DUFF & NONSENSE!

Why would anyone read The New York Times?

I meant to comment at the time, a few days ago, on this particular example of a rancid dog-pile dropped in the middle of a recent edition of The New York Times.  It shows a blind Donald Trump complete with yarmulke being pulled along by an Israeli dog with the face of Benjamin Netanyahu.

 

It is, of course, like most cartoons, an exaggerated lie but like the 'best' of cartoons it is immensely powerful.  In fact, Trump is no more being 'led' by Netanyahu than the Israeli Prime Minister is being 'led' by Trump.  They are both pursuing their political and strategic aims as they see them and as both of them face dangers from Arabic/Islamic enemies then there are bound to be areas of mutual self-interest.  As the old proverb has it, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend!"  Churchill said much the same thing when Russia was attacked by Germany.

Even so, given the lividity of the cartoon, it is obvious that there is more behind it than just strategic politics.  It plays to the very heart of the old anti-Semitic belief that Jews secretly pull the strings of everything of importance in world affairs.  Of course, Israelis do try and do that but then so does everyone else!  The USA doesn't so much 'pull strings' as yank (no pun intended!) on ropes, just as Great Britain used to do 'back in the day', and now the Chinese do with increasing effect.  However, in this particular case, it is obvious that the main aim of the cartoonist was to ram home his own personal Jew-hatred based, no doubt, on all the old anti-Semitic tropes which never seem to die.  That The New York Times gave it space, tells you all you need to know about that particularly disgusting organisation.

None of that, of course, should inhibit anyone from criticising Israeli policy!

 

 

Let me introduce you to, er, Mr. Wlady Pleszczynski

And no, I can't pronounce his name, either, but even so he remains one of my political/journalistic heroes.  He was the back office businessman who stood behind R. Emmett Tyrell when he started The American Spectator, of which, back in the day, I was a subscriber to their print editions - yes, that far back!  These two men deserve, but will never receive, a 'yuuuuuuuuuge' medal for their dismemberment of Bill Clinton's Presidency when they dug into all those Clintonian scams in 'good ol' Arkansas'.

Anyway, 'Vlad', as I will call him because at least I can pronounce it, has written a rarity of an article praising - yes, actually praising! - 'The Donald'.

For his troubles he’s been savaged and dehumanized by a crazed, bigoted opposition that refuses to play by any rules once thought the norm in our politics and culture. Even before his election he was being sabotaged by his opponent, the ruling administration, U.S. intelligence, and the FBI. Same thing in the two and half months leading up to his inauguration. And ever since, by the permanent fruits of bigger government and the cockroaches scurrying along its corridors, including commissars under the control of a so-called special counsel who’s destroying America’s rule of law. And all this with kneejerk media encouragement and approval — unconstitutionality as we’ve never seen in the U.S. before, by forces that depict themselves as a “resistance” and who argue that Donald Trump’s constitutionally protected presidential actions are a sure sign of tyrannical intent. 

Yes, I think that about sums it up even if I, personally, do think 'The Donald' brings much of the spite upon himself with his personal eccentricities.  Even so, as 'Vlad', in effect, asks, does he really deserve this sort of thing - with my emphasis added:

As I write, Joe Scarborough has just said Trump has caused more harm to the U.S. than 9/11 did. In the New York Review, which I thought will be the last liberal organ to retain its senses, Garry Wills calls for stepped-up resistance to Trump, because “If we wait until the tyrant kills six million Jews before tyrannicide is contemplated, we are actually facilitating tyranny.”

Well said, 'Vlad', and I am delighted that your magazine holds truth above hysteria.

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 29.4.19

Every one a winner - honestly!

At St. Peter's Catholic Church in Toronto, they have weekly marriage
seminars for husbands.

At the session last week, the priest asked Giuseppe, who said he was
approaching his 50th wedding anniversary, to take a few minutes and share some insight into how he had managed to stay married to the same woman all these years.

Giuseppe replied to the assembled husbands, 'Wella, I'va tried to treat her nicea, spenda da money on her, but besta of all is, I tooka her back to Italy for the 25th anniversary!'

The priest responded, 'Giuseppe, you are an amazing inspiration to all the husbands here! Please tell us what you are planning for your wife for your 50th anniversary?"

Giuseppe proudly replied, "I gonna' go pick her up."

[Er, sorry the lousy accent!]

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To All my friends who are Grandfathers.

Yesterday my eldest daughter e-mailed me, again, asking why I didn't do something useful with my time, as if sitting around the pool, and drinking gin isn’t a good thing. Talking about my "doing-something-useful" seems to be her favorite topic of conversation. She is "only thinking of me," she said, and suggested that I go down to the Senior Citizens Center and hang out with the fellas.

So, I did, and when I got home,I sent her an e-mail saying that I had joined the Senior Parachute Club.

She replied, "Are you nuts? You're 68 years-old and now you're going to start jumping out of airplanes?"

I told her that I even had a Membership Card and e-mailed a copy to her.

Immediately, she telephoned me and yelled, "Good grief, Dad, where are your glasses?! This is a membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club. ”

"Oh man, am I in trouble," I said. "I signed up for five jumps a week!"

The line went dead.  Life as a Senior Citizen isn't getting any easier, but sometimes, it can be fun.

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IN RESPONSE TO ALL RECENT E-MAILS ABOUT OUR DOG:

PLEASE BE ADVISED, WE ARE SICK AND TIRED OF ANSWERING QUESTIONS ABOUT HIM.

YES, HE BIT TWO PEOPLE WEARING BURKAS:

TEN PEOPLE WEARING TURBANS,

TWENTY PEOPLE WEARING JEREMY CORBYN T-SHIRTS,

TWO CAR DRIVERS WITH RAP MUSIC BLARING FROM THEIR VEHICLES,

FOUR JEHOVAH'S WITNESSES,

TWO MORMONS,

NINE TEENAGERS WITH PANTS HANGING PAST THEIR ASS CRACKS,

THREE MUSLIMS AND A PAKISTANI TAXI DRIVER.

FOR THE LAST TIME. . .THE DOG IS NOT FOR SALE!

 

That's it, have a good week in the salt mines!

 

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 28.4.19

Yesterday was a double good day:  First of all, the 'Memsahib' had the dressing on her right hand removed because the wound has healed nicely.  Second of all, we went shopping and bought a ready-cooked chicken - well, it was bound to be better than if I had cooked it! - and the 'Memsahib' suddenly remembered a recipe she hasn't done for ages - 'Chicken Mustard'!  In this, the chicken is chopped into small bits and heated in a sauce made up of cream, dry mustard, mushrooms, Worcester sauce and various other bits and pieces. (Exact recipe to follow later when she is up and about!)  Unencumbered by the dressing on her right hand she was able to throw that together and it was 'scrummy, Mummy'!  Well, there are only so many cheese on toasts you can eat when I am running the kitchen!

 

The second good thing yesterday:  A couple of weeks ago, for a reason I cannot recall, I was reminded of one of the very best thrillers I have ever read.  "I Am Pilgrim" by Terry Hayes.  Er, the other thing I cannot recall is what the damned book was about!  I know it featured some smart-arse, American secret agent and that it ended up - natch! - somewhere in the Middle East - I think!  However, what I did recall was how much I enjoyed it and so, given the reminder, I decided to buy a copy for my Kindle.  Like all my good intentions, I never quite got around to it and anyway, as y'all do know because I never stop boring on about it, I am still deep into the 'brown stuff' that was the British political scene in the 1930s.  Anyway, yesterday, in a half-hearted attempt to tidy up the shambles in my attic, I sorted through a pile of old paperbacks and - HOORAH! - I found my original copy.  Last night I read the first five chapters and I was right - it's a corker!

 

Dan Hodges asks the critical question:   Once again, I am grateful to Mr. Dan Hodges in The Mail for asking the truly critical question of the day: 

Who runs Britain? Who is actually responsible for the governance of our nation this morning?

Chillingly, he answers his own question:

It isn’t the Prime Minister. Mrs May holds that title, but has relinquished any grip on the office. The only meaningful decision left for her now is the announcement of the date of her departure from Downing Street.
It’s not the Cabinet. As the Huawei debacle has revealed, their focus is no longer on running the Government but jostling for the premiership. The views of the voters of Britain are now secondary to the views of the 120,000 members of the Tory Party who will be eligible to vote in the upcoming leadership election.

Sorry to re-use a hoary, old cliche but 'power abhors a vacuum'.  Who or what fills this particular hole I do not know.  I hope that the local and then the European elections devastate the Tory party because, to paraphrase 'the good Doctor', 'nothing concentrates a mind like a hanging in the morning!'  Also, it will be truly delicious to send Farage's army of Brexiteers to Brussels! 

