens her mouth it seems only to change whichever foot was previously in there.
 
7. Couldn't organise 50% leave in a 2-man submarine.
 
8. He has carried out each and every one of his duties to his entire satisfaction.
 
9. He would be out of his depth in a car park puddle.
 
10. Technically sound but socially impossible.

 

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 27.8.17

Thank God it's nearly over:   Er, that's August, I'm referring to, the boring-snoring, eye-stabbing, no-news month of the year.  Instead of proper news, all we get are never-ending stories about Princess Di or that ridiculous  clown boxing match in Las Vegas which might have been better if they had used rubber truncheons and buckets of water!  Even 'The Donald' seems to have gone somewhat somnolent.  Mind you, remembering what they say about "interesting times", perhaps by mid-September I'll be wishing for August again.

 

The escape from Stalag Luft 28:   Could our frightfully brave British chaps make their escape down the tunnel from Europe just in time?  I ask because according to The Telegraph moves are afoot to form a European Federal Finance Department.  There have already been hints that a European Tax Authority might be set up.  We'll see just how much all those 'Remoaners' really 'lurve' Europe when they receive their first tax bills!

 

Don't mention the weather:   It is, of course, one of our more irritating British habits that we can rarely get through a conversation without moaning about the weather.  And of course, the further south you live in this 'our septic Isle', as any coal-engrimed northerner will tell you, the weather is positively balmy and yet we still take any opportunity to moan and groan at the slightest drizzle.  As I write, I am aware that I do have a regular reader from Texas and in view of what they are going through, I promise not to whinge about the weather again - well, at least for a week!  Oddly enough, this Bank Holiday the weather has been brilliant . . . but that just means it's going to be hell in the Winter!

 

Who is, or was, Steve Bannon?   I think I may have just found out, thanks to an excellent article at The Coffee House (where else?) by James Kirchick.  To be honest, despite all the non-stop 'SHLOCK-HORROR' stories that either leak from the White House or are invented by the American media, I find the White House as mysterious as the Kremlin.  At least this article clarifies that whilst it might resemble a mad house, under the guidance of the exceedingly crafty Mr. Bannon it was actually working to a plan - and the plan is succeeding!  In essence, Bannon was jabbing and stabbing the Dems into an incoherent fury which, as their juvenile supporters re-acted with violence and extremism, merely added to the contempt felt by many Americans for the Left and which resulted in Trump winning the election.  According to Mr. Kirchick, the fact that Bannon has gone, due to the massive ego of 'The Donald', does not mean the plan has been changed.  Expect more provocations from the GOP and watch the silly Dems froth at the mouth and erupt on the streets - thus sealing a Republican victory at the next election.  Perhaps Mrs. May should consider a similar tactic 'over here'!

 

Today's race should be a corker!   Waddya mean what race?  The Belgian Grand Prix, of course, with that impeccable British gentleman, (Sir) Lewis Hamilton on pole and that damned Hun next to him on the front row.  Assuming they both make it round the first corner without 'kissing' each other then this should be a terrific race.  Starts at 1.00pm Brit time, Channel4.

 

And it was a corker!   Two of the very greatest drivers battling for first place on one of the greatest race tracks in the world - and (Sir) Lewis won - jolly good show!  But Lewis, please do something about your hair style if you want to impress 'Her Maj' or she might use the sword to give you a short back and sides!!

 

Sorry, ladies, but you just can't hack it:   I am happy to confess to my low-brow reading taste for thrillers.  I have read several Brazilian rain forests worth of them over the years.  I started when I discovered Micky Spillane as a nipper and was thrilled with the naughty bits at the time.  Just recently my reading has been somewhat more heavy - in the case of Lord Salisbury's bio, heavy in all senses of the word.  Happily, the other day I discovered an old gift token for Waterstones Bookshop which was still valid, so to give myself a break I popped in and bought four thrillers, two by men, two by ladies.  This broke my golden rule which states that ladies just can't write thrillers.  Of course, 'back in the day', the likes of Agatha Christie et al could write superlative 'who dunnits' but they are not quite thrillers. Anyway, serves me right because both the ladies' books missed by a mile!

 

An Australian Prime Minister? Surely not!   Apparently, the former PM of Australia, Mr. Tony Abbot, has admitted that in 2009 he missed a crucial financial vote in his parliament because he had passed out drunk. I'm shocked, I tell you, shocked!  Mind you, dear old Winnie guided us through WWII on nothing short of two bottles of whisky a day!

 

Now I know they're all going mad in America:   Apparently, the Orpheum Theatre in Memphis is intending to ban one of the greatest films ever made which was based on one of the greatest novels ever written - and by a lady, too!  Gone With The Wind has, er, gone with the wind!

 

 

 

No more rumbles today

 

So farewell then, L/Cpl William Loney, ex-C Coy, 2 Para

On the whole, I'm not too keen on undue sentimentality but from time to time a story arises which gives me pause.  Thus, in The Mail yesterday there was a report that the body of a British paratrooper killed at Arnhem in 1944 has finally been definitely identified as L/Cpl. William 'Ginger' Loney of 'C' Company, 2 Para.

His body had been found previously but there being no means of identification he was buried in Holland under a headstone saying: 'A Soldier of the 1939-45 War'.  Now, thanks to the efforts of a genealogist and military researcher, Peter Bennett, his identity has been established and he will be reburied under his own name.

 

This German propaganda photo shows the bodies of Lance Corporal Loney and his comrade slain in the street after parachuting in the same day to secure bridges over the Rhine

Now, apparently, the search is on in the Dewsbury area of Yorkshire for any relatives and/or descendants to attend the reburial.

Rest in Peace, 'Ginger'.

 

 

Macron minces on

A suitably sardonic piece in this week's "Speccie" by Jonathan Miller, their resident French observer.  I read it today just as the news broke in The Telegraph that in just three months Monsieur le President is reported to have spent €26,000 on - wait for it! - make-up!  Mon Dieu, the little nipper is only 39 years old, so how much does his 64-year old missus spend?

  

Anyway, it looks to me from this photo that Monsieur le President should have gone to Specsavers because he's obviously missed his nostril by a mile!  Mind you, he hasn't cost the French taxpayers as much as that silly, old, socialist dumpling who preceded him.  M. Hollande,, apparently, paid his personal barber £99,000!

He should have taken some advice from 'The Donald' who these days uses a sort of cement mixture to solve his hair problem following some life-threatening situations:

 

 

Ah well, as they say in politics, 'hair today, gone tomorrow'!

 

Sorry, sorry, a.w.o.l. - again!

I am beginning to remind myself of a lad in my regiment who was perpetually a.w.o.l., in fact he 'went missing' so often that on his return he simply walked into the Guardhouse and locked himself in a cell.  He was one of the last of the National Servicemen and had been an art student when called up.  On one occasion, when asked by the Colonel where the hell he'd been, he simply said I popped over to Paris for a long weekend!  I think his two year National Service last closer to four!

Anyway, my excuse is that the 'Memsahib' is still virtually bed-bound and now a very elderly (ie: older than me!) relative took a tumble in her Care Home and was carted off to the local Hospital where I have to go to check up on her.  Then there is the non-stop shopping, well, "to tell truth and shame the devil" it's mostly my fault because I'm useless at it and I always forget things.  What I really need, and I do mean really-really need, is a Danish au pair girl.  If there are any applicants, please send a photograph first!

I hope to write something sensible later - well, a man may hope, may he not?

 

 

'HillBilly' is such a delicate little flower!

Apparently, in her forthcoming book, that delicate little flower, Mrs. Hillary Rodham Clinton, showed courage above and beyond the call of duty when forced to share an electoral platform with that well-known, er, 'pussy-grabber', Donald Trump.

 

In audio clips of Clinton reading from the book, "What Happened," which were first obtained by MSNBC's "Morning Joe" on Wednesday, Clinton recounted her thoughts as she toyed with the idea of telling her Republican rival to "back up, you creep" as he stood behind her during the second presidential debate.
"My skin crawled," Clinton said. "It was one of those moments where you wish you could hit pause and ask everyone watching 'well, what would you do?'"

[...]

and in order to keep her composure, she gripped the microphone "extra hard."

Bit like 'biting the pillow', I suppose, but then again, it could have been so much worse for the poor, trembling, little thing.  Instead of the bragging Donald standing behind her it could have been that all too real 'pussy grabber':

'Oh the horror, the horror!' 

Or there again, when you think about it, "What difference at this point does it make?"  

Once again I fall to my knees, er, well, creakily I bend them, and thank the GAP (the Great American Public) for not voting in that ghastly, hypocritical, greedy, lying-liar of a woman as President.

