DUFF & NONSENSE!

Sorry, couldn't resist this

This image from The American Thinker  was produced by 'Gonzo Overkill', a very naughty boy who will, of course, be scalped for his trouble!

Also, I cannot resist this from David French at The National Review:

My favorite Elizabeth Warren story involves a cookbook. Warren, who was at that time posing as a trailblazing Cherokee, actually contributed recipes to a recipe book with the name, I kid you not, “Pow Wow Chow.” But here’s the best part of the story. She plagiarized some of the recipes. Yes indeed, her version of “pow wow chow” came directly from a famous French chef.

Feeling a bit low, a tad depressed? Then don't read this!

When talking of political, lying liars, as I was in the post just below, they don't come much bigger or more deceptive than Winston Churchill.  That man would have earned a fortune flogging second-hand Bentleys in Berkeley Square!  I am provoked to this harsh assessment, which I have nurtured for some time, by an excellent book on the all but forgotten campaign, or utter fiasco if you want to be accurate, that took place in Norway in 1940.  I confess to my own ignorance of the details although I knew in rough terms that it was a splendid British cock-up of the sort we do so awfully well which is probably why I have avoided the subject.  However, I am now reading Six Minutes in May by Nicholas Shakespeare which is roughly the equivalent of jumping in the fjord at Narvik  in mid-December!

Mr. Shakespeare (like his more famous namesake) tells it the way it was and it was "Dad's Army" writ large!  One suspects that 'Capt. Mainwaring' would have been marginally more competent than old 'Winnie'.  The British establishment, military and civilian, were utterly useless.  If it wasn't for the loss of life, you would fall about in helpless laughter!  How in hell Churchill managed to become prime minister after this farrago, I do not know, but apparently Mr. Shakespeare will tell me in due course - when I pluck up the courage to read further!

 

 

If 'HillBilly' is atrocious, 'Fauxcahontas' is a XXX-rated monstrosity

Senator Elizabeth 'Fauxcahontas' Warren is a politician and therefor a liar.  That accusation stands up to the test of logical infallibility because, 'as any fule do no', all politicians lie!  True, some lie more often than others, and some lie on minor details whilst others lie through their smiling teeth on serious matters.  'Fauxcahontas' just lies all the time about everything!  If she ever assures you that the sun is shining, take an umbrella!

Her most famous lie, of course, was to claim minority race status as a 'Cherokee descendent' in order to assist her effort to enter Harvard Law School.  By doing so, one might suppose, she stopped another and perhaps more convincing minority race applicant from gaining a place.  See, there's no-one like a white 'liberal' for keeping those 'uppity niggers' in their place!  At the time she was touted by the, er, 'distinguished' Harvard Law School as "their first woman of colour"!  What can one say except, "They should have gone to Specsavers!"

Having discovered how very useful lying is to an ambitious politician, Sen. 'Fauxcahontas' went on to produce a huge, rambling paper that claimed that medical costs were the main source of bankruptcies in the USA.  I will leave it to David French at The National Revue to lay out for you the dodgy stats that were used to support this claim.  He also reminds us that 'Fauxcahontas' was one of the leaders in setting up some monstrous bureaucratic behemoth called the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB) which the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit has recently struck down on the grounds that it is unconstitutional.  Why am I not surprised?

So, just like 'HillBilly', she is stupid and lazy and crooked.  If the Dems choose her to run in 2020 then 'The Donald' should be safe for another four years.

 

But I remember this one!

Unlike poor old George Orwell's classic book, '1984', which I discussed below, I can absolutely and definitely remember reading 'The Closing of the American Mind' by Harold Alan Bloom (see commentary for my silly mistake) and indeed, there is a copy of it within arm's reach to my left.  It must have been in the late '80s or early '90s and because, back then, I used to subscribe to the printed - yes, printed! - air-mailed, monthly edition of The American Spectator, I bet it was those rascals who urged me into buying it.

I am reminded of it by the admirable Arts & Letters Daily, again, which links to a site called The Point Mag in which there is an article on the subject of Alan Bloom and his famous book.  It was an education, in all senses because, of course, it was on the subject of American education, particularly at the highest level.  I could not now pass an examination on his text but it can be summarised roughly as suggesting that university education in the Arts at the highest level of universities 'over there' was rapidly becoming the equivalent of a dog-pile!  Catching, as I do from time to time, a brief picture of the top American universities, I would suggest that he was spot on!

Not, I hasten to add, that things are any better 'over here' where I gain the impression that quite bright, sixth formers leave school and trot off to university where they rapidly degenerate into oafish stupidity from which they never quite recover.  Quite literally, they seem unable to think their way out of a paper bag!  This is probably due to the quality of teaching they receive which, of course, emanates from lecturers who themselves have only recently passed through the 'dumb 'n' dumber' regime.  Neither Bloom then, or I now, have much to say on the quality of scientific education, all we can do is pray!

 

 

Thank God for swots

Well, I mean, what would I know if I didn't have an endless supply of swots to lean on?  Today provided a perfect example.  Everyone has read George Orwell's superb, dystopian novel '1984', er, you have, haven't you?  Well, actually, I thought I had but when I tried to remember exactly where and when I read it I couldn't actually remember and I certainly do not have a copy on my book shelves.  It's just one of those famous books, the essence of which is fairly well-known so it is easy to assume that you have read it.

Happily today, I came across a swot who, like the best of swots, actually made me think.  His name is Ben Judah, and yes, you're right, he's a Jewish swot so is probably worth reading carefully.  He has written an article for The American Interest entitled "Why I've had enough of George Orwell" which is pretty startling, the equivalent these days of saying 'Bollocks to the Bishop'!  His sub-heading reads: "Orwell is a terrible role-model for an age that needs more serious people honestly grappling with complexity."  Crikey, I thought, given the hero worship that attends Orwell, it's off to 'Room 101' for you, Citizen Judah!

One of his main complaints, however, is against Orwell's virulent anti-Semitism - 'hoonoo'?  I certainly did not know but then, as I have already confessed, I haven't even read '1984', let alone any of his other works.  I did know that in his younger days he was a colonial policeman in Burma which always struck me as an odd choice given his later reputation as a Left-leaning liberal.  However, Mr. Judah's main complaint is that Orwell has been placed upon a pedestal and is now beyond criticism.  This is not healthy, for his memorial reputation or for us his worshippers. 

Britain and America would benefit from reading a little less Orwell, and not just for the same reasons they would benefit from making fewer comparisons to the 1930s. Today, we need fewer morally zealous political writers on all sides—and more serious people that are honestly grappling with complexity.

Mr. Judah's correction is worth reading.

ADDITIONAL:  Sorry if the link failed to work.  I came to it via Arts & Letters Daily and it is about five down on the right hand column.

 

Right, pay attention, this is your Corporal speaking!

According to The Telegraph, war is about to break out - no, no, not with the usual suspects, I mean within HMG - as some new, young 'whipper-snapper', a favourite of 'St. Theresa of May', has been appointed as purse-keeper to the Ministry of Defence.  This coincides with the appointment of yet another 'whipper-snapper' as, God help us, Minister of Defence.  The former wishes to cut the defence budget, or at least, that part of it that goes to soldiers, sailors and airmen, and instead spend the money on boffins and techies and computer geeks.  The latter, no doubt urged on by his predecessor, Sir Michael Fallon, has re-acted with some anger to the prospect of even greater cuts to the military budget.  I imagine there is general apoplexy amongst the Chiefs of Staff, rather like a Michael Bateman cartoon with open mouths and flying monocles!

But who is right?

Alas, this particular ex-corporal hasn't a clue, however, I tend towards the direction of cyber warfare rather than boots on the ground - or on the decks, or in the cockpits!  I still feel the onset of a major headache when I contemplate those two hideously expensive aircraft carriers which float around with nothing much to do because they lack any aircraft - and if and when the Americans actually get round to delivering them, I wonder if they will accept an IOU by way of payment?  I think I do know the answer to that one!

Like everything else in this modern world, 'the times they are a-changing'.  To be brutally frank, I do not trust any of our senior officers from any of the services to actually think their way through to a credible notion of what future warfare will entail.  They seem never to have worked out why we were forced to surrender Singapore in 1942, let alone why our operations in Iraq and Afghanistan were a shambles!  Their message just seems to be, give us bigger and better and more expensive toys to go bang-bang with!

What they need is a really good ex-corporal!

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 27.11.17

And, no, I haven't been breaking into my Xmas crackers to find some jokes, these are a vintage selection of the very best - honestly!

Two guys were lying in their hospital beds waiting to go to theatre.
 
One asked the other: "What are you in for?"
 
He answered: "An endoscopy"
 
"What's that?" the first one asked.
 
"They put a tube down your throat into your stomach to check for ulcers and cancer. What are you in for?"
 
"A camera up my ass"
 
"Ah! That's a colonoscopy" said the first guy.
 
"No" said the other. "No it's a camera up my arse.  My wife caught me taking pictures of our next door neighbour sunbaking in the nude".

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FIVE RULES FOR MEN TO FOLLOW TO A HAPPY LIFE:
 
1. It's important to have a woman, who helps at home, who cooks from time to time, cleans up and has a job.
 
2. It's important to have a woman, who can make you Laugh.
 
3. It's important to have a woman whom you can trust and who doesn't lie to you.
 
4. It's important to have a woman who is good in bed and who likes to be with you.
 
5. It's very, very important that these four women do not know each other.

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Donald Trump has a heart attack and dies. He goes to Hell where the Devil is waiting for him.

"I don't know what to do," says the Devil. "You're on my list but I
have no room for you. But you definitely have to stay here, so I'll tell
you what I'm going to do. I've got three people here who weren't quite
as bad as you. I'll let one of them go, but you have to take their
place. I'll even let YOU decide who leaves."

Trump thought that sounded pretty good so he agreed.

The devil opened the first room. In it was Ted Kennedy and a large
pool of water. He kept diving in and surfacing empty handed over and
over and over, such was his fate in Hell.

"No!" Trump said. "I don't think so. I'm not a good swimmer it would
mess up my hair, and I don't think I could do that all day long."

The Devil led him to the next room. In it was Tony Blair with a
sledgehammer and a room full of rocks. All he did was swing that hammer, time after time after time.

"No! I've got this problem with my shoulder and my skin is fragile. I
would be in constant agony if all I could do was break rocks all day!"
commented Trump.

The Devil opened a third door. In it, Trump saw Bill Clinton lying
naked on the floor with his arms staked over his head and his legs
staked in spread-eagle pose. Bent over him was Monica Lewinsky, doing what she does best.

Trump looked at this in disbelief for a while and finally said, "Yeah,
I can handle this."

The Devil smiled and said, "Monica, you're free to go!"

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Retired Person's Perspective 
 
1. I'm not saying let's go kill all the stupid people. I'm just saying let's remove all the warning labels and let the problem work itself out. 
 
2. I changed my car horn to gunshot sounds. People move out of the way much faster now. 
 
3. You can tell a lot about a woman's mood just by her hands. If they are holding a gun, she's probably very unhappy. 
 
4. You know that tingly little feeling you get when you really like someone you've just met? That's common sense leaving your body. 
 
5. I don't like making plans for the day. Because then the word "premeditated" gets thrown around in the courtroom. 
 
6. I didn't make it to the gym today. That makes 1,500 days in a row. 
 
7. I decided to change calling the bathroom the John and renamed it the Jim. I feel so much better saying I went to the Jim this morning. 
 
