DUFF & NONSENSE!

'Remainers' hoist on their own own petards

Normally, I am just very grateful to Mr. Rod Liddle, the sage of 'Speccieland', for making me snigger, or chuckle, or laugh my head off but today he produced from me one long series of snorts of derision.  He is, of course, 'a very naughty boy' who has the colossal impudence to hold up for ridicule sundry, er, distinguished 'Remainers' by reminding them of their own words.  Take for example - oh go on, take him, please -  the deeply dim (well, he was in 'Her Maj's Rock Ape' regiment), Paddy (Pantsdown) Ashdown who said this loud and clear before the referendum:

I will forgive no one who does not respect the sovereign voice of the British people once it has spoken. Whether it is a majority of 1 per cent or 20 per cent, when the British people have spoken, you do what they command. Either you believe in democracy or you don’t.

Or there is the less than delightful Ms. Anna Soubry MP who in 2015, before the referendum, said:

We are trusting the British people. We will go to the people, and let the people decide whether or not to stay within the EU.

Alas, after the wretched 'irredeemables' actually decided, she admitted that though she had been, or pretended to be, fully in favour of a referendum it was:

... only because I thought we would win. Obviously, I wouldn’t have if I thought we would lose.

Then there is old John 'Four-eyes' Major who proclaimed sternly:

There will not be another referendum on Europe. This is it.

Now he has thrown himself - and what remains of his pathetic reputation - behind the Remainer campaign agitating for a second referendum.  

Of course, this ragbag collection of lying liars are supported by that 'king of liars', Tony Blair, and his sleazy, slimy, former assistant-perp, Peter Mandelson, a man who was disgraced, not once but twice, whilst acting as a minister of the Crown, and whom you would be well advised to count your fingers after shaking hands with him!

In the famous words of the late, great Terry Thomas, "What an absolute shower!"

 

 

'Dinna put yur heed in wi' yur bonnet on, Nicola!'

In this rather long, hot (well, not so hot now!) Summer, political life has become somewhat boring and tedious, so we must be duly grateful to the Jocks for adding to the gaiety of the nation.  Alex Salmond, the former leader of the Scots Nats, has been accused of being 'a very wicked, wee lad' with a couple of ladies who used to work for him.  He has denied the accusations strenuously and has now resigned from the Scots Nats in order to fight his defence.

For me, and I write as a semi-Jock myself, I have always found it difficult to warm to the Scots Nats.  Politics apart, you only have to watch that gang they send to the House of Commons to get the flavour of them - perpetually angry, truculent and ill-mannered, not just some of them some of the time but all of them all of the time!  Oddly enough, Salmond was better behaved than most of them but his cocksure air of smug, superiority did not make me warm to him.

Mind you, we must thank that Great Clan Master in the Sky for not allowing Salmond's former deputy, now leader, Mrs. 'MacWhinge', a.k.a. Nicola Sturgeon, to come down to Westminster.  I dread to think how many TV sets would be smashed if we had to listen to her imitating the sound of an electric cutter sawing through sheet steel!  She, of course, was 'ur wee Alex's protegee before she gained the leadership bonnet.  Now her previous mentor and comrade is deep in the 'doo-doo', she has answered Salmond's plea for crowd-funding to help pay his defence costs by donating to a women's abuse charity - so stick that up your kilt, Alex!

What a deeply unpleasant lot those Scots Nats are and one cannot help but believe they deserve each other!

 

 

Hillary's password

Courtesy of the chap who runs I Hate The Media, who is, of course, 'a very naughty boy', I have discovered a new site called IOTWreport.com who are even naughtier boys - and girls, too, probably!  Anyway, on hearing the news that the Chinese had for years been hacking 'HillBilly's' computer the question arose as to what, exactly, did she choose as her password to protect entry into her machine?  If you want to start your day with a snigger, just click on the link above and scroll down the list of suggestions from the IOTW readers.  I can offer you a small selection of their suggestions here and if you have any ideas, feel free to add them in the comments.

'Password'

'moneytalks'

'ButtermeHuma' - what can that mean? No, don't tell me!

'Sniper Fire'

'mustincludesymbolandnumber'

'Bubbasucks'

'ididnothavesexwiththatman'

'MadamPresident'

'KillBill'

 

And so on and on . . .

 

 

I wish I'd never started!

So there I was, minding my own business and pondering on the outlines of a post on the subject of the incoming 'missile' which the Catholic hierarchy have loosed off in the direction of, er, well, the Catholic hierarchy, actually, when a question popped into my ignorant brain - did Jesus really exist?  Of course, from time to time during my life I had asked the question before but the means of discovering an answer, apart from taking a degree course in ancient history, were not available.  But today, of course, we have this wonderful 'internet-thingie' which means that I can sit slump here before my screen and pick the brains of every distinguished history swot there ever was!

So I began but immediately hit a problem because, of course, this is religious history and you have to assume that most of the swots concerned have an axe to grind with which, depending on their opinion, they hope (or pray) may be used to chop off the heads of either believers or non-believers according to taste.  Dammit, I thought, that means I am going to have to plough through both sides of what is bound to be a ferociously technical  argument - and I know where-of I whinge because I have spent many an hour ploughing through the intricate, detailed arguments of Shakespearean scholars!

Well, I will make a start and let you know how I get along.  In the meantime, and returning to the unholy row that is going to engulf the Catholic Church, I can only hope that the creepy Pope Francis is (so to speak) burned at the stake of public opinion, although Mr. Damian Thompson at The Coffee House warns that the conflagration could destroy the entire movement.  One thing history has taught me is that in inter-Christian wars no mercy is shown!

 

 

'O Jed, what a falling off was there!'

I finished my brief review of episode 1 of "Bodyguard" with these words: 

Of course, the real test comes tonight with episode 2 and then we shall see if they can keep the show on this side of the ridiculous. 

Alas and alack, they did not!  'Preposterous' isn't quite the word but it will do.  Of course, the whole back-story is preposterous, I mean, when did we last have a gorgeous, hot Home Secretary?  And if anyone mentions Amber Rudd they will be banned!  The action sequences, sexual as well as terrorist, were exceedingly well done but it was all too much of a stretch with coincidence piled upon coincidence.

Nor, I must say, was I totally convinced by the Whitehall bureaucratic/governmental scenes.  Thank God, I have no personal experience of that milieu but, for me, they just didn't feel right.  I can't help thinking that Mr. Jed Mercurio was very much more comfortable with the goings on in the HQ of a provincial police force, as portrayed in his superb Line of Duty series.   

Even so, I will persevere, not least because there is bugger all else worth watching!

 

 

A boatload of boobies!

Was it that Einstein fella who said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results”.  Probably not but who-ever did say it was spot on!  The proof can be found in the la-la-land of global warming where they never learn anything from experience.

Thus, the irredeemably dumb students and faculty of Rhode Island University decided in their wisdom to mount an expedition to the Arctic "to advance understanding of and document the effect climate change is having on the environment and biodiversity in the Canadian Arctic Archipelago".  Of course, we all remember, because we haven't stopped laughing, the similar 2013 expedition backed - natch! - by the BBC and 'The Graun' - to check on the, er, disappearing ice in the Antarctic which ended up trapped in the, er, well, ice, actually!

Obviously news of that fiasco had not yet reached the University of Rhode Island so they, too, launched an expedition to check on the melting ice 'oooop north' in the Arctic and guess what - DUH! - it became stuck in the ice!

Now you know why I do not regret missing a university education!

 

 

Neil Simon R.I.P.

Sorry to hear the news that Neil Simon has died although if you had asked me I would have assumed that it had occurred some years ago.  However, he reached the age of 91 and I suspect he was chuckling for most of the time!  As many of you know, because I never lose a chance to remind you of my, er, less than distinguished theatrical career, I once had the very real pleasure of playing the role of Barney Cashman in Last of the Red Hot Lovers.  The Wiki summary of the play sums it up beautifully: 

Barney Cashman, a middle-aged, married 'nebbish' [an incompetent prat!] wants to join the sexual revolution before it is too late. A gentle soul with no experience in adultery, he fails in each of three seductions.

And yes, you're right, I was a perfect example of type-casting!  My main difficulty with the role, apart from the fact that I was on stage all of the time, was my inability to suppress my own giggles at so many of the gags.  Neil Simon was truly a very, very funny man.

 

 

The first episode - what a corker!

The odd thing about television is that 99.9% of it is total and utter crap but, when you do catch a gleam of gold, it is terrific!  Thus it was last night with the first episode of Jed Mercurio's latest series Bodyguard.  For the benefit of my overseas readers, it tells the story of a badly scarred, physically and mentally, former Afghan veteran who is now employed by the Met Police as a bodyguard to the Home Secretary.  She, I am droolingly delighted to say, is played by the delicious Keeley Hawes who is a superb actress but, alas, not so good at answering my letters!

Even so, me being me, I had one or two grumbles to begin with.  For example, the hero, Sgt. David Budd played by Richard Madden (and no, me neither!), is a Jock and I found his accent incomprehensible.  Fortunately, he is a man of few words and also I have a button on my 'do-flicker-thingie' that automatically switches on sub-titles.  The set-up is superb with the Home Secretary being a ferociously ambitious politician as well as an absolute cow in dealing with her subordinates and the armed bodyguard is a bit of a nutter who detests politicians who sent him to Afghanistan for no very good reason.

Another of my grumbles was the usual dose of BBC feminist agit-prop in which the leaders of the armed Police anti-terrorist squad and their sharp-shooter snipers were all played by ladies - yeeeeeeeeeees, quite!  Of course, the real test comes tonight with episode 2 and then we shall see if they can keep the show on this side of the ridiculous.  I hope so.

 

 

Your (undeserved) Monday Funnies: 27.8.18

Well, instead of churning out rivets on the factory floor as proper plebs would do, you're all lazing about at home claiming that it's a Bank Holiday, so you really don't deserve these side-splitters I harvest for you!

A blonde heard that milk baths would make her beautiful. She left a note for her milkman to leave 150 litres of milk. When the milkman read the note, he felt there must be a mistake. He thought she probably meant 1.5 litres so he knocked on the door to clarify the point.

The blonde came to the door and the milkman said, "I found your note to leave 150 litres of milk. Did you mean 1.5 litres?"

The blonde said, "I want 150 litres. I'm going to fill my bathtub up with milk and take a milk bath."

The milkman asked, "Do you want it Pasteurised?"

The blonde said, "No, just up to my tits, I can splash it in my eyes...