 

A 75th Anniversary to be remembered but not celebrated:   I am grateful to The Telegraph for reminding me of the ghastly tragedy that occurred 75 years ago at Slapton Sands in Devon.

On that beautiful stretch of seaside, 75 years ago today, at least 749 American soldiers and sailors lost their lives.  They were practicing for the D-Day landings which would take place a few weeks hence.  Unhappily, they were caught by a small flotilla of German E-boats who took them by surprise and inflicted dreadful casualties.  "We shall remember them."

 

Message from the 'Memsahib':  As promised, the recipe for Chicken Mustard:

Chicken Mustard- Serves four

½ pint double cream
2 tablespoons Mango chutney
1 tablespoon Worcester sauce
1 Dessert spoon dry Colman mustard
1/4lb Mushrooms sliced

Method:

Mix all ingredients together, heat the mix for half an hour at 170⁰ and then pour over the chicken pieces. 
Pork chops are good as well.

ENJOY!!!!!

 

Dotty Dipstick of the Year!   Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you - no, go on, take her, she's all yours - the dumbest blonde Dame ever, Dame Emma Thompson:

With star-like stupidity she flew all the way from California, laying a carbon carpet as she went, in order to join all those pig-ignorant prats who brought central London to a standstill in order to, er, 'save the planet'!  Thank you, darling, now fly back where you came from and don't bother coming again!

 

That damned fickle Finn!   I refer, of course, to Valtteri Bottas who, dammit, is supposed to be the No.2 driver for Mercedes thus assisting (Sir) Lewis to yet another well deserved victory.  Instead, he nicked first place leaving (Sir) Lewis to finish second - the bounder!  Mind you, it was an impeccable drive.

 

No more rumbles today!

 

 

 

Lord Adonis didn't turn his coat, he threw it away and nicked another one!

Lord Andrew Adonis does not loom large in my life, nor, I suppose, in yours.  He flutters about in the (s0 called) corridors of power.  You see him here, you see him there, you see him everywhere and he is never short of a comment on any given subject.  He is, I suspect, a slippery 'corridor prowler', forever slithering hither and thither along the highways and by-ways of Whitehall and Westminster.  Having accepted a peerage he has avoided all that messy electioneering business, you know, when you have to tell the dreaded 'Peeps' what you believe in and then, a few years later explain why it all went 'tits up'!  Instead, he creeps about on the editorial pages of the Guardian and the Observer pontificating on this, that and the other.  Nobody listens because, of course, Adonis has absolutely no power.

A few years ago, having junked the Lib Dems, he threw in his lot with Labour.  From this perch, he has maintained a chorus of 'Remainer' agit-prop and launched barrages against what he considers to be the idiotic Brexiteers.  As Alex Massie reminds us over at 'CAPX': 

As recently as last December, Labour peer Andrew Adonis averred that “British politics for the next generation will divide into those who resisted Brexit and those who promoted or appeased it. I will never fully trust or respect anyone who wasn’t in the resistance from the beginning”.

But that was before 'Jezza', and his enforcer, Seamus Milne, whacked him across the kidneys with a truncheon and told him to straighten up and fly right!  To be fair, they also offered him a sweetener in the form of a Labour Party candidacy to run in the forthcoming European elections.  Needless to say, Adonis folded instantly.

Alex Massie ends his evisceration of Adonis, thus:

“I do not believe” [Adonis the committed 'Remainer'] continued, “that the real divide in our society is between people who voted to remain or to leave the EU. The real divide is between the many and the few. As socialists, we must stand up for the many.”

Deliciously, “A vote for Labour is a vote for so much more than Brexit” – though, by jove, it’s certainly a vote for Brexit too – “A vote for Labour is a vote for a more prosperous, fair and united country”. I imagine Seumas Milne enjoyed dictating that.

Someone please pass the sickbag!

 

 

 

'Carry On' on round the Azerbaijan Grand Prix!

For the benefit of my foreign readers who may be even more mystified by my heading than they are normally, let me explain that from the 1960s onwards there have been an enormous series of comedy - well, sort of comedy! - films under the 'Carry On' banner which were the cinematic equivalent of those old and very naughty seaside postcards which we all enjoyed 'back in the day'.  Yesterday, in what might be called "Carry On Round the Azerbaijan Grand Prix", the track supervisors failed to fix a manhole cover which collapsed and wrecked a Formula One car.

However, the comedy did not end there.  A recovery truck was despatched to lift the wreck and take it back to the pits for a rebuild but on the way round it hit an overhead pedestrian bridge and wrecked that!  To be honest, I am not too sure where Azerbaijan is but I'm thinking of paying it a visit because it sounds like a laugh a minute!

 

 

George Eaton is a journalistic shit!

Well, it doesn't help that George Eaton is the deputy editor of The New Statesman which, of course, is not a political magazine but merely an extreme Left-wing, agit-prop rag produced for the sole purpose of denigrating by any means possible, fair or foul, anyone of Right-wing sensibilities.  Thus it was that Eaton conducted an 'interview' with Sir Roger Scruton, a distinguished philosopher and historian and supporter of traditional conservative values.  The result was a deliberately mangled piece of distortion which attempted to show Sir Roger as the worst sort of racist.

Needless to say, anyone who has ever read even a couple of paragraphs of Sir Roger's voluminous writings would have instantly dismissed the whole heap of New Statesman odure as complete rubbish.  Unsurprisingly, it was Douglas Murray in The Spectator who managed to get his hands on a recording of the actual interview and he has comprehensively demolished Eaton who has now been forced to retract some of his worst comments.  Also, this contretemps says everything you need to know about our utterly useless government that Scruton was sacked within five hours of Eaton's bilge flowing up from the sewer!

How dumb do you have to be to become a Deputy Editor of The New Statesman?  And how dumb do you have to be to buy a copy and actually read it?

 

 

Honestly, m'Lud, I just can't help myself!

Yes, that damned kleptomania bug has hit me again and helpless in its grasp I am forced to steal this excellent cartoon from the estimable 'American Thinker' site:

Hospital visit this morning so the 'Memsahib' can get her dressings changed, followed by a maxi-shop to stock up with grub for me to ruin over the weekend!  Back this afternoon - with luck!

 

 

 

In which I opine on a subject about which I know nothing

So no change there, then!  Even so, when it comes to, er, the UK's new 5G network-thingie, I am in a stygian blackout of total ignorance.  You may judge that from the fact that my first question was what happened to the 1G, 2G, 3G and 4G networks?  However, I do realise that this is all something to do with computerised 'jiggery-pokery' somewhat similar to the sort of thing 'SoD' drones on about and therefor far above and beyond my ken.  

Nevertheless, even a stone age dinosaur like me dimly realises that in this 'brave new world', these things are critically important.  Not just to allow me to bore for Britain on this blog but for a zillion other connections and networks which actually keep our world ticking over.  Any breakdown and chaos looms!

So, I wonder, who was the brain-dead moron who agreed to hand over a chunk of this new 5G-thingie - to the Chinese?  Well, of course, it was Theresa May - who else?  I do realise that any attempt to inject a miniscule of common-sense into that silly woman's noodle is certain to fail but is it truly impossible for her to grasp the 'yuuuuuuuuuge', and growing 'yuuuuuuuuuger' by the day, fact that China is our enemy?!  They hate us and they wish us nothing but harm.  To be honest, given our history, I am not sure I can blame them but it is critical that our so-called leaders understand that the Chinese government will do anything, at the appropriate time, to wreck our country.  Not today, possibly not tomorrow and maybe not next year - but certainly at some time that suits their game plan, they will pull away the props they control and bring the roof crashing down on Britain.

In the same way that our ruling class failed to understand that the EU hierarchy are our deadly enemies, so they blithely hand over power to the Chinese murder machine!

 

 

Please, Donald, pretty please, just don't visit!

Don't misunderstand, Mr. President, it's not that we - or at least a good number of us - don't 'lurve' you, and we certainly 'lurve' your country - er, well, most of it - but if you come over to visit 'Her Maj' in June, the toilets, the sewers, the dustbins, the waste-tips will all overflow and the pig ignorant, single brain cell, knuckle-draggers will pour forth onto our streets and there will be mayhem!  Poor old London town which stood up so bravely under the blitz will be inundated with teen-age nose-pickers who will wreck the place.  Needless to say, 'the Plod' will be delighted to take all the overtime they can get but will not lift a finger, let alone a baton, to clear the streets.  The damage will be 'yuuuuuuge'!

So, please, stay at home and watch the golf!