8. Dear paranoid people who check behind shower curtains for murderers: If you find one, what's your plan? 
 
9. Everyone has a right to be stupid. Politicians just abuse the privilege. 

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A young girl started work in the village chemist shop. She was very shy about having to sell condoms to the public.  The owner was going on holiday for a couple of days and asked if she would be willing to run the shop on her own. She had to confide in him her worries about selling the contraceptives.

"Look," he said. "My regular customers don't ask for condoms, they'll ask for a 310 [small] a 320 [medium] or a 330 [large]. The word condom won't even be used.”

The first day was fine but on the second day a black guy came in to the shop, put out his hand and said "950."

The girl panicked. She phoned the owner on his mobile and told him of her predicament.

"Have a look and check if he has a yellow bucket hanging between his legs" her boss told her.

She peeped through the door and saw the yellow bucket hanging between his legs.

"Yes!" she said "He's got one hanging there!”

The boss said "Go back in and give him $9.50, he's the window cleaner.

That's it, stop giggling, the boss is coming!

 

What a day!

So, we had finished lunch in a lovely dining-room overlooking the beach and I warned my friends to expect a surprise.  I then walked out, crossed the road and went down onto the beach.  In the bitter chill there was still a crusting of frost everywhere and one of those cutting winds which make your eyes water.  Without hesitating, and ignoring the amazed expressions of the few people walking their dogs on the beach, I quickly stripped off down to my James Bond-style 'budgie-smugglers' and ran hard into the sea diving into the first big wave that approached  . . . er, then I woke up and realised I had dozed off in the exceedingly warm and comfortable hotel lounge!

'I am such stuff as dreams are made on', or should that be nightmares?

"Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside"

Especially when the frost is lying about 'deep and crisp and even'!  Alas, no Sunday Rumbles today because we are off to sunny Sidmouth even though conditions are arctic - well, 'arctic' for a soppy southern Englishman although your average Eskimo would think it was mid-Summer!  Still, it's a virtually cloud free sky and so the weedy, Winter sun will shine and Sidmouth will look lovely.

Not 'beautiful', you understand, because by and large English seaside towns don't 'do beautiful', but some of them charm with their ordinariness.  I particularly like Sidmouth because the drive there through the south Devon countryside is attractive and the town itself, though not an architectural gem, passed my rigorous 'tattoo test' some years ago when, in the height of Summer I only spotted one tattoo - 'nuff said, really!

We're lunching at a very pleasant seafront hotel with old friends.  Of course, I will ignore the frosty temperature and, after breaking the ice, I will take my usual pre-luncheon dip in the sea, well, in my dreams, perhaps.  Provided I don't have frostbite I may produce a few 'Rumbles' on my return.

 

La-La Land or Ga-Ga Land?

My title simply repeats the implied question contained in Brendan O'Neill's article in this week's 'Speccie' which opens with this description of the 'capital' of western America:

Los Angeles stinks. Not just of the usual things: sex, money, suntan oil, hipster food, surfer wax — odours that I like. There’s a new whiff in town, and it’s a bad one. Weed.

The smell of marijuana hangs over LA like an invisible menace. It’s an omnipresent fug. To walk from one end of a street to the other, whether it’s along the chaotic Hollywood Boulevard or the half-gentrified, half-terrifying Broadway in downtown LA, is to risk developing a skunk habit. I swear I almost got high popping out for a bottle of Dr Pepper.

Tell me it ain't so because I'm shocked, I tell you, shocked!  Apparently it is a result of the Californian government allowing the free use of cannabis for recreational use.  The result is that vast swaths of the city population waft along in a doped-out haze and the place stinks like a night club toilet!  Needless to say, the brain dead, psycho-sick 'over here' are agitating like mad to relax the cannabis rules.  If they succeed then the next time a bomb goes off in London they will turn to each other and say, hey, man, that was a hell of a trip!

 

What goes around comes around: #6,789,839

Or, to rephrase my title: 'Biters Bit their own Bums'.  I am obliged to a couple of American legal swots writing in The National Review for this delicious example of how 'smartie-pants' American Democrat politicians thought they were being so clever when, back in Jimmy Carter's day ('Oh the horror, the horror!'), they increased the number of Federal Courts of Appeal by a third which they then packed full of Democrat supporting judges.  Not satisfied with that, during the Bush Jnr. presidency, Sen. Chuck Schumer organised a wholesale campaign of filibustering in the Senate to block the appointment of any Bush appointees to the bench.  Of course, as soon as 'Ol' Big Ears' became president, Schumer executed a pirouette and forced through a ban on filibustering judicial appointments in the Senate.  The result is a preponderance of Democrat judges on the Federal Court of Appeals which is why so many of Trump's policies have been stymied.

However, now Schumer's not-so-clever device where-by the Senate can no longer filibuster Presidential appointments means that 'yuuuuuuge' numbers of Republican judges will be appointed.  In addition, it has become clear that the number of Appeals Courts and their judges are insufficient for the workload and this provides Trump with the opportunity to increase their numbers and pack them full of Republican judges.  So long as the Republicans can keep control of the Senate next year there is 's.f.a.' that Schumer and his stooges can do about it.

Simply too, too delicious!

 

Another of those mad, brave Poles

Honestly, I don't spend every day checking the DT obits to check whether I have a mention but I do check every so often because some people have had fascinating lives.  Today we bid farewell to Squadron Leader Franciszek Kornicki who despite all the dangers he faced as a fighter pilot during WWII managed to reach his century - good innings, Sir!  I thought it was appropriate to give him a mention given SoD's analysis in an earlier comment thread pointing out what terrific aerial warriors the Poles were during the war.

Dziękuję, dowódco eskadry which Google Translate assures me means 'Thank you, Squadron Leader'

 

Excuse me whilst I fulminate!

In one of my wilder mental vagaries I used to wonder if there was a factory in southern California where they actually manufactured all those long-legged, big-breasted, blonde bimbos for which there is an insatiable - and apparently 'insatiable' is the right word - demand in Hollywood.  I imagined huge vats filled with silicon being slowly and automatically stirred before being poured into life-sized moulds which were then activated by a 'yuuuuuge' charge of electricity so that the walking-talking products actually appeared to be almost human!

I am now beginning to have similar dreams - or perhaps 'nightmares' is more accurate - concerning the increasing number of totally stupid 'wimmin' who keep appearing in increasing numbers on the fringes of my life.  Is there, I ask myself, a factory somewhere on this 'septic Isle' which is churning them out in what appears to be their thousands?  Of course, I can hear you demanding some examples to illustrate my complaint, in which case, look no further than the Labour front bench in Parliament!  There you will see, and if you're really slow in using your 'TV-do-flicker-thingie' you may actually hear them, too - oh the horror, the horror!  Just think - Dianne Abbot or Emily Thornberry or Yvette Cooper - see what I mean?

Today, alas, The Mail introduces us to another example of the truly brain dead in the form of Ms. Sarah Hall.  Unlike most of the silly, old trouts on the Labour front bench, this lady is rather attractive:

She is a housewife and mother from 'oooooop north' - yeeeeeeees, quite! - and judging by her opinions something went badly wrong in the factory that produced her.  I will let her own words, as reported in The Mail, express her opinion:

A mother has demanded her six-year-old son's school bans Sleeping Beauty because the princess does not give consent to be kissed.
Sarah Hall, from Northumberland Park, North Shields, claimed the fairytale promotes an 'inappropriate sexual' message to young children. 

She argued the story is irresponsible because it teaches children it is acceptable to kiss women while they are asleep.

The mother of two said: 'I think it's a specific issue in the Sleeping Beauty story about sexual behaviour and consent.  'It's about saying is this still relevant, is it appropriate?'

Ms Hall is worried about what message the tale, which features a Prince waking up a Princess by kissing her, sends to impressionable youngsters.

How will Ms. Hall cope when her precious 'likkle kiddie-winkie' is introduced to Shakespeare?  All that rape and pillage and eating meat pies containing the flesh of your own children.  I fear for Ms. Hall's sanity, well, actually, I'm already worried about it!

 

So farewell then, Rodney Bewes

If you are one of my foreign readers then you will be relieved to know that this post will probably not mean very much to you, so you can relax!  Rodney Bewes, who has just died, was one of a duo of actors who appeared, with James Bolam, in a TV series called "The Likely Lads" and which proved to be so popular that a later series was produced called "Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?"  All this took place in the mid-'60s and early '70s but I remember them with great affection.  They were written by the brilliant duo Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais.  The series were written in that gentle, witty style which, like the even more famous "Dad's Army", produced its humour from the human nature and foibles of the characters rather than just gags.

Today, in fact day after day, I search the TV schedules diligently for something - anything! - to watch, particularly if it is likely to make me laugh.  And night after night I toss the TV schedule to one side and tell the 'Memsahib' that, guess what, there's nothing on but the usual 's.f.a.'!  So thank you Rodney Bewes for all the pleasure you provided, back in the day.

 

I say, it's gone awfully quiet . . .

I had nothing to say yesterday - waddya mean ya never noticed?  Not because I was overly busy, or because my computer-thingie was broken - although it is playing up a bit and, of course, my IT manager is away in Czechia trying to drink the place dry, but the fact is that there is not much happening in the world.  'Fat Boy Kim' has gone very quiet possibly because, at last, he is feeling the 'yuuuuuuge' weight of China pressing on him.  I keep picking up the odd item here and there in the media to the effect that China has stopped this, that or the other in its dealings with North Korea and so perhaps 'Fat Boy' has realised which side his noodles are buttered, er, if you catch my meaning!

The other news, or to be precise, lack of news is that emanating from 'The Trumpeter'.  I can't remember the last 'tweet' of his to reach the headlines.  Happily for him, or at least his PR people, the rabble of media 'honkers 'n' hooters' are totally focused on Hollywood and/or - and this is incredible - themselves!  'Hoonoo' that so many of those famous TV faces with their serious demeanour, smart suits and coiffed hair-styles whose words we depend upon for an analysis of current affairs were actually raving, drunken sex maniacs?  And then, of course, there are those peculiar, slimy and very smelly fish that swim in the foul waters of Washington and who have been exposed as suffering with terminal greed.

I look further abroad for signs of trouble  but even the Middle East seems to be in a catatonic state of shock after that young 'A-hab the A-rab' tipped the hitherto solidified state of Saudi Arabia on its head.  Oh, I'm sure there are many things going on below the surface but no-one seems to have a clue as to what they are let alone what the results will be.  Likewise, Europe is like a badly designed automaton whose clock is running down but still continues trudging round in circles because its German mechanic is otherwise occupied.

So, it's all very peaceful - which is ominous!  Still, at least it has (temporarily!) stopped me from droning on and on and on.   

 

Hoch, hoch, oh mein Gott, wot a bloomin' lot!

You see, as I keep reminding you, when it comes to really first-class, governmental cock-ups, we British lead the way and those damned Huns follow!  Thus, Mrs. May(be) calls an election and then fails to win it outright and straightaway 'Mutti' Merkel does the same thing.  Now it looks as though she will have to hold another election and the forecast for that is exceedingly 'Merky'!  Of course, the 'commentariat' are becoming very excited, not that they have a clue what the outcome will be but it gives them something to scribble about, er, rather like me, I suppose!

Of course, we Brits only care about another German election in so far as it effects Brexit which, I suspect, will not be much.  The majority of Germans recognise, dimly or otherwise, that their prosperity depends on them remaining part of the dirt-cheap,  euro currency which allows them to sell their Mercs and BMWs for 'loadsa' money round the world.  Of course, the euro is kept cheap on the backs of Mediterranean poverty but, hey, they get all that free sunshine so why should they complain?