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

 

A nun gets into the cab and notices that the very handsome cab driver won't stop staring at her. She asks him why he is staring.

He replies: "I have a question to ask you but I don't want to offend you."

She answers, "My son, you cannot offend me. When you're as old as I am and have been a nun as long as I have, you get a chance to see and hear just about everything. I'm sure that there's nothing you could say or ask that I would find offensive."

"Well, I've always had a fantasy to have a nun kiss me."

She responds, "Well, let's see what we can do about that: #1, you have to be single and #2, you must be Catholic."

The cab driver gets very excited and says, "Yes, I'm single and Catholic!"

"OK" the nun says. "Pull into the next alley."

The nun fulfils his fantasy, with a kiss that would make a hooker blush.  But when they get back on the road, the cab driver starts crying.

"My dear child," says the nun, "why are you crying?"

"Forgive me but I've sinned. I lied and I must confess, I'm married and I'm Jewish."

The nun says, "That's OK. My name is Kevin and I'm going to a Halloween party."

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

 

A Hamas terrorist had spent many days crossing the desert without
finding a source of water. It got so bad that his camel died of
thirst. He crawled through the sands, certain that he was breathing
his last breath, when suddenly, he saw a shiny object sticking out of
the sand several yards ahead of him.

He crawled to the object, pulled it out of the sand, and discovered
that he had a Manischewitz wine bottle. It appeared that there may be
a drop or two left in the bottle, so he unscrewed the top, and out
popped a genie.

BUT this was no ordinary genie. This genie appeared to be a Chasidic
Rabbi, complete with black alpaca coat, black hat, side curls, and
tzitzies.

'Vell kid,' said the genie , 'you know how it voiks. You got three vishes.'

'I'm not going to trust you,' says the Arab. 'I'm not going to trust a
Jewish genie!'

'Vott'ya you got to lose?
Looks to me like you're a gonner anyvay!'

The Arab thought about this for a minute, and decided that the genie
was right. 'Okay, I wish I were in a lush oasis, with plentiful food
and drink.' 

* * * * * P O O F * * * * * *

The Arab found himself in the most beautiful oasis he had ever seen
and he was surrounded with jugs of wine and platters of delicacies.

'Okee-dokee kiddo, vat's your second vish?'

'My second wish is that I were rich beyond my wildest dreams.'

* * * * * P O O F * * * * * * * * *

The Arab found himself surrounded by treasure chests filled with rare
old gold coins and precious gems.

'Okay kid, you got just vone more vish. Better you should make it a good vone!'

After thinking for a few minutes, the Arab says, 'I wish that no
matter where I go, beautiful women will always need and want me !'

********POOF************

He was turned into a tampon.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY:

If you're an Arab terrorist doing business with a Jewish genie,
there's going to be a string attached.

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

 

And now, absolutely free of charge - God, I'm good to y'all - some velly wise Chinese proverbs:

Virginity like bubble: one prick, all gone.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who run in front of car get tired.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who run behind car get exhausted.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Foolish man give wife grand piano, wise man give wife upright organ.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who walk through airport turnstile sideways going to Bangkok
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man with one chopstick go hungry.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who scratch ass should not bite fingernails.
* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who eat many prunes get good run for money.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Baseball is wrong: man with four balls cannot walk.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Panties not best thing on earth! But next to best thing on earth.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
War does not determine who is right, war determine who is left.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cat house.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who fight with wife all day get no piece at night.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It take many nails to build crib, but one screw to fill it.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who drive like hell, bound to get there.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who stand on toilet is high on pot.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who live in glass house should change clothes in basement.
*~*~*~*~*~! *~*~*~*~*
Man who fish in other man's well often catch crabs.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who fart in church sit in own pew.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

That's your lot, time to get up and do the garden!

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 26.8.18

The dear old 'Duke of Boot' will not be amused!   When it comes to the battle of Waterloo, according to Dr. Matthew Genge, a swot at the Department of Earth Science and Engineering at Imperial College London, 'it woz Mount Tambora wot wunnit'!  Apparently, this little known volcano in Indonesia blew its top, so to speak, and sent zillions of tons of electrically charged ash into the ionosphere which short-circuited the earth's atmosphere and caused huge downfalls of rain in Europe including the field at Waterloo.  Because of the soaking conditions, 'Boney' delayed his attack on the British lines until late in the morning which gave time for all those plucky Prussians to arrive.  What's the German for 'jolly good show'?

 

Senator John McCain R.I.P.:   I will immediately admit my ignorance of the minutiae of Sen. McCain's life which, like everybody's life, contains the usual mix of faults and virtues.  Even so, his conduct during five years of cruel imprisonment in North Vietnam marks him out as an exceedingly brave man.  His subsequent political life is best described as 'maverick' which means, in effect, he never automatically toed the party line, no doubt sometimes for good and sometimes for ill.  National politics needs independent thinkers like him and so I salute his memory.

 

Everybody should have a Peter Hitchens:  It is such a relief on a Sunday morning to click on to The Mail and enjoy a fierce slug of Peter Hitchens.  Today he leads on the state of Britain's (non)prisons!  This follows the forced governmental take-over of Birmingham jail which, under useless private management, had ended up, in effect, being run by the prisoners.

Common sense has been banished from our country, but nobody connects this with its results.  The liberals themselves drivel that prisons are full because we send too many people to them. I will come to that in a moment.

Others claim that the squalor, drugs and violence of the verminous Birmingham Prison, revealed last week, are the result of privatisation.  Well, I oppose private prisons because I do not think the punishment of wrongdoers is a business. It is the moral duty of the state. But it is not the issue here. It is easy to find state-run prisons that are just as bad as Birmingham.

The truth is astonishingly simple. In the 1960s, our ruling elite decided that they knew better than any generation before them.

 Do yourselves a favour and read the whole thing.

 

Hey, Donald, better watch the stock market!   Thus sayeth Liam Halligan, a financial expert, in The Telegraph today.  Mr. Halligan points to a steady rise in the market due to some very smart tax cuts and various other measures but, "as any fule do no", what goes up eventually comes down and that is when the brown stuff hits the fan!

 

Sorry, sorry, I went a.w.o.l. - again:   Well, it was out to lunch with friends and then back home to watch a recording of the Belgian Grand Prix.  Thank God I had recorded it because it was the most eye-stabbingly tedious race I have seen in yonks!  I kept fast-forwarding hoping that (Sir) Lewis would get his finger out and beat that damned Hun but it was not to be.

 

The Pope is in the poop!   And I'm glad because I have never liked the cut of his jib - he smiles too much!  Damian Thompson has the less than Holy details and the stench is already rising following the exposure of the homosexual child abuse covered up in the America church.

 

In Australian, 'all change' means 'no change':   According to WUWT, the new Aussie PM who came in with the expectation of getting Australia out of the ridiculous and hugely expensive Paris Agreement, is now expected to stick with it.  One of his cabinet ministers has already resigned.  So, in effect, it's back to the ever-Green, Malcolm Turnbull!  I wonder what my Aussie e-pals think of that?

 

 

            No more rumbles today

 

 

In which I indulge in (yet more) kleptomania

Well, it's jolly hard work being an original thinker in this confusing world so you will not be surprised to see me nicking all of Mr. Asa Bennett's expertise as published today in The Telegraph.  In his forensic examination of H.M.'s Treasury (current prop. Phillip 'Eeyore' Hammond MP) he carefully compares their dire predictions as to what would happen if we, the Peeps, had the infernal cheek to vote for Brexit.

Such a disastrous choice would, they forecast, mean a  "fall into recession with four quarters of negative growth”. 

There has not been single quarter of negative growth and no sign of a recession.

They also warned that ministers would need to borrow between £24 - £39 billion. 

Government borrowing has actually fallen to its lowest level in 16 years and in July we enjoyed the biggest surplus since 2000.

The Treasury warned of “lower future productivity” after a vote to leave.

"Official figures confirm that output per hour worked is higher than where it was at the time of the referendum, with the last update from the Office for National Statistics revealing that it had grown by 0.9 per cent compared with the three months before. This marked its first rise since late 2016 and the biggest increase since the second quarter of 2011".

George Osborne, the then Chancellor, warned that house prices would drop through the floor.

The average UK house price has risen over the last two years and it represents a rise of around 7 per cent. 

The Treasury thought “unemployment would increase by around 500,000” after a Brexit vote and some officials thought the number could be as high as 820,000. The unemployment rate would increase by as much as 2.4 per cent.

The number of people out of work has fallen from around 1.63 million to 1.36 million. Such a low level has not been seen in over 40 years.

The Treasury warned that youth unemployment would increase by around 70,000 after a Brexit vote.

The youth unemployment rate has fallen over the same period, from 13.6 per cent to 11.3 per cent, marking its lowest level since records began.

The Treasury thought the economic shock after voting Leave would see real wages fall by at least 2.8 per cent, and as much as 4 per cent.

"The latest figures from the Office for National Statistics show that real wages not only rose in the month after the referendum, but they are 0.8 per cent higher than in June 2016."

So my final question to the mandarins at the Treasury is this: How much are you costing us and are you even worth 10% of that total?  It's no good asking 'Eeyore' Hammond, he hasn't a clue!

My thanks to Mr. Asa Bennett for a superb article.

 

 

I told you, it's God's little acre!

I refer, of course, to 'bootiful Zummerzet' and my affectionate love of the county has been confirmed by The Telegraph, no less!  Actually, to describe it as beautiful is a bit of an exaggeration but it is certainly easy on the eye.  The article points you to various beauty spots but I am amazed and a little hurt that Milborne Port, in which 'Chateau Duff' is secreted, has been ignored!  Of course, to be honest, it is not a particularly attractive village, what with the A30 London Road running through the middle of it, but there are one or two cute corners hidden away here and there.

Mind you, a late thought has just occurred - do I really want all you 'flippin' trippers' coming down here?  No, I do not so as we say here - bugger off!

 

Check your course, Czechia!

I feel very comfortable offering advice to the people of Czechia because I once spent a fortnight there!  Also, it was a country to which I instantly warmed.  Whether my feelings were reciprocated I do not know because the language is incomprehensible!  Even so, Prague is immensely easy on the eye and one of the few big cities which is a pleasure to stroll around.  The small town of Cesky Krumlov, with its ancient castle whose walls are defended by a 'yuuuuuuge' bear wandering about in what used to be the moat, is absolutely delightful.  The district of Moravia, to the eastern end of the country, is not too different from 'down 'ere in 'Zummerzet', so need one say more?