 

 

This is what Prime Ministers get paid for

'Damned ticklish problem, Prime Minister', you can almost hear 'Sir Humphrey' muttering into Mrs. May's elegant ear as he explains that 'Uncle Sam', aka: Donald Trump, is intent on sending more American troops into Afghanistan which is perfectly fine, Prime Minister, er, except that he wants us to send some of our troops, too!  The first problem, of course, is actually finding any!  The British army has shrunk over recent years to almost record lows and were we to comply we might have to get some actors to play the part of the Guards at Buckingham Palace - and 'Her Maj' would not be amused, Prime Minister!

Already some, jumped-up General 'Huff 'n' Puff' has urged Mrs. May to comply with the American appeal but according to Sir Max Hastings in today's Mail, this particular worthy held several senior staff posts during the previous and utterly useless and incompetent Afghan campaign so we should take his advice with extreme caution! To make one mistake is forgivable, to repeat it is criminal!  (See: Western Front, WWI, passim)

However, political life is never that simple. We are going to need a friendly, if not beholden, American government as we move closer to Brexit.  'The Donald' is an emotional man, unlikely to forgive any perceived slights, and it will be necessary for Mrs. May to be as emollient and supportive as possible without actually doing too much!  Sir Max insists that we do absolutely nothing but in my view that would be a mistake.  As so often before, I am obliged to the NRO (National Review Online) for some clear thinking.  From time to time, on topics of major importance, they assemble their combined editorial board to compose an agreed editorial line, and they have done so on this important topic.

In essence, they take a realistic view of Afghanistan and admit that it is a country that is ungovernable.  Equally, any notions of winning a war there are pipe dreams - and Afghanistan is a major supplier of high grade material to stuff inside your pipe of choice!  The NRO suggest that so long as Trump does not harbour any fantasies of actually winning a war there but is merely satisfied to be a major player in a scrummage containing several other major players, then his decision to re-inforce the American contingent is probably correct.

He had a choice. On one hand, he could follow his instinct to pull out of Afghanistan, act on his many bumptious calls to abandon the war, and please his most fervent supporters. On the other, he could acknowledge the disaster that would result in Afghanistan and potentially the region if he followed this course and instead work toward a more responsible policy. He, rightly, picked the latter option and spoke to the nation about his new strategy last night.

Apparently, he is only considering sending a further 4,000 troops to add to the 8,000 already there, so it's hardly a 'yuuuuuge' investment and surely we can find a few hundred spare 'Toms' to show willing, er, so long as that does not include ex-Corporals!

 

One little corner of the swamp has been drained - jolly good show!

From the outside looking in it is exceedingly difficult to judge exactly what 'The Donald' is doing.  Not the least of the difficulties is the miasma of 'fake news' thrown up - I use the expression advisedly - by those whose duty used to be to keep us informed, that is, the so-called 'free press' - who sniggered?  Still, if you scratch around the web long enough you find the odd gleam of gold such as the example I just read over at WUWT.

It reports that the Trump administration has just disbanded the federal advisory panel for the National Climate Assessment, a group aimed at helping policymakers and private-sector officials incorporate the government’s climate analysis into long-term planning.  Or to put it more succinctly, a bunch of mouth-dribbling 'warmers' ready to tell yet more 'porky pies' to further the greatest con-game in history.  Apparently, this collection of nodding heads were about to produce a report that might have induced an orgasm from Al Gore - not a pretty thought! - when it became clear that it contained:

"multiple climate shenanigans – alleged adjustments to published data, and the removal [my emphasis] of an entire section which suggested the 1930s dust bowl years experienced more extreme hot weather than today’s climate."

Well, it's a start!

 

Don't do it, Donald, and that's an order!

Never mind all those Generals with whom you have surrounded yourself and which makes the White House look like the Department of Defense, this is ex-Corporal Duff speaking, than which no keener military brain exists!  The first rule of war is never invade Russia.  The second is never invade Afghanistan.  Yes, you might have a handful of special ops lurking about the place in order to assassinate the odd 'hairy', or guide a missile down into their underground khazis but whatever you do, don't send in thousands of 'grunts' who will achieve nothing except offering a perfect target for the 'scallywags'.

At all times you must understand that by and large, and with the odd - very odd! - exception, most Generals are utterly useless at being Generals, that is, at fighting wars.  In your case, Donald, the best thing is to keep one or two of them around for when you visit your many golf courses.  They're usually pretty good at golf because for most of the time they have bugger all else to do but play the silly game!

Right, carry on, Trump - oh! - and get your hair cut!

 

In which I break my own rule - well, it's my blog, dammit!

I decided some time ago not to get involved in discussions/debates/arguments/slanging matches (delete to taste) on the subject of Brexit.  It will be at least ten years before a (sort of) judgment can be made and as most historians rarely manage to agree on what happened yesteryear, the chances of so-called 'futurists' agreeing on the future is somewhere between 0.0 and -o.1.  I will leave all that sort of thing to 'SoD' and, er, 'you know who'!

However, it is not unreasonable to look at events since the referendum in June last year and compare them to the forecasts made with absolute confidence by the panic-stricken 'Remainers'.  In fact, Mr. Tim Congdon, an economist I have some respect for, has done just that in The Telegraph today. He begins by quoting that arch-'Remainer', Mr. Nick Clegg of the il-Lib-non-Dem party who the voters of Sheffield rather wisely tossed out at the last election.

[T]hree million jobs were “dependent on our position as a leading member of the world’s biggest borderless single market, you play with that status at your peril; there are jobs at stake, livelihoods.” He warned that leaving the EU meant isolation, and that “isolation costs jobs, costs growth, costs people’s livelihoods”.

Mr. Congdon then goes on to quote Mr. Martin Wolf, chief economic commentator at The Financial Times (yeeeeeees, quite!) who said:

“I would be very surprised if we don’t have a year or two or three of a real recession.”

Got that?  Not just a recession but a really, really real recession!  That much of their forecasts was based on, er, 'really, really real research' by HM Treasury (sole prop. at the time, little Georgie Porgie Osborne) simply confirms that most of the civil servants in that department are spineless lickspittles who couldn't earn a living in the real world.

So what has actually happened in the truly real world over the last year?

In the year to the three-month period from March to May employment increased in the UK by 324,000 people from 31,686,000 to 32,010,000. It did not go down, as the pro-remain politicos and pundits said it would. Moreover, the rise in employment was higher in this twelve-month period than on average (266,000) in the 25 years from 1992, which is the first year reported for this series in the present ONS database. Since the referendum not only have jobs been created, but the rate of job creation has been better than normal over the last generation.

And as for unemployment:

The Brexit pessimists might have a case of sorts if the above-normal rate of job creation had occurred in a slack labour market, with many disappointed job-seekers. But that is just not true. On the contrary, the unemployment rate reported in the latest ONS release was 4.5 per cent. This was the lowest – yes, the lowest – in the 25 years for the unemployment rate series in the ONS database, as that database is currently available. Indeed, we need to return to 1975 to find a year when the unemployment rate was lower. [My emphasis]

As Mr. Congdon emphasises, the process has barely begun so no firm predictions can yet be made.  The only thing that is certain is that the forecasts of instant doom and gloom from the Remainers was hysterical nonsense.  For now the future remains under the heading of 'We Shall See What We Shall See!'

 

ADDITIONAL:   Oh, pur-lease, Al, no more, my sides are splitting! That master comedian, Al Gore, has them rolling in the aisles with his latest claim that Brexit is all due to ... wait for it ... global warming!

https://blogs.spectator.co.uk/2017/08/al-gore-brexit-caused-by-climate-change/

 

 

Vzpomeňme si na Pražské jaro

Waddya mean, ya can't speak Czech?  Anyone who is anyone can speak Czech, er, so long as you have Google Translate to hand!  Anyway, I am grateful to Mr. Silvio Canto, Jnr. at The American Thinker for reminding me that it was today in 1968 that some 200,000 Russian troops and tanks smashed their way into what was then Czechoslovakia to put an end to what became known as the 'Prague Spring'.  Some 12 years earlier the Hungarians had tried to break the Russian grip but failed tragically.  Finally, it was those mad Poles who seized the moment and reduced the Russian 'empire' to rubble.

I am particularly fond of Czechia, as it is now known, for several reasons.  First, if you held a gun to my head and forced me to choose, then Smetana's River Valtava is my absolute favourite piece of music.  Then 'SoD' partnered up with a Czech beauty (obviously she must have eyesight problems!) and that gave me and the 'Memsahib' an excuse to visit the country which is an absolute delight.  Then Sir Tom Stoppard, originally of Czech/Jewish stock, wrote a superb play called Rock 'n' Roll which was, in his usual way, exceedingly witty and inventive and intelligent and moving as he showed the effects of the 'Prague Spring' on both Czechs and English Left-wing so-called intellectuals.