 

 

Concerning HMAS Sydney and HSK Kormoran

In my long history of producing puzzling headings to my posts, this wins top prize!  To be fair, the prize should go to my good friend, Richard, who graces the comments here from time to time.  Like me he is an unrepentant 'book-a-holic' and he sent me a recommendation for "The Search for the Sydney" by David Mearns.  In essence, it investigates the sinking of HMAS Sydney, a 6" Cruiser sent to the bottom with all hands by a small German torpedo boat disguised as a merchant ship during WWII.  It was Australia's worst naval disaster.  Richard thought it might be of interest to me but, alas, my pile of 'waiting to be read' books would block the light to my attic - were they not stored in my Kindle!  Anyway, Richard gives it a 5* review and so I pass it on to all you nautical chaps who visit this site.

I sense incoming 'AussieD'!

 

 

Hindsight is so awfully useful when it comes to history!

As I am finding out the hard way as I work my way through Tim Bouverie's superb book, "Appeasing Hitler: Chamberlain, Churchill and the Road to War".  How I chuckle at the dunderheads who kept getting it 'wrong', and weep for the victims who were being lined up to suffer.  And yet ... and yet ... I do so because I know how it all turned out!  They, 'the good, the bad and the ugly', did not know!  Although some of them were better informed than others, none of them knew for sure what lay in the future.  Churchill, of course, appears to be the consistent hero of the tragedy because he, and a tiny band of supporters, consistently called for war against Hitler.  However, it is neccessary to remind ourselves that Churchill loved war!  He didn't much mind with whom he went to war just so long as war was the result and he could, in effect, re-enact his famous cavalry charge at Omdurman!  As it turned out, Churchill wasn't that great as a war leader as both Gallipoli and Norway demonstrated!  Admittedly, at the Grand Strategic level in WWII, Great Britain had an exceedingly weak hand to play and that wasn't Churchill's fault.

At the other end of the scale were the weakling pacifists supported, for most of the time, by a British public still nursing the wounds of 1914-18.  It is impossible to blame these people - they knew where-of they suffered!  Thus, whilst it is probably true that a very much stronger line taken much earlier in Hitler's reign might have considerably beneficial results, it is necessary to remember that once the bullets begin to fly, no-one can be sure of anything.

So far, my incomplete reading of Mr. Bouverie's book simply leaves me muttering the words of the tragic Othello: "O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!"

 

 

 

Well, at least you had a non-irritated Easter!

Apologies for my absence over the last couple of days and I am sure you can guess the reason.  One of the main problems is that the 'Memsahib' needs to visit the hospital every other day in order to have her dressings changed and her wounds inspected for any signs of infection.  Excellent notion, of course, but that can take 2-3 hours out of the day - then there's shopping, cooking (well, my rough approximation of it!), tidying/cleaning and, worst of all, planning ahead!  And, yes, yes, Ladies, I know you do that everyday of your lives but us chaps are not used to it - or to be absolutely frank, we're crap at it!  Even so, I would like to thank you all for your good wishes which I have passed on to her 'ladyship' and which cheered her up.  

Gradually, very gradually, I am getting the hang of this 'domestication thingie' so I hope to be blogging a bit more from now on.  One thing that happened the other day left me totally 'gob-smacked'!  I had slumped into my armchair for a nap and the TV, as usual was tuned to the news (which is uniformly ghastly) and so I decided to flick around the channels.  In the equivalent of inadvertently treading in an enormous dog-pile, I came across the "Jeremy Kyle Show" - yeeeees, quite!

This odious little man, and the even more odious people who pull his strings, set out to find totally dysfunctional families and invite them on TV to air their mutual hatreds in public.  If the people at the studio end of this disgusting 'entertainment' are total shits, what can one say of the gawping public who, week in and week out, regularly tune in to watch this garbage?

Pass the sick bag!

 

 

 

"When troubles come . . ."

". . . they come not single spies but in battalions".  Er, from Macbeth, actually, in case you're interested!  Anyway, so there I was creaking along with my rheumatoid arthritis when suddenly the quacks tell me I have prostate cancer, so off I trot for four weeks of death ray treatment about which I bored you all rigid in January/February.  Then, a week ago, I went down with a urinary tract infection which knocked me sideways for a couple of days until the anti-bios did their magical trick.  So yesterday and this morning, under blazing sunshine, I stepped forth stripped to the waist, into my 0.04 of an acre estate garden patch and set about sowing my seed wantonly!  Actually, planting pansies and violas - and I do the jokes round here!  That 'yuuuuuuuge' intake of vitamin D courtesy of the sun left me feeling the best I have felt for absolute yonks!  The 'Memsahib' left me to it and went down to the village garage shop.

An hour later, a strange car drew up and a gentleman rushed round to the passenger side and helped the 'Memsahib' out.  Apparently, crossing the forecourt of the garage, which closely resembles the old tank tracks the bloody army made me run over back in the day, she tripped and executed a nose dive!  Well, fortunately, she managed to avoid smashing her face but ended up with considerable cuts and abrasions on her hands and one knee.  The kind gentleman drove me back to the garage so I could collect our car - I owe him an exceedingly large debt of gratitude.

The 'Memsahib' and I then spent the next three hours in our local hospital where a superb and very professional nurse took infinite pains in cleaning and dressing the wounds.  Tomorrow we must return for a check-up.  Needless to say, the worst of this disaster only dawned on me slowly - I am now, by default, chief cook and bottle-washer!  "The horror, oh, the horror!"

One small item of interest did arise just now when I had to assist the 'Memsahib' out of her clothes, including removing her bra.  I learned that I am no better at it now than I was 62 years ago! 

 

 

"The spy who came in from the Co-op"

Normally, I would drive a hundred miles to see any production by Sir Trevor Nunn who is, in my not very educated opinion, one of the greatest directors of the era.  And again, normally, I would keep my foot hard on the accelerator given that Dame Judi Dench would be playing the lead.  However, alas and alack, the film he has produced, "Red Joan", has been well and truly eviscerated by the critics - don'cha lurve 'em?

The film is based - sort of - on the life of the late Melita Norwood, a great grandmother, who died in 2005 at the age of 93.  On the surface, she appeared to be an archetypal suburban housewife, mother and then grandmother living in a pebble-dashed semi in outer London.  In fact, she was from her earliest days in the 1930s, a dedicated spy for Russia.  From her lowly position as a clerk working for a metal company that eventually helped produce the specialist metals for the manufacture of Britain's atomic bomb, she worked non-stop for Russian intelligence.  MI5 became aware but for various reasons failed to take action against her.  The wretched, evil woman remained fixated all her life on what she thought of as the marvels of communism as applied in Russia, particularly under Stalin, despite the ever increasing evidence of its murderous reality.

So, a cracking story but, alas, I am distraught that Sir Trevor has, apparently, made a total cock of it.

 

 

In which I worry about Phil Carpenter

'Phil - who?' you ask.  Let me explain.  Mr. Carpenter runs an American political blog and he is a rock solid - in all senses of that term! - Democrat.  To his credit, he is not a member of the mouth-dribbling Left being more centrist but, alas, like the entire Democrat party, 'The Donald' has fried his brains so that on matters Presidential he has become an eye-ball swivelling loony.  If I tell you that 'PeterG', who recently departed this site with my boot up his arse, is one of his principal contributors then it will give you a flavour of the site.  To be fair, I should add two other items of background interest.  Phil Carpenter put his boot up my arse and kicked me off his site when my snide sniping proved too much for him, and his readers, to take.  Also, Mr. Carpenter is a seriously sick man and we all know how that increases bad temper and shortens patience, so I don't blame him.

Anyway, I continue to follow his site because it provides an excellent insight into what passes for thinking in the rank and file of the Democrat party.  As such, it is deeply depressing!  What is clear is that they are all suffering with galloping 'Trump-mania'.  All of them remain in a state of psychological trauma following the - to them - totally shocking defeat of 'HillBilly' in 2016.  As a sort of defence mechanism in order to avoid the harsh reality, they have invested all their aspirations in the fabled Mueller report which, they hoped and prayed and utterly believed, would fell the 'Ginger Ninja' once and for all!

Ohdearwhatapitynevermind!  

It has done nothing of the kind, in fact, just the opposite.  It has confirmed to detached observers that the Trump gang were a tad careless and sloppy here and there - hoodathunkit? - but that there was no conspiracy of collusion with the Russians.  Now, the Democrats, including the increasingly desperate Phil Carpenter and his readers, are reduced to the equivalent of counting the number of semi-colons in the Mueller report to see if there is a hidden conspiracy yet to be revealed!

Given that what I might call 'the Carpenterians' represent the allegedly sensible side of the Democrat party, as opposed to the raving 'honkers 'n' hooters' on the extreme Left, I would suggest that 'The Donald' may well romp home with an even bigger vote in 2020.

 

 

 

Now read this and then read that!