In the meantime, the Berlin-Brussels juggernaut rumbles on crushing all before it, including us if we don't wake up and smell the coffee.  I have said it before, ad nauseum and ad tedium, that the likes of 'Junck the Drunk' and his cohorts desire only two things, to crush Brexit and then to crush us for our impudence in threatening their great Ponzi-scheme.  Mrs. May(be) is fooling her silly self if she thinks that by bunging them a few more quid will result in a fair and equitable deal.  It will not, no matter who replaces 'Mutti' Merkel.

 

 

Just slither off, Gerry, and don't come back!

Apparently - and I stress the word - that vile, terrorist killer, Gerry Adams, is going to retire and if you believe that you'll believe anything.  In which case you should read the wise words of Ms. Ruth Dudley Edwards in today's Mail because she has long been a shrewd observer of Irish politics in general and the IRA in particular.  Given that her family background was bound up in Irish Republicanism she knows where-of she writes.

As for Adams, he fits beautifully to the words Shakespeare put in the mouth of the Duke of Gloucester (later Richard III), "Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile".  And, boy, can he murder!  

Many years later Brendan Hughes, a former close comrade of Adams who became disillusioned with the IRA, was secretly interviewed for an American archive.

He alleged that Adams was involved in two incidents that year as a senior member of the IRA's Belfast Brigade, claims that Adams has always denied.
Hughes admitted to being an organiser of what became known as Bloody Friday, a day of horror in July 1972 when the IRA let off 26 bombs in different locations in and around Belfast in less than an hour-and-a-half. 
Nine people were killed including two British soldiers and five civilians, and 130 were injured, some of them horribly.

Adams and the other two senior figures who had agreed the plan bore as much responsibility as he did himself, said Hughes.

In December that year, there was the terrible death of Jean McConville. A 37-year-old widow with ten children, she had been suspected for no good reason of being an informer and was dragged from her maisonette in the Lower Falls Road – prised from the grip of her screaming six-year-old twins – by a pitiless female gang.

Hughes's allegations were corroborated by Dolours Price, an IRA volunteer, who had driven McConville to the scene of her death; she alleged that Adams was her 'Officer Commanding' when she was in the IRA, and the man responsible in 1973 for ordering her to be part of a team that bombed the Old Bailey and injured 200.

The only 'retirement' Adams deserves is a very long, very slow and excruciatingly painful death by cancer. 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 20.11.17

No, I haven't been pulling Xmas crackers early to nick the jokes but I am offering you a fine collection of (nearly) one-liners that will make you grin - or groan!  Beginning with that great Chinese comic, er, Confucious, actually: 

 
 Confucius Say:
 
 OK to let a fool kiss you, but not OK to let a kiss fool you.
 
 Kiss is merely shopping upstairs for real merchandise downstairs.
 
 Better to lose a lover than love a loser.
 
 Man with broken condom often called Daddy.
 
 Drunken man's words often sober man's thoughts.
 
 Marriage is same as bank account.  You put it in, you take it out, you lose interest.
 
 Viagra just like Disneyland ..... One hour wait for 2 - minute ride.
 
 Joke is just like sex.  Neither any good if you don't get it.

 Virginity like bubble on stream of life, one prick and it's gone forever..
 
 Man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day.
 
 Foolish man give wife grand piano, wise man give wife upright organ.
 
 Woman who scratch ass should not bite fingernails.
 
 War does not determine who is right, war determine who is left.
 
 Man who fight with wife all day get no piece at night.

 It take many nails to build crib, but one screw to fill it.
 
 Woman who stand on toilet is high on pot.
 
 Man who fish in other man's well often catch crabs.

 Crowded elevator smell different to midget.
 
 Man who wants pretty nurse, must be patient.
 
 Passionate kiss, like spider web, leads to undoing of fly.
 
 Man who leaps off cliff jumps to conclusion.
 
 "A lion will not cheat on his wife, but a Tiger Wood!"
 
 Finally  CONFUCIUS SAY . . . 
 Person who deletes this has no humour

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And now, a proper joke and please forgive the Aussie accent: 

Stanley, died in a fire and his body was burned pretty badly. The morgue
needed someone to identify the body, so they sent for his two best deer
hunting friends, Cooter and Gomer. The three men had always hunted and
fished together and were long time members of a hunting camp.
 
Cooter arrived first, and when the mortician pulled back the sheet, Cooter said, "Yup, his face is burned up pretty bad. You better roll him over." The mortician rolled him over and Cooter said, "Nope, ain't Stanley."
 
The mortician thought this was rather strange, So he brought Gomer in to
confirm the identity of the body. Gomer looked at the body and said, "Yup, he's pretty well burnt up. Roll him over."

The mortician rolled him over and Gomer said, "No, it ain't Stanley ."
The mortician asked, "How can you tell?"

Gomer said, “Well, Stanley had two arse-holes."

"What! He had two arse-holes?" asked the mortician.

"Yup, we never seen 'em, but everybody used to say, There's Stanley with them two arse-holes."
 
Cooter and Gomer are both now employed in the Federal Government. One is in Canberra as a Senator, and the other works as a private secretary for the Prime minister.

 

And one more because I'm feeling generous today:

 

Bob was staring sadly into his beer and sighing heavily.

“What’s up Bob?” asked the bartender…It’s not like you to be so down in the mouth.”

“It’s my five year old son…” the man replied. 

“Don’t tell me, he’s in trouble for fighting in school?  My lad’s just the same – forget about it, it happens to boys that age,” said the bartender.

“I only wish it was that,” continued the customer, “ but it’s far worse.
The little devil has got our gorgeous 18 year old next door neighbour pregnant.” 

“Get away, that’s impossible!” gasped the bartender.

“It’s not,”  said the man.  "The little bastard stuck a pin in all my condoms.”

 
Right, that's it, get back to work, I want some good production figures from all you wage slaves this week!

 

The Sunday Rumble: 19.11.17

Brace up!   Yes, I do realise that, like me, you have just stumbled out of bed and swallowed your toast as you shuffled round your kitchen in your 'jimjams' with a mug of tea clutched in your hand - oh, alright then, coffee, if you are American - and having slumped down before your computer, the very last thing you want to look at is this photograph, but 'Man Up!', you don't come to D&N for a good time, er, in fact, I'm not sure why anyone comes to this blog at all but that, perhaps, is a question for another day, in the meantime cast your eyes on this delicious photo:

Warms the cockles of your heart, doesn't it?  Sublime young love!

Now, for goodness sake, mop up the tea/coffee from your keyboard!

 

Zimbabwe: Out of the frying pan into the ovens!   So, that nasty mass-murderer and thief, Robert Mugabe, has, well, not so much been overthrown as politely shown the door.  And on the streets the mugs the people are celebrating which is a bit odd given that the man who is taking over is - wait for it! - another mass murderer and thief, Emerson Mnangagwa, who made his name (if you can call it that) by overseeing the slaughter of tens of thousands of Ndebeles in Matabeleland.  Well, good luck with that one, Zimbabwe!

 

"This most Marie Antoinettish of monarchs-in-waiting":   Ouch!  Now, if I was Prince Charles ("Which thank the Lord I'm not, sir!"), I might burst into tears at that cruel - but spot-on accurate - jest.  Thank heavens that Julie Burchill is unlikely ever to write anything about me!

Prince Charles wearing traditional Saudi uniform (image: Getty)

Alas, poor Charles, being an archetypal "straight-backed chinless wonder" (© John Osborne from Look Back in Anger) has earned a lashing from Ms. Burchill because one of his early letters has come to light in which he displays some vintage, one might almost say, 'rotting', anti-Semitism.  I will not attempt to paraphrase darling Julie - I wouldn't dare! - but do read her piece, it is the equivalent of one of those lashings that our Arab friends enjoy so much.

 

Pure, undiluted acid - delicious!   I just 'lurve' The National Review.  Normally it provides a serious commentary, mostly on American politics, but occasionally, perhaps provoked by the stinking swamp, they lose their 'cool' and just let rip!  Today, Mr. Kevin D. Williamson has had his muzzle removed and been let off the leash.  Alas, whilst he obviously has a deep and abiding detestation of Mr. Steven Mnuchin, who is Trump's Treasury Secretary, Mr. Williamson forgets his gentlemanly manners and stomps all over Ms. Louise Linton, Mr. Mnuchin's third wife who, whatever else she is, is gorgeous!

 As The Sun (We love it!) put it, it obviously shows that Mr. Mnuchin has a good eye for figures!  Anyway, I will leave you to check the link and enjoy Mr. Williamson's obliteration of the lady but as a taster, this is what he thinks of Mr. Mnuchin:

Mnuchin, formerly of Goldman Sachs, is pure Wall Street malignity in concentrated form, a guy who looks like he was born wearing a blue suit and braces. And that, in itself, is okay: A little Scrooge McDuck–style sphincter-clenching is kind of what you want in a Treasury secretary. But Mnuchin is not satisfied to be a pure example of one kind of awful: He has to adulterate his Wall Street awfulness with Hollywood awfulness. You’ll see his name in the credits of a few big-budget movies (including the recent Wonder Woman film and The LEGO Movie) and on a bunch of campaign-donation checks written to Barack Obama, Hillary Rodham Clinton, John Kerry, Al Gore, Kamala Harris, and other erstwhile friends of Wall Street. But movies are where his heart is.

Crikey!

 

Better watch out, the US Navy is about!   In view of the multiple collisions involving ships of the 7th Fleet - there have been five so far this year! - it is being proposed that all US ships must have a rowing boat in front of them carrying a sailor with a loud hailer!  According to Mr. Rick Moran at The American Thinker, the reason for this spate of collisions is not at all clear but I have a sneaking suspicion that our favourite American ex-matelot from deepest Arkansas may be a conduit for some of Barney Magroo's hooch produced 'up in them thar hills'.  Only a suspicion, mind!

 

 

No more Rumbles today

 

Lord who?

I refer, of course, to Lord Henry Petty-Fitzmaurice, 5th Marquess of Lansdowne whose great-great grandson, Mike Kelly, has a fascinating article in this week's 'Speccie'.  The late Lord Lansdowne appears to have been one of the few original thinkers in the British government during WWI.  He had served at various times as governor–general of Canada, viceroy of India, secretary of state for war, foreign secretary and Conservative leader of the House of Lords.  A pillar of the establishment, you might say.  And yet ... and yet ... in late 1917 he must have taken a long, cold, hard look at the state of the war raging in Europe because he came to the conclusion that a peace must be negotiated. 

He wrote a letter to The Telegraph, in effect, saying that enough was enough and that pursuing a total victory was simply not worth the expense of blood and treasure.

During the summer [1917], as the allies fought the Germans at Passchendaele and the politicians and generals fought among themselves, Lansdowne remained silent. But after Lenin and Trotsky seized power in Russia, the Italians suffered a major defeat at Caporetto and General Haig failed to maintain a stronghold at the Battle of Cambrai on 20 November, Lansdowne decided to act on his conviction in what became one of the most courageous moments of a long career built on independence and integrity in politics.

The result of that act of intellectual and moral courage, of course, was instant dismissal, not just from the government but from the entire establishment.  This ex-Corporal is not qualified to say whether he was right or wrong but at least there was someone who did not keep repeating the old and deadly mantra, "Just crack on!"

Having read that, I turned to Mr. 'Mike Konrad' (no, me neither and it's a pen name!) who makes a passionate argument in The American Thinker to the effect that the American entry into WWI was an unmitigated folly into which they were duped by those crafty Brits!  Again, I simply lack enough knowledge to come to a definite conclusion either way but the notion of us as clever, Machiavellian schemers and plotters leading the USA by its nose seems a bit exaggerated to me.  Even so, it's a good article that is worth a read.