Anyway, 'SoD' is actually in Czechia at the moment and no doubt is pursuing his usual wide-ranging but in-depth, tasting expedition through the innumerable varieties of Schnapps to be had in that delightful country, so I hope that on my behalf he will raise a glass to the memory of Alexander Dubček, an exceedingly brave man.

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 21.8.17

Some corkers today!  The first is a selection of annual assessments given to various military officers.  I have saved some more for the future:

1. His men would follow him anywhere but only out of curiosity.
 
2. I would hesitate to breed from this Officer.
 
3. This man is depriving a village somewhere of its idiot.
 
4. This Officer can be likened to a small puppy - he runs around excitedly leaving little messes for other people to clean up.
 
5. This Officer is really not so much of a has-been, more of a definitely won't-be.

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

 

Right at the end of a programme recently, there was a discussion about the cost of entry into Premiership football matches where ticket prices of £60 or £100 per game is not uncommon.

An elderly chap being interviewed said he could recall many years ago arriving at the turnstiles when the attendant greeted him with:  "That will be ten quid, mate".

 "What?!" the old chap said, "I could get a woman for that!"

Without batting an eyelid, the fellow on the turnstile retorted, "Not for 45 minutes each way with a brass band and a meat pie in the interval, you couldn't!”

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

 

A twin-engine passenger plane has an engine failure and the
altitude and speed are decreasing rapidly.  The pilot speaks over the intercom ..... "I'm sorry it has come to this ladies and gentlemen, but unfortunately we are going to have to jettison the luggage in order for the aircraft to remain airborne ".

Baggage is thrown out but still the plane's altitude continues
to decrease.

Once again the pilot gets on the intercom, "I hate to do
this folks but in order to save the majority we are going to have to
start off-loading some passengers. The only fair way is to do this
Alphabetically, so we'll start with the letter 'A'.  "Africans? Are there any Africans on board?"

There was no answer so the pilot calls, "Black people, are there any black people on board?"

Again silence.

" C - coloured people? Are there any coloured people on board?"

Still there is silence.

A little black boy sitting near the rear of the plane turned to his mother and said, "Mum, ain't we African? Ain't we black? Ain't we coloured?"

She replied, "Yes, son but for the moment we is Niggers. Let them do the Muslims first. If that don't work we is Zulus".

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

 

There is nothing worse than a Doctor's Receptionist who insists you tell her what is wrong with you in a room full of other patients. 
 
I know most of us have experienced this, and I love the way this old guy handled it. 
 
A 65-year-old man walked into a crowded waiting room and approached the desk. 
 
The Receptionist said, 'Yes sir, what are you seeing the Doctor for today?' 
 
'There's something wrong with my dick', he replied. 
 
The receptionist became irritated and said, 'You shouldn't come into a crowded waiting room and say things like that. ' 
 
'Why not, you asked me what was wrong and I told you,' he said.
 
The Receptionist replied; 'Now you've caused some embarrassment in this room full of people. You should have said there is something wrong with your ear or something and discussed the problem further with the Doctor in private.' 
 
The man replied, 'You shouldn't ask people questions in a roomful of strangers, if the answer could embarrass anyone. The man walked out, waited several minutes, and then re-entered.
 
The Receptionist smiled smugly and asked, 'Yes??' 
 
'There's something wrong with my ear,' he stated.
 
The Receptionist nodded approvingly and smiled, knowing he had taken her advice.. 'And what is wrong with your ear, Sir?' 
 
'I can't piss out of it,' he replied. 
 
The waiting room erupted in laughter... 
 
Mess with seniors, and you're going to lose

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

 

A golfer was involved in a terrible car crash and was rushed to the hospital. Just before he was put under, the surgeon popped in to see him.
 
"I have some good news and some bad news," says the surgeon. "The bad news is that I have to remove your right arm!"
 
"Oh God no!" cries the man "My golfing is over!  Please Doc, what's the good news?"
 
"The good news is, I have another one to replace it with, but it's a woman's arm and I'll need your permission before I go ahead with the transplant."
 
"Go for it doc," says the man, "as long as I can play golf again."
 
The operation went well and a year later the man was out on the golf course when he bumped into the surgeon.
 
"Hi, how's the new arm?" asks the surgeon.

"Just great," says the businessman. "I'm playing the best golf of my life.  My new arm has a much finer touch and my putting has really improved."

"That's great," said the surgeon.
 
"Not only that," continued the golfer, "my handwriting has improved, I've learned how to sew my own clothes and I've even taken up painting landscapes in water-colours."
 
"That's unbelievable!" said the surgeon, "I'm so glad to hear the transplant was such a great success. Are you having any side effects?"
 
"Well, just two, said the golfer, "I have trouble parallel parking and every time I get an erection, I get a headache."

 

That's your lot - back to work!
 

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 20.8.17

Farewell then, Sir 'Brucie':   By and large the deaths of show biz 'stars' leaves me unmoved except, perhaps, for an automatic and human response of 'hope it was quick and not too painful'.  However, the death of Sir Bruce Forsyth did impinge on me slightly more than most, not least, I suppose, because he has dominated my TV set for most of my adult life.  It was not so much his talent that impressed me, after all, there have been very much better singers, dancers and comics than him over the years, but I think it was his unfailing good humour and the absence of vile vulgarity and vitriol that blemishes so many 'stars of stage and screen'.  Yes, given his three wives, each younger and better looking than the last indicates that he was "a very naughty boy" with the ladies but beyond that he seemed to be an exceedingly pleasant fella' and it came across in his good humoured performances on so many TV shows over the years.  So thanks, 'Brucie', you made me smile - a very rare occurrence!

 

How long will 'The Donald' go on?   I do realise that 'the Donald' has an armour-plated ego which simply deflects all incoming shot and shell.  In fact, his ego is of such proportions that that he is probably unaware of most of it.  In that, of course, he closely resembles 'HillBilly' who would have been an infinitely worse President than 'the Donald'.  Even so, sooner or later a lucky shot may get through and cause him to catch a realistic glimpse of the chaotic shambles that is his - and I use the word loosely - administration.  For God's sake, Donald, do get a grip!

 

But now, I almost feel pity for 'the Donald':   I didn't realise how far matters had deteriorated.  According to a piece at Zero Hedge, he has now trodden on MDA's dainty shoes.  As all you regulars know, MDA is My Darling Ann (Coulter), a lady whose pen, or keyboard, is far more mighty than a mere sword!  She is mightily pissed off with 'the Donald' for firing Steve Bannon, a man about whom I must admit, I know very little except that he was a boss at Breitbart, a news outlet I rarely read.  Anyway, MDA is spitting blood and nails so better watch out, Mr. President!

 

Maureen Dowd, inadvertently, gives the game away:   Of course, I have heard of Ms. Dowd but I have never followed her scribblings.  By chance today, I did and amongst a somewhat sentimental remembrance of her father and a generalised attack on Donald Trump, she confirmed a suspicion of mine.  Obviously, as a pious Leftie she complained about the rise and rise of what she would call the 'alt-Right'.  In the course of it she recalls: 

The next day [after Obama's inauguration], I roused my reluctant houseguests for a dawn trip to the Lincoln Memorial, with croissants and Champagne, to celebrate the spectacular odyssey from Lincoln to Obama.

But we were naïve. We should have known it would not be that easy. There were ugly things rumbling beneath the surface and, fueled by that bigotry, Democratic incompetence [my emphasis] and Republican longing for a conservative Supreme Court, Donald Trump found a narrow portal to crawl through to get to the Oval Office.

In the end, of course, we must leave it to the historians to sort out the whys and wherefores of how the USA has sunk to its present fractured state.  However, I have increasingly suspected that Obama has much to answer for.  He, the first black President, arrived promising all that 'hope 'n' change' stuff but all he did was build up false black expectations and drive whites into the arms of the KKK.

 

Oh, what a disappointment:   I checked the A&L Daily site to see if there was anything of interest and, lo, there was an article on Friedrich Hayek, a philosopher for whom I have an enormous admiration but haven't actually read for yonks.  I clicked on and then realised that the host site was The Guardian - 'oh, the horror, the horror'!  Needless to say, the writer was some 'Noo Yawk' Leftie so "I made my excuses and left"!

 

But, oh, what a treat!   There's always something good to chew on at the A&L Daily site, so after skipping 'The Graun's' pathetic attack on Hayek, I found an article from The Chronicle of Higher Education (no less!) in which the writer, obviously a psychopath of some sort, took a hammer and chisel and dismembered that old fraud, Freud!  Yes indeed, the psychobabblers' psychobabbler of choice, Sigmund Freud.  What a creepy, old crook he was!  And what good news to learn that psychoanalysts are a dying breed!