I assume that because Tim Bouverie's book "Appeasing Hitler: Chamberlain, Churchill and the Road to War" has only just been published it took several days for Kindle to process my order but this morning it arrived.  Waiting in Yeovil Hospital for the Memsahib's left eye to be examined following her recent operation - all is well - I was able to make a start.  Let me provide you with a taster from the opening lines of the Prologue:

On the evening of Friday 1 September 1939 - [I was 31/2 months old!] - the former First Lord of the Admiralty, Alfred Duff Cooper [no relation], changed as usual into his dinner jacket before joining his wife, Diana, and three Conservatives at the Savoy Grill.  A day of brilliant sunshine had given way to a balmy evening and there was nothing within the splendid art deco dining-room to denote a crisis.  Emerging later, however, the Coopers were bewildered to find themselves in complete darkness - a result of the hastily imposed blackout.  Taxis were nowhere to be found and the couple were beginning to wonder how they were going to get home when 'Bendor' Grosvenor, 2nd Duke of Westminster, appeared in his Rolls Royce and offered them a lift.  Gladly the Coopers accepted, only to regret their decision when the Duke began to inveigh against the Jews, whom he held responsible for the coming war.  Reminding himself that he and his wife were guests in the Duke's car, Cooper, who had a volcanic temper, held his tongue.  When, however, the Duke expressed his joy that Britain was not yet at war with Germany, since we were really Hitler's 'best friends', the former First Lord could restrain himself no longer.  Before making a swift exit at Victoria, he erupted, telling His Grace that he hoped Hitler would 'soon find out that we were his most implacable and remorseless enemies'.  The next day, Cooper was amused to hear that Westminster was going around saying that if Britain did end up going to war then it was all the fault of 'the Jews and Duff Cooper'.

What a terrific opening to a serious history of an even more serious crisis.  In a few lines it summarises the cavernous divisions in British society at the time.  Yes, it is more social than political but having read on, entranced, I can assure you that Mr. Bouverie is equally adept and skilful in describing the political melt down that was occurring.

I cannot recommend this book too highly!

 

 

 

Anymore for the Democrat nomination bus?

Actually, there appears to be enough declared/sort of declared/might declare 'candidates' to fill a train let alone a mere bus!  Ms. Anna L. Stark at The American Thinker analyses the passengers on what she calls "the crowded clown car". There appear to be 18 declared candidates, 7 about to declare candidates and 5 what she calls 'outlier' candidates.  She saves her nuclear option until last!

With my abysmal ignorance of such matters, alas, I can offer you no detailed or expert guidance on this particular 'train of fools'.  The ones about whom I have some slight knowledge, such as Sen. 'Fauxcahontas' Warren, are of such unbelievable stupidity as to almost make your average Westminster MP appear to have more than three brain cells!  What is rather more worrying is that most of them appear to be eye-ball swivelling Marxists who make 'Jezza' Corbyn look normal!  I stress the words "appear to be" because I doubt any of them have even read page 1 of Das Kapital!  All they do is 'Trot out' (Oh very witty, Wilde!) the current shibboleths of what purports to be Left-wing, er, thinking - yeeeeees, quite!

It is an indication of where the Democrat party has ended up that one undeclared (so far!) outlier (or should that be 'outliar'?) would almost be greeted with relief were she to enter the race.  I refer, of course, to the dreaded 'HillBilly' Clinton who, despite her dishonesty, laziness and total irresponsibility, might be an improvement on the others.  At the moment, so I gather, it is 'good ol' Barnie Sanders, America's answer to 'Jezza' Corbyn, God help them, who appears to have most of the 'moolah' and, this being America, most of the support.  However, as I indicated above, Ms. Stark, at the close of her article reveals the nuclear alternative - Michelle Obama!  She's famous, she's well-liked but above and beyond all that - she's black and she's a woman!

EMERGENCY!  EMERGENCY!  EMERGENCY!

I have just read the following dire warning at the excellent, global climate site WUWT:

Scientists have issued a dire warning: the current number of Democratic presidential candidates is simply unsustainable.

No one ever thought this many people would run for president,” said climate scientist Dr. Raymond Hall, “and the planet just can’t take it. We’re talking each of them eating up resources vying for airtime, printing stickers with trite slogans, and flying from Iowa to New Hampshire. If they were actually all to be in one place for a debate, it would be an ecological disaster.”

Scientists recommend the current Democratic field be reduced to less than half the current number or we could see an increase in hurricanes, droughts, kaiju, and “other climate change things.” As for what to do with the excess candidates, researcher Jeannie Perry said, “As always, I’d recommend firing them into space. Barring that, someone should just sit down with them and explain to them that no one is ever going to vote for them and hope that keeps them from running around consuming resources in a futile effort for presidential power.”

You have been warned!

 

 

Go for it, Zuzana, go!

This attractive and exceedingly courageous lady, Zuzana Caputova, has just been elected as the new President of Slovakia - stop yawning and pay attention, this is a great story!  According to Mr. Marion L. Tupy writing at the CapX site, this lady may be Slovakia's last hope of freedom and prosperity.

Alas, as an ignorant Brit, I still think of Czech and Slovakia as one country even though they divided by mutual consent some years ago.  For various reason I have an exceedingly soft spot for 'Checkia' but I know very little about Slovakia.  According to Mr. Tupy, it has suffered under the sort of corrupt and murderous regime that you would normally expect to find in South America.  However, at last the Slovakian 'peeps' have had enough and in the last election Ms. Caputova was voted into power.  For reasons beyond my ken, she does not actually take office until next February.  Given the nature of the present incumbents, I can only hope she lives that long!

 

 

This seems appropriate today

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'

Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

Any excuse will do for me to print and read the words of that magnificent poem.

 

 

Quelle domage!

For once, I use that term without a hint of irony.  It is impossible to define exactly how and why such old 'monuments' like Notre Dame grow in veneration over the ages.  I suppose, given the all too brief nature of our own life span, we invest ever more in artefacts created by us which last on and on for centuries.  To be brutally honest, I have never been a great admirer of Notre Dame but then I must confess to an instinctive dislike of most continental church architecture - and even more - the way in which their interiors are decorated.  The Roman Catholicism is too overt for my English taste!  Also, just a very brief walking distance away there is the exception to my rule of thumb in the utterly exquisite Sainte-Chappelle whose modest entrance is hidden away between what looks like various bureaucratic offices.  Squeeze past them and you enter one of the most elegant chapels you could ever wish for - click on the link.

That said, the fire in Notre Dame has shocked our French neighbours and I sympathise with them as I would for anyone who has had a treasured artefact damaged.  Happily, I understand that the main structure remains sound so all is not lost.  Now they must set about emulating the efforts of their medieval forebears and repair the damage, er, but I hope it doesn't take quite so long!  The fire may have started due to current repair works that were going on and there-in lies a warning to HMG who are - God help us! - currently 'supervising' various repairs to the House of Commons.  I trust the authorities will take note of my strict instructions to the effect that the House of Commons is NOT to be set on fire unless all MPs are present and the doors locked!

 

 

 

The Daily Mail has hysterics

The Mail was in full 'shouty mode' this morning at the news that Shemima Begum, the teen-age terrorist who left England and went off to the middle east to help ISIS, has been granted legal aid to fight the decision to strip her of her British citizenship.  Well, I suppose it helps sell a few more copies as your average Brit toddles off to work nodding in agreement and muttering imprecations under their breath to the effect that they should just hang her!

Well, to be fair, the vast majority of people would not think that but you can understand the extreme grumpiness of people whose hard-earned taxes are being used for what they see as a pointless, and even insulting, exercise.  Also, given the inherent soppy stupidity of many a Magistrate in this 'our septic Isle', 'the Peeps' are probably right to suspect that the decision might well go Ms. Begum's way. 

Nevertheless, and it hurts me to write this, Mr. Jeremy Hunt, our current 'Secretary for Foreigners', is entirely right when he states that:

"On a personal level, it makes me very uncomfortable because she made a series of choices and she knew the choices she was making, so I think we made decisions about her future based on those choices.

"However, we are a country that believes that people with limited means should have access to the resources of the state if they want to challenge the decisions the state has made about them and, for obvious reasons, those decisions are made independent from politicians.

"The decision to deprive her of her citizenship was taken by a politician. Obviously the decision about whether she accesses legal aid or not has to be done independently."

Well said, Jeremy!

 

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 15.4.19

Some corkers today - God, I'm good to you!

A young cowboy, sitting in a saloon one Saturday night, recognized an elderly man standing at the bar who, in his day, had been the fastest gun in the West.  The cowboy walked over to the old-timer, bought him a drink and told him of his great ambition to be a great gunfighter.

"Could you give me some tips?" he asked.

The old man said, "Well, for one thing, you're wearing your gun too high -- tie the holster a little lower down on your leg."

"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"

"Sure will."

The young man did as he was told, then stood up, whipped out his .44, and shot the bow tie off the piano player.

"That's terrific!" exclaimed the cowboy. "Got any more tips?"

