DUFF & NONSENSE!

The Sunday Rumble: 31.12.17

My New Year good wishes:   Alas, whenever I use that phrase I remember my old Mum and another of her favourite old Scottish sayings: "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride", och aye the noo and all that sort of thing!  Even so, for what they are worth - nottalot! - I do send all you D&N readers my sincere hopes that you dodge the bullets for another year!  

 

Talking of bullet dodging:   Has anyone seen or heard of 'The Big Henry'?  He has been 'MIA' for several weeks now and I miss him, even if he was sometimes a bit bruising.  Come back, Henry, all is forgiven!

 

The 'nibbly' chef strikes again!   Yes, I bet you all wish you were here in 'zunny Zummerzet' because tonight, by popular acclaim, I have been appointed 'nibbly' chef for our annual New Year dinner party.  Three couples join forces with each providing a different course.  I, of course, am famed the length and breadth of, well, my kitchen, actually, for my 'nibblies' - and I do the jokes round here, Andra!  This delicate operation would take the average housewife about ten minutes to complete but for me it will be most of the afternoon and I will need to take to my bed afterwards due to nervous exhaustion.

 

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow":   is Monday, of course, so if you are all suffering with hangovers let me assure you that I have an accumulation of 'Monday Funnies' to cheer you all up.  In addition, you might be vouchsafed a glimpse at 'Old Duff's Almanac', my forecast of likely "events, dear boy, events" for 2018.  They could be even more hilarious than the 'Funnies'!

 

And talking of Macbeth:   Yes, of course I was, and here is the full quote:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing. 

I thought you would all like to know that in London in 2018 there will be, not one, not two, not even three but four productions of Macbeth!  That will be three versions of the play itself plus a production of the opera.  Extra large whiskeys needed, I feel!

 

Hey, man, that weed rocks!   Sorry, sorry, that's my pathetic Brit effort to sound 'Kalifornian' and, er, 'with it'.  My reason for making a prat of myself attempting the impossible is because it has just been reported that 'Kalifornia' has come top amongst all of the (dis)United States for reporting sightings of UFOs.  Any suggestion that this might be a result of cannabis being freely available is a disgraceful slur on the liberal 'dope-heads' of 'Kalifornia'!

 

'Didja see it, didja, didja'?   I refer, of course, to 'Spiral'.  Waddya mean, what the hell is 'Spiral'?  It's the brilliant 'Frenchie-poo' police and legal series which I have been boring raving about for years since it first appeared on BBC4.  Series 6 started last night and there will be two episodes every Saturday night.  Don't worry if you have missed the first two because I watched them last night and I haven't a clue what's going on - so no change there, then!  But I don't care just so long as mon chéri, Audrey Fleurot, is in it playing a tough but vulnerable lawyer.

Alas, my French must have gone a bit rusty over the years because she never replies to the many letters I send her!  She is not a classic beauty but, dammit, she is very, very attractive.

 

My 'nibblies' are complete:  And, of course, they are perfection!  In fact, it would be a shame to eat them!  In due course I will raise a glass to all four points of the compass to wish you well.

 

 

No more rumbles today - or even this year!

 

 

What a pity poor old Brucie is no longer with us

For the benefit of my foreign readers, my title refers to the late (and some say 'great') Bruce Forsyth who, alas, died earlier this year.  He was an 'entertainer' who managed to find fame and fortune on stage and screen for over 75 years.  He never did much for me but then I am an old grouch used to being in a minority and I will say that he never descended to crudity which was a relief and the fact is that almost everyone else loved him to bits.  His main skill appeared to be in his ability to compere sundry 'shows' on TV and today, with the annual announcement of the New Year's Honours List 'show', we could really do with his skills because the whole farce desperately needs to go on TV with a talented comic to introduce the various clowns who have been 'honoured'.

Again, for the benefit of my foreign readers, I should explain that at this time each year Her Majesty, er, well, actually, Her Majesty's government, because I suspect that HM could not be less interested in the farce, dishes out various medals and 'honours' to those they need to grease!  Of course, beneath the thin layer of 'celebs' there are a host of 'Little Peeps' who probably deserve some recognition for the good works they have done over the years but it is always the 'celebs' who hit the headlines.

Today, surely, we can all join in a hearty vomit cheer that Nick Clegg, the former leader of the 'il-Lib-non-Dem' party has become Sir Nicholas Clegg.  True, it is difficult, nay, impossible, to think of a single achievement by that arch-creep who was, very sensibly, shown the door by his Sheffield voters in the 2015 election which virtually, but alas not totally, wiped out his party.  Whilst booing the establishment decision to 'honour' that smug prat, we could also throw in some extra jeers and sneers at their other decision to ignore the one man who, almost single-handedly, achieved the greatest change in this country since 1973 when in an act of stupendous folly we voted to join the EU.  It 'woz our Nige wot dunnit' because it was his efforts that eventually offered us the key to the cell door so that we could make our escape. 

Nigel Farage deserves the greatest honour a nation can offer.

 

 

A blast from the past

Well, actually, more of a faint echo from the past (or even 'a feint echo', 'oh, very witty Wilde!) I refer to 'Operation Mincemeat' which took place in 1943.  Today, the Daily Mail has reported on the release of archived Government documents which includes a letter sent in 1984 to Mrs. Thatcher by the late Ewen Montegu from his deathbed.  He, with others, had been responsible for organising 'Operation Mincemeat' but he had never been allowed to read the secret report which summarised the effectiveness of the operation.  He knew he was dying and he was desperate to be allowed to see it.

The original idea had been dreamed up by the late Ian Fleming, the eventual creator of James Bond, and it involved finding a suitable dead body, disguising it as a Royal Marine officer carrying Top Secret documents and dropping it in the sea off Spain where it would eventually be washed up on shore.  The papers would indicate that the allies, far from intending to invade Sicily, which everyone expected, were actually planning to invade Greece and Sardinia.  If the Germans swallowed that they would be induced to shift troops from one country to another.

Apparently, Montegu and his team scoured the hospitals and eventually found the body of a relatively young tramp, Glyndwr Michael, who had died and whose symptoms were such that any post-mortem would indicate death by drowning.  He was duly dressed in the uniform of a Royal Marine officer with a briefcase containing 'Top Secret' documents attached to his wrist and his body was released by submarine into the sea just off Spain.  It was duly found by the Spanish authorities who quickly passed the documents on to the Germans.  The information reached Hitler who ordered a relocation of German forces.  Expected casualties on the Sicilian invasion proved to be very much lower than expected.

This, in the words of the comic creation, Baldrick, from the Blackadder series, was "a very cunning plan" and it worked!

 

Golly-gosh, that Xmas spirit-thingie actually works - 'hoonoo'?

We all expect politicians to spin on a sixpence and, when you think about it, that is "A Good Thing" because people who never change their minds about anything are deeply weird and probably exceedingly dangerous.  Here is a photo of a pair of politicians representing both approaches:

'Jezza', of course, made up what passes for his mind when he was about six and has never changed it since.  Thus, you need to think very hard should you be considering voting for him at the next election.

Ms. Laura Pillock Pidcock, 141/2, is the recently elected Labour MP for NW Durham where, according to my impeccable sources, the locals share the 16.4 available brain cells amongst each other!  You will recall that this is the lady who flounced into Parliament , stamped her little foot and insisted that she could never, never, ever be friends with a Tory.  Buckets of scorn and brown stuff were duly tipped over her silly head, not least from this distinguished blog - and I would provide you with the reference except that my Chief Archivist is temporarily unavailable following a night out with Barney Magroo 'up in them thar hills' - again!

Anyway, I am delighted to inform you, courtesy of Master Guido Fawkes, that 'the lady is for turning'!  She is quoted as saying:

“I am very friendly, I sit on a justice select committee with Tories, I ask them to sign letters, EDMs [early day motions]; I’m very friendly with Conservatives because they are humans.”

Well done, that gal, and now all she has to do is change her mind about that daft old goat standing next to her in the photo!

 

 

The buck stopped with 'Ike'

Some time ago I mentioned that I had bought a Kindle edition of Robin Neillands' history of "The Battle for the Rhine 1944".  I haven't yet finished it but already it is bringing back the genuine shock I experienced in the mid-1950s when I read "The Battle for Europe" by Chester Wilmot.  I was a young teenager then, brought up during and after a war which was presented to us as an example of two great democracies working together, hands across the sea and all that sort of thing, to defeat the common foe.  I was stunned to learn from Wilmot's book that almost as much energy was expended 'fighting' each other as was deployed against the Germans!  Well, I was young at the time so I suppose you could say it was part of the growing up process.

Since then, of course, there have been numerous histories detailing the vicious in-fighting between the Brits and the Yanks which went to the very top in Downing Street and the White House.  Reading about it now, as an adult, I suppose it can be said that it is rather surprising that the 'alliance' worked as well as it did.  Whatever the circs, you can never get round that damned, awkward thing called human nature!  At the top of an allied military alliance with historical fame and glory beckoning to all the Generals involved the worst character faults were bound to show themselves - and they did!

Even so, and as the historical quarrels continue even today, it must be stated quite clearly and without evasion that the buck stopped with 'Ike'.  He was the Supreme Commander - end of!  It was, of course, an horrendous job and attempting to control the likes of Montgomery and Patton must have been like trying to herd a couple of wild cats, but that said, he failed, particularly in respect of Patton who was both a despicable man and a poor General.  Omar Bradley, one of the Army Group commanders, also deserves much of the blame because, strictly speaking, Patton was under his immediate control but he connived with him to deliberately avoid 'Ike's orders.  Montgomery, too, must take his share of the blame for being both insufferably egotistical and antagonistic.  However, he deserves some credit for pushing the militarily correct idea of a single massive blow against Germany rather than 'Ike's naïve notion of a broad advance from the Swiss border to the North Sea, and also the fact that, no doubt through gritted teeth, he volunteered to serve under Bradley if the advance was in the north.