 

They're not awfully bright, are they?   I have not conducted a forensic examination of the tactics and/or strategy deployed by Islamic terrorists but one characteristic leaps out - they're mostly as thick as a stack of planks!  They go to all that trouble just to kill a handful of people - including themselves!  Of course, it is a monstrous tragedy for the innocents involved but where is the geo-political advance that presumably the perps sought?  All one can hope is that all those virgins were worth it, although one has to wonder why they're still virgins - yeeeeees, quite!

 

No more Rumbles today

 

 

 

On approaching a dog pile the best tactic is to step round it!

Whilst I draw a line, admittedly a somewhat wavy line, on too much outright swearing, by and large I am content to let my commenters tell it the way they see it.  However, in recent days we have been plagued by a 'mental mosquito' in the 'Comments' and it is obviously irritating some of you so I have a suggestion.

Just ignore him!  

Don't reply, don't acknowledge, don't re-act - just ignore him.  

There is a tiny chance that he just might bore himself as much as he bores the rest of us and then he will realise that he is wasting his time.

Exit: a Fool. Enter: another Fool

It's almost beyond belief!  The governing board of The Globe Theatre at least had the decency, well after 'the bleedin' obvious' had occurred, to rid themselves of the ignorant dimwit they had appointed to be their, er, 'Artistic Director', a woman who owned up to the fact that she would rather listen to The Archers than plough through some of Shakespeare's texts.  Now, with bovine stupidity, they have appointed another woman whose choice of play to open the new season is one that suggests Emilia Lanier née Bassano wrote some of Shakespeare's plays.  Oh God, my head is hurting!

The new, er, Artistic Director of the Globe is Ms. Michelle Terry.  According to The Telegraph, whilst she will stop the use of amplified sound and special lighting rigs, she will continue the policy of a 50:50 gender split in casting and insists that she will be "gender blind, race blind and disability blind".  In my old age there are few great pleasures left to enjoy but visiting The Globe used to be one of them.  It was like entering a time machine and whizzing back 400-odd years.  Alas, today only one production would induce me to return and that would be the execution, one by miserable one, of the entire governing board, all of whom would have difficulty directing traffic in a one-way street.

 

 

This post is written through gritted teeth!

Yes, OK, not quite the right metaphor but you know what I mean!  You see I am writing in praise of one of the products of my old, ex-best friend, 'Rupe', who amongst his myriad activities produces The Times of London which, of course, I never read.  Actually, "to tell truth and shame the devil", I do read one bit of it because a neighbourhood friend provides me with the Saturday Arts Review.  Occasionally it is interesting but last Saturday's was outstanding.  Amongst the book reviews was one on Botanical Shakespeare: An Illustrated Compedium by Gerit Quealy, illustrated (beautifully) by Sumie Hasegawa-Collins.  Apparently, the book combs through, or perhaps rakes through, Shakespeare's works for the very many botanical references he made.

For women are as roses, whose fair flower

Being once displayed doth fall that very hour                                    

No wonder he made sure to leave the missus back in Stratford!

Next up was a review of a book by Clair Wills called Lovers & Strangers: An Immigrant History of Post-War Britain.  The main point she makes, apparently, is that like so many major policy decisions taken in this 'our septic Isle', the open door policy for immigration was almost entirely accidental, or at least, the ramifications were never thought through.

This was followed by a review of a book by Benjamin Wooley called The King's Assassin: The Fatal Affair of George Villiers and James I.  The author posits the notion that George Villiers (aka: the Duke of Buckingham) poisoned King James partly in order to curry favour with his likely successor, Charles I.  The reviewer remains unconvinced but reckons it's a jolly good yarn.

Then we have a warning to Israel - and supporters of Israel, amongst whom I count myself.  How Long Will Israel Survive is the title of the book and is a question that has been asked since Israel was formed but the sub-title is more subtle: The Threat From Within.  Written by Greg Carlstrom it warns that the ever-increasing power of the Israeli Right is posing a real threat to the country.  The reviewer, David Aaronovich, is more sceptical and suggests that "Israel will just slowly become more divided and more disappointing."

Finally, a fascinating review of a book that details a huge missed opportunity when the German state had Adolph Hitler, so to speak, by his 'one ball' and then dropped it!  The Trial of Adolph Hitler: The Beer Hall Putsch and the Rise of Nazi Germany by David King.  They could have 'banged him away' for years but the maniac was set loose before the end of the year and we all know what happened after that!

All of that, of course, means that I have several more books to add to my Xmas Wish List so I hope 'SoD' has plenty of money!

 

 

More from 'A Shropshire Lad' by A. E. Housman

I am still Chief Cook & Bottle Washer and this morning I must be off to the supermarket - such fun!  Here is another of A. E. Housman's poems from 'A Shropshire Lad' to give you pause until I return:

This time of year a twelvemonth past,
When Fred and I would meet,
We needs must jangle, till at last
We fought and I was beat.

So then the summer fields about,
Till rainy days began,
Rose Harland on her Sundays out
Walked with the better man.

The better man she walks with still,
Though now 'tis not with Fred:
A lad that lives and has his will
Is worth a dozen dead.

Fred keeps the house all kinds of weather,
And clay's the house he keeps;
When Rose and I walk out together
Stock-still lies Fred and sleeps.

 

 

Rat Finks of the Year, nay, the Decade

  

Let me be clear from the outset that I do not consider the late Anne Frank to be a saint.  For a start she was a human being and therefore, by definition, not perfect.  However, she has become a perfect symbol, an utterly tragic symbol standing for millions of people, mostly Jews, who suffered her fate.  By the 'accident' of her diary, she remains in our consciousness as a symbol because it is simply impossible to feel connected personally to the millions of human beings who were her fellow sufferers.  Her diary told just one story of just one girl who had all her hopes before her until a vile madness extinguished her like an insect under a Nazi jackboot.

And all of that brings me to my chosen 'Rat Finks of the Decade', Messrs.  Steven Goldstein and the moneybag who supports him, Peter Rapaport.  Between them, these two have taken over what used to be known as the Anne Frank Center USA and which is now, tellingly, called the Anne Frank Center for Mutual Respect and Understanding - yeeeees, quite!  According to Emma Green at The Atlantic, this new version has nothing to do with its predecessor which has existed quietly for years, concentrating mainly on education related to Anne Frank and the holocaust that killed her.  Its tiny staff of nine people have been, er, despatched and replaced with Left-wing agitators.

Mainly because the name of the symbol for the organisation is instantly recognisable and carries due weight, particularly for the media which is always eager for a story, they have been able to use it to launch virulent attacks on Donald Trump and his cohorts.  As Ms. Green puts it:

On the other hand, the newly reinvented center is using Anne Frank’s name for moral credibility and historical authority, which many news organizations have taken at face value over the last several months. It’s also associating Anne Frank with specific political statements—ones that are stridently partisan.

What can one say, except 'pass the sickbag!'

 

I hate 'hate speech' but I would protect it

I have lost count of the number of different people during my lifetime who have expressed their hatred for England and the English.  In fact, there have been so many of them that it has become 'boring-snoring' tedious.  What can one say in response beyond, "There, there, dear, calm down and have a nice cup of tea!"  It's no good arguing with them.  Generally speaking, people with hatred in their hearts are beyond debate, let alone persuasion.

Even so, and whilst taking their warnings seriously, I would defend their right to express their hatred.  However, if in their speech or writing they suggest practical and harmful actions to give reality to their words, then instantly the situation has changed.  For example, 'I hate all Tories/Socialists/Muslims/Blacks/Arsenal supporters' (delete as necessary or add more according to taste) is unpleasant but should not be unlawful.  It's only when they start to put their hatred into practice that I would shoot them, or get one of our soldiers to shoot them, or ask my local constable to take them into custody and then 'bang them up' for a few years.

It is not the business of governments to insist that we must love each other, any more than it is their duty to stop us from expressing our detestation of certain people - although a case can be made for charging anyone who does so deliberately in an environment likely to produce a breach of the peace.  One thing is for sure, anyone imbued with the rancour of hatred will not cease to hate if you stop their right to free speech.

 

Ignorance is not bliss, it's a bloody nuisance!

Today, I am reminded, marks the official partition of what had once been India into two separate, independent nations, India and Pakistan.  What do I know of the details?  Virtually nothing!  Well, as it is generally reckoned to mark the end of the British empire, it's hardly surprising that they were not too keen to concentrate on it at school.  Needless to say, that old curse, religion, had much to do with it but I suspect ambition and greed by the politicians played their part - along with stupidity.

Anyway, I am determined to find out more.  A quick glance at Wiki on the subject indicates that any decent history of the subject will weigh even more than my copy of Lord Salisbury's biography, so I might have to go in for some more physical training!  I have a vague feeling that everyone blamed Mountbatten for the disaster which possibly resulted in up to 2 million deaths.  I could be wrong but I suspect that the likes of Nehru and Muhammad Ali Jinnah played their parts.  Anyway, I need to find a respectable history of the event so if any of you 'brainiacs' out there can offer me some suggestions I will be duly grateful.