Thus, it was something of a shock to read Andrew Foxall at the CAPX site warning that under the leadership of their current President, Czechia is leaning ever closer back towards Russia and that internally things are becoming less and less democratic.  Don't do it, Czechia, if you have forgotten the habits of the Russian bear, take a look at that enormous beast in the moat at Cesky Krumlov!

 

 

'Peterloo', or, 'Little things mean a lot'!

As far as mass, revolutionary uprisings go, 'Peterloo' was typically English being relatively tiny, relatively tame - only 15 people died -  and the real effects took several years before they permeated the 'body politic'.  I doubt that the French or the Russians would even bother to record it since their mass killings were on a totally different scale.  To be honest, because of my ignorance I am hardly the best chronicler of this tiny ripple in English political history and I only raise the subject because Dominic Sandbrook has done so in today's Daily Mail.  Apparently, the left-wing film director, Mike Leigh, is planning to make a film of the event supported by the actress, Maxine Peake, who is to be seen frequently drooling with unabashed pleasure at the feet of Jeremy Corbyn!

The first thing that is absolutely clear is that in 1819 the 'industrial' north of England, especially the cotton mills around the Manchester area, were suffering very real hardship now that the Napoleonic wars had ended and demand for their products had dropped.  Times were cruelly hard which provided fruitful ground for political agitators to work their schemes.  The idea of a mass demonstration in St. Peter's Field in Manchester was instantly popular and in the end some 60-80 thousand(?) people crammed into a very small area.  There were various British army units at hand, mostly regulars but including the part-timers of the Manchester and Salford Yeomanry.  Perhaps as another example of the 'Englishness' of this event, the commander of the regular cavalry forces, General Sir John Byng, excused himself on the grounds that he had two horses running at the York races that day and therefor placed his deputy in charge!  Well, a chap has to have a decent set of priorities, don'cha know!

So, the bonfire having been assembled, it was only a matter of time before someone threw a lighted match into it.  The Magistrates lost their nerve and instructed the army to clear the site.  Unfortunately it was the young and inexperienced and hot-headed Manchester and Salford Yeomanry who charged in first and quickly became disorganised which meant that many of them were surrounded in small groups.  They then, in something of a panic, began to lay about them with their swords.  More disciplined troops arrived and in ten minutes St. Peter's Field was cleared.

Needless to say, in the political and legal circles of the day, the re-actionaries, er, re-acted with harsh laws to prevent such expressions of popular sentiment being repeated.  But then again, over the next few years and decades, English common-sense re-asserted itself and gradually the beginnings of a more relaxed, even one might say, more democratic body-politic became apparent.  From little acorns . . . and all that sort of thing!

 

 

Aussie politics imitates a boomerang!

Attempting to understand other people's domestic politics is always tricky but from 'up over here' the view to 'down under there' is even more uncertain.  Also, of course, there is the occasional language problem as exemplified by that eccentric lady PM they had a few years ago whose accent made her incomprehensible to a refined British listener such as myself - and I heard that, Andra, er, even if I didn't quite understand it!

Anyway, it appears that the new Aussie sport is changing prime ministers which they seem to do with the same enthusiasm the Italians used to enjoy! Alas, I can offer no insight and so I needs must depend on the expertise of my Aussie readers to explain the ramifications.  In essence, according to reports via the media, their equivalent of the Tory party are, just like ours, intent on political suicide and thus the advent of a 'Leftie' socialist government can be expected at the next election.

This does have some serious implications because Australia is a bulwark against the swelling ambitions of the Chinese who appear determined to turn South East Asia into 'Greater China'!

 

Old battles are so much easier to fight!

And one of the most 'popular', or at any rate, the one that regurgitates on a regular basis, is the American nuclear attack on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  This being the month of the anniversary of the action, Victor Davis Hanson raises the subject at the NR.  Given the implications of the two attacks, political, strategic and moral, he is quite right to do so.  He is also surely right in maintaining that all of Truman's other options would have proven to be even more malignant than the decision he took.

The Americans had the hardest of hard and blood-soaked evidence to tell them what to expect if they attempted an invasion of the Japanese main islands following the ferocious campaign for Okinawa which was fought for nearly three months from the 1st of April to June 22nd 1945.  The fanatical, suicidal defence put up by the Japanese inflicted colossal casualties on the Americans which they then knew would be repeated at even more monstrous levels on the Japanese main islands. 

Then, of course, there were the geo-political considerations to be considered.  Stalin, in his usual sly, duplicitous manner had carefully kept clear of any involvement in the Japanese war which would have been useful for his allies who had been losing men and ships in their struggle to keep his armies supplied.  However, by August 1945, with Germany defeated and Japan reeling, 'Uncle Joe' was shifting armies to the East ready to join in the plunder of the Japanese empire in China.  The last thing the Allies wanted was another 'iron curtain' across South East Asia!

So, all in all, President Truman possessed all the very best reasons to proceed with the nuclear attack which, unlike a slow, steady and extremely blood-soaked approach to Tokyo, would administer a true 'shock 'n' awe' jolt to the entire Japanese ruling-class, especially the Emperor.  It did - and it worked!

ADDITIONAL:  I found an article by my old 'e-pal'/adversary, Oliver Kamm, in my records which is worth reading - as is almost anything by him!

 

 

And as the 'Ginja Ninja' slowly sinks in the west . . .

Look, we all enjoy a really good eccentric which is part of the reason why 'Boing-Boing Boris' is so popular 'over here' but, as in so many things - some good, some not so good - they do have a tendency to over do it 'over there'!  Hence, the miraculous election of Donald Trump to the Presidency of the United States.  We have all watched, transfixed, as this high-wire, tight-rope walker has wobbled his way across the national and international circus rings whilst simultaneously juggling hand-grenades.  Surely, it cannot last.

Well, 'maybe, baby', because America is capable of extraordinary feats.  No-one thought the 'Ginga Ninja' would make it as far as he has but he has defied the opposition.  However, Mr. Jacob Heilbrunn at The Coffee House thinks the latest court revelations concerning two of Mr. President's prize picks - and no, I did not miss out the letter 'r', behave! - spells, if not the end, then the beginning of the end of the Trump Presidency.  Personally, I am not sure whether to laugh or cry.  Trump has done things I never thought I would see from the most powerful office-holder in the world.  Some were good, indeed overdue, but many were bad.  Geopolitics at the very highest level is a deeply serious and complex business.  Many of his predecessors were, on the surface, serious men but, as we learn over time, they were just as dumb as Trump even if they disguised their silliness with a false gravitas.

I will quote Mr. Heilbrunn's final sentence to sum it all up: "The only person who will emerge from this presidency, equal parts farce and fiasco, with their reputation intact is Melania."  I agree even if the lady concerned still refuses to respond to my admiring letters!

 

I'm off to Londinium

I should have warned y'all earlier but those irritating "events, dear boy, events" mean that I must depart for 'the smoke', as we lovingly refer to our capital city!  Normally I would do anything to avoid the place but, alas, duty calls.

Back in the morning!

"And it's (almost) the same the whole world over"

Well, not exactly the same but if you are unfortunate enough to be born into a political prison then it is worse than your most frightening nightmare!  I mentioned in the post below that South Africa has ignored the wisdom of Nelson Mandela and is busy slamming the jail door shut on themselves but over in China I really don't think they have ever had so much as a whiff of freedom.  Thanks to Cindy Yu at The Coffee House, we can now read about the latest inhumane cruelty to be inflicted on the children of China by their own government machine:

The word changsheng means ‘long life’. But Gao Junfang’s Changsheng Biotech has long been in the business of robbing its victims of just that. Since taking over the company in the nineties, Gao oversaw the privatisation of the state-owned big pharma and turned it into her personal dynasty. She secured majority shares and planted her husband, her children, and their partners into the meatiest roles in the company. For decades, Gao was the entrepreneurial poster child – from rags (sort of) to riches, a walking example of the possibilities of China’s economic growth, and an idol especially for women.

But last month, Gao was arrested along with 17 other people in the company. As of 2017, Changsheng had sold 250,000 fake DPT vaccines. In China, as in Britain, these jabs are used to immunise babies against diphtheria, whooping cough, and tetanus. Though the fake three-in-one vaccines didn’t produce any adverse effects, their recipients were not actually immunised; all three diseases are potentially fatal. Needless to say, it was a recipe for disaster. The authorities imposed a fine and ordered Changsheng to stop productions.

None of this information was passed onto the public, let alone their children who thought they had been safeguarded.  But there was more to come:

This time, a whistle-blower revealed that Changsheng had been falling into old habits and making dodgy rabies vaccines. It had been mixing expired vaccines into new mixtures, and fabricating production dates and batch numbers. As well as the moral depravity of Gao and her team, it’s clear that the government – at some level – turned a blind eye to the company’s malpractice.

This company, Changsheng, has a history of bribery and corruption amongst government officials going back 20 years!  Yes, we suffer similar problems here in the democratic west but in the end "truth will out" and a massive and public rectification occurs.  But if you are an impoverished Chinese worker with a sick child the very last thing you should do is complain to the government.  You might think that things are bad but such a complaint will bring down the wrath of a governmental machine that will crush you and yours.

So next time you read or hear a moan and a groan about Mrs. May or President Trump, just pause and thank God you do not live in China!

 

 

'Seth Efrica' will sink

Where Zimbabwe leads, it looks as though South Africa will follow.  The new tyrant-in-charge is, apparently, running scared of an even worse tyrant-in-waiting, a certain Julius Malema, who heads the radical Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) whose party line may be summed up thus: “People of South Africa, where you see a beautiful land, take it, it belongs to you.”  That extreme line is proving to be increasingly popular and the current leader of South Africa, Cyril Ramaphosa,  is re-acting by immediately starting land seizures from whites owners.

Of course, in strictly historical legal and/or moral terms there may be a  justification but today South Africa exists in a new, modern world and it should take a careful look to the north and across the Atlantic to South America to see where that sort of Marxist thuggery can lead.  John Fund spells it out at The National Review. 

 

 

"Unforgotten" and unforgettable

Note:  I have had considerable trouble trying to post a photo here and now I have given up - sorry and all that!

Night after night here at Chateau Duff we go through exactly the same old routine. She asks what's on the telly tonight and, after scouring the listings, I reply the same old 'sweet f.a.' and we both go back to reading our books. But, of course, there are always exceptions which is irritating because otherwise I could toss the telly out of the house. One such took place last night with the final, alas, episode of "Unforgotten" - simply superb!
Always, when I try to assess a play or film or TV series I always look to the writer and in the "Unforgotten" series they have one of the very best in the form of Mr. Chris Lang. Even so, I am aware that behind every good writer there absolutely must be some talented people in all departments in order to maximise the brilliance. In this case the talent over-flowed! As a former director myself (not just 'am' but exceedingly 'am'!) I am never slow to acknowledge the almost imperceptible hand of a really good director which for this series was provided by Mr. Andy Wilson.