"Yep," said the old man. "Cut a notch out of your holster where the hammer hits it -- that'll give you a smoother draw."

"Will that make me a better gunfighter?" asked the young man.

"You bet it will," said the old-timer.

The young man took out his knife, cut the notch, stood up, drew his gun in a blur, and then shot a cuff link off the piano player.

"Wow!" said the cowboy excitedly, "I'm learnin' somethin' here. Got any more tips?"

The old man pointed to a large can in a corner of the saloon. "See that can of axle grease over there? Coat your gun with it."

The young man smeared some of the grease on the barrel of his gun.

"No," said the old-timer, "I mean smear it all over the gun, the handle, and all."

"Will that make me a better gunfighter?" asked the puzzled young man.

"No," said the old-timer, "but when Wyatt Earp gets done playing the piano, he's gonna shove that gun up your arse, and it won't hurt as much."

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A husband walks into an exclusive store to purchase a sheer negligee for his wife.

He is shown several possibilities that range from $250 to $500 in price --
the sheerer, the higher the price.  Naturally, he opts for the sheerest item, pays the $500, and takes it home.

He presents it to his wife and asks her to go upstairs, put it on, and
model it for him.

Upstairs the wife thinks (she's no dummy), 'I have an idea. It's so sheer that it might as well be nothing. I won't put it on, but I'll do the modelling naked, return it tomorrow, and keep the $500 refund for myself.'

She appears naked on the balcony and strikes a pose.

The husband says, 'Good Grief! You'd think for $500, they'd at least iron the damn thing!'

He never heard the shot.

Funeral on Thursday at Noon. Closed coffin.

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An Alabama pastor said to his congregation, "Someone in this congregation has spread a rumour that I belong to the Ku Klux Klan. This is a horrible lie and one which a Christian community cannot tolerate.
I am embarrassed and do not intend to accept this. Now, I want the party who said this to stand and ask forgiveness from God and this Christian family."

No one moved.

The preacher continued, "Do you have the nerve to face me and admit this is a falsehood? Remember, you will be forgiven and in your heart you will feel glory. Now stand and confess your transgression."

Again, all was quiet.

Then, slowly, a drop-dead gorgeous blonde with a body that would stop a runaway train rose from the third pew. Her head was bowed and her voice quivered as she spoke,

"Reverend there has been a terrible misunderstanding. I never said you were a member of the Ku Klux Klan. I simply told a couple of my friends that you were a wizard under the sheets."

The preacher fell to his knees, his wife fainted, and the congregation roared - "Hallelujah Brother"!

 

Told you they were corkers!

 

The Sunday Rumble: 14.4.19

A cheerful way to awake:   Yes, indeed, there's nothing like waking up with a smile and that is exactly what I did this morning as I heard on my bedside radio the sound of (Sir) Lewis Hamilton roaring to victory at the Chinese Grand Prix.  What an incredible race driver he is!  Even so, if Ferrari can sort out their internal politics with team leader Vettel under enormous pressure from 'the new kid on the block', Charles Leclerc, then (Sir) Lewis might well face testing times ahead!

 

What to do about that damned Aussie-Scandie?   As if our, er, distinguished(?), Home Secretary did not have enough on his plate, he must now decide whether to send Julian Assange to America where 'The Donald' is already licking his lips in anticipation, or, to Sweden where sundry ladies are already sharpening their scalpels prior to de-balling him!  Personally, and at the risk of upsetting my American friends, I think the ladies should have first go.  I have mentioned before that I have considerable reservations concerning the American justice system, especially when politics are involved.  I was amused at a headline at The National Review which asked "Why isn't Assange being charged with collusion with Russia?"

 

I stayed up last night!   Having deployed zero energy for the past few days, I decided to stay up late and whilst idly flicking round the talentless desert that covers most of the TV channels, I came across a film called "Red".  It was complete and utter tosh from start to finish and featured a host of 'way past it' actors who should have known better.  Needless to say, I watched it to the end and enjoyed every minute of it!  I gather that the film grossed $199 million thus proving that all those old actors, or their agents, know a hell of a lot more about movies than me!  This is a sample of the cast list:

Bruce Willis as Francis "Frank" Moses
Morgan Freeman as Joe Matheson
John Malkovich as Marvin Boggs
Helen Mirren as Victoria Winslow
Karl Urban as William Cooper
Brian Cox as Ivan Simanov
Richard Dreyfuss as Alexander Dunning

and finally, of all people, Ernest Borgnine - dammit! where did they dig him up from?  Anyway, I chuckled my way through it all, not least because, I suspect, the actors were all enjoying themselves enormously - well, on their money, wouldn't you?

 

Thanks, mate!   I refer, in my impeccable 'Aussie' accent, to my e-pal, 'AussieD', who has sent me a link to Quadrant On-line and an article by Anthony Daniels which says everything which has festered within me for the last few years.  Here is Mr. Daniels' opening sentence which gives you the flavour of his essay:

The precise date of the discovery by theatre directors that they are greater than Shakespeare cannot be specified: the discovery was more a process than an event. But by the time I saw a production of Richard II at the Almeida Theatre a few weeks ago, the superior genius of any director over that of Shakespeare was an established principle and indisputable fact.

I will be returning to this subject - you have been warned!

 

The odious Bercow clings on:

According to The Mail, despite indicating that later this month he would announce his retirement, the despicable, little tit intends to cling on for longer.

Sorry to ruin your Sunday with a picture of the ghastly little monkey but I thought you should know.  Oh God, what have we done to deserve a House of Fools like this?

 

My bad, my life already!

Sorry, sorry, but as a sympathetic friend of Israel I really have not followed closely their recent election in which, to a lot of people's surprise, 'Benjy Boy' was re-elected as Prime Minister.  The great question for me is, is that "A Good Thing" or "A Bad Thing"?  I really must try and keep up with these matters.

 

Is it time to pelt David Attenborough with rotten veg?  I ask because I am utterly fed up with seeing him appear, mostly on the BBC (British Bilge Corporation) telling us yet again - and again - and even more again, that the end of the world is nigh because of global warming.  Sorry, Sir David, you're a lovely old sweetie but, alas, you are also a prat!  And an exceedingly boring prat, at that!

 

 

No more rumbles 

 

Dammit, I think I am becoming a masochist

God knows I am in the depths of depression over this Brexit fiasco, although there are some simmering red-hot coals burning away beneath, so why would I rush to buy a history book which tells the story of perhaps the single most shameful episode in my country's history?  I refer, of course, to the Munich surrender.  This infamous photograph sums it up:

A book has just been released by 'a new kid on the block' called Tim Bouverie and he titles it with due brevity, and deadly accuracy, "Appeasing Hitler".  I have already read a couple of approving reviews but in such matters - natch! - I await the final imprimatur from 'The Heffalump', aka, Simon Heffer.  He provides it in his review in today's Telegraph.

I am not going to enjoy reading it because the shame and disgust will sicken me and I am already full of shame and disgust over the infantile antics of our current Prime Minister and her (so-called) government.  I am too old to believe in the decency of most of our politicians but I must confess that I never thought to witness stupidity and insane ambition on such a scale as we see today which sinks to the depths of cowardice and self-deception as that displayed by Neville Chamberlain in 1938.

Even so, 'The Hefferlump' recommends the book and praises the author, and so I must obey!

 

 

First, let's count the bodies!

There has been much made of the anniversary of the 1919 Amritsar massacre in which British troops opened fire on a crowd of protesters.  It was an act of gross stupidity and wickedness but, as some of my more knowledgeable readers pointed out in the comments, anything we Brits can do in that line, the Indians can do better!

In this week's 'Speccie' there is a letter-writer who does the sums:

Sir: In acknowledging post-colonial guilt, William Dalrymple asks us to perceive how others see us. If only those critics could ever see themselves (Books, 6 April). The Amritsar massacre of 1919 was a failure, but how many more families were affected by the Amritsar massacre of 1984? More people were killed by the Indian republic in ‘Operation Blue Star’ than by Dyer in 1919 — and thousands more Sikhs were killed in pogroms perpetrated with the connivance of the Indian National Congress in 1984.

India has its own record of imperialist crimes. Modern India was scarcely months old when it invaded the independent principality of Hyderabad: 200,000 people were killed in a naked act of territorial aggression. In 1975, India also subjected the principality of Sikkim to military occupation and annexation, and from Khalistan to Assam has suppressed multiple regional independence movements with a bloodiness that makes the Troubles look like a playground scuffle. Apologies from Britain for crimes caused during the Raj should only be forthcoming when modern India is forced to make amends for its own neocolonial atrocities.

None of that reduces Gen. Dyer's guilt by an iota but it is always good to keep things in perspective.