It was not definite - nothing in war ever is! - that the allies could break into Germany and end the war in '44 but it was possible and the fact is that under Ike's leadership the chance was lost at the cost of uncountable lives.  An example, I suppose, of Wilfred Owen's famous phrase, "The pity of war".

ADDITIONAL:   Oh no, it's that creepy 'coincidence-thingie' all over again!  No sooner had I written all the above on the nature of Allied leadership during WWII than the distinguished and learn-ed Mr. Victor Davis Hansen at The National Review writes a similar review of American leadership through the ages.  It's worth reading if only as a corrective to my opinions above concerning the military leadership in Europe during 1944.  About halfway through I began to suspect where it might be leading and, indeed, in due course 'The Donald' made his appearance.  In essence, I think, Mr. Hansen's opinion is that there are 'different strokes for different folks' and that each leader in their different ways may or may not be useful depending on when they arrive on the national scene.  Or, to put it in my words, 'as in sex and drumming (and running a nation or army), timing is everything'!

 

Your end of year report, Mr. President

Now pay attention, young Trump (well, he is younger than me!), because it is the end of your first year and it is my duty to assess your progress - if any!  After due consideration, er, that is, skim-reading sundry 'Yankee-doodle', political scribblers, I think I can, pausing only to exhale a sigh of relief and wipe my brow, award you a grade 0f 'B-'.  This is deserved mostly because we are not actually at war which is, of course, "A Good Thing"!  It is also a slightly surprising thing because, alas, I feared the worst a year ago.  Oddly enough, I suspect that your, er, bellicose eccentricity might be a factor because I think that many of the mass murderers, fanatics, thieves, rogues and despots who make up most of the world's leaders are equally unable to discern your likely reactions to any given situation.  It was so much easier for them 'back in the day' of 'Obora-rama' who not only spoke softly but carried a soft stick, too!

And then there are the positives, too!  I avoid mention of 'Obamacare' which remains a total enigma to me although I know, I just know, given the twerps who designed it, that it was a shambles.  As I understand it, you have not actually smashed it but you have cut an artery and that over time it will slowly bleed to death.  You have pricked, so to speak, the so-called Paris Climate Accords, the biggest balloon of hot air ever invented, and now you are poised, so I understand, to do a 'Lord Gradgrind' on that other main cause of global warming, the hot air factory known as the United Nations by slashing the amount of money hitherto pumped into it by the US government.  At $622 million a year, 22% of their total budget, that is far and away the largest contribution from any other country - to say nothing of the $2 billion America pays into so-called 'peace-keeping' activities.  Slash all that, Mr. President, and in the future it may make some countries less eager to vote you down in the General Assembly.  You have cut taxes, always an excellent policy from any government.  Your ministers are putting their boots into some of the bloated bureaucracies that blight your nation - perhaps you could lend them to us in due course.

So, all in all, not too bad at all for your first year and certainly much better than I feared at the beginning.  Keep up the good work!

 

 

 

Guess what I found in my stocking yesterday!

No, no, not the 'Memsahib's hand - behave!  Actually, there are no prizes for guessing because, as y'all know well, I am an unrepentant 'book-a-holic'.  There were two given to me yesterday by the 'Memsahib' and I just know I am going to enjoy them both.  The first is by one of my favourite newspaper commentators, Quentin Letts, and is titled, accurately if not elegantly, as "Patronising Bastards".  The sub-title is "How the elites betrayed Britain".  No-one does this sort of evisceration better than Mr. Letts.  This from a review of his book:

These people who know best, these snooterati with their faux-liberal ways, are the 'Patronising Bastards'. Their downfall is largely of their own making - their Sybaritic excesses, an obsession with political correctness, the prolonged rape of reason and rite. You'll find these self-indulgent show-ponys not just in politics and the cloistered old institutions but also in high fashion, football, among the clean-eating foodies and at the Baftas and Oscars, where celebritydom hires PR smoothies to massage reputations and mislead, distort, twist. [...]

Richard Branson, Emma Thompson, Shami Chakrabarti, Jean-Claude Juncker and any head waiter who calls you 'young man' - this one's for you!

I could another name to that list - Paddy Ashdown (pause to hawk and spit), the former leader of the 'il-Lib-non-Dem' party (pause to hawk and spit again) who in his youth served with the Royal Marines* (pause to hawk and spit yet again) who has written a history book detailing some of the machinations that took place in occupied France during the war between the British secret service, the Nazis and the French resistance.  It is titled: Game of Spies: The Secret Agent, the Traitor, the Nazi.  Sounds like a good one to me.

*My instant re-action to all mentions of the Royal Marines is simply a result of my training in the Parachute Regiment. I believe they undergo a similar indoctrination apropos Paras.  All very silly, but that's men for you!

I almost forgot to add that although I waited patiently for the special delivery lorry (a van would not be big enough) to supply all the books I asked for from 'SoD', it never arrived.  However, bless the lad, there was a handsome Amazon voucher from him so that should keep me busy until my birthday!!!

 

 

My very best Christmas good wishes to you all

This particular Christmas greeting comes courtesy of 'AussieD', one of the unstinting little elves in my Australian joke mine whose efforts, along with those of Andra, help to produce the endless stream of filth jokes that grace this blog every Monday!  Thanks to both of you.

Also, I want to express my gratitude to all you regulars who visit D&N and especially those who contribute to the various conversations.  I wish you all a splendid Christmas season.

 

Peter Oborne puts his finger exactly on the spot

In The Mail today, Peter Oborne offers an excellent analysis of the European project which appears to be hurtling towards disaster whilst the 'officers' on the bridge remain frozen at the controls with only one plan  - more, and yet more, of the 'same-old-same-old'.  In retrospect, it now looks as though their 'success' in smashing the Greek government so that now, as Mr. Oborne puts it, "the government is little more than a puppet of the European Central Bank" has had the effect of alarming some of the other governments in Europe, to say nothing of their more than somewhat fearful peoples.

The truth is that the European Commission — with its contempt for nationhood and the democratic rights of voters — has not only done immeasurable damage to the political system that has worked well since the end of World War II, but now threatens the EU itself.

It is no wonder people are in revolt. Only one major European country has had the guts to stand up to the Brussels behemoth, and that is Britain. [My emphasis]

But now, as I have remarked before, the 'Visigrad' nations of Eastern Europe are also preparing for revolt with the full support of their people.  Elsewhere in Europe, in Austria, Catalonia, Corsica, the people are becoming increasingly hostile as they witness the high-handed demeanour of the Brussels' apparatchiks, none of whom are answerable to an electorate.  Alas, in their anger and resentment they are likely to fulfil Hillaire Belloc's advice: "always keep a-hold of Nurse/ For fear of finding something worse".

Mr. Oborne ends his article thus:

When they look at what is happening on the Continent, even the most rabid opponents of Brexit must surely acknowledge that the vote to leave the EU will help protect this country from dangerous extremism.

Couldn't have put it better myself!

 

 

But ... it was the Catalonian bull that was supposed to be slaughtered!

What's the Spanish for 'a bugger's muddle'?  I ask because those pesky Catalonian contrarians have just stuck two fingers up, not just to the Spanish government but also - heaven forfend! - to The Grand High Panjandrum of All High Panjandrums, Hish Exshellenshy, 'Juncksh zee Drunksh'!  Those Catalonians are all very naughty boys and girls for defying those who know best what is best for them and voting for independence.  Much more of this sort of thing and they will be sent to the 'naughty step' to join those recalcitrant Brits.

I should add that I absolutely and resolutely do not have a clue as to the rights and wrongs of this particular imbroglio, it's all way above my pay grade.  Even so, I fear the worst.  The Spanish, of whatever region, are not famous for their easy going, give and take attitude, in fact, the exact opposite, they tend to become exceedingly passionate and we all know where excessive passion can lead!  So, mis amigos, please, stay calm.  Yes, I know that calm is boring but, on the whole, boring is better than bloody!

 

 

Does Uncle Sam really want to live in a glass box?

Well, I'm sure it's not entirely made of crystal glass but the new American embassy in London does give the appearance that 'Just William' and his deadly catapult armed with a really tough conker could wreck it in minutes - in fact that gaping hole in the wall looks as though he's had a go already!  Also, my dears, and you will find this hard to believe but its south of the river - yeeeeees, I know 'souf lon'on', shockin', shockin'! - and it's practically next door to Battersea power station:

According to a somewhat grumpy Mr. Philip K. Devoe at The National Revue, the "sugar cube", as Londoners have already named it, cost $1 billion, so I suppose he's entitled to an attack of indigestion!  That price tag makes it not only the most expensive embassy anywhere in the world but also the most expensive American government building anywhere.

Still, it's not all bad news.  I assume that this building presages the redevelopment of that stretch of the South Bank.  I have remarked before that one of my favourite bits of London is the South Bank from Westminster Bridge down to the Globe Theatre.  On a sunny day it is the best and most attractive and relaxing stroll in the city.  So, if they do something along the same lines westwards along the river then once again we will doff our caps in gratitude to 'good ol' Uncle Sam'.  

And it's no good all you 'Yankee-doodles' complaining because that nice Mr. Trump has just given you most of your taxes back - er, sorry, did you say something?

 

 

 

 

And, lo, I bring thee glad tidings and all that sort of thing!