 

 

Spend time in a space station? Eeeeeeeew!

I have an excellent relationship with a neighbour where-by I give him my copy of The Spectator and he gives me the arts section of The Times.  In the books section there is a review of a book by an astronaut called Scott Kelly - no, me neither but these days there are so many of them! - entitled Endurance: A Year in Space, a Lifetime of Discovery.  Mr. Kelly, it appears, tells it like it is!  They might call it 'a space station' but the fact is that it's a smelly, noisy, dump-truck with CO2 levels often three times higher than the USN allows in its nuclear subs, and the inhabitants need to be careful to avoid inadvertently swallowing mouse droppings (from mice sent up for experiments) or their own urine globules.  Yeeeeees, quite!

Mr. Kelly sounds like quite a character.  A rough man from a rough background who only just qualified as a navy pilot.  As the reviewer puts it, NASA might blather on about the "multi-disciplinary crews for the trip to Mars but most of the human guinea pigs it sends up for long stints on the ISIS are still tough-as-tungsten military types."  Mr. Kelly sounds dead right and whilst I might not want to spend a year with him locked in an inter-stellar cell, my admiration for him, and all the others, is enormous.

 

Houston, ooops, sorry, I mean America, I have a problem

Mind you, given the utter failure of my American readers to point me in the direction of a neutral biography of Lincoln, I'm not too hopeful when it comes to FDR!  With the exception of Bob, I sense that most of my American readers are somewhere to the Right of Genghis Khan ( an all right guy but a bit weak on crime and punishment) so their interest in this social democrat President, or should that be democratic socialist President?, is probably minimal.

I raise the subject because according to The Times book review a recent biography of the man has been published - Franklin D. Roosevelt: A Political Life by Robert Dallek.  The review by Daniel Finkelstein is approving but not enthusiastic.  He points to two or three other biographies which he seems to prefer and makes a special reference to a recent one entitled FDR by Jean Edward Smith.  I think I mentioned elsewhere that I have just read two volumes by Nigel Hamilton which concentrated on FDR's war record and I was truly impressed by the man and I would like to know more.

If anyone has any recommendations, let me know!

 

Now be honest, how much would you pay for this?

'Salvator Mundi'

by

Leonardo da Vinci (allegedly")

 

Waddya mean, ya wouldn't give a nickel for a picture of a guy givin' ya de finger!  Honestly, where has artistic refinement gone?  Only yesterday, this picture sold for $450 million and bearing in mind that it was once the property of King Charles I it must be well worth the price.  Admittedly, poor old Charlie boy suffered with a lack of judgment which eventually led him to parting company with his head but still, it gives the picture a royal gloss.

Setting aside the money, which is fairly easy to do because I cannot even imagine what $450 million looks like, be honest and tell me if you would give it house room.  Apparently, it is in rather poor condition due to someone cleaning it too enthusiastically - you can just imagine some dear, old 'Mrs. Mop' putting it down on the floor and giving it a good scrubbing, and I bet she was 'dismissed on the spot without a character'!  Anyway, rumour has it that this is definitely, absolutely and really and truly the work of Leonardo da Vinci, and that has been confirmed by an awfully nice and no doubt frightfully well-spoken gentleman from Christies the auctioneers, er, who sold it and earned a $50 million commission.  (Nice one, Fred, drinks are on you tonight!)

 

Feeling cheerful? I'll soon put a stop to that!

Well, actually, it's not me, it's the editorial in this week's 'Speccie' that will bring on the 'glums'.  Referring to the Middle East in general and Iraq in particular it would appear that we, that is, the West, 'huffed and puffed and blew the house down' but alas, now we realise that we have neither the means nor the energy and certainly no will-power to build it back up.  Thus, whilst the ISIS gang have been forced, well, actually it now appears that they were bribed, to depart from their last strongholds, it also appears that Baghdad and Tehran are all set to form a Shi'ite alliance.

As the 'Speccie' reminds us, it was precisely this threat of Shi'ite dominance that kicked off the Sunni revolt in the first place.  Apparently, in the course of the, er, 'campaign', the Americans had dropped so many bombs that they were actually running short of ammo! Today, of course, the Americans are facing up to the prospect of a truly serious war, perhaps even nuclear serious, with 'Fat Boy Kim and they need Middle East distractions like a hole in the head.  As for our puny  British efforts, following the last gasp exertion of the Iraq war, it is plain for everyone to see that Britain is no longer a serious military power.  In that 'collapse of stout party' scenario lies the ingredients for a 'Good News/ Bad News' discussion, however, the fact is that the inexorable decline of British military power has been on-going since, well, we can all argue about the exact date but certainly for very many decades.  If our 'in-glorious leaders' could accept the fact and come to terms with it we might save some face and, more important, some money and blood.

 

Taxation - Arabian style!

So it was just the money he was after!  Why am I not surprised?  I refer, of course, to Mohammed bin Salman (MbS), the new, young, dead good-looking, ruthless ruler of Saudi Arabia.  Having shocked the world by seizing and locking up in a luxoury hotel dozens of the richest men in Arabia, which means some of the richest men in the world, I wondered what he was going to do with them?  I suspected - hoped? - that perhaps there would be a parade to a nearby scaffold where various limbs and appendages would be chopped off, er, after removing the gold rings and the Rolex watches first, of course.  But no, according to Zero Hedge, it was just a good, old-fashioned robbery, or putting it more politely, a tax demand, er, with menaces!  Again, according to Zero Hedge, the takings - I use the word advisedly - could amount to $800 billion.  Crikey, with a budget due next week, I hope old 'Phil 'the Pill' Hammond and his pen-pushers in the Inland Revenue don't get any ideas like that!

 

Vive la France!

I look upon Mr. Jonathan Miller, of The Spectator and The Coffee House, as 'my man en France'.  He actually lives there, in a village, speaks the 'lingo' and is an acute observer.  He is distinctly under-whelmed with President Macron, who was described elsewhere as the lad who married his grandmother!

He's only been President for six months and already the first general strike has been called.  Mr. Miller puts it this way:

One of the must-have applications for smartphones in France is called C’est la Grève, which helpfully shows all the strikes ongoing at the moment, and those to come, with useful regional breakdowns. It’s indispensable for le planning and proof that French developers understand how to tailor digital products to local market demands. At the moment at the top of the list on my C’est la Grève app is a national and general strike this Thursday, which promises to be a key moment in what looks like an increasingly desperate effort to bring down Jupiter, Emmanuel Macron, president of the republic.

That app might be useful here in the next few weeks as 'Jezza' stirs his union comrades into industrial action!  Back en France, Mr. Miller doubts that the strike will have much effect not least because there are so many of them that the French have become inured.  The socialist, so-called, opposition is far too busy with their own internal civil war to bother Macron, and he is entirely easy with the fact his own party, En Marche, which he invented, is in uproar over the fact that Macron chose his personal favourite to be the leader.  What else did they expect?  This is French politics and any resemblance to democracy is purely co-incidental!

Mr. Miller believes that for the time being President Macron is safe despite the mounting dislike he is engendering:

Macron is vulnerable in the long run – and by long run I mean maybe years – because although he has, temporarily, almost absolute power, nobody really likes him, and the more we see of him, the shiftier and less likeable he becomes.

It may be early days but so far there is no sign of any improvement or modernising of the French economy:

Lloyd Blankfein, the chief executive of Goldman Sachs was in Paris this week and he pronounced the atmosphere positively charged and the food delicious. He did not say he would be moving any actual bankers to Paris. Words are cheap and so far there’s been no stampede to Macron’s Paris. There’s been no downsizing of the state in France, nor much evidence of an investment-led revival.

So, remind me, please, what's the French for 'more of the same old same old'?

 

 

What took them so long?

At last, after 30 increasingly painful and criminal years, that arch rogue, thief and murderer, Robert Mugabe, has been overthrown and one can only wonder why it took the Zimbabwean army that long?  Well, the answer is fairly obvious, they were in for the rich, criminal pickings themselves and it seems that only their fear of his apparently lunatic wife forced them to act.

The question now, is what to do with the vicious, thieving ratbag? I would suggest stripping him naked and dropping him in the middle of a desert or a jungle!  The other good news is that 'Jezza' will be broken-hearted, well, he would be if he had a heart!  

Should we hug 'Jezza' to our Tory bosoms?

Yes, yes, I know that the very thought of hugging 'Jezza' is the stuff of nightmares, look what it did to poor Diane Abbott, she has never recovered!  Even so, we small 'c' conservatives must grit our teeth and hug the little 'scrote' to our bosoms because he is all that stands between us and a Labour government.  Nobody has ever heard of any of his so-called 'shadow cabinet' which, on consideration, is probably a good-ish thing for the Labour party because if the GBP (Great British Public) actually realised that this collection of 'Komrades' could write the entirety of their collective political thoughts on a single placard, the Labour party would sink without trace!

Happily, 'Jezza' has been buzzing around the Labour party, both in and out of government, for decades, like one of those persistent, bloated flies that always ruin a nice picnic.  Thus, even a voting population with more interest in the fate of, say, Bolton Wanderers than they have in who runs the country have over the decades gradually realised that 'Jezza' is a total plonker incapable of running even that famously disastrous enterprise, a piss-up in a brewery!  Mrs. May should brace up and give 'Jezza' a nice big hug because he is, perhaps, her last hope of winning the next election.

I am obliged to the beautiful and brainy, Ms. Katy Balls via The Coffee House, for reminding me that despite the hapless Mrs. May presiding over the omni-shambles that is the current government, compared to 'Jezza' and his 'Kollective' she ain't too bad after all!  Apparently, the pollsters, YouGov, who were the first to predict the result in the last election, have the two parties virtually level but Mrs. May still leads in the preference votes for prime minister.  In comparing the situation with John Major in the early '90s, she reminds us that the main thing that saved him was the Tories' reputation for running the economy.  Next week, Phil 'Spreadsheet' Hammond has another go at producing a budget and we must all pray that he makes a better fist of it than he did last year!

 

Was "Corporal John" the greatest British general?

The other day I came across a book on my Kindle that I had ordered but then forgotten to read - yeeeeees, quite!  Anyway, the book is "Blenheim: the Battle for Europe" and it was written by Charles Spencer, aka: Earl Spencer, well, naturally one does not allow any old riff-raff into one's Kindle!  I am enjoying it not least because the hero of the story, John Churchill, the first Duke of Marlborough, is also a hero to me.  Of course, I might just be a teensy-weensy bit biased because the only other book I have read on the subject was Winston Churchill's hagiography of his distinguished ancestor.

Out of curiosity I checked Charles Spencer's book on Wiki and came across a review by Frank McLynn (no, me neither!) in The Independent.  Mr. McLynn is obviously and definitely not a fan of the late, great Duke!  The sub-heading to his review is "The luck of a grasping creep".  He then goes on to summarise the Duke's victory at Blenheim as being the result of French stupidity:

Marlborough's victory was due to a number of disparate factors: poor French intelligence; low levels of cooperation between the French and their allies; the inflexibility of the French front - its units in Blenheim village were cooped up and unable to come to the aid of the centre - plus the inability of the pistol-firing French cavalry to deal with the impact of the sabre-wielding English horsemen. Most of all, Marlborough won because of Tallard's incompetence. The Marshal failed to contest the Anglo-Austrian passage of the Nebel (a tributary of the Danube) and fatuously waited for his foe to form up on the other side before giving battle. As Spencer admits, if Tallard had disputed the crossing - as any half-decent commander would have done - Marlborough could not have won.