 

"What a piece of work is Man"

Extraordinary!  For the past few days I have felt like a wet dishcloth, feeble, listless, no energy, dammit, I couldn't even be bothered to pick up a book!  Then, this morning, after a good night's sleep, I leapt out of bed, went downstairs and made tea and toast for me and the 'Memsahib', or "Nurse Ratchet" as I have come to think of her!  Well, she is exceedingly strict about me taking my pills!  Anyway, it made me think of that which I, and most of us, rarely think about.  I mean all those Bio-Chem swots and their little lab rats who over the last century or so squirrelled away at understanding the nature, and ill-nature, of all those titchy things that have the impertinence to reside in our bodies and which, from time to time, bring us to our knees.  Their little pills and potions then come to our rescue - not always - but usually.  Thus it has been for me and on this sunny morning - although it's bloody cold! - I am deeply grateful.

Once again, thank you to all you well-wishers who wrote in and I'm sorry to tell you that all you will get in return for your trouble is yet another stream of 'Duff and Nonsense'!

 

 

I am pissed off!

Literally as well as metaphorically!  I am well and truly drained, I tell you, drained!  Even so, as I slump and sleep on my bed a nagging voice keeps reminding me that, actually, nothing hurts!  Thus, before I revert to my usual self-pitying mode I do try and spare a thought for all those people with truly ghastly illnesses which hurt like hell.

Thank you all for your good wishes which are very cheering, especially the professional expertise from Michael.  Mind you, I can't help wishing - hoping? - that one of you might have suggested a glass of ice-cold  gin with just a slight hint of dry martini - oh boy, would that cheer me up!  Thanks, JK, for that link.  Needless to say, the 'music' was ghastly but the images were great fun.

My main problem at the moment is lassitude, I seem not to have an ounce of energy although the 'Memsahib' assures me that she can't tell the difference!

 

 

 

"The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated"

Witty fellow that Mark Twain and I thought his words were appropriate to explain my absence over the last two days.  Happily, sort of, death plays no part in my going a.w.o.l., instead I have been hit with a urinary infection.  Ever since my 'death ray' treatment for prostate cancer I have been forced to get up several times during the night to have a piddle.  Two nights ago I must have gone at least 6 or 7 times which was a bit excessive.  In the morning, whilst trying to get out of bed I slipped of the edge and landed flat on my back on the carpet.  There-after I simply could not move because for sometime I have suffered with lower back pain which I put down to the rheumatoid arthritis which has plagued me for the last four years.  Anyway, the 'Memsahib' called for an ambulance and an excellent para-medic arrived who managed to lift me up and get me back into bed.

Later that day, the 'Memsahib' drove me to the 'quack' who diagnosed a urinary infection and gave me the appropriate pills.  On return, I took to my bed and there I have remained having enjoyed the first undisturbed night for 'yonks'!  Even so, my energy levels are minimal so it may be a day or two before I get back to blogging - and I heard that!  

 

 

Talking of India - and Pakistan

Well, you know me, I have little hesitation in raising complicated subjects about which I know next to nothing and then pontificating on them.  So, writing about India, just below, made me think about the Indo-Pakistani problem which might - just might! - have 'yuuuuuuuge' ramifications for the world.  Both these nations share a mutual detestation of each other mostly arising from their religious differences.  So far, so normal, but when you realise that they are both nuclear nations the possibilities are grim!

We saw a recent example of how quickly tensions can escalate when a spat resulted in rival air forces being deployed.  Fortunately, both sides seemed to realise the implications quite quickly and the fracas was squashed.  Even so, both countries are, in effect, run by their armed forces and Generals are rarely endowed with much intelligence.  Mind you, the prospect of nuclear warfare 'concentrates the mind like a hanging in the morning'!  The leaderships on both sides will have wondered what the point is in being the ruler of a nuclear waste ground - especially if you, yourself, have been incinerated?

However, matters are further complicated by Chinese ambitions.  As has been noted by various observers, the Chinese are busy buying their way into positions of power and influence via various corrupt governments around the world.  It is a sign of the corruption in Pakistan that they somehow manage to set aside their religious sensitivities, even as China sets about slaughtering Muslims in China, and take the back-handers that allow increasing Chinese influence inside Pakistan!

There is an interesting article in The American Spectator which serves as an excellent primer to an exceedingly complicated problem.

 

 

'Shooting civilians, the sort of thing we Brits are awfully good at!'

I apologise instantly for my crass heading to this post.  It is meant to be ironic but, "as any fule do no", irony rarely works.  As we approach the 13th of April, the 100th anniversary of the Amritsa massacre is looming large and several books on the subject have been published on the, literally, bloody subject.  For my non-Brit and/or non-Indian readers, this was the event in April 1919 in which British troops, under orders from a particularly dim British general, opened fire on a crowd of un-armed protesters.  They kept firing for ten minutes and expended 1,650 rounds of ammunition killing 379 men, women and children and injuring thousands more.

Whilst it is true to say that in the bloody history of states murdering people Amritsar is relatively small, nevertheless, it was a monstrous act and on this centenary occasion it deserves some study.  I gather that some 'Leftie' film director has just released a film on the subject but I think reading one of the recent book releases will provide a better view of the subject.  Over at The Coffee House there is an excellent essay by Hardeep Singh which is a good place to start.

 

 

Sorry, sorry but it's all the fault of Nelson DeMille!

Honestly, I had the outline of a really fascinating and penetrating essay on, er, well, something political but then that bloody, bloody Nelson DeMille turned up out of the blue!

Yeeeeees, well, that's not much of an explanation, let me try again.

As all you regulars know, I am a voracious reader.  I blame my dear, old Mum because from a very early age I loved reading the Agatha Christie murder mysteries she borrowed from the library  - and it has been downhill from there!  Mind you, I did, over the years, move onto somewhat more serious books but, dammit, I simply cannot ignore a really good thriller or, to be honest, a medium good-ish thriller will do!  Whole years, nay, decades, of my life have been utterly wasted by reading trash.  Am I ashamed?  No way, I loved 'em all!

All this windbaggery is merely my way of telling you that, courtesy of an old friend who, knowing of my weakness, sent me a box full of used-books.  Amongst them was one by a writer called Nelson DeMille.  Golly-gosh, I thought, I haven't read one of his for yonks!  Somehow, his name sort of slipped from what I laughingly call my memory.  Even so, I did remember that, back in the day, I had enjoyed his yarns enormously and I just hoped that this one, Spencerville, was not one I had read previously.  It wasn't - and it was a corker! 

Published in 1994 but of its time, it tells the story of an ex-Vietnam vet, turned CIA agent who has taken early retirement and who decides to return to his old family home in 'Hicksville', middle America - and that's where the trouble begins!  To be honest, I think this one is more than somewhat over-written and I confess to skim-reading parts of it.  Even so, the story-line gripped and I have had my nose stuck in it for the last three days.  If it is any consolation to you for my absence from these hallowed columns - and I heard that! - I am in even hotter water with the 'Memsahib' for failing to even speak to her, let alone carry out sundry duties!

Mind you, the good news is that having re-discovered Mr. DeMille, there appear to be a plethora of his books which I haven't read!

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 8.4.19

A splendid lunch in 'Zunny Zidmouth' yesterday, thank you for asking - er, you did ask, didn't you? Anyway, here are some 'funnies' to cheer you up as you start another week at the coal-face!

A young woman brought her fiancé home to meet her parents.  After dinner, her mother told the girl's father to find out about the young man.
The father invited the fiancé to his study for a talk.

"So, what are your plans?" the father asked the young man.

"I am a biblical scholar," he replied,

"A biblical scholar, hmmm?" the father said. "Admirable, but what will you do to provide a nice house for my daughter?

" I will study," the young man replied, "and God will provide for us."

"And how will you buy her a beautiful engagement ring, such as she deserves?" asked the father.

"I will concentrate on my studies," the young man replied, "God will provide for us."

"And children?" asked the father. "How will you support children?"

"Don't worry, sir, God will provide," replied the fiancé.

The conversation proceeded like this...and each time the father questioned, the young idealist insisted that God would provide. Later, the mother asked, "How did your talk go, honey?"

The father answered, "He's a socialist voter. He has no job, he has no plans.....and he thinks I'm God.”

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Arnold, an old retired sailor, puts on his old uniform and heads for the docks in Plymouth once more for old times sake and some hot sex.

He engages a lovely prostitute and takes her up to a room.

He's soon going at it as well as he can for a guy his age, but needing some reassurance, he asks, 'How am I doing?'

The prostitute replies, 'Well Arnold, ya old sailor, you're doing about
three knots.'

'Three knots?' he asks.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

She says, 'You're knot hard, you're knot in, and you're knot getting your money back.'

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

 

I was sitting with the computer the other day drafting my will and I called out to my wife,

"WHEN I DIE I'M GOING TO LEAVE EVERYTHING TO YOU, LOVE!"