However, as an ex-actor (just as 'am' as my directing efforts) I still appreciate really good acting and this Series III provided tons of it. It is deeply unfair to pick out just one from a truly excellent cast but Mr. Alex Jennings provided, right at the end, a performance as the creepiest, most evil villain I have seen for years. He has that ability to keep a straight face but with just the merest hint of quizzical, ironic humour beneath the skin that tells you he knows something you do not and he is secretly enjoying it. Absolutely brilliant!

If I may finish on a personal note, MESSAGE TO 'S.o.D'! If you are stuck for something to give your dear, old Dad for Christmas - and I heard that! - then a box-set of the all three series would be much appreciated.

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 20.8.18

Bright and early with the 'funnies' this morning, well, early-ish!

An elderly man in Perth calls his son in Sydney and says, 'I hate to ruin your Christmas, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are getting divorced; 35 years of misery is enough.'

'Dad, what are you talking about?' the son screams.

'We can't stand the sight of each other any longer,' the old man says.
'We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in England and tell her,' and he hangs up.

In a panic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. 'Like heck they're getting divorced,' she shouts, 'I'll take care of this.'

She calls her dad immediately, and screams at the old man, 'You are NOT getting divorced! Don't do a single thing until I get there.
I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there on Friday. Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?' and hangs up.

The old man hangs up and turns to his wife.

'Okay,' he says, 'they're coming for Christmas and paying their own
airfares.'

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Wife's Diary:

Tonight, I thought my husband was acting weird. We had made plans to meet at a nice restaurant for dinner.

I was shopping with my friends all day long, so I thought he was upset at the fact that I was a bit late,
but he made no comment on it.

Conversation wasn't flowing, so I suggested that we go somewhere quiet so we could talk.  He agreed, but he didn't say much.

I asked him what was wrong; he said, "nothing."

I asked him if it was my fault that he was upset.

He said he wasn't upset, that it had nothing to do with me, and not to worry about it.

On the way home, I told him that I loved him.

He smiled slightly, and kept driving. I can't explain his behaviour.
I don't know why he didn't say, “I love you, too.”

When we got home, I felt as if I had lost him completely, as if he wanted nothing to do with me anymore.  He just sat there quietly, and watched TV. He continued to seem distant and absent.

Finally, with silence all around us, I decided to go to bed. About 15 minutes later, he came to bed.  But I still felt that he was distracted, and his thoughts were somewhere else. He fell asleep; I cried.
I don't know what to do. I'm almost sure that his thoughts are with someone else. My life is a disaster.

Husband's Diary:

A one-foot putt.. Who the f*** misses a one-foot putt?

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

Jack was about to marry Jill and his father took him to one side 'When I married your mother, the first thing I did when we got home was take off my trousers,' he said. 'I gave them to your mother and told her to put them on. When she did, they were enormous on her and she said to me that she couldn't possibly wear them, as they were too large. 'I told her, 'Of course they're too big. I wear the trousers in this family and I always will. 'Ever since that day, we have never had a single problem.'

Jack took his father's advice and as soon as he got Jill alone after the wedding, he did the same thing; took off his trousers, gave them to Jill and told her to put them on. Jill said that the trousers were too big and she couldn't possibly wear them. 'Exactly,' replied Jack. 'I wear the trousers in this relationship and I always will. I don't want you to forget that.'

Jill paused and removed her knickers and gave them to Jack. 'Try these on,' she said, So he tried them on but they were too small.
'I can't possibly get into your knickers,' said Jack. 'Exactly,' replied Jill. 'And if you don't change your attitude, you never will.'

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I have 18 irrefutable Laws of the Universe and I will feed them to you three at a time over the coming weeks:

1.Law of Mechanical Repair -
After your hands become coated with grease,
your nose will begin to itch and you'll have to
pee.

2.Law of Gravity -
Any tool, nut, bolt, screw, when dropped,
will roll to the least accessible place in the
universe.

3.Law of Probability -
The probability of being watched is directly
proportional to the stupidity of your act.

Right, back to work, the boss is coming!

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 19.8.18

A politician states 'the bleedin' obvious'!   And that, of course, can be very brave or very 'stoopid' - or both!  I use the Americanism because the politician concerned is Rahm Emanuel who is, of course, 'Hizzonner' the Mayor of Chicago.  I am grateful to my e-pal, 'Whitewall', who sent me a news report of the event which has now been picked up elsewhere.  In effect, 'Hizzonner' suggested that the underlying cause of the insane murder and wounding rate in his city is due to the lack of discipline and family values in the mainly black under-class - WHODATHUNKIT?  Well, most people actually who are not members of that particular social group!  Needless to say, ten tons of brown stuff have been poured over his head and really, it couldn't happen to a nicer chap!

 

Aretha Franklin R.I.P.   I know virtually nothing about the late Aretha Franklin and that includes her 'song book'.  Of course, because of her death I have heard extracts on various media outlets but, alas and alack, 'I was not moved withal'!  Her sort of gospel singing simply does not touch me and yes, I realise that might be my loss but there you go!  Now, for me, there is no other than the late and truly great Ella Fitzgerald, she didn't just melt my heart, she made it dance!

 

Peter Hitchens lays about him with a 12" ruler:   And quite right, too!

If, on social media, I point out (as I have done) that man went to the Moon in feet and inches (as he did), that Europe was liberated from Hitler yard by yard and mile by mile (as it was), while the fences of concentration camps were measured in metres and the rations in the gulag doled out by the gram and the litre (as they were), it takes days for the abusive fury of the metricators to die down.

I am asked constantly in shops whether I want a kilogram of this, or half a litre of that, and my reply is always the same, "Sorry, I don't speak the language."

 

H.M.S. 'Big Lizzie' sets sail for America:   Ooops, sorry, Ma'am, that should have been H.M.S. Queen Elizabeth, of course!  By Brit standards this ship is 'yuuuuuuuge' so let us hope they do not park it next to one of those American behemoths because, for sure, the 'Big Don' will be tempted to tweet that his is bigger than ours!  Also, I understand that they are going to land some aircraft on it so we must all pray that the zillion dollar waste of space does not turn topsy-turvy!

 

The mysterious Ms. Hathaway:   That's Anne Hathaway, of course, who was lucky enough to marry naughty Master Shakespeare, er, she was lucky, wasn't she?  Well of course she was because she ended up with the second biggest house in Stratford - what more could a wife wish for?  Anyway, there has been a book published attempting to define her and her life but as we know absolutely zilch about her, I'm not sure how useful it is.  You can read a review of it by Alex Colville at The Spectator.

 

A load of old historical blx!   Via Zero Hedge there is one of the daftest conspiracy stories you could ever wish to avoid.  It is all concerned with the late and totally unlamented Rudolph Hess who, in 1941, flew to Scotland and parachuted close to the estate of the Duke of Hamilton.  Immediately, he was 'banged up' and remained so for the rest of the war before being returned to Germany for trial where he was 'banged up' for the rest of his life which, unfortunately, he voluntarily ended by hanging himself at the age of 93.  Ever since, the conspiracy theorist nutters have attempted to blow the stone cold embers into flames - and have failed.  Why do they bother?

 

 

No more rumbles today

 

 

 

A trip down memory lane

A wonderful reminder of times past!  Christopher Howse at The Telegraph recalls his youth spent, or more likely, misspent, in the company of the late, and quite disgraceful, Jeffrey Bernard, who used to write the weekly - well, not exactly every week! - Low Life column in The Spectator.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quite often the column would be replaced with a brief message to the effect that "Jeffrey Bernard is unwell" which may have been true sometimes but often meant that he had been on another huge bender, usually at the infamous Coach and Horses pub in Soho, and was unable to face a typewriter!  This non-stop alcoholic dissipation led, eventually, to extreme ill health and the medical amputation of his right leg, at which point, The Spectator put a notice over his blank column stating that "Jeffrey Bernard has had his leg off".

The picture above shows Bernard having a drink (natch!) with Peter O'Toole who eventually played the lead in Keith Waterhouse's play titled (again, natch!) "Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell".  I was lucky enough to see it and it was hilarious, predicated as it was on the possibility that Bernard had been inadvertently locked inside the Coach and Horses after it closed.  As he ambles, or staggers, about he recalls various past events in his life which he and a small supporting cast play out in the empty pub.

All very funny but, as Christopher Howse reminds us, in essence, Bernard's life was a melancholy disaster and a waste of talent.  Even so, I shall raise a glass in his memory!

 

 

A super reading Saturday!

'Blimey, my eyes are fair wore out!'  And so is what passes for my brain.  Today's Telegraph was jam-packed with fascinating articles.  Of course, the fickle finger of fate being what it is - a pain in the arse! - there has been an electrical fault in part of our development so that my reserve freezer, along with my neighbours, has been switched off and I have been seriously interrupted in my reading.

All very disgraceful and it means that you, my dear readers, have been left bereft of my wit and wisdom - don't say it! - but as always I have a superb offering to fill your time.  From the London Review of Books, a terrific review written by the great Ferdinand Mount, formerly of The Spectator and a man whose laundry list would be worth reading!  In this essay he is reviewing a recently published biography of the late Gen. de Gaulle who really was "a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma".  It is a long review but then the book itself runs to 877 pages!  Anyway, anything written by, er, Sir William Robert Ferdinand Mount, 3rd Baronet, to use his full title, is always worth a read, so go to it!

 

 

"Twelve good men and true"

This truly is a 'must read' article from The Telegraph.  It is the reminiscences of twelve old veterans who fought in the now nearly forgotten Korean war.  Most of them were National Servicemen doing their statutory 2 years in the army as was the practice in those far off, more disciplined days.  All of them share that same quiet under-statement style that we think of as typically British.  I couldn't help noticing that Anthony Farrar-Hockley was mentioned more than once.  A truly remarkable and courageous officer whose fighting record for the British army is second to none.  (Poor chap once had me as his regimental signaller but, thank God, there wasn't a shooting war going on at the time!)  However, returning to the twelve old veterans in the article, I do urge you all to give it a read.  These men really were the epitome of the very best of the British army!