That, it seems to me, is the equivalent of saying that the allied triumph in Normandy in 1944 was entirely the result of a particularly stupid German army.  Well, I suppose that all battles are won or lost by a mixture of positive attributes as well as negative faults by the parties concerned but in the end the results speak for themselves.  I checked up on Mr. McLynn and did not faint in shock on learning that he once wrote a book on the various attempted revolutions in the history of 'this our septic Isle' and the reviewer seemed to think that Mr. McLynn was somewhat wistful at the failure rate!  The French and the Russians seem to do all that revolution stuff so much better than us!

So it is not too surprising that Mr. McLynn takes an exceedingly dim view of the first Duke of Marlborough, known affectionately to his troops as 'Corporal John' not least because of the care and attention he took ensure that their pay, their rations and their attendant medical services were provided as best as could be in those primitive times.  He was also noted for his tendency to appear at the most dangerous but critical points in the various battles he fought.

Of course, his most famous battle was at Blenheim but a greater indication of his genius for war was the extra-ordinary manoeuvre which proceeded it.  He deceived the French into thinking that he would attack along the Moselle and then, in great secrecy, he laid a long line of resupply points along a proposed route to the Danube aimed at supporting his crumbling ally, the Austrian empire.  The French were totally duped.  Prior to the manoeuvre, Marlborough met an equal military genius, Prince Eugene of Savoy, and incredibly the two men hit it off instantly and their trust in each other was total.  When did that ever happen in military history?

Anyway, I have droned on for far too long and in case you have forgotten I have a book to read!  I trust tonight before dinner you will all raise a glass to the memory of Britain's greatest soldier.

 

God bless the National Review - and Donald Trump!

As an elderly and somewhat befuddled Brit, I find America exceedingly confusing.  For a start, it's so damned big!  And because of its enormous size, its constituent parts are all so different.  One senses that the whole thing is held together by the thinnest of strings.  Such a situation, of course, encourages what I call the 'centrifugalists' to indulge their various forms of extreme fascism.  Take Kalifornia, ooops, sorry, I mean California, as an example.  Apparently, the pro-abortionist industry in California - and, yes, it is an industry with 'yuuuuge' profits - is pursuing the pro-life movement through the courts to insist that in any of their premises in which they dispense advice to pregnant women on alternatives to abortion, they must - they WILL! - also display adverts for abortion clinics even when, as is frequently the case, this goes against their deepest religious convictions.  In other words, the abortionists may not be able - for the moment! - to insist on what people think but they will use the full weight of the law to insist on what people say!

As Mr. David French explains in his article for the National Review:

In California, this took the form of a law called the Reproductive FACT Act, and its target was crystal clear. Declaring it unfortunate that California hosts more than 200 crisis-pregnancy centers, the state claims that these centers “often confuse [and] misinform” women. Thus, it requires centers to prominently post or distribute a notice that reads as follows:

"California has public programs that provide immediate free or low-cost access to comprehensive family planning services (including all FDA-approved methods of contraception), prenatal care, and abortion for eligible women. To determine whether you qualify, contact the county social services office at [phone number]."

I assume that similar notices pointing pregnant women to pro-life centres will not be posted inside the abortion factories!  This attempt to interfere with fundamental American liberties is being opposed through the courts and it is at this point that Donald Trump enters the scene.  Not, I suspect, that he gives a flying fig one way or the other, but it is he who chooses some of those 'worthies' who lower their bottoms on to the well-padded chairs in the Supreme Court.  So far he has only been able to choose one but, according to reports, the judge is in the traditional camp that uses the Constitution as his guide to decision-making.  Whatever else we may think, or suspect, concerning 'The Donald', the fact that he will choose any replacement Justices during his presidency rather than 'Crooked Hillary' is a blessing for which all Americans should offer thanks!

As I offer my thanks to the National Review for once again educating me!

 

A delicious Saudi stew

Well, I call it 'delicious' but I suppose it depends whether you are chewing it, or it is chewing you!  In the wee small hours of last night I was listening to the estimable Stephen Sackur who conducts many of the interviews in the HARDtalk series on the World Service of the BBC.  Mr. Sackur is worth listening to because, whilst he always remains polite, he is also exceedingly persistent in pursuing answers to his questions.  Last night he was interviewing Jamal Khashoggi, a Saudi journalist and political exile currently residing in London.  If this link works you may be able to hear it:

 http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/w3csvps8

As I have remarked recently, the revolution - and I use the word deliberately - that has taken place in Saudi Arabia is truly jaw-dropping, and as far as I know, it came out of what appeared to be an empty desert without any warning!  The 'perp', so to speak, is Crown Prince Mohammad bin Saud, usually referred to as 'MbS'.  I have always thought of the ruling class in Saudi as a gerontocracy but 'MbS' is a mere stripling of 32.

With incredible daring (and possibly some humour!), 'MbS' has locked up scores of the richest and most powerful men in Saudi Arabia inside the most luxurious hotel in Riyadh.  Apparently they may face charges of corruption - surely not!  Or, of course, some of them might be released eventually with the help of a generous/eye-watering contribution to certain coffers not a million miles from MbS himself!  Who knows?

Apparently claims are being made that 'MbS' is determined to bring down the religious autocracy which has gripped Saudi Arabia since - well - since forever, I guess.  Of course, and here the irony is delicious, he will do so by autocratic means!  Perhaps his policy is best summed up in that famous line from 'Teahouse of the August Moon' which depicted, post WWII, American efforts to teach the Japanese democracy: "They're gonna learn democracy if I have to shoot every one of them."  Like all revolutionaries, 'MbS' is shrewd enough to conjure up a threatening foreign foe and given the religious differences between Shia and Sunni then Iran is the perfect choice.

Please, dear reader, do not groan too loudly when I describe the forthcoming adventures of 'MbS' as truly Shakespearean! 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 13.11.17

A few days ago it was Sir Ken Dodd's 90th birthday and to honour that occasion I give you a selection of his 'jokes' which have delighted us over the years and though they appear simple and childish they actually demonstrate a deep knowledge of the English language:

My Dad knew I was going to be a comedian. When I was a baby he said: ‘Is this a joke?’

Did you hear about the shrimp that went to the prawn’s cocktail party? He pulled a mussel.

So it turns out that if you bang two halves of a horse together, it doesn’t make the sound of a coconut.

I told the Inland Revenue I didn’t owe them a penny because I lived near the seaside.

Honolulu’s got everything. Sand for the children, sun for the wife, sharks for the wife’s mother.

I haven’t spoken to my mother-in-law for 18 months. I don’t like to interrupt her.

Five-thirds of people have trouble understanding fractions.

My teeth are all my own. I just finished paying for them.

She was a big girl — she could stir-fry a leg of lamb. She tried the ‘speak your weight’ machine. It said: ‘To be continued.’

I have kleptomania. But when it gets bad, I take something for it.

My act is very educational. I heard a man leaving the other night saying: ‘Well, that taught me a lesson.’

How do you make a blonde laugh on a Sunday? Tell her a joke on a Wednesday.

Just read a book about Stockholm Syndrome — it started off badly, but by the end I really liked it.

What a beautiful day for sticking a cucumber through someone’s letter box and shouting: ‘Help, help, the Martians have landed.’

I wouldn’t part with my teeth. I’m the only patient who can sit in the dentist’s waiting room and have his teeth checked in the surgery.

How many men does it take to change a toilet roll? Nobody knows — it’s never been done before.

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

 

Joe had been having horrible headaches, so he went to see his doctor.

The doctor said, “Joe, the good news is I can cure your headaches. The
bad news is that it will require castration. You have a very rare
condition which causes your testicles to press on your spine, and the
pressure creates one hell of a headache. The only way to relieve the
pressure is to remove the testicles.”

Joe was shocked and depressed, but in the end he came to the conclusion that he had no choice but to go under the knife. When he left the hospital, he was without a headache for the first time in 20 years, but he felt like he was missing an important part of himself.

As he walked down the street, he realized that he felt like a different
person. He could make a new beginning and live a new life. He saw a
men’s clothing store and thought, “That’s what I need. A new suit.”

He entered the shop and told the salesman, “I’d like a new suit.”

The elderly tailor eyed him briefly and said, “Let’s see, size 44
long.”

Joe laughed, “That’s right, how did you know?”

“Been in the business 60 years!” the tailor said.

Joe tried on the suit, and it fit perfectly.

As Joe admired himself in the mirror, the salesman asked, “How about a new shirt?”

Joe thought for a moment and then said, “Sure.”

The salesman eyed Joe and said, “Let’s see, 34 sleeves and 16-1/2 neck.”

Joe was surprised, “That’s right, how did you know?”

“Been in the business 60 years.”

Joe tried on the shirt and it fit perfectly.

Joe walked comfortably around the shop and the salesman asked, “How about some new underwear?”

Joe thought for a moment and said, “Sure.”

The salesman said, “Let’s see, size 36.”

Joe laughed, “Ah ha! I got you! I’ve worn a size 34 since I was 18 years
old.”

The salesman shook his head, “You can’t wear a size 34. A size 34 would press your testicles up against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a headache.”

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

 

At one point during a game, the coach called one of his 9-year-old baseball players aside and asked, "Do you understand what co-operation is? What a team is?"

              "Yes, coach," replied the little boy.

             "Do you understand that what matters is whether we win or
             lose together as a team?"

              The little boy nodded in the affirmative.

              "So," the coach continued, "I'm sure you know, when an out
              is called, you shouldn't argue, curse, attack the umpire,
              or call him an asshole. Do you understand all that?"

              Again, the little boy nodded in the affirmative.

              The coach continued, "And when I take you out of the game
              so that another boy gets a chance to play, it's not a dumb
              ass decision or that the coach is a shithead, is it?"
             
              "No, coach." 

              "Good, now explain that to your Grandmother."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;

 

The wife came home early and found her husband in their bedroom making love to a very attractive young woman and she was upset.

'You are a disrespectful pig!' she cried. 'How dare you do this to me -- a faithful wife, the mother of your children! I'm leaving you. I want a
divorce right away!'

The husband replied, 'Hang on just a minute love, so at least I can
tell you what happened.'

'Go ahead,' she sobbed,' but they'll be the last words you'll say to me!'

And the husband began -- 'Well, I was getting into the car to drive
home, and this young lady here asked me for a lift. She looked so down
and out and defenseless that I took pity on her and let her into the
car.

I noticed that she was very thin, not well dressed and very dirty. She
told me that she hadn't eaten for three days.

So, in my compassion, I brought her home and warmed up the enchiladas I made for you last night, the ones you wouldn't eat because you're afraid you'll put on weight. The poor thing devoured them in moments.

Since she needed a good clean-up, I suggested a shower, and while she
was doing that, I noticed her clothes were dirty and full of holes, so
I threw them away.

Then, as she needed clothes, I gave her the designer jeans that you
have had for a few years, but don't wear because you say they are too
tight.  I also gave her the underwear that was your anniversary present, which you don't wear because I don't have good taste.

I found the sexy blouse my sister gave you for Christmas that you
don't wear just to annoy her, and I also donated those boots you
bought at the expensive boutique and don't wear because someone at
work has a pair the same.'

The husband took a quick breath and continued - 'She was so grateful
for my understanding and help that as I walked her to the door, she
turned to me with tears in her eyes and said ..............

'Please ... do you have anything else that your wife doesn't use?

 

That's it for today - get back to work!