 

Please give generously

I am instituting the PPG Preservation Fund in honour of the funniest contributor to this blog in its 12-year history.  Back in the day, D&N used to attract a fair number of shouty, sweary, Leftie loonies but as their constant barrages failed to inflict even a dent they gradually fell away - or perhaps they grew up.  Anyway, in more recent times we have had some thoughtful contributions from the Left of centre which I welcome because after 78 years of listening to my own voice a change is a relief.

However, it is only in the last few weeks that we have attracted a true genius down to earth from the enormous intellectual plinth on which he stands.  I refer, of course, to Pompous PeterG (PPG) who, if he has failed to achieve fame as a, er, "materials scientist", then at least he has found his niche here at D&N where his keen intellect reduces us all to helpless giggles.

Two posts down I wrote about a bad tempered German MP who was complaining that all the waiters in Berlin spoke English not German.  Barely pausing for the fanfare that he usually expects, up popped PPG with this comment:

The waiters, of course, are speaking American. There's no particular reason for them to learn English. Let's not pretend the tail is wagging the dog.

Oh my giddy aunt, stop it, PPG, you're splitting my sides with laughter!  Since the opening post of this blog in February 2005 I really can't remember a comment as crass and hilarious as that one.  Therefor, it is imperative that we remain polite, even unctuous, towards PPG - well, he does expect a bit of forehead knuckling when you speak to him - in order to keep him here where he adds so much to 'the gaiety of nations'.  In fact, I wish to go one step further and design and build a suitable statue as  a reminder of his presence.  Any ideas of what form this statue should take will be welcomed.  Please give generously to the PPG Preservation Fund.

 

 

Tom, darling, I'm really, really sorry!

OK, let me 'fess up, I have not seen all, or even most, of Tom Cruise's films.  I think the last one was his ludicrous attempt to play the part of Jack Reacher, a 6'-6" rock of a man which was never going to be easy for a chap who only looks about 5'-6" tall!  Also, I must confess that his performances rarely reached into the depths of the characters he was portraying, possibly because, as action films they rarely required it.  One exception to the rule was his role as a hitman in Collateral where he achieved real menace.

Having been well and truly bitchy, now let me eat humble pie because he has just hit the headlines - and the side of a building - whilst undertaking a stunt.

Tom Cruise misses his landing during a stunt for the latest Mission: Impossible film Credit: MEGA

According to The Telegraph which has a gallery of photos, Mr. Cruise undertakes most of his own stunts and several times he has come exceedingly close to death or injury.  A very brave man and I salute him.

 

'Kellner, da ist eine Fliege in meiner Suppe!'

'Gott im Himmel! What do you mean, you only speak English?' 

Thus shouted, well, I assume he shouted because they tend to be a bit 'shouty', those Germans, Herr Jens Spahn, a German MP and a man considered to be in the running to take over from 'Mutti' Merkel.  He was schockiert, I tell you, schockiert, to discover that most of the waiters in Berlin only speak English!  Rumour has it that that when he asked one for das Sauerkraut the waiter told him that all Krauts were a bit sour!

To be serious - no, really! - Herr Spahn is exceedingly cross that English seems to be taking over as the everyday language in Germany.  He urges the authorities to follow the French example and use the power of the state to ensure that German is the prime language in all areas of German life.  And, unsurprisingly, he has some support from 'Junck the Drunk' and the other apparatchiks in Brussels who are threatening to remove English as an official language in the EU after Brexit.

As that comedienne used to say on the 'telly', "Am I bovvered?"  'Nein', is my response!

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2017/08/14/would-never-find-lunacy-paris-german-politician-attacks-english/

 

Your Monday Funnies: 14.8.17

Here are your Monday Funnies, bright and early for a change!

Two old ad guys, one 70 and one 75, were sitting on a park bench one
morning.  The 75-year-old had just finished his morning jog and wasn't even short of breath.
 
The 70-year-old was amazed at the guy's stamina and asked him what he did to have so much energy.  The 75-year-old said, "Well, I eat rye bread every day. It keeps your energy level high and you'll have great stamina with the ladies."
 
So, on the way home the 70-year-old stopped at the bakery.
 
As he was looking around, the sales lady asked if he needed any help.

He said, "Do you have any rye bread?"

She said, "Yes, there's a whole shelf of it. Would you like some?"

He said, "I want five loaves."

She said, "My goodness, five loaves! By the time you get to the 3rd loaf,
it'll be hard."

He replied, "I can't believe everybody knows about this shit but me.

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

 

How to Tell the Sex of a Fly:
 
 
A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking around with a fly swatter
 
'What are you doing?' she asked.
 
'Hunting flies' he responded.
 
'Oh! Killed any?' she asked.
 
'Yep, 3 males, 2 Females,' he replied.
 
Intrigued, she asked, 'How can you tell them apart?'
 
He responded, '3 were on a beer can, 2 were on the phone.'

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

 

 

 

This is Alvaro Alfonso de Miranda Neto, a professional golfer:

He was married to this woman.

Her name is Cibele Dorsa.

She is a Brazilian swimsuit, Victoria 's Secret, and Playboy model.

He divorced her because he fell in love with this woman:

These two are very happily married right now.

Some people argue that love is blind.

This story clearly proves it...

It proves that men are capable of real love;

truly seeing a persons inner beauty,

not basing their decisions solely on looks.

Oh, by the way... the new girl is Athina Onassis.

 

She's worth 12 billion dollars. 

 Kinda brings a tear to the eye, doesn't it?

 

Old Chinese Proverb 

 

Confucius say, "If you are in a book store and cannot find the book for which you search, you are obviously in the....

.

 

I hope Mogg mugs Parris

Yes, I know, another of my incomprehensible titles but I like to think of them as your cryptic puzzle corner!  I refer to Mr. Jacob Rees-Mogg MP, a young(ish) gentleman of the old order, who makes most MPs look and sound like the semi-educated yobbos they are at heart.  My other reference is to Matthew Parris, a former Tory MP and now a regular scribbler for The Times and The Spectator.  Until a few weeks ago I rather admired Parris but then he wrote a stupid and snobbish article insulting Brexiteers and implying that only well-read, knowledgeable 'experts' like him could understand the complexities of leaving the Berlin-Brussels axis. 

Yesterday, in The Times, he had a go at Rees-Mogg accusing him of nursing ambitions to become the next leader of the Conservative party - yes, I know, shockin', shockin', fancy an MP wanting eventually to lead his party - whodathunkit?!  Anyway, after sniffing his smelling salts, Mr. Parris recovered from his trauma and warned us all that if it happened it would be the end of the Tory party as we know it - so not all bad then!  Especially if it puts the brakes on Theresa May's lurch to the Left which nearly lost her the last election.  

Of course, I suspect that Mr. Parris's objection to Rees-Mogg is rather deeper than he lets on.  It is well-known that Rees-Mogg is a practicing Roman Catholic and his deeply conservative world-view is profoundly influenced by his Christianity.  It is, therefor, understandable that Mr. Parris, as a practicing homosexual, would not take kindly to a Rees-Mogg leadership.  As he puts it in his article:

"His (Rees-Mogg's) record on every moral, social, sexual, reproductive issue I've looked at is brute moral conservative."

Time to 'man-up', Mr. Parris, 'the times they are a-changin'', or at least, I hope they are!

 

That Andrew Roberts is testing my hernia 'op' to the limit!

With the sort of steadfast sense of duty that you would expect from me - er, you do expect it, don't you? - I am slowly but steadily advancing through the jungle of parliamentary Victoriana that is involved in Andrew Robert's biography of Lord Salisbury.  I should add quickly that it is not the reading which is proving to be hard work but the testing of my strength in actually lifting the bloody book up in order to read it!  I must say that his Lordship is growing in my estimation despite the fact that I haven't even reached his premiership yet!  I shall have more to say on him as I progress.

However, in the meantime, I have come across references to another biography by Andrew Roberts entitled Napoleon the Great.  That too, I gather, runs to over 900 pages so I am in two minds whether to buy the book or safeguard my hernia and buy it on my Kindle.  I hesitate because for obvious reasons there will need to be a plethora of maps involved and Kindle does not show these very well.  Also, I hesitate over the title - Napoleon the Great - because it all depends on exactly what he means by 'great'.  A 'great' trouble-maker, a 'great' slaughterer of Mankind, a monstrously 'great' egotist, yes, I would go along with that even as I reluctantly admit that he was also a very great soldier.  However, an out-and-out hagiography would irritate me immensely.

So I hesitate and appeal to any of you who might have read it to provide me with an opinion.  If I develop a second hernia I promise not to sue, er, unless you're very rich!