ADDITIONAL:

In my haste last night I forgot to add this intriguing photo from the album of one of the old soldiers above.  His comrade to the left later rose to international fame:

 Arthur Moulder (centre), Maurice Micklewhite aka Michael Caine (left) and Cpl Coward (right) 

 

 

I have a problem with Lionel Shriver, well, two problems, actually

The first problem is that she is a woman and, given her first name is masculine, this threw me when I discovered it.  My second problem is that she is so damned intelligent!  Mind you, being a bit on the dim side, that sort of problem hits me constantly.  Actually, there is a third problem I have with her and that is the fact that she is a first-rate writer.  I know this to be true because I was unable to finish one of her books!  I have forgotten the name of it but it was the very grimmest example of a truly and dreadfully dystopian novel you could ever wish to avoid.  Being a faintly wet and sensitive Brit I simply couldn't follow her imagined family down the disastrous, financial plughole she invented in her story because it was all too real and heart-rending.

Happily, she has been recruited into the columnist ranks of The Spectator where she is not exactly cheerful but the potential horrors she discusses are not quite so upsetting.  Today, for example, she has an excellent essay on American race relations in which she interjects some common-sense and realism rather than the lunacies which normally clog up any discussion on this arcane subject.  The heading to her piece is indicative: Identity politics are – by definition – racist.  This excerpt gives you the flavour of the piece:

The American left urges every race to organise, pull together, demand their rights if not special treatment, recognise their common experience, celebrate their people’s separate history and separate accomplishments — except one. If white people do the same thing, they’re bigoted and beyond the pale. That mixed-message platform isn’t politically saleable in the long term, isn’t actually fair and is already backfiring big-time.

My fear is that the "backfiring" to which she refers could, in the worst of all possible 'worst worlds', lead to another American civil war.

 

 

Oh, to have been a fly on the wall

Once again, Arts & Letters Daily turns up a gem of an essay, this time from The American Scholar written by Sudip Bose - and no, me neither!  In it, Mr. Bose takes us back to the Carnegie Hall in 1962 when Leonard Bernstein was preparing to conduct the New York Philharmonic in a performance of Brahms' Piano Concerto No. 1 to be played by, er, well, Glenn Gould, actually!  Now my knowledge of music plumbs depths of ignorance far beyond anything else I scribble about here but even I have heard that the late Mr. Gould was, shall we say, eccentric - or a 'right on' musical nutter - you choose!

Certainly Glenn Gould interpreted the 'music of the masters' in his own, idiosyncratic way, where-as Bernstein, equally opinionated, saw (or heard) things very differently.  The rehearsals must have been exquisite agony for everyone concerned.  Gould, for example, insisted that music be played very much slower than was normally expected.  Bernstein disagreed but eventually demurred in favour of his soloist.  However, on the night of the performance he broke with custom and turning on his rostrum he addressed the audience, in effect, giving them warning of this very new and somewhat eccentric interpretation.

The critics, needless to say, were outraged - so not all bad then!

 

Was it George Smiley or James Bond?

I'm shocked, I tell you, shocked that nos chers collègues in the fraternal halls of the EU Commission seriously believe that that we decent British chaps (er, and chapettes, too, of course!) have been bugging their private meetings as they discuss their plans to thwart Brexit.  Nevertheless, according to The Telegraph that is what the Gauleiters, ooops sorry, the Commissars, dammit, sorry again, the Commissioners of the EU believe has happened.  Apparently, some Top Secret minutes of a meeting they held were in British hands within hours.  I thought George Smiley had gone to his deep cover heaven years ago and that James Bond was living in an Old People's Care Home in Bournemouth.

What can one say except - HOONOO?

 

 

Alas, I don't 'do' modern literature

Well, truth be told, I don't 'do' much old literature, either - my bad!  However, my conscience, which normally keeps itself very well hidden, has been exposed and pricked by  a passionate essay by Kapil Komireddi in memorium of V. S. Naipaul who has just died.  Of course, I have heard the name of V. S. Naipaul many a time and oft' but never felt a desire to read him.  Just another ex-colonial, I thought, eager to tell the world what 'absolute rotters' we Brits were 'back in the day'.  True, of course, at least partly true but, hell, who wants the truth shoved down their throat on a constant basis?

Alas, Mr. Komireddi, who is no mean writer himself, tells me in passionate prose that I am a fool and that I have missed out on a truly great writer whose deadly accurate vision encompassed the world and many of its inhabitants.  I am tempted but Naipaul's output was 'yuuuuuuge' so I am not sure where to start.  If any of you, my dear readers, have any recommendations I would be delighted to hear them.

 

 

A momentum builds up against, er, 'Momentum', actually!

For the benefit of my foreign readers, 'Momentum' is an organisation of mouth-dribbling Lefties who support 'Jezza' Corbyn and who have successfully infiltrated the Labour party and almost turned it into a Trotskyist cabal.  As I have indicated here before, it is a shocking and potentially dangerous situation but, happily, there is a faint gleam of hope.  The numerous members of Momentum suffer with one glaring problem - they only possess about 3.5 brain cells between the lot of them!

Thus it is, that in what passes for a stroke of genius amongst them - yeeeeeees, quite! - they decided to organise a poll on Twitter to ask whether their followers agreed that 'Boing-Boing Boris' should have the Tory party whip removed following his suggestion that women in burkas looked like letter-boxes.  At the latest count 82% voted 'NO'!

 

In which I go soppy-softy!

Stop groaning and give me a break!  As y'all know, I am a news/current affairs addict and frankly that is probably the most depressing hobby you could ever wish to avoid so if I come across something that shows the better half - oh alright then! - the better ten percent of human nature then just let me wallow!

I have mentioned before my liking for two TV programmes currently running on Channel4 and Channel More4.  As of this week they seem to be running between 18.00 and 20.00.  The first is The Secret Life of the Zoo based on the truly remarkable staff and 'inhabitants' of Chester Zoo.  There are two excellent characteristics in this programme.  First, the film-makers let the keepers and staff of the zoo speak for themselves  It is quickly obvious that they are an intelligent bunch of mostly young people with great affection and interest in the species under their control.  Secondly, the species which the film-makers choose for, so to speak, 'starry' roles are not the usual lions and tigers.  Instead, we are introduced to chameleons, aardvarks, crabs, baboons and similar creatures normally considered to be definitely 'below stairs' in the animal hierarchy.  It is both a fascinating programme and an entrancing one.  Do yourselves a favour and look out for it!

The second programme is The Supervet, based on the veterinary practice of Professor Noel Fitzpatrick.  He truly is a 'supervet' who has personally invented a number of devices to aid damaged animals and who has pioneered innumerable new surgical procedures to repair them.  His operating theatre is truly impressive with as many surgical assistants in it as you would expect to see in a hospital.  But perhaps the most impressive thing about the programme are the owners of the animals.  Call me soppy if you like, but the genuine love and affection these people have for their animals is really moving.  It is a never-ending display of the very best of human nature, and watching, as I do, non-stop 24-hours news, it is a genuine relief!

 

There is nothing like the stench of rotting humbug

Well, as far that dim-witted, old fool, Jeremy Corbyn, is concerned, at least that's one lying-liar shown up as the drooling, sycophantic fan of murderous fanatics that he is!  No more will we have to reach for the sick-bag each time some brain dead 'Leftie' describes him as a sweet-natured, lover of Mankind.  Now we know!  Here he is reverentially laying a wreath on the graves of cold-blooded killers in the company of sundry killer-controllers.

As far as dear, sweet, lovely 'Jezza', the 'Man of the People', is concerned you are 'dead man walking' if you're Jewish.  Whether his Jew-hatred extends to other political foes, like elderly Tory-voting Brits, no-one can be sure but I may have to emigrate if that despicable, old perv, who gets his rocks off pandering to Jew-killers, ever becomes Prime Minister of Britain!  Mind you, if the likes of his deputy, the sinister John McDonnell, 'eliminates', so to speak,' Jezza' and becomes our very own "Dear Leader" then you had all, Jew or non-Jew, be very careful not to be labelled 'an enemy of the people'.  As dear old Lavrentiy Beria might have put it: 'Ve haf vays of eliminating you!'

 

                                              John McDonnell  ooops, sorry, Lavrentiy Beria

 

ADDITIONAL:   Alas and alack, I broke my own golden rule which states, more or less, that I must not write a post when I am in Grump Factor¹⁰⁰ and to rub it in I have just read a well-crafted piece by Alex Massie  at The Coffee House which more or less says what I was trying to say but with far more elegance and much greater penetration.  Give it a read!

                                                                          

If you're gonna do it, Mr. President, do it good and do it quick!

What you are about to read is either a reasoned analysis or a gut re-action.  Given that the subject is Turkey, about which I know nothing, then you would be well advised to assume the latter!

First of all it is beyond doubt that Erdogan is both a fool and a tyrant.  Before his rise to power Turkey was, I think, a reasonably prosperous country, on good terms with the west - you know, the ones with money! - and with the security blanket of being a member of NATO.  Well, it didn't take Erdogan long to smash that all to bits but, unhappily for him, he chose a time when the USA had ditched the milk-sop President and replaced him with a 'yuuuuuugely' bombastic and trigger-happy President.  Cue: broken dishes everywhere probably to be followed shortly by broken heads!

Unfortunately, the fact is that Turkey occupies an absolutely crucial and strategic corner of the Mediterranean.  Somehow, I do not think the 'Big Don' grasps that and even if he did, he would ignore it when 'push comes to shove'.  Many 'experts' fear that 'Vlad the Impaler' is ready to step in to prop Turkey up.  They could be right but that would not be the worst of outcomes given that Russia is the equivalent of a clunking old Lada.  The event to really fear is a sudden move by China which would be delighted to possess an outpost like Turkey.  Now that really would be an example of 'a cat amongst the pigeons'!

So, Mr. President, if you are going to slug it out with Erdogan, then knock him out in the first few rounds - or else!

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 13.8.18

Another fine selection of jokes to start your week off with a good laugh - sorry, did you say something?

 

An Italian Boy's Confession ..

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose girl."

The priest asks, "Is that you, little Joey Pagano?"

"'Yes, Father, it is."

"And who was the girl you were with?"

"I can't tell you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation."

"Well, Joey, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later so you may as > well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?"

"I cannot say."

"Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?"

"I'll never tell."

"Was it Nina Capelli?"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot name her."

"Was it Cathy Piriano?"

"My lips are sealed."

"Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?"

"Please, Father, I cannot tell you."

The priest sighs in frustration. "You're very tight lipped, and I admire that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months. Now you go and behave yourself."

Joey walks back to his pew, and his friend Franco slides over and whispers, "What'd you get?"