A tiring day yesterday involving four hours of driving broken by the most tedious funeral I have ever attended.  I think, by and large, and on the whole, Christianity is "A Good Thing" but their services are utterly 'boring-snoring'!  Of course, I suffer with a handicap when it comes to church services because I don't believe a word of it, starting with God and working down!  The official practitioners, from 'Archtit' Welby (see below) downwards seem to have forgotten that ceremonies are basically show business.  They need some pizzazz!  All that yesterday's effort did was to absolutely confirm that when my name is picked out of the Holy hat, I do not want a funeral of any sort. 

For the last couple of years I have been meaning to make arrangements to donate my old carcass to a teaching hospital where the trainee 'quacks' might not learn much but at least they might get a laugh!  I have told the 'Memsahib' and 'SoD' that I absolutely do not want a funeral service, instead, I would like them to invite my friends to an open-house party where numerous glasses can be raised and a (hopefully) fond farewell may be bid.

Mind you, it wasn't all doom and gloom yesterday because we had dinner with 'SoD' and his delicious 'bouncing Czech' - dammit, she's such a pretty girl, what she sees in him I do not know!  We managed to get through dinner without the 'B'-word being mentioned, so it was an exceedingly pleasant evening.  And no, all that talk above of my death was not "the glad tidings" to which I referred in my title.  Instead I would remind you all that today is the first day of Spring - hurrah!   Yes, yes, I know that technically it is not yet Spring but from now on the days get longer and longer, so cheer up, all of you!

 

"Stop all the clocks"

Yes, alas and alack, it is a funereal day for me today following the sudden death of a friend earlier this month.  It was one of those 'crash, bang, wallop' deaths without any warning, she was found face down on the carpet in her home.  A grim choice, I know, but there is some merit in that sort of exit when compared to a slow death by inches.  Anyway, I'm off to Surrey for the funeral so talk amongst yourselves.

Why's that bloke standing up and waving his arms about?

I refer, of course, to that chap, usually dressed in an evening suit, who stands up in front of an orchestra and indulges in a sort of St. Vitus' dance as the musicians belt out the music!  What, one wonders, does he actually do?  It is an age old question as Mr. Terry Teachout, who knows where-of he writes, asks in a fascinating article over Commentary Magazine.  A question, incidentally, to which I, who could not tell you the difference between a chord and a cadenza, would find it impossible to hazard a reply.

In essence, so I gather, the right hand holding the stick controls the speed and the other hand influences those indefinable parts of the music that sometimes defy description.  Needles to say, I gather that were one to lock three conductors in a room to agree on what conductors are for, they would re-emerge with four (minimum) theories!  As far as I am concerned, I find music, well, most music, as fascinating as quantum physics, and I understand about as much of one as I do of the other!  But I urge you to read Mr. Teachout's essay, it is knowledgeable and fascinating.

 

 

Ticklish, I reckon, damned ticklish!

This is the sort of exceedingly tricky situation which makes me thank the Lord I'm just a blogger, honking and hooting my opinions here with absolutely no responsibility for outcomes!  I refer, of course, to the fact that the 'Kommisariat' of the European Union (Sole Prop: Frau Merkel) has agreed to pull the trigger on Poland with the enactment of Clause 7 of the European Charter.  I am not sure how many punishments that will open up for Poland but one is absolutely clear - the Poles will lose all voting rights in the EU.

Apparently, and I stress the word deliberately, this has happened because the new Right-wing Polish government is already taking steps to interfere with the Polish judicial system by ensuring that only lawyers sympathetic to the government will be appointed as judges.  According to the Poles, that, of course, is only half the story because they maintain that the real reason is that the Poles, like the rest of the 'Visigrad' countries (Hungary, Czechia, Slovakia) refuse to take the tens of thousands of Muslim 'refugees' foisted on them by 'Mutti' Merkel.

At this point, enter 'Britannia', desperately trying not to stumble and stab herself with her own trident!  For the last year, 'St. Theresa of May' has been blowing kisses to the Polish government in an effort to keep them onside during the Brexit slugfest, and also in the hopes of striking a trade deal after we leave.  But of course, the EU apparatchiks are also looking to Mrs. May for support as they strap Poland to the punishment table and they have been dropping hefty hints that failure to do so will result in a no Brexit deal.

Personally, I think the Poles are mad to twist the arms of their own judiciary but then again we all know the Poles are mad, you only have to glance at their mad history, I mean, who else would attack German tanks with mounted cavalry?  However, promises from Brussels produce roughly the same amount of smelly, gaseous wind as that from Brussel sprouts, so it would be wise for Mrs. May to accept any backhanders from 'Junck the Drunk' - but only if they are in writing.  In fact, thinking about it and given 'Junck's foibles, chiselled in stone might be preferable!

In this sort of situation we desperately need a Bismarck or a Talleyrand but we shall just have to the best we can with a Boris!

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2017/12/20/eu-triggers-nuclear-option-against-poland-theresa-may-walks/

 

 

Not one, not two but five tits in a row

In a previous post I pointed out that the craven stupidity and mendacity of Archbishop Welby on the utterly disgraceful behaviour of the C of E to the late Bishop Bell of Chichester qualified him as a total tit.  Today, at The Coffee House, there is a photo of him with a pair of female priestesses, the one on the right being the new Bishop of London - yeeeeeees, quite!  Apparently, when asked, the new Bishop, no doubt a woman of sterling truth-telling virtue, was unable to say what her view was of homosexual marriage, or even homosexual practices.  The best answer she could provide was:

‘I don’t know. Sorry, but I don’t know what line the Church should take on gay marriage, or the ordination of homosexuals. I reject the secular assumption that everyone ought to have a firm opinion on every issue. So I affirm the Church’s teaching on the issue. And I trust that the Church will make the right decision as to whether to change its teaching in due course.’

Got that, have you?  All clear on C of E doctrine?  Waddya mean ya dunno?!  Just ask a Bishop!

 

 

 

'Mutti' Merkel plans to invade Poland . . .

. . . followed by the rest of the 'Visigrad' countries, Hungary, Czechia and Slovakia - and the newly elected Austrian government had better watch its (goose) step, too!  Of course, in these, er, civilised times, 'invasion' will not require tanks and the ghost of Gen. Heinz Guderian, merely the crushing weight of Article 7 of the EU 'constitution' - see Catalonia, passim.  This will instantly cut off all aid to Poland and will not allow it to trade with the rest of the world so extreme poverty should do the rest.  Of course, if the Poles were to get 'uppity' which their history and character indicates is likely, well, no probs because as 'Mutti' knows well, because she helped drive it through, the EU has just agreed to form its own army.  Of course, once these 'Visigrad' nations provinces have been whipped back into line, then they will be forced to accept tens of thousands of Muslim 'refugees' which so far they have resisted.

Brexit?  Bring it on, as fast as possible!

 

Hat tip to Tom Luongo (no, me neither!) at Zero Hedge

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 18.12.17

Oooops, sorry, I forgot it was Monday - mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!  And the first one is exceedingly vulgar, albeit, rather funny.

Professor Higgins at the University of Sydney was giving a lecture on 'Involuntary Muscle Contraction' to the first year medical students.

 This was not an exciting subject and the professor decided to lighten up the mood.

 He pointed to a young woman in the front row and asked, 'Do you know what your arsehole is doing while you're having an orgasm?'
She replied, 'Probably golfing with his mates.’

It took 45 minutes to restore order in the classroom.

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I'm sure our mutual friend from Arkansas can verify the truth contained in this story:

 A young man from Arkansas went off to college. Half way through the semester, having foolishly squandered all of his money on his  girlfriend, he called home.

"Dad, you won't believe what modern education is developing!  They actually have a program here at Hendrix that will teach our dog, Ole' Blue, how to talk!"

"That's amazing, how do I get Ole' Blue in that program?"

"Just send him over here with $1,000 and I can get him in the course." 

His Father sent the dog and $1,000.  About two-thirds of the way through the semester, the money again ran out. The boy called home.

"So how's Ole' Blue doing son?" his Father asked.

"Awesome!  Dad, he's talking up a storm, but you just won't believe this -- they've had such good results they have started to teach the animals how to read!"

"Read!? No kidding! How do we get Blue in that program?" 

“Just send $2,500, I'll get him in the class." 

The money promptly arrived. The Arkie and his girlfriend were able to buy enough marijuana to last the whole semester. But our hero has a problem. At the end of the year, his father will find out the dog can neither talk, nor read.  Even though he was always pretty much able to lie his way out of trouble, the Arkie asked his girlfriend to help him think of a really good lie to tell his Dad. She very quickly came up with a lie for him. She had him shoot the dog.

When the young man arrived home at the end of the year, his Father was very excited. 

"Where's Ole' Blue? I just can't wait to see him read something and talk!" 

"Dad, I have some grim news.  Yesterday morning, just before we left to drive home, Ole' Blue was in the living room, kicked back in the recliner, reading the Wall Street Journal, like he usually did.  Then Ole' Blue turned to me and asked, so, is your Daddy still messing around with that little redhead who lives down the street?"

The Father went white. "I hope you shot that lying damn dog before he talks to your Mother!" 

"I sure did, Dad!" 

"That's my boy!" 

The kid married his girlfriend, they both went on to law school in Fayetteville.  He became Governor of Arkansas and President of the United States.

You already know what a lying bitch his girlfriend turned out to be.

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

 

Two friends were playing golf when one pulled out a cigar but he didn't have a lighter so he asked his friend if he had one. "I sure do," he replied and reached into his golf bag and pulled out a 12 inch BIC lighter.
 
"Wow!" said his friend, "where did you get that monster."
 
"I got it from my genie."
 
"You have a genie," he asked?
 
"Yes, he's right here in my golf bag."
 
"Could I see him?"
 
He opens his golf bag and out pops the genie.  The friend says, "Hey,
look - I'm a good friend of your master.  Will you grant me one wish?"
 