She shouted back,

"YOU ALREADY DO, YOU LAZY BASTARD!"

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

 

Warning!  This has an enormous 'groan factor'!

Three Little Pigs went out to dinner one night. The waiter comes and takes their drink order.

"I would like a Sprite," said the first little piggie. "I would like a Coke," said the second little piggie. "I want water, lots and lots of water," said the third little piggie.

The drinks are brought out and the waiter takes their orders for dinner.

"I want a nice big steak," said the first piggie. "I would like the salad plate," said the second piggie. "I want water, lots and lots of water," said the third little piggie.

The meals were brought out and a while later the waiter approached the table and asked if the piggies would like any dessert.

"I want a banana split," said the first piggie. "I want a root beer float," said the second piggie. "I want water, lots and lots of water," exclaimed the third little piggie.

"Pardon me for asking," said the waiter to the third little piggie, "but why have you only ordered water?"

WAIT FOR IT!

The third piggie says - "Well, somebody has to go 'Wee, wee, wee, all the way home!'"

 

Well, I guess that started your week with a 'yuuuuuuuuuge' laugh, er, no need to thank me!

 

 

Sorry about Sunday

Tomorrow I'm off to the seaside, or to be precise, I'm off to 'Zunny Zidmouth' for lunch with sundry friends and acquaintances, so, alas and alack there will be no 'Sunday rumbles'.

I know, I know, how will you manage . . . ?

Alan Ayckbourn, the mirror to us all

The other day I picked up a mention of Alan Ayckbourn who is about to open yet another of his plays - he has written over 70 of them - at his own theatre 'oooop north' in Scarborough where he bases himself.  Alas, in all my amateurish theatre 'career', I never managed to play a part in any of his plays and nor did I get to direct one.  My loss because he is a playwright of genius. 

Mind you, having said that, I can't quite recall any of the many I saw, I think because, in essence, many of them were very similar.  Not, I add in haste, that the various plots were in any way the same but just that the essence of them seemed to be to hold a mirror up to us all and show us our many foibles.  I still wince when I recall that in one play which mostly consisted of a middle-class dinner party, there was one character who dominated the conversation, honking and hooting almost non-stop.  Ah, I thought, I know some-0ne just like that, who can it be?  The penny dropped, with a thud, when I suddenly realised that this character sounded just like me at sundry dinner tables I had attended during my boozy middle-age. Ouch!

One of my favourite memories of his plays was one I attended during my one and only visit to the USA in Boston.  I was so struck that one of Ayckbourn's quintessentially English plays would be playing in a studio theatre 'over there' that, of course, the 'Memsahib' and I simply had to go and see it.  It was terrific and on the way out I was able to congratulate the cast on their excellent British accents.

Ayckbourn is a month older than me and where he gets the energy and inspiration to continue creating and writing I do not know but I hope he never stops!

 

 

The ten most evil people of all time

I take my title from an article at The American Spectator by Larry Alex Taunton.  His choice, in reverse order, is as follows:

10. (tie) The Kims: Kim Il Sung, Kim Jong Il, and Kim Jong-un

9. The Sanhedrin of Jesus’ Day

8. Ivan Grozny (ie: the Terrible)

7. Vladimir Lenin

6. Muhammad

5. Adolf Hitler

4. Josef Stalin

3. Mao Zedong

2. Margaret Sanger

1. Karl Marx

I can't say that I go along with all of his list although he certainly nets a few culprits.  For example, Karl Marx never killed anyone, all he did was write an exceedingly stupid book which sundry mass murderers then took up and used an excuse for their inhuman behaviour.  Also, I'm not too sure about the Sanhedrin of Jesus' day, not least because I have never heard of them!  Alas, bible studies were not high on my list.

Mind you, I am pleased that he put Mao higher on his list than Joe Stalin.  When it came to the killing game, Mao outscored Joe all the way!  Equally, I congratulate him on his decision to place the late - and I hope she is rotting in hell - Margaret Sanger, the founder of another murderous organisation, Planned Parenthood. 

Of course, having crossed two off his list, I suppose I am duty bound to add a new pair and that is not easy.  I suppose Lord Edward Lytton, the Viceroy of India in 1876 'deserves' his place having governed over a famine that killed millions but then again, there's always Lord George Curzon, British Viceroy of India in 1899, who did much the same.  Equally, Winston Churchill deserves a mention for refusing point-blank in 1943 to divert at least some ships to India to help alleviate a famine that killed 3 million - despite the fact that Indian soldiers were fighting and dying for Britain!  And talking of Churchill, he also deserves castigation for encouraging Air Marshal Arthur 'Bomber' Harris to even greater efforts in his massive, and mostly useless, bombing campaign against German cities.

And those 'candidates' are just from Britian, so God only knows how many more 'candidates' exist in other countries!

 

 

Wisconsinites are bereft but Arkansaureans are celebrating!

Thanks to the good advice offered by my readers who pointed out that much of life in Wisconsin is like camping out in your deep freezer I am delighted to inform y'all that I have changed what passes for my mind.  Thus, my next visit to the good ol' 'US of A' - don't hold your breath! -  will revert to my original choice of Arkansas.  Quite apart from the unbelievable beauty of the countryside, I will have the chance to meet 'JK' and find out if listening to him is any easier than reading him!

Also, I understand that news has trickled down from 'them thar hills' that Barney Magroo (Purveyor of Fine Wines and Spirits to the Gentry) has conducted a tasting of his '19 Chateaux Hoggsville claret and the results are outstanding, although it is also reported that not many of the tasters are still standing!  To achieve full maturation, this claret has been laid down for at least 48 hours - well, the plastic bottles can't stand much longer! - and I can report that the bouquet is indescribable!

In addition, I am informed that good ol' Barney has also moved into the Calvados market and produced a brandy which has, in reviews, been given a rating of three "Yee Haws"!  The main ingredient for this very fine Calvados was based on the leftover apples that his hogs didn't eat!

I can't wait!

ADDITIONAL:  The other attraction about Arkansas are 'the peeps'!  Like many a Brit, I am always fond of genuine eccentricity and these two chaps epitomise that characteristic.  I give you, on the left, Mr. Charles Ferris and, on the right, Mr. Christopher Hicks:

 

According to reports, these two gentlemen were enjoying a convivial evening on Mr. Hicks' veranda whilst conducting an in-depth tasting of Barney Magroo's claret - yeeeeeeeeees, quite!  Mr. Ferris was wearing a bullet-proof vest of the very finest quality, as you do in Arkansas, so he invited Mr. Hicks to shoot him in order to test it.  Mr. Hicks, being a gentleman of the old school, obliged and left Mr. Ferris with a very painful bruise and a bad temper.  He insisted that Mr. Hicks don the garment and then emptied his magazine into the back of it.  Happily, there was no penetration but the two of them were hurting badly and went off to the hospital for a check-up, at which point - natch! - the cops turned up.  They tried to bluff their way out of it but failed and are now awaiting court appearances for 'aggravated assault'.  That's the problem with cops - no sense of humour!

Thanks to https://www.ihatethemedia.com/

 

 

 

Sorry, 'JK', I may have to move to Wisconsin

As regular readers already know, were I to grace the shores of America for a second time - they should be so lucky! - I would instantly make for Arkansas, not just because my good ol' buddy, 'JK', hangs out there, to say nothing of his good ol' buddy Barney Magroo (Purveyor of Fine Wines and Spirits to the Gentry), but because from every photo I have ever seen of the place it is absolutely gorgeous!  Even so, I must now confess to an equally insatiable desire to know more of Wisconsin.  I must immediately confess to not knowing exactly where it is, I thought sort of 'north-ish' and 'west-ish' but now I realise it is more 'east-ish'.  Anyway, I was taken with the place when, about ten years ago, a free market conservative by the name of Scott Walker surprised everyone by winning the State Governorship.  He immediately set about dismantling the Democrat/Public Employees Union 'stitch -up' that the tax-payers of Wisconsin were forced to finance.  Amazingly, he succeeded and managed to remain Governor for two terms.

I had high hopes that perhaps the Republicans would have the good sense to give him a run for the Presidency but, alas, they failed to follow my good advice!  Without knowing all the 'nitty-gritty' of his stewardship - I think I can rely on my frequent commenter, Bob, to insert a few drops of acid! - he seemed fairly successful and he certainly stood in the right places on many contentious issues, not the least being his opposition to abortion.  He is only 51 years old so he has a long-ish future before him and I wish him well.

 

 

Apparently, I am not alone!