"Four months vacation and five good leads!"

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A Taxi driver reaches the Pearly Gates and announces his presence to St. Peter, who looks him up in his Big Book. Upon reading the entry for the cabbie, St. Peter invites him to pick up a silk robe and a golden staff and to proceed into Heaven.

A preacher is next in line behind the cabbie and has been watching these proceedings with interest. He announces himself to St. Peter. Upon scanning the preacher's entry in the Big Book, St. Peter furrows his brow and says, "Okay, we'll let you in, but take that cloth robe and wooden staff."

The preacher is astonished and replies, "But I am a man of the cloth. You gave that cab driver a gold staff and a silk robe. Surely I rate higher than a cabbie."

St. Peter responded matter-of-factly: "This is heaven and up here, we are interested in results. When you preached, people slept. When the cabbie drove his taxi, people prayed."

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For several years, a man was having an affair with an Italian woman. One night, she confided in him that she was pregnant.
Not wanting to ruin his reputation or his marriage, he said he would pay her a large sum of money if she would go to Italy to secretly have the child. Furthermore, if she stayed in Italy to raise the child, he would also provide child support until the child turned 18.

She agreed, but asked how he would know when the baby was born. To keep it discreet, he told her to simply mail him a post card, and write 'Spaghetti' on the back. He would then arrange for the child support payments to begin.

One day, about 9 months later, he came home to his confused wife.

'Honey, she said, 'you received a very strange post card today.'

'Oh, just give it to me and I'll explain it later,' he said.
The wife obeyed and watched as her husband read the card, turned white, and fainted.

On the card was written:

Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti.

Three with meatballs, two without.

Send extra sauce!

 

In a bit of a rush this morning so that's your lot - and who said, "Thank God for that"?

 

The Sunday Rumble: 12.8.18

Apologies for my absence yesterday.  'SoD' descended but to be fair, he brought his 'dahlinkie' with him and also took us out to dinner at our local fish restaurant, so he's a good lad, really!

No news, I suppose, is good news:   Even so, I get a tad uneasy when everything is fairly quiet.  Of course, 'Mother Nature' can always be relied on to create mayhem and so there has been a plethora of floods and fires and earthquakes but somehow, unless you are involved, of course, they are the warp and woof of everyday life and death on this truly extraordinary planet.  But it is the man-made stuff that worries me.  History teaches us that our, er, 'glorious' leaders are, by and large, stupid beyond belief and more than capable of stumbling into catastrophe.  Well, they are 'representatives of 'The Peeps' and "as any fule do no" there is nothing more stupid than 'The Peeps', er, with one or two exceptions, of course, many of whom are to be found on this blog - natch!

 

Obama's Monstrous Ego Monument:   And you're paying for it, suckers!  Well, you are if you are an Illinois tax-payer, according to Mr. Lifson at The American Thinker.  He reminds us that this ghastly mausoleum was supposed to be paid for by private donations but guess what, according to the WSJ quoted by Mr. Lifson:

Illinois taxpayers will put up at least $174 million for roadway and transit reconfigurations needed to accommodate the Obama Center. If you don’t live in Illinois, you may be smirking—but you’ll be footing the bill, too. Eighty percent of such spending is generally reimbursed by the federal government, and Illinois officials confirmed to me that they expect to receive $139 million from Washington if they request it.

Of course, originally it was touted as a home for the Obama Presidential Library which allowed them a lease on the land in perpetuity for, er, 1$!  Now we learn that there will be no library, instead, it will become an agit-prop centre for Left-wingers.  Such fun!

 

Humbuggery, then and now:   I am grateful to Mr. Gavin Mortimer over at The Coffee House for, in effect, proposing Mrs. May and Baroness Warsi for the title of 'Hypocritical Humbugs of the Year'.  As he points out in comparing their attitudes at the time of the Charlie Hebdo slaughter this is what they said then:

Mrs May:  "It was a very moving experience to be part of the march in Paris on Sunday…because of the reaction of the people alongside the march, who constantly expressed their support for all those who were standing for freedom of the press and the freedoms of our democracy."

Baroness Warsi:  "As a person of faith and as a Muslim, I know the values and reputation of my faith – any faith – cannot be diminished by a cartoon, by anyone poking fun in a magazine….We live in a liberal democracy, where giving and taking offence is part and parcel of everyday life.”

That of course, was 'then' but here is what they had to say following 'Boing-Boing' Boris's recent tease about women in burkas looking like letter-boxes:

Mrs. May, after the Islamist attack on London Bridge: 'Britain and Islam needed to have “difficult, and often embarrassing, conversations” in order to counter the spread of a divisive and intolerant ideology'.

Baroness Warsi:  Describing Johnson’s remarks as “indefensible”, Warsi said: “Language is so crucial. Politicians and policymakers particularly have a responsibility to help make the space of belonging bigger, to ease that path towards integration.”

The stench of humbug is overwhelming!

 

It's the 'Chinks' not the 'Rooskies' we need to keep an eye on:  So sayeth the mighty Peter Hitchens  over at The Mail.  He has spotted a very strange incident concerning Mr. Benedict Rogers, a Christian journalist and human rights activist.  Amongst his many targets, China looms large so it was probably no surprise that when recently he landed in Hong Kong he was refused entry and escorted to another aircraft and expelled.  So far, so normal but just recently, as Mr. Hitchens reports:

His Surrey neighbours (the entire street) have been sent anonymous letters telling lies about him and denouncing him, trying to soften the impact with fake humour. They include a photograph of him and the words ‘Watch him’. The nameless correspondent has even sent a letter to Mr Rogers’s mother, in rural Dorset (how did they find her?) saying: ‘We, as a Chinese race… care not to be lectured, watched or bullied by your son.’ 

'Me no likee' that sort of thing!

 

Blimey and with a .50 machine gun, too!   According to The Mail, a member of the SAS operating in Afghanistan shot dead an Islamic State fighter over a distance of 1.5 miles as he was standing before his fighters giving them a pep talk or a briefing or something.  One minute he was standing there, no doubt waving his arms about, when suddenly his arm and shoulder disappeared in a shower of blood.  He was probably dead before his body hit the ground.  This reminds me, of course, of my own experience on the firing range when I was unable to hit a target at 200 yards and my instructor snarled, "Duff, you couldn't hit a fucking barn, even if you were inside it!"

 

Good grief, Mark Steyn actually gets court time:   And, hoorah, he won big-time!  I may well die before the Mark Steyn vs. Michael E. Mann case ever gets to court, in fact, Steyn himself might also die before the judicial event which has been hanging around for 6-7 years finally goes before a judge.  However, I am delighted to report that in another case between him and CRTV which went before a main judge and then before an appeals judge, he won outright!  Mind you, how long he will have to wait before he receives a cent of his $4 million award is anyone's guess!

 

Dammit, this is so un-British!   We have just won a Test Match - again!  And that puts us 2-0 up against the Indians.  Heavens to Betsy, what next?

 

 

No more rumbles today

 

Something or nothing?

I 'dunno'!  But then as y'all definitely do know, the fact is I know very little, particularly when it pertains to events 'over there'!  So, allow me to lead you over to 'JK territory', that is, Little Rock , Arkansas, or to be precise, the commercial airport there which is named 'The Bill and Hillary Airport' - ain't that sweet?

According to Mr. Thomas Lifson at The American Thinker, a mysterious commercial aircraft landed there the other day.  The local experts spotted that it was an aircraft 'owned' by the American Justice Department and it was being loaded with crates that were recognised as official document storage crates.  The aircraft was tracked back to Washington!

Mr. Lifson, who is another naughty boy, accepts the theory put out by a Clinton watcher that at last, after years of delays, the enquiry into the Clinton Foundation has begun in earnest.  In other words, the Trump DoJ has finally prised the old Obama regime fingers off the case files.

Watch this space!

 

Eminoccos!

Ooops, sorry, I meant 'economics' but, alas and alack, not only do I not understand it, I can't even spell it!  Hence, you will be glad to know, I am disqualified from commenting on the 'Big Don's' version of this abstruse subject.  Do I think that he knows what he is doing - I do not!  Does that make him wrong?  Not necessarily.  How will we know?  When we are all stinking rich on the backs of thriving economies, or, perish the thought, when we are all flat broke and unable even to pay for a decent begging bowl.

There is no doubt that the plethora of 'yuuuuuuge' trading blocs with their own set of rules and regs and tariffs seem to have kept the world more or less balanced but I have always had the suspicion that behind that stasis necessary corrections and tweeks were not taking place so that when the crunch came it would be truly disastrous.  The 'Big Don' has tossed his economic and trading grenades into the room and all we can do now is watch- and pray!

Meanwhile, 'I bring thee glad tidings of great joy' from the redoubtable 'A E-P' who tells us in The Telegraph that the latest economic growth stats from 'this septic Isle' were better than the Eurozone:

But the fact remains that GDP growth in Brexit Britain still came in at 0.4pc, compared to 0.2pc in both France and Italy. The flash figure for the eurozone is 0.3pc. That will probably be the German tally as well.

Money supply data foretold the eurozone’s sharp slowdown this year. Events have unfolded in textbook fashion. Hats off to Simon Ward at Janus Henderson who called it perfectly.

The loss of momentum was already baked into the pie before Trump began his trade wars. The attempt to blame it all on some external shock is a post-facto rationalisation by analysts who do not track/understand monetary data and were caught by surprise.

'HOODATHUNKIT'?

 

 

Meet Constable 'Dickhead'!

Oooops, sorry, that should be Metropolitan Commissioner Dickhead, dammit, sorry, wrong again, I mean Metropolitan Police Commissioner Cressida Dick.  You will recall that she was the lady in charge of a counter-terrorist operation which ended with the 'perp' shot dead, er, except that the unfortunate man wasn't a perp of any sort but a totally innocent man!  You would think that she would have been reduced to the ranks and spent the rest of her career plodding the backwaters of London.  If you do think that then all I can say to you is , "Sucker!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No, no, instead she was promoted to the most senior rank in the entire British police force.  Partly this was on the recommendation, or at least, the approval of a particularly dim, dumb Home Secretary, Ms. Amber Rudd.

Anyway, as Mr. 'Steerpike' (who is a very naughty boy!), reports over at The Coffee Shop, Commissioner Dick pushed aside all those piles of reports concerning the multiple murder and acid attack rates in London, and instead decided to concentrate her efforts on a really, really serious crime.  In this particular case the perp is 'Boing-Boing' Boris who dared to suggest that Muslim 'wimmin' in burkas look like letter-boxes!  Commissioner Dick instantly called for her most senior officers to stop what they were doing (assuming they were doing anything!) and to consider urgently whether or not 'Boing-Boing' Boris had committed a hate crime.  Amazingly they decided he had not which is a shame because the court case would have been the hoot of the century!