"Well ... okay," said the genie.  So he asks him for a million bucks.
The genie hops back into the golf bag and leaves him standing there
waiting.  Suddenly, the sky begins to darken, and the sound of a million ducks is heard flying overhead.
 
The friend screams to his golfing partner, "I asked for a million bucks, not ducks!"
 
He answers, "Oh - I forgot to tell you ... the genie is hard of hearing.
Do you really think I asked him for a 12 inch BIC?"

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

 

Politics is the gentle art of getting votes
from the poor and campaign funds from the rich,
by promising to protect each from the other.
~Oscar Am ringer, "the Mark Twain of American Socialism."

I offered my opponents a deal:
"if they stop telling lies about me,
I will stop telling the truth about them".
~Adlai Stevenson, campaign speech, 1952..

A politician is a fellow who will lay down
your life for his country.
~ Texas Guinan. 19th century American businessman 

I have come to the conclusion that politics is too serious a matter to be left to the politicians.
~Charles de Gaulle, French general & politician

Instead of giving a politician the keys to the city,
it might be better to change the locks.
~Doug Larson (English middle-distance runner who won gold medals at the 1924 Olympic Games in Paris, 1902-1981)

We hang petty thieves and appoint the bigger thieves to public office.
~Aesop, Greek slave & fable author 

Those who are too smart to engage in politics are punished by being governed by those who are dumber.
~Plato, ancient Greek Philosopher

Politicians are the same all over. They promise to build a bridge even where there is no river.
~Nikita Khrushchev, Russian Soviet politician

When I was a boy I was told that anybody could become PM; I'm beginning to believe it.
~Quoted in 'Clarence Darrow for the Defense' by Irving Stone.

Politicians are people who,
when they see light at the end of the tunnel, 
go out and buy some more tunnel.
~John Quinton, American actor/writer

What happens if a politician drowns in a river?
That is pollution.
What happens if all of them drown?
That is a solution .....!!!
 

That's your lot, get back to work!

 

 

'Mutti' Merkel's misery

An interesting article in Spiegel pointing out that 'Mutti' Merkel is adrift in a sea of conflicting tides.  For the moment, she paddles on but with no navigators or compasses or even a crew, the ship of state is going in circles.  If you are an EU admirer you should be worried because, of course, she is not only 'the dear leader' of Germany but of the whole ramshackle edifice that is the 'United States of Europe'.  She is in desperate need of some 'ship's officers' to join her on the bridge but none of them seem at all willing, so both Germany and Europe are drifting.  I did pick up a story to the effect that she had her eye on leaving German politics and taking over from 'Junck the Drunk' as the 'Gauleiter of zee Neu Europa'.  If only for historical reasons, I can't see the eastern Europeans taking too kindly to that, and the fact that she threw open the doors to mass Muslim immigration will not improve her popularity.  Personally, I would welcome it because I prefer open honesty to secret truths.  The European Union was, is and always will be, "a German racket", as the late, great Nicholas Ridley put it decades ago, so the quicker the EU has a German Königin the better, and then we can call it by its proper name: das Neue Deutsche Reich.

WARNING: Stand by for incoming 'SoD' - God help us!

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 17.12.17

Polite notice:   Today you might not get much of a 'rumble', more like a series of occasional squeaks because my services are required hither and thither - dammit!

 

Cruel and unusual punishment:  I refer, of course, to the current Ashes series taking place 'down under there' in which the England rounders, ooops, sorry, cricket team are being totally humiliated by those cruel Aussies.  They should round up all those so-called English cricketers and send them back home as convicts in a prison ship.  Incidentally, I am deeply grateful to my e-pal, 'AussieD', who has demonstrated his qualifications as an officer and a gentleman by not coming on here and howling with laughter!

 

 

Jezza, a man of principle? You're 'avin' a laugh!   'They seek him here, they seek him there, they seek that Jezza everywhere!'  But according to Dan Hodges, in excellent form at The Mail, when it comes to Brexit 'ye may seek but you shall not find!'  When it comes to Brexit, the slimy little 'git' is everywhere and no where.

 

Peter Hitchens puts the boot into Archbishop 'Weasel' Welby:   Hitchens is another stalwart, like Charles Moore, who has defended the reputation of the late Bishop Bell against the wicked and stupid trashing of his reputation by the Church hierarchy.  This sums up his view:

George Bell, facing much sterner tests in much tougher times, repeatedly chose moral courage over popularity. And that is why Justin Welby is not fit to lace up George Bell's shoes, and why his pretensions to be a moral leader of this country are taken less and less seriously by thinking people.

 

"You can’t please all of the erotomaniacs all of the time":   That is a line from a very amusing book review by Rowan Pelling at The Spectator.  The book concerned is Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy written by a very naughty American gal, Hallie Lieberman.  Did you know that sex toys are still forbidden in Louisiana?  Mind you, there's no problem if your, er, turn on is a Colt .45!  Read the review and enjoy a chuckle.

 

"M. Hulot's Holiday": 

 

Truly, one of the funniest films I have ever seen!  Happily, the late Jaques Tati's creation lives on in the bumbling form of M. Nicolas Hulot, the French Environment Minister.  This man is 'green' in every sense of the word and is determined that La France will give up all those foul, smelly, evil petrol and diesel cars which do so much damage to the environment.  Oh, mon Dieu, now we learn that he actually owns and runs six cars, a motor boat and a motorbike, all of which are powered by internal combustion engines.  Merde alors!

 

No more rumbles today

 

One good pic' is worth a thousand lies

I give you this very fine example which has driven the 'Warmers' to a frenzy.  Apparently - and I urge you to emphasise that word in your mind - this is the 'evidence' that all those poor, likkle, cuddly-wuddly polar bears are starving to death because of - natch! - Global Warming!  It has the enthusiastic support of the likes of Michael Mann, the inventor, and I use the word advisedly, of the infamous 'hockey stick' graph.  He has been supporting forecasts that half the polar bears in the world will be decimated by the middle of this century due to melting ice keeping them from their feeding grounds.  Alas for him, several recent investigation aver that the polar bears are actually doing very well.

Still, if a good photo fails to convince then why not photo-shop a totally false one to, er, 'prove' your point:

Well, that's what the, er, 'distinguished' climate scientist Peter Gleik did in his paper entitled, without a hint of embarrassment, "Climate Change and the Integrity of Science".  I am amazed that he managed to spell the word "integrity" correctly.  Ten tons of offal fell on his head when all those smart Alec, photo techies immediately pointed out that the photo was a phony.

As so often in this climate change lark I am deeply grateful to WUWT.

 

 

And talking of tits, here's another one

I give you Ms. Alison Saunders, apparently she is our Director of Public Prosecutions in which case I urge you all to try even harder to avoid the Courts.  Of course, 'as any fule do no', you don't actually have to commit a crime to be hauled up before some pompous 'Cocklecarrot', particularly if you are a man.  The word of some spiteful, hair-brained, mentally impaired 'girlie' who claims you raped her will be all it takes to get you 'banged up' under the ruthless and stupid regime of this ruthless and stupid woman!  As young Mr. Liam Allan, 22, has just found out the hard way.

He has spent the past two years facing a trial for rape on the word of his ex-girlfriend.  The Crown Prosecution (non)Service (CPS) was eager to drive home this unsubstantiated charge because their 'Kommisar', the ultra politically correct, Ms. Saunders, insisted that not nearly enough rape cases were being pursued through the courts.  Alas for Mr. Allan, when this obtuse policy was combined with an investigating police officer who would have considerable difficulty finding the end of his nose, then the world fell in on him.  After two years of dread, his day in court arrived but, thanks to a change of prosecuting lawyer and an insistent defence counsel, 'P.C. Plod' and/or his superiors, were induced to produce a record they had held for two years of thousands of calls, tweets and e-mails which confirmed the girl concerned was a raving loony!

Meanwhile, one can suppose that Ms. Alison Saunders continues to steam-roller on in her stupid, ultra-feminist way, uncaring and unmoved by the fate of an innocent young man.

 

 

He looks like a total tit because he is a total tit!

I refer, of course, to the Archbishop of Canterbury who has just been exposed not only as an A1 dimwit but as a thoroughly nasty dimwit, too.  At long last an independent report into the C of E's cruel and stupid decision to blacken the name of one of its bravest and most intelligent bishops has been published.  The real victim, Bishop Bell of Chichester, was condemned some years ago on the word of a woman who complained that decades ago as a child she was sexually abused by Bishop Bell.  According to Charles Moore, former editor of The Spectator, and confirmed by Lord Carlisle's just published enquiry into how the accusation was treated, virtually no effort was made by the C of E 'investigating' committee to test the complaint.  Thus, the holy 'Poobahs' just swallowed the whole story hook, line and sinker.

Lord Carlisle's more 'forensic' investigation makes clear that there is not a shred of evidence from anyone else to support the complainant's accusation and absolutely no corroborative evidence was ever found.  Lord Carlisle's report is utterly damning of the church's non-legal procedures.  The conclusion was clear, the C of E had colluded in trashing a noble man's reputation without a shred of evidence.  At this point, enter our 'total tit', aka: the Archbishop of Canterbury.  Asked to exonerate the reputation of the late Bishop Bell, he said this:

‘We realise that a significant cloud is left over his name … He is also accused of great wickedness. Good acts do not diminish evil ones, nor do evil ones make it right to forget the good. Whatever is thought about the accusations, the whole person and the whole life should be kept in mind.”

And he did not say sorry!  I do hope the fires of hell are well and truly stoked when Archbishop Justin Welby faces his Maker!

 

 

I just failed my 'Book-a-holics Anonymous' course!