 

Late Last Night at The White House

Busy morning today so, courtesy of one the regulars, here is something to start you with a smile: 

 

 

 

 

 

Calizuela or is it Venelifornia?

I ask because rumour has it that California is determined to break from the Union and become an independent basket-case instead of a dependent one.  Either way it looks like: 

'Venezuela here we come,

Right back where we started from'!

 

According to Mr. Victor Davis Hanson writing at the NRO:

California — after raising its top income tax rate to 13.3 percent and receiving record revenues — is still facing a budget deficit of more than $1 billion. There is a much more foreboding state crisis of unfunded liabilities and pension obligations of nearly $1 trillion.

[...]

Illegal immigration over the last 30 years, the exodus of millions of middle-class Californians, and huge wealth concentrated in the L.A. basin and Silicon Valley have turned the state into a medieval manor of knights and peasants, with ever fewer in between.

Of course, the mega-rich in L.A. and Silicon Valley are mega-rich partly because they know how to dodge taxes and build tax-shelters!  Meanwhile, about a third of the USA's welfare recipients live in California, a fifth of the State population lives below the poverty line and more than a quarter of Californians were not born in the USA.  In addition, there are some historical precedents to be considered:

South Carolina started the Civil War by shelling and capturing federal property at Fort Sumter in Charleston Bay. Calexit wannabe secessionists similarly assume that thousands of square miles of federal property — from California federal courtrooms and post offices to national parks such as Yosemite to huge military bases such as Camp Pendleton — belong to the state and could simply be confiscated from the federal government.

Well, buddy, good luck with that one, particular with the 'Ginger Ninja' in the White House!

 

Me thinkee Chinkies velly stoopid!

Well, there's plenty of the 'stoopid' to go round as this North Korean farce approaches tragedy.  Oddly enough, the stupidity of 'Fat Boy Kim' is at least understandable given that he is surrounded by a bunch of nutters dressed as Generals but with so many medals pinned to them that they can barely walk:

As one witty commentator put it, you could defeat that lot with a magnet!  Even so, 'Fat Boy Kim' will be uneasily aware that anyone of those murderous loonies would be more than ready, willing and able to bump him off if it gives them a chance for the top job.

Then there is the 'stoopidity' of 'The Donald' who seems to be incapable of either speaking or tweeting without first engaging what passes for his brain.  The situation 'over there' appears to be that we must all rely on American Generals to gently lead 'The Donald' to the 'quiet room' whilst they try to work out a policy.  My faith in the intelligence of Generals, American or any other nationality come to that, is exceedingly limited.

Meanwhile, the 'Chinkie-chonks' who rather like to give off that air of quiet, inscrutable wisdom seem to have totally lost control of their own puppet - how dumb is that?  So now we seem to have a situation in which a loony puppet is pulling the strings of its own puppet-master!

What can I say, except 'stand by for incoming'!

ADDITIONAL:   That clever-clogs, Fraser Nelson, shows why he is editor of The Spectator and not me!  He suggests in The Telegraph that far from Trump being too belligerent, his team are letting it be known in Chinese circles that if 'Fat Boy Kim' pushes too hard the USA will simply pick up its toys and go home which would result in every neighbouring nation arming themselves to the teeth ready to take on North Korea.  Sounds a bit subtle to me but who knows?

 

 

Oh, simply too, too delicous!

Sometimes, just sometimes, a story comes along that lifts me from despair and cynicism and actually manages to stick a smile on my face.  I am deeply grateful to Ms. Monica Showalter at The American Thinker for undertaking this act of mercy to a grumpy, old man.  To be fair, I have virtually no opinion on Michelle Obama who, it seems to me from 'over here', seemed to occupy the background to her husband's presidency and concentrated on keeping an eagle eye on her daughters - and quite right, too.  However, once or twice she did push onto the main stage and one of her campaigns was on the subject of school meals.

Of course, it is quite right and proper for a government to ensure that the 'likkle kiddie-winkies' should not actually be fed rat-poison, although passing any school playing ground during a break might tempt you to the thought!  However, Mrs. Obama went further and insisted that school meals must be plain and healthy - and, of course, boring!  In fact, according to reports from the 'kiddie-winkies' concerned, they were more than boring, they were ghastly!  Mrs. Obama remained unmoved.

So today, there will be cheers and whoops from the urchins in the lower third forms because it transpires that:

David Binkle, a former chef who bit and clawed his way to the top of the Los Angeles Unified School District's $354-million food operation, running the Michelle Obama-ordained school lunch reform . . .

has been busted for corruption.

The food was so bad in Los Angeles that the students set up a black market in Flamin' Hot Cheetos as a substitute. His horrible operation gave us that evocative descriptor, "nasty rotty stuff," which got around.

Apparently he was over-paying contractors and taking back-handers.  Not, of course, the sort of thing that a formerly impoverished black community organiser from Chicago who is now a multi-zillionaire would dream of doing, dear me, no!

 

Look, just get that robot out of the cockpit!

Actually, because travelling almost anywhere has become a right, royal pain in the rectum, and because I no longer live under a flight path, I don't really care if the 'brainiacs' insist on having pilotless planes.  However, the chances of me travelling on one are somewhere between 0.0 and -0.1.  And yes, I do realise that a fairly large percentage of pilots like a drink or six, and frequently have a miserable love-life and because they are often married to former stewardesses - nudge-nudge, wink-wink! - they can never be absolutely sure what goes on when they fly to Australia but even so, 99% of them prefer to live than die!  Of course, you do get the odd loony who might dive your plane into the sea but - hey, shit happens!  I will take my chances with all of that but I will never, ever trust my life to a robot.

Lest you think me alarmist, allow me to remind you of all those clever, electronic gadgets you have either purchased or been given as a gift over the years.  What is their common trait?  Yes, they always bloody well go wrong and always just when you need them most!  If you doubt me - surely not! - just take a long, hard look at your computer-thingie and dwell on those moments when you were absolutely desperate to check something out and the bloody-bloody thing stops working.  If that happens in a plane I can just imagine the conversation with the other robot who mans the 'Helpline Desk'!

All of the above, of course, applies to driverless cars as well.  I'm telling you now, you are safer having a grumpy, short-tempered, old git like me behind the wheel than some vehicle which quietly and calmly informs you that you are heading for a wall at 90 mph so please call the Help Desk!

 

Carrot rewards for Canadian carrots!

Does no-one read George Orwell anymore?  Obviously not in Canada where several state governments have backed the idea of an app, called Carrot Rewards, that tells those very same governments of your decisions in a whole variety of matters normally thought of as private and personal.  As Ms. Josie Wales of the Foundation for Economic Freedom explains:

Carrot Rewards is free to download, and users receive 200 points just by downloading the app and answering a few questions (the answers don’t have to be correct). Sending an invitation code to friends will also gain users points, as the government is happy to track the daily activity of as many citizens as possible — which, by the way, the app can do even when it is not “active.” In order to use the app, users are giving Carrot Insights and the federal government permission to “access and collect information from your mobile device, including but not limited to, geo-location data, accelerometer/gyroscope data, your mobile device’s camera, microphone, contacts, calendar and Bluetooth connectivity in order to operate additional functionalities of the Services.”

They're not awfully bright in Canada, are they?  'Whodathunkit'?  Mind you, I suppose carrot rewards are the best things for donkeys!

 

'Micro' Macron takes a hit

This being August the news is really 'boring-snoring' which is not really a complaint because, 'as any fule do no', living in exciting times is not always good for your health - ask any Venezuelan!  Even so, and whilst I have yet to form an opinion concerning 'Micro' Macron, the new President of France, I have enjoyed a quiet snigger as his popularity polls have begun to dive.  It's not that surprising given that the turn out in France at the election was exceedingly low as the French public sat on their hands.

Also, he came into office promising a major shake-up in several areas of French public life including the trade union dominated area of labour law.  What can one say except 'bon chance' with that one, 'mon ami!  Alas, now 'les cochons' are kicking up a stink against his mother, ooops, sorry, I mean his wife - well she is a tad older than him, 24 years older to be exact - because he wants her to be instated as First Lady.  Apparently, the French are not impressed because a First Lady office costs a small fortune - whodathunkit?  Anyway, here she is with another First Lady and I know which one I prefer:

Does anyone know the Slovenian for 'Let me take you away from all this and that horrid man, my darling, and yes, your mother can come to if you insist'?

 

 

 

Minnesota here I come!

I'm sorry, Arkansas, I just 'luuuurve' your mountains and lakes, and judging by our regular 'Arkie' visitor, your eccentricity grades are pretty damn high, too - so what's not to love?  However, when I next honour the USA with a visit - sorry, did you say something? - I think it will be Minnesota that will be top of my list.