 

The Sunday Rumble: 12.11.17

I hope he's right:   According to Mr. Dan Hodges, a political scribbler I take seriously, the Brexiteers in the cabinet, led by Boris and Gove, have decided to exert their power by insisting that Mrs. May takes a very much tougher stance in the Brexit negotiations.  In her very English way, Mrs. May has tried to be conciliatory in her dealings with the EU apparat, and they, true to form, have taken that as weakness and are now holding a knife to her throat.  However, if Boris and Gove have their way it will become clear that the knife blade is made of rubber because they will respond to European intransigence by telling 'Junck the Drunk' and his 'thugocracy' that 'no deal' is very much better than abject surrender. I am also happy that for once my political prognostication, that the Euros would never compromise, has proven to be correct.  Well, there has to a first time for everything!

 

Nelson as he really was:   A couple of posts down below I reprinted some satirical nonsense illustrating how today's PC culture might have operated on board HMS Victory.  Today we have more Nelsonian news with the discovery of a portrait of the great man executed during his lifetime but later covered up to hide Nelson's battle scars.  The painting has been cleaned up and so now we can see him as he was, scars and all.

Actually, with his hat pushed back slightly on his head and looking rather melancholy, he looks as though he had enjoyed a good night out in Portsmouth which is, of course, a tradition with matelots!  To be serious, it is worth remembering that apart from his personal courage the most important part of his story is that he possessed a deep understanding of naval warfare in his era.  It was this that allowed him to execute the daring approach at Trafalgar when he ignored the tradition of sailing parallel to the enemy line and instead approached it in two separate lines thus volunteering to have his 'T' crossed, not once but twice.  

 

The biggest booby of a 'Bobby', ever!   I refer, of course, to Chief Constable Dogberry Mike Veal of the Wiltshire Police, the man responsible for wasting £1.5 million quid 'investigating' the fantasies of a convicted paedophile currently serving time in the slammer who claimed that the late Sir Edward Heath was also a paedophile.

Sir Richard Henriques has criticised the Wiltshire Police investigation into the former prime minister for treating as a victim a serial paedophile who is Sir Edward’s chief accuser

According to The Telegraph, the High Court judge who exposed the Met Police for wasting police time in their fruitless search for a paedophile network in Parliament, has also accused Chief Constable 'Plonker' and his Keystone Cops of perpetrating the same errors.  One is forced to ask if this man is capable of issuing a parking ticket?

 

I want Melania to have my babies:

But first of all, she really must get rid of that aging hair-dresser who seems to follow her around.  I have been exceedingly impressed with Melania who seems to cope with her impossible job exceedingly well and who always, even in the most casual of clothes, looks the very essence of elegant.  I shall expect a prompt reply to my offer!

 

I'm being followed, I tell you!   Everywhere I go, in the papers, the mags, the internet, there they are - the same two books!  And more books, just at the moment, I need like a hole in the head!  The first is Stalin: Waiting for Hitler 1928-1941 by Stephen Kotkin.  From the reviews there appear to be no surprises although Mr. Kotkin's scholarship is praised.  But, honestly, who really wants to wade through the rivers of blood that that stupid, ignorant son of a serf created?  We Brits think that Chamberlain was dim, dumb and deluded in his dealings with Hitler but Stalin was a total dupe and a dope as well as being criminally insane!

 

 

And the other book haunting me is:   The Mayflower Generation: The Winslow Family and the fight for the New World by Rebecca Fraser.  I may have mentioned this one earlier and, alas, the tale it tells is almost Shakespearean in its theme of hope followed by tragedy.  It tells the story of the first boatload of 50 or so Puritans who landed in Plymouth in the New World.  To begin with Indians and settlers worked well together and genuine friendships arose but then "that old common arbitrator, Time" marched on and more settlers arrived and . . . well, we all know the end story.

 

Maybe 'Lord' Lewis Hamilton is in order:    Alas, I was unable to watch the Brazilian Grand Prix because my ex-best friend, Rupe, charges far too much for his TV coverage.  However, reading the minute-by-minute reports by The Telegraph it appears that (Lord) Lewis started from the pit lane but ended up in fourth place and only a whisker away from gaining a podium third place.  What a racer!

 

 

No more rumbles tonight

 

 

Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

Today, of all days, the danger of lachrymose emotion looms large.  It must be contained because the memory of the slaughter in both world wars deserves better.  In this poem Wilfred Owen drags us into the mud and blood of reality in which he himself was to perish.  The final Latin phrase is by the Roman poet Horace: “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.” 

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime ...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

 

Not so much a 'funny' as a satirical commentary

Courtesy of the adorable Andra who sent it to me by seagull I give you this alternative history:

 

Nelson: "Order the signal, Hardy." 

Hardy: "Aye, aye sir."

Nelson: "Hold on, that's not what I dictated to Flags. What's the meaning of this" 

Hardy: "Sorry sir?" 

Nelson (reading aloud): "'England expects every person to do his or her duty, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, religious persuasion or disability.' - What gobbledegook is this?"

Hardy: "Admiralty policy, I'm afraid, sir. We're an equal opportunities employer now. We had the devil's own job getting 'England' past the censors, lest it be considered racist."

Nelson: "Gadzooks, Hardy. Hand me my pipe and tobacco."

Hardy: "Sorry sir. All naval vessels have now been designated smoke-free working environments."

Nelson: "In that case, break open the rum ration. Let us splice the mainbrace to steel the men before battle." 

Hardy: "The rum ration has been abolished, Admiral. It's part of the Government's policy on binge drinking."

Nelson: "Good heavens, Hardy. I suppose we'd better get on with it ........... full speed ahead."

Hardy: "I think you'll find that there's a 4 knot speed limit in this stretch of water."

Nelson: "Damn it man! We are on the eve of the greatest sea battle in history.  We must advance with all dispatch. Report from the crow's nest please."

Hardy: "That won't be possible, sir."

Nelson: "What?"

Hardy: "Health and Safety have closed the crow's nest, sir. No harness; and they said that rope ladders don't meet regulations. They won't let 
anyone up there until a proper scaffolding can be erected."

Nelson: "Then get me the ship's carpenter without delay, Hardy."

Hardy: "He's busy knocking up a wheelchair access to the foredeck Admiral."

Nelson: "Wheelchair access? I've never heard anything so absurd."

Hardy: "Health and safety again, sir. We have to provide a barrier-free environment for the differently abled."

Nelson: "Differently abled? I've only one arm and one eye and I refuse even to hear mention of the word. I didn't rise to the rank of admiral by playing the disability card."

Hardy: "Actually, sir, you did. The Royal Navy is under represented in the areas of visual impairment and limb deficiency."
 
Nelson: "Whatever next? Give me full sail. The salt spray beckons." 

Hardy: "A couple of problems there too, sir. Health and safety won't let the crew up the rigging without hard hats. And they don't want anyone 
breathing in too much salt - haven't you seen the adverts?"

Nelson: "I've never heard such infamy. Break out the cannon and tell the men to stand by to engage the enemy." 

Hardy: "The men are a bit worried about shooting at anyone, Admiral."

Nelson: "What? This is mutiny!"

Hardy: "It's not that, sir. It's just that they're afraid of being charged 
with murder if they actually kill anyone. There are a couple of 
legal-aid lawyers on board, watching everyone like hawks."

Nelson: "Then how are we to sink the Frenchies and the Spanish?"

Hardy: "Actually, sir, we're not."

Nelson: "We're not?"

Hardy: "No, sir. The French and the Spanish are our European partners now.  According to the Common Fisheries Policy, we shouldn't even be in this stretch of water. We could get hit with a claim for compensation."

Nelson: "But you must hate a Frenchman as you hate the devil."

Hardy: "I wouldn't let the ship's diversity coordinator hear you saying that sir. You'll be up on disciplinary report."

Nelson: "You must consider every man an enemy, who speaks ill of your King."

Hardy: "Not any more, sir. We must be inclusive in this multicultural age. Now put on your Kevlar vest; it's the rules. It could save your life"

Nelson: "Don't tell me - health and safety. Whatever happened to rum, sodomy and the lash?" 

Hardy: As I explained, sir, rum is off the menu! And there's a ban on corporal punishment."

Nelson: "What about sodomy?"

Hardy: "I believe that is now legal, sir." 

Nelson: "In that case. . . . . .Kiss me, Hardy."

 

 

Sometimes I just yearn for the Cold War

Well, life was so much easier then!  The 'Rooskies' were bad, the Yanks (and little us) were good and everyone else had to choose sides.  But that was then, and today is, well, to quote a favourite expression of this blog, "a bugger's muddle" and no-one is quite sure of anyone or anything.  For example, take the Middle East in general, and Saudi Arabia in particular.  Now, if ever a society seemed set in orthodox, religious and conservative concrete it was Saudi but, as we are just learning, that was then and now is, well, I'm not sure what it is!  However, I am deeply grateful to Mr. John R. Bradley, a tremendous Saudi Arabian swot - poor chap! - who has written a fascinating article in this week's Spectator.

Apparently the iconoclast responsible for shifting the Arabian earth on its axis is Mohammad bin Salman (MbS), the 32-year old crown prince.  Amongst his, er, accomplishments is allowing women to drive and permitting men and women to mix socially after sacking the entire religious police who were responsible for enforcing those restrictions.  In addition, and more dangerously, he swooped on the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Riyadh which, hitherto, had been the luxurious base for all the mega-zillionaires of Saudi Arabia in which they conducted their nefarious transactions.  Apparently, MbS, had his security forces surround the place, turf out any foreign visitors but lock and seal all the entrance/exits so that now the Ritz-Carlton is the most luxurious prison in the world!

Perhaps most critical of all his actions has been his decision to ally himself, discreetly but effectively with Israel to form an anti-Iranian pact.  Apparently he has been helped and/or encouraged in this by Jared Kushner, Donald Trump's son-in-law.  Say what you like about 'The Donald' but he seems to have a clearer idea of Middle East possibilities than 'Obamarama'!

 

 

 

Dr. 'Dalrymple' eviscerates 'le Corbusier' with scalpel and machette

Look, I'm going to let you in on a secret but please don't tell anyone because the very notion is so ridiculous that people who know me may do themselves an injury guffawing at the very idea, but the fact is that 'once upon a time' I studied architecture!  Remember, I am a man who, if asked to join two pieces of wood together with a screw, would use a hammer - yeeeeeeeees, quite!  Anyway, back in the late '50s I began to study architecture and one name recurred over and over again from the lecturers, from other architects, from the students and from architectural magazines - 'le Corbusier', aka, Charles-Édouard Jeanneret.  And the tone adopted at mention of his name was one of total and absolute worship.

This, perhaps, is his most famous creation, the chapel of Notre Dame du Haut.  

I must confess that when I first saw photographs of it I was entranced.  Of course, I didn't actually study it in detail, after all, I was, er, well, a student and, 'as any fule do no', students rarely study anything which is why most of them are so thick!  Anyway, shortly there-after, I came across another of his, er, 'creations' which he called his 'unité d'habitation' which arose from his famous saying that "a house is a machine for living in". It was when I came across that expression of ripe 'crapulata' that I first began to doubt the 'genius' of the man - and his numerous acolytes who have since done their best to ruin most major cities throughout the world with their slabs of inhuman ugliness.