Where do they find these people?

ADDITIONAL:  According to The Telegraph, instead of a police investigation, or a drumhead court martial in Parliament, 'Boing-Boing' Boris might have to go on a 'diversity course'.  As though he wasn't diverse enough already!

 

 

'And answer came there none!'

Sorry for the long pause but I have been threshing over the problem, which I raised in a post below, of big city violence, mainly in America but also increasingly 'over here'.  I am very grateful for the comments I received even if, actually, they left me more muddle-headed than before.  Where is that 'magic button-thingie' when you really need it?

In essence, it seems to me, it is a problem of a civic society in a democratic state.  Perhaps I can illustrate that best by referring to the murderous thug who currently rules in the Philippines and who appears to have let loose his armed police to mete out lethal (so-called) justice by allowing them to shoot dead anyone they believe to be a drug-taker or seller.  I have not seen any reports of the results of this 'policy' but even if it appears to be highly effective it is absolutely and definitely not one I would wish to emulate.

Equally, of course, the handwringing, bleeding heart approach of the extreme Left who automatically raise a screeching furore at the death of any young 'druggie' at the hands of the police, particularly if he is from an ethnic minority, is equally cruel because they would rather engage in signalling their (so-called) virtue than take steps to halt the slaughter.  And I should add that the slaughter goes on far beyond the occasional gunfights between the dealers because there is a mounting death toll amongst the young drug consumers.

In the end, in a democracy, it must come down to that elusive entity, "the will of the People".  It is "elusive" because within the normal, noisy cut and thrust of daily politics it is exceedingly difficult for that will to be expressed.  Perhaps, within some of those 'Big City Conglomerations' it might be an idea to hold a referendum in tandem with, say, the Mayoral election, asking people if they want, within the existing law of the land, a very much stronger line taken against drug and gun possession.  This might give Left-leaning Mayors like Rahm Emanuel the backbone to actually galvanise the police and courts into action.

 

'Boing-boing' Boris biffs the burka!

And quite right, too!  Mind you, as I have mentioned before, given the ghastly sight of some of the huge, fat, lady 'lardies' I see waddling about in my local High Street dressed in the mini-est of mini-skirts, the long, black dress part of it might be preferable.  However, when it comes to face coverings then I'm with Boris when he describes them as making women look like letter-boxes!  It is difficult to 'hear' it over the shocked hullabaloo that has arisen following his words but Boris is actually in favour of allowing Muslim women to wear them if they wish to do so.  I am not!  There is something sinister in a form of dress that hides the face almost totally.  It is, of course, a truly delicious irony that many of the shrieking anti-Boris chorus are actually proud to call themselves 'feminists' as they squawk their support for a practice that is the perfect example of male dominance over women.  You couldn't make it up!  

Alison Pearson at The Telegraph puts it so much better than me - give it a read!

 

'Bloody wimmin'

As some of you know, I spend/waste (you choose!) some time over at a Democrat-supporting site 'over there'.  The blog-owner is a fairly middle of the road social democrat but most of his readers are a bunch of swivel-eyed, mouth-frothers who struggle to use any words requiring more than four letters!  (If I tell you that one of them is that hysterical, little Canuck who used to bore us here then you will get the flavour of the place!)  Even so, it provides me with a view from the grass roots into American politics.  Alas, it is not a pretty sight because the rage and vituperation seething away is almost alarming, especially when I have to keep reminding myself that it is supposed to be a politically moderate site.

Anyway, the other day, as is my wont, I dropped in a snide remark concerning the murderous state of affairs in that bastion of Democratic power, Chicago, where the body count is, at a quick glance, almost reaching civil war proportions!  Needless to say, on the blog the 'usual suspects' pitched in with their usual rants - but with one exception.  A lady, and a very polite lady, too, by the name of 'L. Reeves' who asked me sweetly - and that should have been a warning! - a deceptively simple question:  What would you do about it?  Cue: collapse of stout party!  Dammit, I muttered to myself, I'm just an old blogging windbag, it's not for me to offer up policy suggestions, that's the job of politicians!

'Still 'n' all', as they say 'over there', the question stuck and it had added power because we are facing a similar problem in London where mainly black youths are beginning to slaughter each other at an increasing rate.  To quote the old phrase, 'something must be done' but what?  The problem has been niggling away at me ever since dear Ms. Reeves asked her question.  Alas, so far, every positive idea that I have had instantly produces several more negative problems!  So, like the moral coward and intellectual bankrupt that I am, I am passing the problem onto you for any ideas you might have to re-introduce a reasonably disciplined and decent society in our big cities.

See the way I dodged that one?  I should have been a politician!

 

Computers improve the world - REALLY?

Sorry for my delayed appearance today but I tried to arrange some matters via computer.  No, no, I wasn't trying to save the planet or anything like that, just booking some theatre tickets and a hotel room!  Oh God, there then followed an interminable period of time whilst they asked me this, that and the other, demanded the 1st, 3rd and 8th character of my password - needless to say I couldn't even remember the bloody password never mind individual characters!  And so it went on and on as I watched my life draining away into the ether.

Mind you, the price of a hotel room in London brought me back to life with a bang!  Back in the day, I could have taken the 'Memsahib' to Spain for a fortnights holiday for that sort of money.  Well, never mind, we are both booked on the excellent Berry's Coaches who will whisk us both into town whilst their charming hostesses serve grumpy old men like me non-stop coffee to smooth us down.  Then it's an easy ride on the underground to Westminster, cross the river to the South Bank and then a lovely stroll along the embankment, hurrying past the Tate Modern with its ghastly art, but pausing to look at The Globe Theatre and bless the memory of the late Sam Wanamaker who inspired its creation.  Spot of lunch with a host of riverside cafes and restaurants to choose from and then, finally, into our hotel for a nap and a shower.

The Menier Chocolate Factory Theatre is just a stroll away and we can enjoy the late Hugh Whitemore's brilliant, little play Pack of Lies - see previous post.  The next day, we simply go into reverse and we should be home early evening when, I am sure, the 'Memsahib, over-flowing with gratitude, will knock up a gourmand dinner for me.

Well, a man may hope may he not?

 

 

Excellent theatrical news, Darlings!

It has been a while since I last wrote on the subject of theatre and the reason is simple - most theatrical product these days gives every appearance of being total crap or, even worse, politically correct total crap!  For example, at the moment there is a production of the greatest play ever written, King Lear, which was carefully and deliberately set by Shakespeare in a pre-Christian era but in this production his beloved daughter, Cordelia, is played by a black actress!  Need I say more?

Even so, I regularly skim the 'arty-farty' pages of the newspapers to see if there is anything worth flogging up to London to see but there is nothing - until today!  This morning, I received an e-mail from one of the most delightful theatres in London - The Menier Chocolate Factory.  As the name implies, this is a somewhat eccentric theatrical space set in what used to be a chocolate factory.  The excellent good news they sent me was that they are staging a revival of a little diamond of a play called Pack of Lies written by Hugh Whitemore who, alas, I now learn died just last month at the age of 82.  It is a great loss to theatre and films because although he was not, so to speak, one of 'the greats', he was a master craftsman of the first order.

Many of his scripts were based on real life events and Pack of Lies is a perfect example.  The central characters are Bob and Barbara Jackson who are, in effect, 'Mr and Mrs Average Suburban Londoners' who live in a quiet residential street in the Ruislip area.  Barbara, is portrayed as a very private, somewhat shy, woman but we discover that she has been teased out of her introverted existence by a rather (to her) exotic 'Canadian' lady who lives opposite, called Helen, wife of Peter Kroger.  Gradually Barbara builds up an abiding friendship which is rudely interrupted when a gentleman from MI5 calls on them and asks permission to use their house secretly as an observation point to watch the Krogers who are suspected of espionage.  The emotional centre of the play is Barbara's struggle between her loyalty to her country and her loyalty to her friend. 

In essence, this play was true to events because in 1961 the real-life Krogers, who were actually Americans, were arrested, charged with espionage and served eight years before being exchanged for British agents being held by the Russians.  The play is a little gem and, as some of you may recall, I once had the pleasure of playing the role  of Mr. Stewart.

Here I am smoothing away the worries of the Jacksons.  If you are not sleeping well, I wrote an earlier post on this subject back in 2015 under the heading of: 

A star was born, er, but nobody noticed #3

Anyway, at last I have something theatrical to look forward to!

 

Your Monday Funnies: 6.8.18

As always - well, nearly always - I stand primed and ready to help all you wage slaves through the Monday morning blues.  

A guy was traveling through Mexico on vacation when, lo and behold, he lost his wallet and all of his identification. Cutting his trip short, he attempted to make his way home, but was stopped by the Customs Agent at the Tijuana border.

'May I see your ID.? Por favor, senor?' asked the agent.

'I'm sorry, but I seem to have lost my wallet,' replied the guy.

'Si,amigo, I hear that every day. No ID, no crossing the border,' said the agent.

'But I can prove that I'm an American!' he exclaimed. 'I have a picture of Donald Trump tattooed on one butt cheek and a picture of Hillary Clinton tattooed on the other."

'This I got to see, senor,' replied the agent.

With that, he dropped his pants & bent over in front of the agent.

'By golly, you're right!' exclaimed the agent. 'Have fun in Chicago .'

'Thanks!' he said. 'But how did you know I was from Chicago ?'

The agent replied, 'I recognized Barack Obama in the middle!'

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FIVE RULES TO REMEMBER IN LIFE:

1. Money cannot buy happiness -
but it's far more comfortable to cry in a Porsche than on a bicycle.

2. Forgive your enemy -
but remember the asshole's name.

3. If you help someone when they're in trouble -
they will remember you when they're in trouble again.

4. Alcohol does not solve any problems -
but then, neither does milk.

5. Many people are alive only because -
it's illegal to shoot them.

 

BONUS RULE:

Condoms do not guarantee safe sex.
A friend of mine was wearing one when he was shot by the woman's husband!

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

 

 

 

Arthur Davidson, the designer of the Harley Davidson bike died and went to heaven. At the gates, St. Peter told Arthur, "Since you've been such a good man and your motorcycles have changed the world, your reward is, you can hang out with anyone you want in Heaven."
 
Arthur thought about it for a minute and then said, "I want to hang out with God."
 