On the face of it, that's a really daft decision because as far as I can tell it's as flat as a witch's tit, frozen solid and it rarely stops snowing.  And I hate the cold!  But it's the 'peeps' I have fallen for.  I don't think I have ever come across a bigger collection eccentrics, loonies and odd-balls outside the monkey cages at London zoo.  Er, I should add, as a friendly warning, that many of them appear to be psychotic killers so visitors need to have a care!

All of this expert knowledge - look, will you stop sniggering! - has come to me via the good offices of the 'Coen Brothers' and their superb TV series called 'Fargo'.  I saw the original film and the various TV series which have followed.  I have just begun watching the 2017 series which is terrific.  I am delighted to report that the leading villain is played superbly by the English actor David Thewlis.  It is shockingly brutal - but makes you laugh even as you feel guilty for doing so.  Most of the characters are thicker than a stack of planks but, as in many of the Coen Brothers' films, there is usually a policeman - or more usually, a policewoman - who gradually works her way through to the truth.

I'm not sure if there is a box-set of the Fargo series but if there is - buy it!  In fact, watching it via a box-set, or like me from a series of recordings, is the only way because the story-line and the cast of characters grows before your eyes and if you have to wait a week between episodes you will get lost.

 

Your Monday Funnies: 7.8.17

And after yesterday's heavy weight 'slugfest' we could all do with a chuckle or two!  Unfortunately the first one is written in 'New Zealandese' so it needs to be read with care.  Do I detect a whiff of rivalry between our Aussie and Kiwi friends - who knew?

John Keys, Prime Minister of New Zulland, is awoken at 4am by the telephone.

John, its the Hilth Munister here. Sorry to bother you at this hour but there is an emergincy !!  I've jist received word thet the Durex factory en Aucklind hes burned to the ground. It is istimated that the entire New Zulland supply of condoms will be gone by the ind of the week."

PM: "Shut !! The economy wull niver be able to cope with all those unwanted babies. W'e will be ruined."

Hilth Munister: "We're going to haf to shup some in from Brutain ?"

PM: "No chence. The Poms will have a field day on thus one."

Hilth Munister: "What about Australia ?"

PM: "I'll call the Aussies. Tell them we need one million condoms, ten enches long and four enches thuck.  That way they'll continue to respect the 'All Blacks'."

Three days later, a delighted John rushes out to open the boxes that arrived at the Pist Office.

He finds one million condoms - 10 enches long, 4 enches thuck,
all coloured green and gold with small writing on each one.

"MADE IN AUSTRALIA - SIZE: MEDIUM"

Ozzie Ozzie Ozzie Oi Oi Oi

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

 

Logic of Man
 
After 10 years, the wife starts to think their child looks a little odd, so
she decides to do a DNA test. She finds out that the kid is actually from
completely different parents.
 
Wife: Honey, I have something very serious to tell you.
 
Husband: What's up?
 
Wife: According to DNA test results, this is not our kid.
 
Husband: Well, don't you remember? When we were leaving the hospital, you
saw the baby had pooped his diaper. Then you said: ‘Please go change the baby, I'll wait for you here.’ So I went inside, got a clean one and left the messy one there.

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

 

A guy comes home completely drunk one night. He lurches through the door and is met by his scowling wife, who is most definitely not happy.

"Where the hell have you been all night?" she demands.

"At this new bar," he says. "The Golden Saloon. Everything there is golden. It's got huge golden doors, a golden floor and even the urinal's gold!"

The wife still doesn't believe his story, and the next day checks the phone book, finding a place across town called the Golden Saloon. She calls up the place to check her husband's story.

"Is this the Golden Saloon?" she asks when the bartender answers the phone.

"Yes it is," bartender answers.

"Do you have huge golden doors?"

"Sure do."

"Do you have golden floors?"

"Most certainly do."

"What about golden urinals?" 

There's a long pause, then the woman hears the bartender yelling, "Hey, Duke, I think I got a lead on the guy who pissed in your saxophone last night!"

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

 

I bet that mega-swot Godel that 'SoD' keeps banging on about would never have thought of these!

 

If you attempt to rob a bank you won't have any trouble with

rent/food bills for the next 10 years, whether or not you are successful.

 

What if my dog only brings back my ball because he thinks I like
throwing it?

 

If poison expires, is it more poisonous or is it no longer poisonous?

 

Which letter is silent in the word "Scent," the S or the C?

 

The letter W, in English, is called double U. Shouldn't it be called
double V?

 

Maybe oxygen is slowly killing you and It just takes 75-100 years to
fully work.

 

The word "swims" upside-down is still "swims".

 

Intentionally losing a game of rock, paper, scissors is just as hard

as trying to win.

 

100 years ago everyone owned a horse and only the rich had cars.

 

Today everyone has cars and only the rich own horses.

 

Your future self is watching you right now through memories.

 

The doctors that told Stephen Hawking he had two years to live in

1953 are probably dead.

 

If you replace "W" with "T" in "What, Where and When", you get the

answer to each of them.

 

Many animals probably need spectacles, but nobody knows it.

 

If you rip a hole in a net, there are actually fewer holes in it

than there were before.

 

If 2/2/22 falls on a Tuesday, we'll just call it "2's Day".

(Save this until 2022 – because it does fall on a Tuesday!!)

 

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 6.8.17

Talking of Mr. Roberts ... that's Andrew Roberts, the historian ... which I was doing a couple of posts below, I am making slow but fairly steady progress with his biography of the late, great Lord Salisbury.  Given that it runs to 938 pages, weighs a ton and that I am recovering from a hernia operation, you will understand my tardiness!  My initial response to Salisbury's very early years in politics and journalism is that he makes every modern, so-called conservative look positively anarchistic.  Perhaps the main characteristic that shines, or perhaps glares, through his early writings is his vituperative fury aimed at anyone of any party who failed to live up to his ideals of High Church and High Toryism.  He even makes the late Auberon Waugh look like a bit of a wuss!

 

Are the Dems beginning to realise their mistakes?   I ask because whilst the majority of them continue to shriek and whine like banshees against Trump, there are a few quiet, still voices suggesting that their demented harangues are doing them more harm than good.

Politico has this to say:

Democrats are increasingly conflicted about how forcefully to press the issue of possible collusion between the Trump campaign and Russia.

Fearful of alienating voters who appear more concerned about the economy and health care, Democrats campaigning in districts across the country are de-emphasizing Russia in their rhetoric — and some are warning that a persistent focus on the Russia investigation could backfire.

As seen, and heard, from 'over here', their hysteria is hardly impressive!

 

Never play cards with an Aussie!   No, no, no, I don't mean that they would cheat at poker, I wouldn't dream of suggesting such a thing, especially as every Aussie I ever met was roughly twice my size!  No, I am referring to what are called 'smart cards' which, apparently, are built into several Australian temperature recording stations.  They have been programmed to 'disappear' any cold readings that do not comply with what the 'Warmer' fanatics in their Weather Bureau think is proper and which might cast doubt on their insistence that the globe is warming dangerously.  Read all about it!  Why does the phrase 'lying liars' occur to me?

 

Have a sick bag handy:   I have no views on Usain Bolt, the sprinter, because I gave up following athletics decades ago when it became clear that it was a farrago in which the 'sport' was reduced to whether or not our drug cheat can beat your drug cheat.  The fact that there probably were some totally clean athletes taking part only sickened me the more.  Anyway, yesterday we witnessed a two-times drug cheat, Justin Gatlin, win a Gold Medal at the IAAF World Championship.  If Lord Seb Coe wasn't such an arse-licking, international jet-setter he would have resigned from the IAAF years ago.

 

Of course she's a woman, she can't make up her mind!   The Mirror has a story which at first reading you might assume came from its satirical humour section but, alas, it is all too true.  It concerns a lad called Brad who insisted he was female and at vast expense - er, that's mine and your expense! - was turned into a girl.  'She' then changed her mind and decided she was a boy after all and so - voila! - she was changed back and another few thousand quid was spent.  Quite where they found the necessary bits is not clear!  Now, he, she or it have decided that she is indeed a woman and so it's off to the medics yet again.  Accuracy warning!  To be honest this story has me confused so if you want to be sure of the facts go read The Mirror for yourself.  I gather he/she hails from Hull so if you find yourself 'ooooop north' and at a loose end, have a care!

 

Kamm's the man!   I have mentioned Oliver Kamm before on this blog because he was an enormous example to me in my very early days of blogging.  Back then he was a blogger but one of obviously very high intellectual ability.  Me, being me, had the temerity to cross swords with him because, alas and alack, he was a Labour party supporter.  Needless to say, I usually limped off wounded!  Anyway, his ferocious intellectual skills allied to a pellucid writing style soon came to the attention of The Times and today he is one of their leader writers and a columnist.  He has a piece at CAPX which like most of what he writes is well worth reading.

 

No more Rumbles today!