Why are you not surprised?  I did try, honestly I did, but it's all the fault of that bloody Kindle-thingie.  I had just finished a book, a bit of nonsense from Tom Woods' very entertaining "Victor the Assassin" series and before I could stop myself my finger had prodded the 'History' section and, well, all was lost.  I came across "The Battle for the Rhine" by the late Robin Neillands of whom I had never heard.  From his Wiki entry he sounds like an interesting character and the fact that he was once a Corporal is, of course, all the qualification one needs to be a military historian - er, even if in his case he was a Corporal in the Royal Marines (pause to hawk and spit)!

I gather from the reviews of his book that he biffs and bashes the American generals, Eisenhower, Patton (natch!) and Bradley but over-praises 'Monty'.  At this point, I was about to provide you all with my personal overview of the campaign across north-western Europe in 1944/5 - golly-gosh, I bet you can hardly wait -  but dimly in the back of what passes for my memory a tiny bell rang and, completely without any assistance from my 'Chief Archivist', I found what I wrote nearly eight years ago!  Now, I'm not one to repeat myself - and I heard that! - so I will leave you to read it for yourselves.  My next task is to read Mr. Neillands' thoughts on the subject with parts of which, I fear, I might disagree, and then I will give you my opinion.

Military history is both fascinating and hugely enjoyable because, of course, as a reader you can see all the obvious errors made by the opposing Generals and one can remain in a state of high self-satisfaction, confident in the thought that you, yourself, would have handled the business very much better!

 

What's that dreadful stench from 'over there'?

For the past year the increasing stink of political and judicial corruption emanating mainly from Washington has been corrupting the news from 'over there'.  For a distant and amateur observer like me, it has been difficult to pin down but month by month the stink has grown ever stronger.  Sooner or later, and I suspect sooner in the New Year, the shit storm will burst and it will make Watergate look like a kiddie's tea party!

Even I, from 'over here', could smell the corruption from Obama's (non)Justice Department.  The Democrats had eight years to stuff the Department full of the party faithful and they took every opportunity.  The same thing occurred in the Inland Revenue Service but, even worse, it also happened in the Federal Bureau of Investigation which, of course, works hand in hand with the DoJ.  Well, as far as the FBI is concerned its most (in)famous boss, J. Edgar Hoover, who led the organisation for nearly fifty years, was a political thug, up to his elbows in illegal, clandestine activities pursued solely to enhance his own position.  So no change there, then!

I hesitate to comment on current legal matters unless and until they are brought to a conclusion.  However, the extraordinary outcome of the Hilary Clinton investigation into her stupidity and criminal carelessness with handling classified information in which she was let off with a mild reprimand left me gobsmacked!  This was followed by the deeply suspicious and extra-legal pursuit of Donald Trump, allegedly for allowing Russian interference into the presidential campaign and which now looks as though it was actually his Democrat opponent who helped with this stitch up!

Gradually, the gloss of this FBI/DoJ conspiracy is peeling away.  Two of the leading officers in the FBI, and several more who have left the organisation under Trump's leadership, are now seen as Democratic party operators hell bent on bringing Trump down.  I will not attempt to summarise the whole story, instead I would ask you to read a summary of this festering dog-pile written by the combined Editorial Board of The National Review.  Have a large drink to hand!

 

 

British Marxism edges closer to power

If, or perhaps 'when' is a more accurate word, Corbyn's branch of the 'comintern' takes power in Britain and you repeat the age-old expression, "Someone is to blame!", then look no further than this prize collection of brain-dead, egotistical fanatics:

Dominic Grieve                (Beaconsfield)
Ken Clarke                         (Rushcliffe)
Nicky Morgan                   (Loughborough)
Bob Neill                            (Bromley & Chislehurst)
Stephen Hammond         (Wimbledon)
Sir Oliver Heald                (NE Hertfordshire)
Anna Soubry                      (Broxtowe)
Dr Sarah Wollaston          (Totness)
Jonathan Djanogly           (Huntingdon)
Antoinette Sandbach       (Edisbury)
Heidi Allen                         (S. Cambridgeshire)

They, of course, are the Tory MPs who inflicted a totally unnecessary and possibly fatal wound on their own government yesterday.  They also, en passant, wounded their own country which has voted for Brexit, a decision they are determined to thwart.  'Junck the Drunk' and his collection of European gauleiters must be rubbing their hands with glee as they gently smack their truncheons into the palms of their hands and mutter that 'zey haf vays of making ze Brits behave'!  I trust that the constituency Tory parties of this collection of euro fanatics and ego maniacs will take action to ensure that their choice of MPs for the next election will be very different.

In the meantime, Corbyn and his collective of commissars will be rubbing their hands in glee because they know that the Tory party has not just shot itself in the foot but actually amputated both of its own legs.  The British people will not vote for any party that displays such public disagreements, dammit, if the parliamentary party can't support its own government then what is the point of its existence?

Er, have a nice day!

 

ADDITIONAL:  I have added their constituencies in case any local Tories need reminding where to commence re-selection procedures!

 

 

No more Moore

My title is even more puzzling than usual, especially to my non-American readers, and even some of them might wrinkle their foreheads in wonderment unless, of course, they are Alabamans.  I refer, of course, to 'Judge' Roy Moore who is standing on the Republican ticket in today's vote to choose a Senator.  Naturally, being a Republican, and even worse, a Trump supporting Republican, a story was oozed out into the eager media concerning some sexual shenanigans on the part of 'Judge' Moore some years ago with young girls.  Are the charges true?  Sorry, haven't a clue, and nor has anyone else until such time as a proper investigation and, if required, a trial has taken place.

However, according to Mr. David French of the NR, that is no excuse for the electors of Alabama to commit a cardinal sin in voting for this rascal because there are many other reasons to make sure this man never reaches the higher circles of government.  Twice in former years this so-called 'judge' defied rulings of the Alabama Supreme Court and the SCOTUS.  In addition, Mr. French provides some other examples of his injudicious actions which should disqualify him for ever:

For a man who professes to be a student of the Constitution, he’d happily violate its express terms. In a 2006 op-ed, he wrote that Muslim representative Keith Ellison “cannot swear an oath on the Quran and an allegiance to our Constitution at the same time.” Article VI of the Constitution directly, unequivocally, and unambiguously says otherwise. It prohibits any “religious test” as a “Qualification to any Officer or public Trust under the United States.”

[...]

He’s a birther; he’s said it “would eliminate many problems” if our nation passed a constitutional amendment revoking all amendments after the Tenth, a list that includes amendments prohibiting slavery, guaranteeing the “privileges and immunities” of citizens and the equal protection of the law, and granting women the right to vote.

The Republicans in general, and President Trump in particular, need this man like a hole in the head.  Losing in Alabama will hurt them - but not as much as winning!

 

Normal service has now been resumed

At least, I hope it has!  It appears that this morning 'Typepad' had trouble with a 'Gateway', whatever that it is, perhaps someone forgot to close it after them, I don't know.  Anyway, all is now back to normal.  Unfortunately, I have forgotten what I was going to say this morning - and I heard that muted cheer!  No doubt something will occur to me before 'lights out'!

Testing

testing

An extra 'Funny' for being so patient yesterday

This is just in from deepest, darkest, er, Australia, actually, and I thought you deserved it:

A missionary was sent to the deepest, darkest part of Africa, and moved in with a primitive native tribe.  He spent several years with the people, during which he particularly stressed the evil of sexual sin... no adultery, no fornication!
 
One day, the wife of one of the tribe's noblemen gave birth to a child.
But the child was white!  This caused quite a stir in the village.  The chief sent for the missionary, and said, "You have taught us the evils of sexual sin, but here is a black woman who gives birth to a white child. And you are the only white man in a distance of a five days walk!  What is the explanation?"

The missionary replied, "No, no, my good man - you're mistaken.  This is a natural occurrence, what in English we call an albino.  Nature does this on some occasions.  For example, look over there at that flock of sheep.  They are all white, except -- look, there is one black sheep among them!  Could you explain this to me?"
 
The chief thinks it over for a while and then replies, "Okay.  I'll tell you what, father.  You don't say anything about the black sheep, and I won't say anything about the white child."

 

Your (just in time) Monday Funnies: 11.12.17

Sorry normal service was interrupted, alas, all due to an elderly relative, by which I mean even older than me, who had to be moved from a residential home to a care home.  Fortunately, young, well, youngish, SoD stepped up to the mark and did most of the hard work.  He's a good lad, really, if only he could stop going on and on and on about Brexit!

This first one has a familiar ring to it but it still made me smile:

 

Paddy had been drinking at his local pub all day and most of the night, celebrating St Patrick's Day.  Mick, the bartender says, 'You'll not be drinking anymore tonight, Paddy'.
 
Paddy replies, 'OK Mick, I'll be on my way then'. Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off. He falls flat on his face.
 
'Damn' he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off. He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face, 'oh bloody damn!'
 
He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to the door and some fresh air he'll be fine.
 
He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk and falls flat on his face.
 
'Bi' Jesus… I'm in bloody trouble,' he says.
 
He can see his house just a few doors down, and crawls to the door, hauls himself up the door frame, opens the door and shimmies inside.
 
He takes a look up the stairs and says 'No bloody way....'
 
He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says 'I can make it to the bed'. He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face. He says 'damn it' and falls into bed.
 
The next morning, his wife, Jess, comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee and says, 'Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night?'
 
Paddy says, 'I did, Jess. I was bloody pissed. But how did you know?'
 
'Mick phoned .. . . You left your wheelchair at the pub.'

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

 

A little story to start your Christmas season in the right spirit.

When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce
toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the
Pre-Christmas pressure.

Then, Mrs. Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which
stressed Santa even more..

He went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.