 St. Peter took Arthur to the Throne Room and introduced him to God.

God recognized Arthur and commented, "Okay, so you were the one who invented the Harley Davidson motorcycle?"

Arthur said, "Yep, that's me."
 
God said, "Well, what's the big deal in inventing something that's pretty unstable, makes noise and pollution and can't run without a road?"
 
Arthur was apparently embarrassed, but finally he said, "Excuse me, but aren't you the inventor of woman?"
 
God said, "Yes."
 
"Well," said Arthur, "professional to professional, you have some major design flaws in your invention:
 
 1. There's too much inconsistency in the front-end protrusions;
 2. It chatters constantly at high speeds;
 3. Most of the rear ends are too soft and wobble too much;
 4. The intake is placed way too close to the exhaust;
 5. And the maintenance costs are enormous!"
 
 "Hmmmmm, you have some good points there," replied God, "hold on."
 
 God went to his celestial super computer, typed in a few words and waited for the results. The computer printed out a slip of paper and God read it.
 
"Well, it may be true that my invention is flawed," God said to Arthur, "but according to these numbers, more men are riding my invention than yours."

 

That's your lot so get back to work!

 

The Sunday Rumble: 5.8.18

God, I'm good!   Like most of you, I guess, I woke early with brilliant sunshine streaming in through the window of my bedroom and thus ensuring absolutely zero chance of getting back to sleep.  I may have boasted told you before that I am 'i/c ironing' in my house on account of my military training!  Anyway, this morning, I leapt from bed and 'dashed away with the smoothing iron' so that by 7.30am it had all been done.  Then I made breakfast - yes, only tea and toast but still! - and served it to the 'Memsahib' in bed.  Yes, ladies, I am available for hire, just tell me where you live (if it's 'oooop north, don't bother!) and send me a photo of yourself in your favourite bikini.

 

The heat seems to be getting to Dan Hodges:   Normally, I am a great admirer of Mr. Hodges but his column today in The Mail  shows distinct signs of hysteria.  According to him, there has been a sudden influx of new recruits into the Tory party and it is all part of devilish, cunning plot by, er, well, Mr. Steve Bannon actually.  He, you will recall. was an alleged 'mouth-frother' from the Trump campaign - until Trump fired him - and he is determined to become the puppet-master for a new Tory party!  I know it's a dead season for political news but for goodness sake, Mr. Hodges, take a few days off and go and paddle in the sea at Brighton!

 

Happily, Peter Hitchens' brains have not yet melted:   In his usual acerbic style he reminds us that not the least of Tony Blair's manifest sins was the surrender of HMG to the IRA with the result that the man who murdered several people in his efforts to blow up the entire Tory government in the Brighton attack is walking free with not a care in the world whilst a 76-year old ex-Para is under the (metaphorical) cosh of a police investigation into events that occurred in 1972!  So where, I wonder, is that young, big-mouthed chancer who, God help us, is the new Secretary of State for Defence?

 

What's the Spanish for 'Bugger, I missed'?   Apparently, the Venezuelan equivalent of 'Dad's Army' attempted to 'off' the raving Marxist idiot who has run his country into abject poverty by means of an explosive drone.  Alas, they missed!  Don't expect to see many public appearances from President Maduro from now on!

 

And lo, the 'Heffalump' foretells the Tory future:   And you ignore him at your peril!  The scaffold is slowly but surely rumbling towards Downing Street and there will be 'a hanging in the morning', er, well, in the next few weeks/months, anyway.  'St. Theresa of May', is probably a very nice woman in her private life but, alas, at the top level of both national and international politics she is the equivalent of 'Coco the Clown'.  If she had bothered to read this, er, wise, shrewd blog, she would have known years ago that the 'Brussels comintern' will offer her absolutely nothing but humiliation.  They have been mortally offended by what they see as a repetition of that gesture made famous by the English archers at Agincourt!  We have, like English football supporters, spoiled their party, pissed in their smug, self-congratulatory champagne and told them to stick their 'pate de fois gras' where the sun don't shine!  That she still thinks that it was worth interrupting her holiday to smooch with 'Mini Macron' indicates that she is on a different planet accompanied only by the latter-day 'Sir Humphries' who smoothly guide her from one disaster to another.  For God's sake, please, someone open the trapdoor and let her drop, and then march old 'Boing-Boing' Boris into office.  At least he will provide a few laughs!

 

Makes yer prard to be British!   I had no idea we were so inventive but, courtesy of 'Mirrorpix' I now learn that we Brits were the first to invent toothbrushes, lawn-mowers, linoleum, flushing loos, folding push-chairs and, of course, the world wide web.  That's just a few of the things we invented- jolly good show!

 

But this doesn't!   In Feb 1936, Sir Robert Vansittart, Grand High Panjandrum of the Foreign Office, wrote a memo in which he suggested that Hitler might be satisfied with the gift of a few colonial possessions.  Needless to say, he wasn't!  Then Vansittart pointed out that following the Abyssinian imbroglio, the Versaille system was broken.  In that, he was spot on.  Then he went on:

"... little or no latitude can be allowed to Germany for expansion in a densely peopled Europe, where expansion, in fact, really means robbery and murder . . . We cannot make a stand for Abyssinia and connive at the spoliation of Lithuania, or Czechoslovakia, or Austria."

As Richard Lamb points out drily, "This was in the event exactly what the British government did."

 

See, those commas count!   A story in The Daily Mail reports that a murderer was convicted on the evidence of a linguistics expert who analysed text messages sent on the victim's phone after her death.  The idiosyncratic use of commas and other things, matched messages found on the killer's phone.  Gotcha!

 

 

No more rumbles today

 

 

"Oh what a tangled web" from which we Brits have evolved

No, no, I haven't given up on Richard Lamb's "The Drift to War" but, dammit, it is a long, depressing slog which leaves me feeling utterly ashamed of much of the government of Britain in the 1930s.  Thank God there was one stentorian voice from the back-benches to provide us all with a tattered flag to hide our embarrassment.  However, as he was not actually in the government he makes very few appearances.  And so, for chapter after chapter Mr. Lamb records the confused, stupid and at times cowardly process of HMG!  I have just finished the humiliating chapters dealing with the Italy/Abyssinia imbroglio.  The fact that it kept reminding me of the current shambles with Mrs. May and her 'Dad's Army' collection of cabinet ministers stumble-bumming their way to the exit from the EU, did not add to my humour!

I haven't finished yet but I do need a break and so it was with a shout of glee that I read a review of Sir Roy Strong's single volume history of England from the Romans up to more or less now.  God, I have been brave as I fought my way through all those bloody Romans and then through wave after wave of sundry blood-thirsty 'Scandies'.  Dammit, didn't they know that all we wanted from them was their Danish au pair gals!  It is a truly fascinating journey and doubly so because you can begin to discern the first outlines of the building blocks which would eventually form Britain as we know it today.  A terrific read because it is written in a pellucidly clear writing style and if you have youngsters to educate then this is the book for them!

Alas, sooner or later I will have to return to the 1930s British governmental equivalent of Fred Karno's circus - but not just yet!

 

 

'A E-P' spells it out in accurate, understandable language

Bit confused by all this Brexit waffle, are you?  Finding it a bit tricky to work out what's up, what's down, who's in, who's out?  Well, I don't blame you because even the so-called experts -  who sniggered? - like that ineffable Canadian chump running the Bank of England don't seem to truly understand it.  But, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, just in the nick of time, in rides the legendary 'A E-P' and lets fly with a stream of sound common-sense based on considerable knowledge.  I am too 'knacked' today with all this hot sunshine, as well as the indisputable fact that I lack the expertise to precis it, so I will urge you all too read it for yourselves.

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/business/2018/08/03/lies-damned-lies-mark-carneys-statistics-brexit/

Well done, 'A E-P' and we are all deeply grateful for a dollop of reality!

 

As if you needed another reason never to read the NYT

Well now you have a reason to avoid it like the plague because these are just some examples of the writings ravings produced by their latest recruit to their editorial board:

“Dumba** f***ing white people marking up the internet with their opinions like dogs pissing on a fire hydrant”

“Are white people predisposed to burn faster in the sun, thus logically only being fit to live underground like groveling goblins”

“Oh man it’s kind of sick how much joy I get out of being cruel to old white men”

“I dare you to get on Wikipedia and play ‘Things white people can definitely take credit for,” it’s really hard”

“#CancelWhitePeople”

The graffiti scribbler , sorry, journalist(!) concerned is actually, and here I adapt her own, er, literary/social style,  'a velly olliental Chinky-chonk' by the name of Sarah Jeong so you would think that she might be a tad more careful before throwing racist shit around!  But then again, she has been hired by the ultra politically correct NYT who would lambast you were you to let slip even a hint of black racism.  They are a non-newspaper with a proven track record of hiring dimwits who are mostly wrong about everything, for example, Paul Krugman - need I say more?

 

For God's sake, don't tell 'SoD'!

On my super-duper, whizzy-do computer-thingie, which I might add, is a bespoke model specially built to my requirements, there is, of course, a sound system with two speakers.  For some reason known only unto God, they stopped working.  I then had to get down on hands and knees, not easy with my arthritis, and enter the jungle of wires and cables which lurk beneath my computer desk which, incidentally, still bears old traces of blood from past visits because always, without fail, I bump my head!  Anyway, I traced the various cables to the various slots and unplugged them before replacing them more or less in the same sockets - well, all those bloody sockets look the same - and trying again.  Guess what!  The speakers still did not work - why am I not surprised?

My first gloomy thought was that I would have to ask 'SoD' to sort it during his next visit but I knew he would go off on one and bellow at me that he had told me before, several times, what to do!  So instead, I rang our local computer shop and introduced myself as the official Milborne Port Village Idiot and asked if they could please send round the 14-year old lad who has forgotten more about computers than I know.  He duly arrived this morning and instantly guided the mouse-thingie down to a tiny symbol in the bottom corner of the screen which shows a speaker and sound waves emanating.  He clicked on it and there was a choice between speakers and/or headphones.  It was set to headphones only!  He reset it to speakers! Sorted!

Now you might think that I was embarrassed but let me tell you that after several years in the second-hand car trade I am unembarrassable!  Mind you, I did feel a slight twinge of pity for those various officers who, back in the day, had me as their signaller!  No wonder so many urgent orders failed to get through!

ADDITIONAL:   I have just clicked on to The Coffee House and the first thing I see is that The Spectator is advertising for a new Assistant Digital Editor.  Are they fishing for me, do you think?