At this point, enter the redoubtable Dr. 'Dalrymple' over at Taki Mag.  He has discovered a recently published book on 'le Corbusier' and this paragraph gives you the flavour:

A book has just been published—Le Corbusier: The Dishonest Architect, by Malcolm Millais—that reads like the indictment of a serial killer who can offer no defense (except, possibly, a psychiatric one). The author shares with me an aesthetic detestation of Jeanneret, and also of his casual but deeply vicious totalitarianism; but, unlike me, the author both has a scholarly knowledge of his subject’s life and writings, of which the perusal of only a few has more than sufficed for me, and is a highly qualified structural engineer. Mr. Millais is able to prove not only that Jeanneret was a liar, cheat, thief, and plagiarist in the most literal sense of the words, a criminal as well as being personally unpleasant on many occasions, but that he was technically grossly ignorant and incompetent, indeed laughably so. His roofs leaked, his materials deteriorated. He never grasped the elementary principles of engineering. All his ideas were gimcrack at best, and often far worse than merely bad. To commission a building from Jeanneret was to tie a ball and chain around one’s own ankle, committing oneself to endless, Sisyphean bills for alteration and maintenance, as well as to a dishonest estimate of what the building would cost to build in the first place. A house by Jeanneret was not so much a machine for living in (to quote the most famous of his many fatuous dicta) as a machine for generating costs and for moving out of. In the name of functionality, Jeanneret built what did not work; in the name of mass production, everything he used had to be individually fashioned. Having no human qualities himself, and lacking all imagination, he did not even understand that shade in a hot climate was desirable, indeed essential.

Yes, I'd say that was a fair summary!

 

 

Pretty 'stoopid', Priti!

What is it with these politicians, of which Ms. Priti Patel now stands - just! - as a typical example of brainless stupidity?  Did she really think that old 'Bruiser' Boris would allow her to go tramping all over his patch?  And what did she think she would achieve with all those rich, tough, Israeli practitioners of truly real-politik?  Their entire lives have been spent ducking and diving, and when necessary, fighting and killing to keep the state of Israel in being.  Did she really believe that a graduate of economics from Keele 'university' would be able to play them along?

And what impeccable timing - not!  Just as Mrs. May is desperate to demonstrate that she's the boss, Ms 'Pathetic' Patel offers herself up as a candidate for execution.  They don't actually go in for chopping off heads these days which, in some ways is a pity, because Ms. Patel wouldn't miss hers given that there appears to be nothing in it!

 

 

It's a dilemna or a bugger's muddle, you choose!

I refer, of course, to the state of Her Majesty's government.  I have had my doubts concerning Mrs. May since her infamous conference speech years ago in which she described her own Conservative party as "the nasty party" - yeeeeees, quite!  When she assumed the leadership, and the role of Prime Minister, I trembled.  Today my trembling can better be described as quaking!  Just like her predecessor, she has no ideology, no principles, no driving force, she is, quite simply directionless, apart from a sort of hand-flapping, vague desire to be 'do-gooding'.  She can best be summed up by asking the Machiavellian question, 'Who fears her?'  The answer, alas, is absolutely no-one!

I need not dwell on her single most colossal error when she decided to hold an unnecessary election and bet her political life-savings on the blue only for the ball to roll into the red.  She spent the entirety of the Brexit referendum saying virtually nothing whilst signalling her unspoken leanings towards the 'Remainers'.  If ever there was a policy choice which demanded that one commit to one side or the other then the Brexit referendum was it.

The situation now is grim and the outlook for the future is bleak!  Mrs. May's government, arguably one of the most useless in years, is fast approaching a shambles.  She appears to have absolutely no grip on the Brexit negotiations and the European behemoth rumbles ever closer like a King Tiger tank in 1944.  Meanwhile, Comrade Corbyn and his Comintern preach their simplistic messages to the young, the 'stoopid' and the technically brain-dead and the more clueless Mrs. May's government looks the greater the chances of 'Jezza' being our new leader - "Oh, the horror, the horror!"

And yes, you're right, it's being so cheerful as keeps me so young!

 

 

'Is this a missile which I see before me?'

I was intending to write something useful and informative on the history of the Balfour Declaration - well, a man may hope, may he not?  At least, given my self-declared ignorance of the subject, it would have been brief!  Of course, in my usual thieving way I would have helped myself to most of an article at The American Thinker by Michael Curtis who seems to know where-of he writes - and I do urge you all to give it a read.  At the delicious centre of this extra-ordinary act by Lord Balfour, aided and abetted by that Welsh wizard, Lloyd George, was a nice mixture of altruism allied with self-interest.  I learned one thing that amazed me and that was the friendly agreement signed up to by both Chaim Weizmann and Emir Faisal ibn Hussein, soon to be king of Syria and then Iraq, which encouraged the establishment of a home for the Jews with the rights of all to be safeguarded.  Alas, that didn't last long!

So here we are today, virtually a hundred years on, and a great deal of blood has flowed under the bridge!  Today we read that the Israeli Air Force is conducting joint aerial war exercises with nine other countries.  Meanwhile, that bastion of conservative Arab solidarity, Saudi Arabia, is roiled in an internal conflict in which some of the most powerful - and richest - of their citizens have been arrested.  At the same time, it is reported that a ballistic missile was intercepted on its way to Riyadh which, according to Saudi sources, originated from Iran.

It seems to me that there are two questions to be asked and you will not be surprised that I am unable to answer either of them!  First, in the language of those master historians, Sellars & Yeatman, was the Balfour Declaration "A Good Thing" or "A Bad Thing"?  Secondly, what the hell is going on in Saudi Arabia?  Answers on a postcard, please!

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 6.11.17

I begin with a different sort of 'Funny' this morning, what you might call 'a Fashion Funny'!.

 

 

I'm not sending this to criticize Hillary for giving a speech about inequality while wearing a $12,500 Armani jacket.
 
I'm posting this to give congrats to Armani for being able to sell a potato sack with sleeves for $12,500, which, in this case, holds about 200 pounds of fertilizer.

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

 

A young Texan grew up wanting to be a lawman. He grew up big, 6' 2", strong as a longhorn, and fast as a mustang. He could shoot a bottle cap tossed in the air at 40 paces. When he finally came of age, he applied to where he had only dreamed of working : the West Texas Sheriff's Department.
 
After a series of tests and interviews, the Sheriff called him into his
office for the young man's last interview. The Sheriff said, "You're a big strong kid and you can really shoot. So far your qualifications all look good, but we have, what you might call, an "Attitude Suitability
Test" that you must take before you can be accepted. We just don't let
anyone carry our badge, son. Then, sliding a service pistol and a box of ammo across the desk, the Sheriff said, "Take this pistol and go out and shoot:
 
six illegal aliens, six ambulance-chasing lawyers, six meth dealers,
 
six Muslim extremists, six Democrats and a rabbit."
 
"Why the rabbit?" queried the applicant.*
 
"You pass," said the Sheriff. "When can you start?"

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

 

 

A young woman was about to finish her first year of university. Like so many others her age, she considered herself to be Labour Party minded, and she was very much in favour of higher taxes to support her education and for more government programs – in other words, the redistribution of wealth.

She was deeply ashamed that her father was a rather staunch blue-ribbon Conservative, a feeling she openly expressed. Based on the lectures that she had attended, and the occasional chat with a professor, she felt that her father had for years harboured a selfish desire to keep what he thought should be his.

One day she was challenging her father on his opposition to higher taxes on the rich and the need for more government programs.
The self-professed objectivity proclaimed by her professors must be the truth, and she indicated so to her father. He responded by asking how she was doing at university.

Taken aback, she answered rather haughtily that she had a 90% average, and let him know that it was tough to maintain, insisting that she was taking a very difficult course load and was constantly studying, which left her no time to go out and party like other people she knew. She didn't even have time for a boyfriend, and didn't really have many university friends because she spent all her time studying.

Her father listened and then asked, “How is your friend Audrey doing?” She replied, “Audrey is barely getting by. All she takes are easy classes, she never studies and she barely has a 50% average. She is so popular on campus; university for her is a blast. She's always invited to all the parties, and lots of times she doesn't even show up for classes because she's too hung over.”

Her wise father asked his daughter, “Why don't you go to the Dean's office and ask him to deduct 20% off your average and give it to your friend who only has 50%. That way you will both have a 70% average, it would be fair and you would both be equal.”

The daughter, visibly shocked by her father's suggestion, angrily fired back, “That's a crazy idea, how would that be fair! I've worked really hard for my grades! I've invested a lot of time, and a lot of hard work!  Audrey has done next to nothing toward her degree.  She played while I worked my tail off!”

The father slowly smiled, winked and said gently, “Welcome to the Conservative side of the fence.”

 

Right, that's your lot because I have things to do and people to see!

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 5.11.17

I may have to go back to bed:   Crikey!  I shuffled up here to my eyrie in my jim-jams, opened my computer-thingie only to be immediately immersed in American history - and my cup of tea is now cold!  I then, so to speak, hesitantly stuck a finger into the 20th 21st century by attempting to accept a Kindle loan book from the generous TBH but that didn't work - why am I not surprised?!  Apparently they do not permit inter-national book lending but there again, 'whoonoo' you could even lend Kindle books? Well, Big Henry did but he's a real swot.  Then I took a degree course in American history by reading all your comments to the post below and the result is that I need another quick nap!  Alas, SWMBO has other ideas but rest assured "I shall return"!

 

There is a God:   Just as I finished putting on my winter woollies ready to go out in the garden - it began to rain!  What can one say except, "Oh dear, what a pity, never mind!"

 

Sand storms in Saudi Arabia:   What the hell is going on in Saudi?  Zero Hedge provides the nuts and bolts but putting them together to form a coherent structure is beyond me.  From my distant and woefully ignorant view, Saudi has always seemed to be set in concrete but suddenly the behemoth has started to move.  Quite where it is going no-one seems to know.

 

Bugger! Now the sun's shining!   Bloody English weather  . . . back later.

 

Sorry to ruin your lunch:   But now it begins!  At long last Clinton inc. faces exposure.  The FBI have now released hundreds of internal documents relating to their, er, 'investigation - both of them! - into 'Hillbilly's habit of sending classified information via her totally insecure private e-mail device.

Former FBI Director Comey let her off twice saying, in effect, nothing to see here, move along!  Of course, that was prior to the election in which it was supposed that she would sweep to power but, golly-gosh and whodathunkit, she lost!  Now the GOP-controlled Senate Judicial Committee will really-really try not to dribble over these papers as they work out what to do with her. "Let me count the ways"!

 

More "Grant" reviews:   Over at The National Review, one of my favourite American political sites, George Will reviews Ron Chernow's bio of Ulysses S. Grant.  He favours it immensely, not just for its fair assessment but also for its 'readability' which, he suggests (and he's a very naughty boy!) is lacking in much of contemporary American history writing.

 

Who needs Guy Fawkes?   These days the Tories are proving more than capable of wrecking the House of Commons all on their own without the need for barrels of gunpowder.  I suspect, nay, I fear that the 'Corbynistas'  are poised to dance triumphantly on the ruins as they get their chance to ruin the entire country.  Cheers and make mine a large one!

 

Anyone want a headache?   If so then I can oblige in three words: The Balfour Declaration.  On this anniversary there have been various articles on the subject both for and against and the only characteristic they share is that they all give me a headache!  However, as you all do know, I am the giving-sharing type and so I invite you to discuss the pros and cons in the commentary, er, but don't look for any guidance from me - I haven't a clue!