When he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the
toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered. Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a glass of cider and a shot of rum.

He went to the cupboard but discovered the elves had drunk all the
cider and hidden the rum.

In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke
into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor.

He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.

Just then the doorbell rang, and an irritated Santa marched to the
door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big
Christmas tree.

The angel said very cheerfully, 'Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a
lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to
stick it?'

And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas
tree.

Not a lot of people know this . . .

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

 

An elderly couple learned to send text messages on their mobile phones.
 
The wife, a retired college English instructor with emphasis on the
Classics, was an unapologetic romantic; her husband, a retired gruff Marine Corp Sergeant-Major of thirty years' service, was a no-nonsense guy.
 
One afternoon the wife went to the local Starbuck's to meet a friend for
coffee.  While awaiting her friend's arrival, she exercised her new skill
by sending her husband a romantic text message:

"If you are sleeping, send me your dreams.  If you are laughing, send me your smile.  If you are eating send me a bite.  If you are drinking, send me a sip.  If you are crying, send me your tears. I love you."
 
The husband responded:  "I'm takin' a crap.   Please advise."

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

 

Do you know what happened 164 years ago this summer on September 9, 1850?

California became a state!

The people had no electricity.

The state had no money.

Almost everyone spoke Spanish.

There were gunfights in the streets.

So basically NOTHING has changed except, then the women had real tits and the men didn't hold hands.

And that, my friends, is your history lesson for today!

 

Busy, busy Monday

Sorry, things to do and people to see today but fear not your Monday Funnies will follow, er, eventually!

ADDITIONAL:  Messages received and understood!  It's 18.00hrs now and so long as I don't doze off in front of the fire after supper you might be in receipt of a 'Funny' or two, or not, we shall see what we shall see!

The Sunday Rumble: 10.12.17

Are the Democrats doomed?  I ask because there are two interesting articles of foreboding on this subject today.  The first, and perhaps most surprising, is from the impeccably liberal Maureen Dowd writing in the NYT.  She chronicles the disaster that has followed the Dems attempts last year to seize on Trump's self-confessed bad attitude to women whilst supporting  'HillBilly' who had joined enthusiastically in attacking the female victims of her own husband's voracious sexual appetite. 

The other article is an anonymous one in The American Spectator which complies with the old diktat to 'always follow the money'.  According to this writer, the Dems are heading, if not for bankruptcy then for severe impoverishment.  The chances are that the new Supreme Court will finally back a law that will stop public service unions from extracting money from their members who are not Dem supporters.  In anticipation, they have already slashed their contributions to the Dems.  The 'yuuuuuuge' amounts of money usually forthcoming from Hollywood have disappeared as the entire industry gurgles down the toilet.  Likewise, the Obama corruption in which various government funds were aimed at Democrat-supporting entities will cease under Trump and the cream on that cake is that Obama left the DNC an overdraft on its funds!  Read the article to see all the other revenue sources which have either disappeared or shrunk.  Trump may, or may not, be dumb but he's certainly lucky!

 

Quantum physics is easy compared to the Brexit imbroglio:   Does anyone really and truly understand the ins and outs of the Brexit negotiation?  As you may have noticed, given the lack of posts here on the subject, I haven't a clue.  Reading the, er, 'informed' commentariat simply leaves one even more confused.  Given the internal conflicts in the Tory party it was never going to be easy but my trust in an eventually satisfactory outcome remains with that "old common arbitrator, Time".

 

No wonder 'the cousins' are confused:   So far this year CNN, one of the principle news networks 'over there', has had to retract seven false news stories.  There's still three weeks to go until the new year so we must wait and see if they can reach double figures.  They are rapidly approaching the (in)accuracy record of the British Met Office who haven't changed the seaweed that hangs outside their windows for decades! Does anyone watch CNN anymore? 

 

Say it ain't so:   There is a 'SHLOCK-HORROR' story in today's Times reporting that a 'business man' connected to the Labour party has been recorded demanding a bribe of £2m from a developer trying get planning permission to build a new office skyscraper.  I can't provide the details because I refuse to pay to read The Times and thus keep the sundry wives of my ex-best friend, 'Rupe', in the style to which they have become accustomed!  But surely, 'Brother' Jeremy would not allow himself to be soiled by connection to such capitalist swine!

 

When it comes to Martin Schulz we must not be 'lookist': 

 

I agree that Herr Schulz is unlikely ever to win a leading role in Hollywood but, then again, nor is 'Mutti' Merkel!  However, the fact is that he is now 'Mutti's last chance to form a government and, whilst he is clearly and honestly an out-and-out Euro nutter, he might be a help to us rather than a hindrance.  He has now proposed that the Euro fanatics should be honest and not only admit to wanting a 'United States of Europe' but actually campaign for it to come about by 2025!  Because of this, Herr Schultz is fairly relaxed at our desire for Brexit, indeed, according to a piece in The Coffee House, he would be happy for any other 'wobblers' to depart and thus leave Euro-ultras to get on with it without opposition. 

 

 

 

The truly brain-dead are among us:   I refer, of course, to those Brit 'footie fans' who, having shared their handful of brain cells with each other, are preparing to visit Russia next year for the World Cup.  Amongst them will be, no doubt, the 'usual suspects' who like nothing better than a bit of boozing, street fighting and hooliganism.  Their Russian equivalents, of course, can hardly wait!  They, after all, are the 'pros' who actually conduct tactical exercises in street punch ups.  Our lot are ill-disciplined, drunken 'ams' and the resulting bloody defeat will match that of our gallant 'footie' team.  As for the rest of the visitors to Mother Russia, they can expect to be ripped off and over-charged where-ever they go.

 

 

A pre-Christmas gift to you all:  God, I'm good - and generous!  I offer you all a glass of vintage Hitchens - no, no, not Christopher! - I mean his brother, Peter, who is in fine form in today's Mail:

 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-5163571/How-save-British-politics-Make-MPs-bus.html

 

 

 

No more rumbles today

 

A 'no-brainer', er, that's me!

Last night I watched a terrific swot as he explained the latest developments in quantum physics.  When I went to bed, I had to inform the 'Memsahib' that sex was off the menu because I had a headache - and, no, I am not going to tell you her response which was really quite hurtful!  Actually, the swot concerned gave me the impression that detailed knowledge of the crazy world of sub-atomic particles had simply (or perhaps that should be 'complicatedly') not progressed very far from the days, forty-odd years ago, when I first began to try and grasp it.  The impression I gained from the programme was that although hard, proven explanations had rather stalled, imaginative, esoteric ones had increased enormously and I felt rather like poor Alice when she fell down the rabbit hole! 

We can expect huge advances on three frontiers: the very small, the very large, and the very complex. Nonetheless—and I’m sticking my neck out here—my hunch is there’s a limit to what we can understand. Efforts to understand very complex systems, such as our own brains, might well be the first to hit such limits. Perhaps complex aggregates of atoms, whether brains or electronic machines, can never know all there is to know about themselves. And we might encounter another barrier if we try to follow Weinberg’s arrows further down: if this leads to the kind of multidimensional geometry that string theorists envisage. Physicists might never understand the bedrock nature of space and time because the mathematics is just too hard. [My emphasis]

Oh, terrific, I now feel so much better about myself!

 

 

'What difference at that point would it make'?

In my title I paraphrase the less than thoughtful words of Hillary Clinton and, moving swiftly on, apply them to that fateful meeting in May 1940 - see post below.  Suppose, oh go on, just suppose, that Churchill had not been appointed PM and ask yourself what difference would it have made? 

I have been a life-long admirer of Churchill's tremendous qualities whilst reminding myself constantly of his equally tremendous faults.  The man, after all, was just that - a man and therefore not perfect.  His political acumen in spotting, well before most other people, that Hitler was a very real menace stands to his huge credit, although equally, Chamberlain saw enough to order a re-armament programme as far ahead as 1935.  Alas for him, his Munich settlement damaged his reputation for ever, although there is a good case to be made that it was an act of sensible real-politik given the pathetic state of the British military - as we all learned the hard way in 1940! 

Most people are agreed that Lord Halifax possessed a good political brain but, alas for him, the notion of running a wartime government from the House of Lords whilst a deputy would have to play the part of front man in the Commons simply would not work.  Sensibly, he saw this and decided not to push for the job.

Even so, my totally theoretical question remains - would it have made that much difference which of the three had led Britain through the war?  The die was cast when Britain declared war in 1939 and from that point on the great cataclysmic events, Germany crushing western Europe, Hitler invading Russia and Japan attacking Pearl Harbour, were unleashed for good or ill and despite anything a British prime minister might do or say!

 

 

 

At least, I reached the end

As you will have gathered from my previous, and frequent, mentions, I have been utterly fascinated recently with Nicholas Shakespeare's superb history of perhaps the most dangerous few weeks in the history of Britain.  I refer, of course, to April/May 1940.  Reading it has muted the 'alarums and excursions' of current brouhahas which sink into the tedious sludge of nothing more than mere "events, dear boy, events".  

The three leading actors in this all too real drama were, in their different ways, utterly fascinating.  Neville Chamberlain, handsome but deeply introverted - almost a caricature of an upper-middle class Englishman, came to his premiership late in life and thus with plenty of political experience.  His reputation has been forever blackened by the Munich agreement and it is forgotten that actually, in 1935, he pulled the trigger to start a huge re-armament programme which may not have been enough by 1940 but which did produce a sufficient number of Hurricanes and Spitfires for the Battle of Britain.

Lord Halifax, Foreign Minister at the time, was a toff of the first order!  He had moved effortlessly through the upper ranks of the Tory party without making too many waves which allowed his reputation to rise and rise.  He was described by one contemporary as "half unworldly saint, half cunning politician".  By 1940 his reputation was such that he was considered the natural successor to Chamberlain who was forced to resign as PM following the debacle in Norway which, of course, was almost entirely the fault of Winston Churchill, the then First Lord of the Admiralty.