 

 

Mummy, my brain is hurting!

I knew it would but I just couldn't help myself!  You see, there was this programme on the 'telly' all about that bane of my life, Albert Einstein, and so I recorded it and have just finished watching it.  Dammit, why couldn't he keep his smart-arse ideas to himself instead of inflicting them on dummies like me?  I have already told you, many a time and oft', that I failed all my scientific O-level exams but that did nothing to diminish my fascination with Einstein and all those other 'brainiacs' which has caused me to purchase sundry books over the last 50-odd years and to watch TV programmes like the one I have just sat through.  The end result is always the same.  Part way through I detect a gleam of understanding but it is moving at the speed of light and in a nano-second it has gone leaving me with a headache!

Actually, at the very end of this particular programme, one of the 'brainiacs' dropped a tiny thought into the discussion which had never occurred to me before.  He pointed to the oddity that in the whole of this unbelievably vast - and expanding - universe, the inhabitants of one microscopically tiny speck of detritus, Mother Earth, has produced a quite incredible amount of knowledge and understanding of its complexities.  Where will it all end?  I have no idea but I do hope with neither a bang nor a whimper!

 

Just KBO, that's the spirit!

Andrew Roberts has a sensible piece in The Telegraph today in which he reminds us, and Theresa May, of Churchill's dictum during WWII, “We must just KBO.”  The initials stood for 'Keep Buggering On'!  Not, perhaps, Winnie's most famous or stirring or inspiring words but no doubt they touched a nerve in the British people at that most testing of times.  Roberts urges Mrs. May, and the Conservative party, to adopt the same spirit.  It is essential for them to keep together and 'keep buggering on' until the next election is due.

Apart from any other considerations, time is needed for the GBP (Great British Public) - dread words! - to realise the true horror of a Corbyn government.  All those prosperous 'Remoaners' who did their best to sabotage Brexit by voting Labour last time will have four years to face the certainty of a financial disaster if the likes of John McDonnell gets his hands on the nation's finances.  They might consider emigrating to Venezuela for an easier time!  Equally, the young dimwits who were well and truly conned by Labour's promises to wipe out their debts and make university education free might, just, have the intelligence not to believe 'Jezza' again.

Just hang in there, Mrs. May, and keep reminding the trouble-making prats who inhabit the seats behind you in Parliament and whose love for Berlin-Brussels exceeds their common-sense, that they will be the ones who will suffer most under a Corbyn comintern!

 

Sometimes burying your head in the sand is sensible

For some time now I have been aware of ominous signs - and please note the plural form. Each taken singularly would produce my usual shrug of the shoulders and a muttered, "What will be, will be".  After all, I have lived through sundry disasters which, whilst being a bloody nuisance at the time, eventually sank into the past and life went on.  Also, I must confess that being elderly and therefore lacking that natural swagger the young enjoy it may just be that I am feeling my frailty.  Even so, and allowing for the tricks that memory plays especially when you have decades of the damned things to remember, it seems to me that Shakespeare's line was exceedingly apt, "When troubles come, they come not single spies but in battalions".  Or to put it another way, for most of my life it was just one damn thing after another but today we might get the lot in one big hit!

Today I fear there is a gathering of various "troubles" any one of which could be disastrous but if they arrive all together the result could be cataclysmic.  The leader in this week's Spectator confirms my worst fears.  It seems obvious even to an economic illiterate like me that this government simply lacks the guts and even the knowledge to face up to the advancing financial tsunami.  I was no fan of George Osborne as Chancellor but he did make an effort to cut the eye-watering over-spend of his government with the eventual aim of reducing government borrowing.  He never achieved it but, dammit, he tried.  Today, it seems to me that they are making no efforts at all and because many of the big nations are in a similar fix then sooner or later, I suspect sooner, this gigantic 'Ponzi scheme' will collapse under its own weight of borrowing and wreak havoc.

Then there is America!  Since WWII it has been a bulwark in world affairs.  It's power might not always have been exercised wisely but by and large it was on the side of the angels and stood up to the powers of absolute evil.  But that was enabled because it had a functioning government.  Today, under Trump, the government of the USA is 'walking wounded' and, alas, many (but not all) of the wounds are self-inflicted.  Over at the NRO, 'The Kraut', with his usual wisdom, seeks to comfort us by suggesting that whilst Trump is a self-inflicted stress test, the fundamentals of the American constitution are, just, holding up under the strain.  I hope he's right but it seems to me from 'over here' that America is in turmoil and there is still nearly four years of it to go.  Not, I hasten to add, that 'the madness of King Trump' is the sole cause.  The Democrat party and their lickspittles in the media have, if possible, gone even madder!  Where will it end?  I don't know but I fear for America.

Needless to say, a divided and distracted America leaves the global playing field wide open to those nations eager to rule over it.  Increasingly China flexes its not inconsiderable muscles, followed by all the 'wannabe' bully boys like Russia, North Korea and Iran.  And yes, you're right, 'it's being so cheerful as keeps me so young!'  In the meantime, I must just finish digging that hole in the sand ready for my head!

 

 

Right, sit up and pay attention, children!

First of all, sorry about going a.w.o.l. yesterday.  The night before was terrible with me waking up virtually every hour on the hour for no good, or even bad, reason.  Consequently, I spent most of the day stumbling about in a daze in between dozing off in my armchair.  Happily, I slept like log last night and I sit before you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed - yeeeeees, quite!.

Also, I am rather excited - not a condition I often experience in my grumpy old-age - because I have just discovered a new word which I am going to teach you, well, I keep telling you that this blog is an 'edukashun'!  I came across it on the obit of one of our much loved 'luvvies', the late Robert Hardy, who, I began to suspect, lived in the back of my 'telly' because he appeared in just about everything for the last 50 years!  Anyway, he was fascinated with ancient warfare and was a member of the Battlefields Trust.  In particular, he loved the sport of archery in general but specialised in - wait for it! - bowyery!  Now, I have heard of 'fletching', the art and craft of making arrows but 'bowyery' is a new one on me.  It is the equally skilful craft of making bows which, given the shape and nature of a good bow, I would guess is exceedingly tricky.

There you are, children, and you will now spend the rest of the day trying to find a way of introducing the word 'bowyery' into conversation so that you can pretend to be a smart arse!

 

Better watch out, Donald, 'the Deval' is coming!

Having just received my promotion from 'Chief Cook and Bottler-Washer' to 24-hour Ward Nurse, I do not have a lot of time for blogging but I thought this news was worth reporting.  For lo, 'The Great O' has spoken and from his mountain eyrie in Hawaii, his almighty finger pointeth, and it pointeth at Deval Patrick!  Eh?  Who?  Well, yes, that was my instant re-action which merely serves to demonstrate - again - my ignorance of American politics.

 

Deval Laurdine Patrick is the former Governor of Massachusetts and sundry reports indicate that Obama favours him as the best to run for the Presidency in 2020.  An ultra fast skim-read of his Wiki page produced one or two good points from his history.  Alas, a news report indicates that Valerie Jarrett has said that a President Patrick is what “my heart desires.”  Oh no, say it ain't so - come back Donald, all is forgiven!

 

Oh no, say it ain't so, er, mate!

Did you catch my Aussie accent in the title?  Well, you should have because this is a shocking Aussie story.  You see, and I know you will find this hard to believe, but some Aussie climatologists have been caught out telling 'porkies'!  Sorry, for the benefit of my American readers "porkies" is short for 'porky pies' which in London slang means 'lies'.

Now normally, I would trust an Aussie, well, apart from cricket or who bought the last round and that sort of thing but these particular Aussies were climatologists working for the Bureau of Meteorology and, 'as any fule do no', meteorology is no longer a science but a world-wide religion in which temperatures are only ever permitted to rise and rise and rise again!

Happily, this new religion has a few stool-pigeons, er, actually in this case a meteorologist called Lance Pidgeon who spotted that some low temperature recordings suddenly disappeared but then re-appeared somewhat higher:

"Meteorologist Lance Pidgeon watched the 13 degrees Fahrenheit Goulburn recording from July 2 disappear from the bureau’s website. The temperature readings fluctuated briefly and then disappeared from the government’s website."
“The temperature dropped to minus 10 (13 degrees Fahrenheit), stayed there for some time and then it changed to minus 10.4 (14 degrees Fahrenheit) and then it disappeared,” Pidgeon said, adding that he notified scientist Jennifer Marohasy about the problem, who then brought the readings to the attention of the bureau."

This was reported to the one-eyed boss of the Australian Bureau who, after removing his glass eye and polishing it, insisted that it was all a mistake, a bit of kit had temporarily gone wrong, nothing to see here, move along!  However, it is by now a well known fact that under the First Commandment of the Church of Meteorology, all temperatures everywhere must show a steady rise!

I am obliged to The Daily Caller.