 

What goes around comes around #7386:  I am obliged to the snappin', snarlin' curmudgeon who runs I Hate The Media which I read daily.  Today he offers this:

 

In case you missed it:   Well I did but happily Peter Hitchens featured it on his blog.  A live debate on the pros and cons of the Russian revolution between him and the increasingly fatuous George Galloway who, needless to say, declined to wear a poppy.  Worth a watch:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1Z3D8S4Qqo&feature=youtu.be

 

 No more Rumbles today

 

 

This is seriously embarrassing

I suppose, in my own miserable defence, there is no good reason for me to possess that much in the way of knowledge of American history but, dammit, I should have slightly more than the ultra thin veneer that I do possess.  Mind you, my American readers are partially to blame because I have lost count of the number of times I have requested a tip from them to point me in the direction of a solidly good biography of Lincoln that avoids hagiography.  Answer came there none!

Anyway, my (latent!) interest in American history has been raised again by the reviews for Ron Chernow's just published biography Grant, dealing with the almost, dare I say, Trumpian Ulysses S. Grant.  Hitherto, if asked, I would have supposed that Grant was the leading civil war general who gave the Southerners a right thumping during the civil war and then became a POTUS.  What is news to me is that Grant was, apparently, fairly 'stoopid', a drunk, a bore and a second-rate general who merely applied with grim determination the overwhelming industrial and military might of the North to grind up the forces of the south.

However, he at least complied with Bonaparte's dictum, "I would rather have a general who is lucky than one who is good" because Grant and his wife were invited by President Lincoln's wife to join the 'first family' in the Ford Theatre box but because Mrs. Grant did not like Mrs. Lincoln the invitation was refused and thus John Wilkes Booth only had one target when he burst in.  Anyway, in the end Ulysses S. Grant became President when the G.A.P. (Great American Public) began their habit of electing ex-generals to run their country.  At this point his boozed-up stupidity - and cupidity - did himself and his country no favours.

Even so, he sounds a lot more interesting than Lord Salisbury whose biography I am still struggling with to reach the end!

 

 

American justice? You're 'avin' a laugh!

I have raised my doubts concerning American 'justice' many a time and oft' but usually it is for what strikes me as insanely long sentences far in excess of any harm that has resulted.  Today I read that ex-Sgt. Bergdahl, a self-confessed traitor who deserted his post in Afghanistan has been presented with his 'Get Out of Jail Free' card.  He has been found guilty but  discharged from court with absolutely no jail time.

One can only imagine what National Guard Master Sgt. Mark Allen would have to say about this but, alas, he is unable to speak and also unable to move very much because he was shot in the head whilst on a mission to find Bergdahl.  

Equally, we can only surmise what Mrs. Allen and her daughter think of the result.  'Still 'n' all', as they say 'over there', no doubt former President 'Obamarama' is still immensely proud of the fact that he 'negotiated' the exchange of Bergdahl by giving the Taliban back five - FIVE! - of their fighters in return.

In my opinion, Bergdahl deserves to be shot for desertion in the face of the enemy, and 'Obamarama' deserves ten years for aiding and abetting!

 

Who knew 'HillBilly' was a crook?

Well, just about everyone, really, apart from the 'schmuks' in the Democratic party who believed - and still believe - that she walks on water.  But of course, sooner or later truth will out and the fact that the woman who has ratted her out, formerly a very dear friend and supporter, is probably as crooked as 'HillBilly' makes it all simply too, too delicious.  I give you, Ms. Donna Brazile, a 'lady' rat of the first order who, as an employee of CNN as well as a Democrat operative, leaked the questions early to 'HillBilly' that she was going to be asked in a CNN TV debate.  Incidentally, that tells y'all how far to trust CNN!

Now, Ms. Brazile 'fesses up to the fact that the Clinton machine, in effect, took over the finances of the Democratic party and turned them to her electoral use before she was even a candidate!

The agreement — signed by Amy Dacey, the former CEO of the DNC, and Robby Mook with a copy to Marc Elias — specified that in exchange for raising money and investing in the DNC, Hillary would control the party’s finances, strategy, and all the money raised. Her campaign had the right of refusal of who would be the party communications director, and it would make final decisions on all the other staff. The DNC also was required to consult with the campaign about all other staffing, budgeting, data, analytics, and mailings.

How do you like them apples, Bernie? And what can one say, except possibly to repeat the wise words of the late, great H. L. Mencken:

"When the water reaches the ship's deck rails, follow the rats."

 

A final salute to a very brave lady

Yesterday, The Telegraph printed an obit for the late Yvonne Burney.  The opening paragraph sums it up:

Yvonne Burney, who has died aged 95, was the youngest female SOE agent to be parachuted into wartime France, where she organised one of the largest daylight air drops of arms to the resistance, before being betrayed, arrested by the Gestapo, and sent to Ravensbrück concentration camp.

 

Yvonne Burney shortly before her 90th birthday wearing her French parachute wings and her Legion d'Honneur

I suppose that having been a 'nipper' during the war and then growing up to read some of the stories concerning these SOE operators has induced in me a huge admiration for their courage.  This lady's story is incredible but typical.  Born by a French lady and her English husband and raised mainly in Europe she was a bi-lingual natural for SOE:

Thus she became the youngest of the 39 female agents recruited for SOE F Section, of whom 13 would die on active service. The SOE, which was chronically short both of French-speakers and of wireless operators, selected her to work in the field under the code name “Odette”, and sent her to Thame Park in Oxfordshire for further training. She was teamed with a young French nobleman, Marie Joseph Gonzague de Saint-Geniès, who she learnt post-war was a distant cousin, himself code-named “Lucien”.

She was captured whilst organising a major resupply drop prior to the invasion and eventually found herself in Saarbrucken concentration camp and there found herself re-united with several ladies with whom she had trained:

Yvonne Baseden and several fellow agents were captured, and Lucien was killed. Eventually, after a clumsy interrogation, she was transported to Germany. Stopping at Saarbrucken concentration camp en route, she was aghast to find herself reunited with several other agents, some of whom she had met at SOE headquarters in Baker Street.

Among them was Violette Szabo, alongside whom she had learnt to parachute, and whom she had last seen when Szabo brought her little daughter into the offices of SOE. Also with them, chained to bunks in the gloom, were Lilian Rolfe and Denise Bloch, as well as four French parachutistes. “My God,” Yvonne Baseden exclaimed, “The whole of Baker Street is here.”

A true 'band of sisters'.  Eventually she was moved to Ravensbrück camp but by a series of fortuitous events she survived.

Rest in Peace, Madame, and we salute your memory.

 

And lo, the Lord said let there be warmth

Well, it's the least He could have said given that I used to cut the grass in His churchyard!  Anyway, I know how you have all been worrying about me but my faithful Geordie plumber just called in clutching the correct fan-machine and now all my radiators are rockin' 'n' rollin' on the walls!  I may have to go to my bedroom and disrobe from my Long Johns, sweaters, mittens and woolly hat!  Incidentally, I couldn't help thinking back to my childhood when we didn't have any central heating at all.  How did we manage?  Still, I expect there will be a stream of food parcels arriving any day now from all my American e-pals on this blog - sorry, buddy, did you say something  . . . !

Do get a grip America, it just gets 'worserer and worserer'!

I have mentioned before, many a time and oft', that I am increasingly worried about America.  I don't think it will collapse but I am beginning to fear that it might just blow up!  As in so many other examples, it's the little things that provide the biggest clues, for example, the up-coming gubernatorial election in Virginia - and no, that is not something I have been following closely, I'm not that big a nerd!  However, Mr. Ben Shapiro at The National Review is paid, very handsomely, I hope, to be a nerd and he reports the following:

On Monday, just days ahead of Virginia’s hotly contested gubernatorial election, the Latino Victory Fund released an ad opposing Republican Ed Gillespie. The ad is uniquely horrifying. It features four minority children — Latino, Asian, Muslim, African-American — running for their lives from a white man driving a pick-up truck. The truck is festooned with a giant Confederate Flag, a “Don’t Tread on Me” license plate, and a prominent “Gillespie for Governor” bumper sticker. It runs the children into a dead end, its lights washing out their terrified faces. The children wake up in their beds. We then flash to video of the Charlottesville white-supremacist march, as a voice asks, “Is this what Donald Trump and Ed Gillespie mean by the American dream?”

Now, I admit that I am something of a rather pathetic, feeble Englishman likely to call for the smelling salts at the sight of anything horrid but that 'political advert' is one of the most disgusting, vindictive and dangerous that I have ever come across.  It is designed entirely with but one aim, not to elicit support for a Dem candidate but to engender fear and hatred in the hearts of anyone opposed to the Republican party.  Mr. Shapiro continues:

Reactionary politics is driven by the knowledge that, as Hamilton also recognized, demagoguery provides an easier ascent to power than reason. The Left has known this for decades, which is why they labeled conservatives bigots in the 1960s, even as the Democratic party provided the base of support for segregation. But Americans quickly tired of the slander, and moved beyond it — until the Obama era, when it seemed to rise anew, in more virulent form. Hillary Clinton wasn’t speaking in the heat of passion when she declared half of her opponents’ supporters “deplorables” — she was drawing on a deep recent history of such nasty falsehoods. The Gillespie ad — the worst in political history — is merely the apotheosis of the trend.

What next, one wonders?  But  of course it is obvious, the Republicans, particularly the 'Trumpians' amongst them, will respond in kind and the mutual descent to crude, cruel agit-prop will continue until the hot-heads decide to replace words and images with fists, boots, bombs and guns.  In a menacing world of a rising North Korea, China, Iran and Russia we desperately need a strong and stable USA, not a latter-day equivalent of the shoot-out at the OK Corral!

 

Dammit, why can't I write like this?

Until the plumber arrives to fix my boiler it's too bloody cold up here in the attic for me to compose one of my brilliant and elegantly worded posts - sorry, do you normally spew coffee all over your keyboard?  So I am deeply grateful to 'Buster', a new contributor to D&N, for writing this neat and witty summary of recent American Presidents which appears in the commentary to an earlier post.  Thank you, Buster, I couldn't have put it better myself, in fact I couldn't have put it at all!

Given the hysteria (for that is what is) about President Trump, I found myself reviewing my distant impressions, in no particular order, of various American Prezzies in my conscious lifetime. I don’t know how much other people share these uninformed views of these not so all-powerful people:

Kennedy: Like Elvis, best career move was, sadly and tragically for the poor man, dying young-ish. Definitely had courage, pretty loathsome and corrupt family and milieu. Could not have lived up to his billing.

LBJ: Limited, entertaining, darkly humorous and probably out of his depth and era. Upside is his earthy Texan worldview. Downside is his earthy…

Nixon: Seriously hard to warm to. Possibly an impressive ‘real-politicker’. Completely undone by nascent ‘liberal’ sentiment and hypocrisy post-Watergate, and revisionists might see him as a bit of a martyr. Still think he was a bit of a stinker, but possibly not as stinky as his erstwhile accusers.

Carter/Ford: Clearly, they must surely have been good at something to get where they were, just not obvious what. Dull, dull, dull. Genuinely untalented, and fortunately neither was tested further.
Clinton: Unworthy of the office. A shyster and moral coward. Nice hair. America’s Blair.

Obama: Just a silly manufactured thing. Notable feature; vaguely and only sort of black-ish. Opportunistic, to the extent he could really be bothered to do anything other than luxuriate.

Reagan: Unlikely hero. Flawed, but to his credit would admit it with genuine humour. Grew into office in the face of extraordinary opposition. Quite possibly a great President, on a several hundred-year view.

Trump: Who’d have thought it or indeed welcomed it? Definitely not me! Carries the abundant hair meme to a ridiculous degree. Could though, just possibly, be seriously great. Realistically more likely, though, to end up like Gulliver tied down by Lilliputians. A lovely breath of fresh air, for all that.

Anyone else fancy having a go?