The leadership crisis that occurred in May 1940 was the stuff of truly high drama.  It ended when the three men, plus the Chief Whip of the Tory party, met in private in No. 10.  Amazingly, or perhaps not when you think about it, no agreed version is available of what took place in that room, as German tanks were unleashed across France and the Low Countries.  Both public and press and political wisdom had it overwhelmingly that Chamberlain would go and Halifax would take over.  The rest, as they say, is history!

Six Minutes in May by Nicholas Shakespeare

 

Anniversary of the second biggest mistake in history

In a comment down below, my 'Chief Archivist' (aka: JK) reminds us that today is the anniversary of the second biggest mistake in history, the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour.  The first, of course, was the German attack on Russia.  It is a sort of comfort to know that despite the blundering stupidity of our own politicians, we can rely on even greater stupidity from our enemies.  The critical operational mistake by the Japanese, although the importance of it was not revealed until later, was the fact that they missed the American carriers which were still at sea.  Of course, they succeeded in turning several battleships into scrap metal but, as it turned out, battleships were past their operational 'sell by date' and it was aircraft carriers that were the truly strategic weapon of the era.

Also, as Andrew B. Wilson reminds us in an article at The American Spectator, the Japanese attack tripped the trigger for a truly astonishing revolution in the American economy:

[T]hey underestimated the extraordinary ability of American industry to convert to high-speed, high-quality military production. In the words of the historian Victor Davis Hanson, “After Pearl Harbor, the United States went into a rearmament frenzy the likes of which had never been seen in history. America produced more airplanes and ships than all other World War II powers combined.” [My emphasis]

They certainly did that, God bless their Yankee-doodle socks, and there-after it was game over even if the Japanese needed a couple of A-bombs to clinch the argument!  Perhaps we should pause for a moment on this traumatic date and spare a thought for the 2,403 American servicemen who perished in the attack.

ADDITIONAL:  I never stop learning thanks to this wonderful 'internet-thingie'.  Thus, no sooner did I publish the post above than, courtesy of The National Review, I came across the late, and very great, Democratic congressman from Georgia, Carl Vinson- and, no, I had never heard of him either!  However, according to the NR, this country bumpkin congressman from Georgia - hardly a place constantly buffeted by salt air from the sea! - spent nearly ten years before WWII constantly agitating various American governments to build a two-ocean navy larger than all the major navies of the world combined.  His campaign succeeded just enough against monumental indifference to provide the USA with the basics before the Japanese struck at Pearl Harbour. There seem to be a plethora of empty statue plinths in America these days, given the ravages of the juvenile Left, so perhaps one of them can be used to house a statue of this man.

 

 

A question to which I have no answer

Why are you not surprised?  Is my abysmal ignorance on so many matters a bit of a give away?  Ah well, your favourite oracle must remain silent on the latest example of rampant Trumpism in which he has let it be known that he intends to recognise Jerusalem as the capital of Israel and to put American tax dollars where his mouth is by building a new embassy in that city.  Thus, the question arises, in the words of those great historians, Sellars & Yeatman, is this "A Good Thing" or "A Bad Thing"?  No more than three volumes are permitted by way of answers!

Frankly, I'm not sure.  In a virulently anti-Trump blog I grace with my presence from time to time, they say "Even Russia, along with Palestine, Jordan, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, UAE, Egypt, Qatar, Morocco, Kuwait, and Iraq, opposed Trump's decision".  Well, I'm tempted to say that if that bunch of corrupt, murderous rascals are against it, then I am tempted to be for it.  Another complaint is that somehow, in some way, the, er, "peace process" will be disrupted, to which one can only reply, "What peace process?"  

I leave it to my wise readers to tell me what to think! 

 

 

Excuse me, darlings, whilst I go OTT

Yes, I know, most of the time I am fairly level-headed.  I might be right or I might be wrong but I do try to remain fairly balanced but every so often I go off on one - either for good or ill!  Happily, this time it is all for good with an absolute rave review for one of the very best history books I have ever read.  I refer to Six Minutes in May by Nicholas Shakespeare to which I made reference in my last Sunday Rumble.  I still haven't quite finished it yet but I simply cannot contain my enthusiasm and as Christmas approaches I urge you all to treat yourselves, particularly if you are British and if you are elderly!  However, even if you are neither of those things but you have a fascination with those bloody "events, dear boy, events" at an unbelievably crucial moment in history, May 1940 to be exact, then this will grip you.

The 'six minutes' referred to in the title, of course, was the deeply peculiar and very English meeting in which Churchill, against all the odds, became prime minister.  However, Mr. Shakespeare carefully keeps that to the very end of his book but he uses the earlier chapters, in effect, to set the scene - and I use that expression deliberately because it has the characteristics of a play.  It covers in some detail the totally stupid, tragic, incompetent and hideously embarrassing military and naval operations undertaken in Norway mainly at the enthusiastic behest of Winston Churchill who replayed, in effect, his catastrophe in Gallipoli in WWI, a perfect example of events playing out 'first as tragedy then as farce'!

However, Mr. Shakespeare does not confine himself totally to "war, war, war" but provides a truly brilliant evocation of "les temps perdu" by introducing us to the high (and low!) political and social life of Britain in the '30s and early '40s.  In one section of his book he describes in some detail the two day debate that took place in parliament following the Norway debacle which, to virtually everyone's surprise resulted in the political demise of Neville Chamberlain, and even more totally gob-smacking, the eventual elevation of Churchill to be wartime leader of the country.

In that particular May, I was, er, 'celebrating' my first birthday so all this passed well over my head but, of course, many of the participants figured heavily in the politics of post war Britain, people like Harold MacMillan, John Profumo, Clem Atlee and so on and on.  For me, reading it now is like living history.  I have just reached Part V which will detail the famously private meeting at No.10 which amazingly plucked Churchill from the mud, blood and freezing sea waters of Norway and rewarded him with the top job.  You couldn't make it up!

 

Never, ever, mess with the 'Micks'!

So now, 'St. Theresa of May' knows what it's like to wander down the Shankill Road in Belfast on a Saturday night, you can expect nothing but 'pelters', as many a Brit squaddie will tell you! It is far too early to assess the details, for that we will have to wait for the history books to be written - 'I should live so long, my life already!' 

However, there are two main suspects.  First, some of those smooth-tongued, civil service, brief-case carriers, all frightfully well educated at the best schools and most of them as thick as planks!  They might have been congratulating themselves for finding a way with words which would prove that 2+2=5 but they had no experience of 'Proddie' suspicion and obstinacy.

The second main suspect is, of course, 'Junck the Drunk', who is reported to have leaked the outline agreement to sundry European MEPs a couple of hours before Mrs. May announced it and he probably has a shrewder idea of 'Proddie' feelings and likely reactions than anyone in the British government.

My reaction is to thank the 'Proddies' for injecting some realism into this farce.  I have never thought that there would be an agreement so the quicker we pack our suitcases and leave, the better!  And my message to Mrs. May is short and simple - get real!

 

Your Monday Funnies: 4.12.17

The first one answers a long-term puzzle:

 

WHY MEN ARE NEVER DEPRESSED:
 
Men Are Just Happier People - What do you expect from such simple
creatures?
Your last name stays put. The garage is all yours. Wedding plans take care of themselves. Chocolate is just another snack. You can be Prime Minister.

You can never be pregnant.
 
You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park. You can wear NO shirt to a water park. Car mechanics tell you the truth. The world is your urinal.
 
You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky. You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt. Same work, more pay. Wrinkles add character. 

Wedding dress -$5000.
Tux rental-$100. 

People never stare at your chest when you're talking to
them. 

New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet. One mood all the
time.
 
Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat. You know stuff about
tanks.
 
A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.. You can open all your own jars. 

You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness. 

If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.
 
Your underwear is $10.95 for a three-pack. Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.. You almost never have strap problems in public. You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes. Everything on your face stays its original colour. The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades. 

You only have to shave your face and neck. You can play with toys all your life. 

One wallet and one pair of shoes -- one colour for all seasons. 

You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look. You can "do" your nails with a pocket knife. 

You have freedom of choice concerning growing a moustache.
 
You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24in 25 minutes.
 
No wonder men are happier.

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

 

A kid in school was asked if he knew who God was.

He answered, “Wasn’t he the bloke who saved the Queen?”

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

 

An artist is commissioned to create a painting celebrating Soviet-Polish friendship, to be called "Lenin in Poland."

When the painting is unveiled at the Kremlin, there is a gasp from the invited guests. The painting depicts Lenin's wife naked in bed with Leon Trotsky.

"But this is a travesty! Where is Lenin?" Asks one of the guests.

"Lenin is in Poland," replies the painter.

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

 

A far more accurate account of the events of that fateful morning....

 

Baby bear goes downstairs, sits in his small chair at the table.
He looks into his small bowl.  It is empty. 'Who's been eating my  porridge?' he squeaks. 

Daddy Bear arrives at the big table and sits in his big chair.
He looks into his big bowl and it is also empty. 'Who's been eating my porridge?!?'  he roars. 

Mummy Bear puts her head through the serving hatch 
from the kitchen and yells, 'How many times do I have to go 
through this with you idiots?    

It was Mummy Bear who got up first. 
It was Mummy Bear who woke everyone in the house.  
It was Mummy Bear who made the coffee.  It was Mummy Bear 
who unloaded the dishwasher from last night and put everything 
away.. It was Mummy Bear who swept the floor in the kitchen. 
It was Mummy Bear who went out in the cold early morning air to 
fetch The newspaper and croissants. It was Mummy Bear who 
set the damn table.