Yesterday I received an e-mail request from a Mr. Alan Mabbutt OBE who is, apparently, "Director General of the Conservative Party".  In it, he informed me that all across Somerset there was a veritable host of Conservative candidates "stand(ing) like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start", ready for the coming local elections.  He asked, awfully politely, whether I would like to assist in any way?  This was my reply:

"Dear Mr. Mabbutt,
As a man in his late '70s who walked the highways and byways of my village issuing pamphlets in favour of Brexit, I wouldn't cross the road to assist your wretched party which appears to be led by a lying liar the like of which I have never seen before!"

Thus, I was amused at this headline in The Mail today:

"'After the bloody mess they've left us in, you've got to be joking!': Moment furious man in Leave-voting Somerset slams door in Tory council candidate's face on BBC breakfast radio.

It wasn't me, Guv, 'onest!  Even so, I almost feel sorry for the Tory candidate who might be unfortunate enough to ring my doorbell whilst on canvassing duties.

 

 

Put your coffee cup down before looking!

 

 

 

Bob's cartoon for the Telegraph

 

 

 

 

Jolly good show, chaps, er, not!

A video has sneaked its way onto the internet and now dominates the news channels.  It shows members of my old battalion, 3 Para, who are currently on duty in Kabul, practicing pistol-shooting.  Well, so far, so normal but - oopsadaisy! - the target turns out to be a large photo of 'Jezza' Corbyn.  What shocks me is that given the large number of rounds fired there did not appear to be that many hits!  Could do better, chaps!

Needless to say, the BBC were 'shocked, I tell you, shocked'!    The rest of the media will -natch! - follow them into emotional meltdown.  Of course, they are right to say that it was 'stoopid' beyond belief but your average 'Tom', especially in the Parachute Regiment, is not exactly a sophisticated political thinker - as you will have gathered from reading this blog!  Indeed, it is just as well that they are not given the monumentally 'stoopid', and highly dangerous, tasks they are given to do by all those, er, 'sophisticated' thinkers in Parliament.

We should remember Orwell's accurate words:

“We sleep safely in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.”

No, 'Jezza', he didn't mean you, he meant all those murderous sods that you encourage in various ways!

 

 

My 'flabber' is now well and truly 'gasted'!

Apropos my previous post, it seems as though Monty Python has taken over the government of Britain!  To paraphrase good, ol' 'Enery the Second, 'Will no one rid me of this turbulent woman?'  She is a 'Klingon' prime minister the like of which I have never seen in my near 80 years.  She combines obstinacy with stupidity and adds a good dollop of egotistical ambition to produce the very worst leadership this country has suffered since  . . . well, off-hand I cannot think of anyone to match her obdurate, mental incapacity!

To actually invite the Marxist leader of the opposition into No. 10, thus bestowing on him a respectability the nasty, dim-witted 'Trot' could never have obtained on his own, and also bestowing on the Labour party a veneer of respectability, is truly astonishing.  It is now clear that Mrs. May hates the Conservative party and, to quote a phrase, 'at a stroke' she has well and truly stabbed it between the ribs.  Suddenly, all those over-weeningly ambitious, 'wannabe'  leaders of the Tory party are left with nothing to lead.  The Tory party is dead, this is an ex-Tory party, the Tory party is no more!

What happens next?  I have no idea - I'm going back to bed!

ADDITIONAL:  There is another woman in my life - for God's sake don't tell the 'Memsahib'!  She is Ms. Allison Pierson, a columnist for The Telegraph, and I have only just discovered her - my bad!  She is both shrewd and sharp as her column today demonstrates - give it a read.

 

 

"Always look on the bright side of life"

So, as the governance of Britain slides down towards the DTL - er, that's a Deep Trench Latrine in 'Army-speak' - it is important to follow the good advice of Monty Python and his chums in "The Life of Brian" which is, of course, one of the greatest examples of English humour in recent times.

Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...

And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...

If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing.

And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...

For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.

So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath

Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.

Returning, reluctantly, to the real world I will say that I would rather see our shambolic free parliament fighting over matters of real democratic importance than, say, Chinese troglodytes sitting in rows and doing exactly as they are told by their "glorious leaders!"  I am tempted to use the European parliament as another example of a disciplined 'troglodytical' (non)parliament but so long as we have naughty Nigel Farage sitting there we can but hope!

ADDITIONAL:  I seem unable to include a link to the YouTube extract from the film but you can find it easily enough.

 

 

 

WARNING: This is an exceedingly tough read, not for the faint of heart!

This is an extract from a report published by Fox News based on the career of Ms. Abby Johnson, formerly an executive with the Planned Parenthood organisation in America which dominates the US abortion industry and which also receives $500 million annually from the Federal government courtesy of American taxpayers.  Ms. Johnson worked for them for some eight years without, apparently, understanding the true nature of the slaughterhouse until she was invited to assist at an actual abortion:

After eight years at her clinic, Abby saw something that changed her forever. She was asked to assist in an abortion procedure by firmly holding the mother’s abdomen during the probe on the ultrasound machine. She watched the screen in horror as she saw the image of a fully-formed baby fighting for her life while being systematically decapitated. [My emphasis]

A film, titled "Unplanned", has just been released which is based on this lady's experience and which exposes the gross behaviour of Planned Parenthood when faced with any sort of opposition or criticism.  I doubt whether I will have the guts to go and see it but I hope it breaks box-office records 'over there'.  Our American friends often say that 'they do things bigger and better over there' and in this case they are right because Planned Parenthood easily out-does Auschwitz and at least the Nazis didn't sell off the body parts for profit!

 

Your most gorgeous her - or him!

Of course, I should be offering you some of my incisive opinions on the current political situation but the fact is that I do not have any!  Westminster now resembles a Marx Brothers movie which at least is a laugh but may soon turn into a Karl Marx reality show!  Thus, I have decided to switch to a far more serious subject which I put to you in question form: who is the most gorgeous member of the opposite sex, or the same sex if you are so inclined, you have ever come across in your life?  And it's no good you lickspittles writing in to nominate your wife or husband, I am talking images here of gorgeous people you are never likely to meet in a million years!

I have no hesitation in instantly picking Sophia Loren with whom I have been in hopleless love and lust for multiple decades.  My passion remains steadfast because even as the lady moves into her middle 8os, she remains utterly gorgeous.  Alas, like so many other ladies, she never replies to my letters but I put that down to her being Italian and perhaps not fully comprehending my English - mind you, that smooth-talking Cary Grant seemed to get through to her easily enough - the rat!

Anyway, she is my choice so now I would like to hear yours.  Can't wait for JK's and Jimmy Glesga's!

 

 

 

Your Monday Funnies: 1.4.19

It being April Fool's Day, I should come up with something witty but, alas, I remain in a state of confusion because half the clocks in my house say one thing and the other half say something different!  My first 'Funnie' is from Australia but it speaks for all of us worldwide:

 

THE AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT'S NEW SYMBOL IS A CONDOM.

Because it more accurately reflects the government's political stance.

A condom allows for inflation,

Halts production,

Destroys the next generation,

Protects a bunch of dickheads,

Gives you a sense of security, while you're actually being screwed !

Damn, it just doesn't get more accurate than that!

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This one is also from Australia but emanates from Yorkshire.  I fear some of my American friends, unfamilar with the Yorkshire accent, may not understand them fully!

Yorkshire speak:

Police have just released details of a new drug craze that is being carried out in Yorkshire nightclubs. Apparently, Yorkshire club-goers have started injecting Ecstasy just above their front teeth.
Police say the dangerous practice is called: "e by gum"
----------
A Yorkshire man takes his cat to the vet, and says, "Ayup, lad, I need to talk to thee about me cat."
The vet says, "Is it a tom?"
The Yorkshireman replies, "Nay, I've browt it wi me."
-----------
A Yorkshireman's dog dies and as it was a favourite pet, he decides to have a gold statue made by a jeweller to remember the dog by.
He says, "Can tha mek us a gold statue of yon dog?"
The jeweller asks, "D'ya want it 18 carat?"
The Yorkshireman replies, "Naw, I want it chewin' a bone, yer daft bugger!"

The last is always the best ...........

Bloke from Barnsley with piles asks chemist, "Nah then lad, does tha sell arse cream?"
The chemist replies, "Aye lad, Magnum or Cornetto?"

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Little Johnny was sitting in class doing math problems when his teacher picked him to answer a question, "Johnny, if there were five birds sitting on a fence and you shot one with your gun, how many would be left?"

"None," replied Johnny, "cause the rest would fly away."

"Well, the answer is four," said the teacher, "but I like the way you're thinking."

Little Johnny says, "I have a question for you. If there were three women eating ice cream cones in a shop, one was licking her cone, the second was biting her cone and the third was sucking her cone, which one is married?"

"Well," said the teacher nervously, "I guess the one sucking the cone."

"No," said Little Johnny, "the one with the wedding ring on her finger, but I like the way you're thinking."

 

That's it and I'm glad your 'Yorkie-speak' has been improved!