'It was Mummy Bear who walked the bloody dog, cleaned the 
cat's litter tray, gave them their food, and refilled their water.

'And now that you've decided to drag your sorry bear-arses 
downstairs and grace Mummy Bear with your grumpy presence. 
Listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this  once.... 

 

'I  HAVEN'T MADE THE F***IN' PORRIDGE  YET!!!!!!!

 

The Sunday Rumble: 3.12.17

Poor Zimbabwe:  The 'gangstas' remain in control - why am I not surprised?  Or at least, they might think they are in control as they bank their ill-gotten gains off shore but I suspect that in truth it is the Chinese who are pulling their strings.  An interesting, if depressing, article at The American Spectator points an accusing finger at Jimmy Carter, oh yes, it woz 'im wot dunnit - hoonoo?!

 

Good old Matt:   Of course, 'as any fule do no', Matt is the resident cartoonist at The Telegraph.  I must say that I rather disapprove of the habit in several newspapers of employing cartoonists who produce huge, multi-coloured and exaggerated pictures which are over-drawn and deeply unfunny.  Happily, Matt always keeps it simple and his humour is deadly accurate.  Wisely, the DT will not allow me to copy his cartoons but you can see the latest here:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2017/11/30/matt-cartoons-december-2017/

 

No, darling, you can't take your lipstick on operations:   The news just gets 'worserer and worserer'!  According to The Mail, there are moves afoot to allow ladies to volunteer for the SAS.  Needless to say, the endurance tests for them will be much lower than for men.  That should work well when an operational team is on foot in the middle of a desert or a jungle with an enormous distance to cover!

 

OK, enough of Meghan Markle, my life already!   Nothing against the gal, you understand, because she's rather attractive and dresses very well but do I really need her covering several pages of my newspapers every day?  No, I do not!

 

I am still suffering in the Norway fiasco:   I refer, of course, to Churchill's 'mad, bad and dangerous' idiocy in the Norwegian operation in 1940, as described by Nicholas Shakespeare in his excellent book "Six Minutes In May".  Despite this utter shambles the end result was that Churchill was promoted to Prime Minister.  He should have been 'banged up'!  One of the key features of this campaign was that all of the naval and army commanders were united in their chorus of pleas for aircraft cover of which there was none.  To be fair, until this point virtually all commanders totally underestimated the critical importance of air cover so they (and their men!) learned the hard way.  Churchill learned nothing because the next year he sent HMS Prince of Wales and Repulse to Malayan waters with no air cover and they were both sunk!

 

Stand up guy, that Dan Hodges:   Given that he is at heart a Labour supporter, despite having surrendered his membership when the Corbyn apparat took over, Mr. Hodges comes to the defence of Damian Green, the Tory deputy leader, who has fallen foul of the lumpen constabulary who have dragged up a nine year old accusation that he had pornography on his office computer.  As someone else asked, how many middle-aged men do you know who have never had porn on their computers at some time?  Anyway, Mr. Hodges does the decent thing and despite his politics he reverts to proper legal decency which is more than some embittered old 'Plods' have done.

 

Even Tom Wolfe couldn't invent this one:   On another site, I have been 'introduced', sort of, to some rum cove called Ta-Nehisi Coates - no, really, that's his name.  His Wiki page made me giggle.  He is one of seven children produced by his father with four different women.  He attended a college, mainly due to the fact that his father worked there but he failed to graduate.  Happily, he did take to books in a big way and that gave him an ability to express his opinions.  Unhappily, as far as I can make out, his views are those of a virulent black racist, so he's not so very different from who-ever is running the KKK.  Needless to say, this ignorant prat is beloved of the American media.  Is it any wonder that 'The Donald' won the presidency?

 

No more Rumbles today

 

 

Too much information, 'Lord Copper', and not enough knowledge

When it comes to current affairs I have never, in my 78 years, been so well-informed.  Quite apart from the daily and weekly printed products produced by latter-day 'Lord Coppers' which are available to me at my local newsagent, there is also this 'internet-thingie' which puts Washington, Moscow, Beijing, Timbuctoo et al before my very eyes at the click of a button.  It is all quite amazing and no doubt it is also, in the words of Sellars & Yeatman, "A Good Thing" but, after ploughing through it all, do I really know what is going on?

Take for example, 'Trump Brouhaha #7,396' which has erupted everywhere following one of his pet Generals being caught out telling 'porkies' to the FBI.  Yes, we all know, ad nauseum, that it has happened but what does it mean?  Neither do we know, exactly and precisely, what was the nature of the 'porkies' and in what context they were told and why the hell the FBI was asking in the first place.  Of course, this being a 'Trump Brouhaha', it is impossible to gain an understanding of its intricacies because the man himself is, shall we say, deeply idiosyncratic.  To add to the inherent confusion, the entire Washingtonian establishment, Republicans, Democrats, media, commentariat and 'Uncle Tom Cobbley and all', appear to be suffering with St. Vitus dance syndrome!

Still 'n' all, as they say 'over there', if you look long and hard enough you will find the odd gleam of knowledgeable gold.  For example, in today's Daily Mail you have the wise words of Max Hastings, a man with the skills and knowledge of an historian.  In his article he deals with yet another 'Trump Brouhaha' - I forget the number, there have been so many! - which covers Trump's decision to republish with approbation on 'Twitter' some unintelligible dross issued by a British fascist organisation snarling and dribbling its usual hatred of all Muslims.  Cue: entry by 'St. Margaret of May' telling him that he was "a very naughty boy"!  Again, and absolutely true to form, an unrepentant 'Donald' simply doubled down on his opinions.

So the question arises, what does all this actually mean, and fortunately Mr. Hastings explains it:

What a nightmare for any prime minister! The leader of our closest ally chooses not merely to blow a kiss to a British far-Right anti-Muslim group, but then to insult Theresa May for deploring his gesture, as she was bound to do.

It is impossible not to be dismayed by President Donald Trump’s behaviour, which is unworthy of the head of state of the world’s greatest democracy.

But we should ruefully acknowledge that he treats this country no worse than any other nation on the planet, friend or foe. His own cabinet experiences the same level of manners every day.

But, as Mr. Hastings reminds us from his historical knowledge, no-one should be surprised that a POTUS treats this country with either indifference or contempt because virtually all them have done exactly that, unless of course, national interest (theirs not ours) requires a different tack.  It is we Brits who refuse to acknowledge this with our daft belief in "hands across the sea" and all that guff!  Obama hid his contempt and indifference because he was a professional politician but Trump is an amateur who breaks all the rules by 'telling it the way it is'.  We should get real!

 

In which I boldly shuffle into the 21st century

"One small step for man", as that very brave fella' said when he landed on the moon but I have just taken a giant leap forward into this technological age!  Mind you, in my second 'giant leap' I fell flat on my face - why are you not surprised?  I had better explain.

I am getting old - yes, I know, 'the horror, the horror'! - but I am thinking ahead of the great game of life.  As you regulars here will know, I am a 'book-a-holic'.  Almost since I first learned to read I have never been able to contemplate life without a book to hand.  That's the good part but alas the less good part is that most of the books were rubbish!  Even so, I recommend the habit because it is relatively cheap and the supply is endless. 

At the moment my eyesight is pretty good but the 'Memsahib' is suffering with an eye infection and it made me wonder what I would do if I was unable to read easily.  No worries, the solution is to hand, thanks to those smart-arse techies who run the world these days - audible books!  Naturally, I turned to 'SoD' for advice but he said I needed one of those all-singing, all-dancing i-phone-thingies which cost about a zillion quid and require you to go to college for a year to learn how to use them! Given that I make, on average, about one phone call a month on my old-fashioned mobile, usually from the local supermarket to the 'Memsahib' asking her where I will find the bread counter, the expense seemed excessive and knowing me I would either lose the bloody thing within a week or break it!

However, there is one bit of modern technology I have mastered - the Kindle!  Naturally, the one I own is now qualified for museum status and it does not have an audible book feature.  So, with total bravado I entered the Amazon web site and emerged some time later - well, actually it was ages later as I tried to grapple with the language! - with a brand new Kindle Fire-thingie for £50 quid which, I was assured, would link to audible books.

Of course, and I know you will not need to be told this, but I forgot to buy headphones!  So, man of action that I am, I pootled off to PC World where some 15-year old techie-swot tried not to snigger as I asked for some headphones.  Faced with a display of roughly 500 different types, naturally I reverted to type and ran my finger down the prices and chose the cheapest!  

The next hideously tricky task I had to face was working out not how to operate this fancy Kindle Fire but, er, how to switch it on!  Dammit, why do they always make the buttons so tiny and flush with the surface and then paint them the same colour as the casing so you can't find them?  Then, of course, there is this business of pushing or pulling or stabbing your finger over the screen in order to change the images and then  . . . no, I could go on but I fear I may be boring you!  In the end I did manage to switch it on and I did manage to buy a book and by pressing everything in sight, suddenly, a voice began to read it.

It was at this point that I found the titchy little hole into which one inserts the headphones which I duly did - to absolutely no effect.  The voice continued to read from the speakers but not a word came through the headphones!  In a fury, I made a racing start that (Sir) Lewis Hamilton would have admired, and headed for PC World and that stupid boy who had assured me that the headphones were compatible with a Kindle Fire.  I marched into the store, collared the spotty youth and demanded to know why he had sold me earphones that did not work?  He took my device and pushed the earphone-thingie firmly - and fully! - into the socket and, lo, it worked, I just hadn't pushed it in far enough.  Cue: collapse of stout, red-faced party!

Last night I listened to the first five chapters - I will give you my review later ... hang on ... where are you going?