DUFF & NONSENSE!

Whisper who dares but I feel just a teensy-weensy bit optimistic!

Mostly at the start of any New Year, my main feeling is one of cautious pessimism but this year I have, if not optimism, then at least a small portion of, dare I say, cheerfulness!  Above and beyond all else is the enormous sense of relief that we are now poised to exit that wretched European Union.  Not that I wish my European neighbours ill - well, not most of them! - but it is the sense of freedom that we no longer live under the threat of those Eurocratic imbeciles whose personal ambitions and desire for ever more power eventually drove us Brits away.  And what a proud moment that was when an independent-minded British people decided that enough was enough and made for the exit.  Not the least of my mouth-watering pleasures has been watching the extinction of so many 'Remainer' creeps like the insufferably superior Dominic Grieve.  Bye-by, Dom baby, don't hurry back!  To add icing to our cake, those same sensible Brits voted to destroy Jeremy Corbyn and his gang of mouth-dribbling Marxists.  No doubt Boris will make his blunders but they will be as nothing compared to the wreckage that Corbyn's loonies would have inflicted on us.

Yes, there will be troubles ahead - there always are! - but at least the decks have been cleared for action, so go for it, Boris (and Dom), it's your decade!

 

 

Whither or wither - Putin?

Recently a friend of mine casually expressed the opinion that Putin was a very intelligent national leader and political operator.  Happily, now that I am officially an 'Old Geezer', I did not indulge in a major hissy-fit in order explain the 'bleedin' obvious' that Putin is a stupid, greedy, crooked nincompoop of the first order who makes Donald Trump look like a political genius!  Just as well I kept calm otherwise an old friendship might have dissolved!

Anyway, I was interested to read Dr. Andrew Foxall in today's Telegraph.  He is a foreign affairs 'Brainiac' who, happily, confirms my gut feeling that Putin is fast approaching his 'sell by date'!

The summer of 2019 saw widespread anti-government protests on the streets of Moscow and elsewhere. The political opposition is increasingly resilient. Grass-roots activism is on the rise. Russians now take to the streets to voice grievances about deteriorating public services, from rubbish disposal to hospital closures.

Like Yeltsin before him, Putin has squandered Russia’s transition. Putin’s time in power provided him with almost unlimited financial and political resources with which to modernise the country. Instead, he built a grotesque kleptocracy which has left Russia as one of the most unequal major economies in the world. In 2018, according to Credit Suisse, the top 10 percent of the population controlled 82 percent of the country’s wealth.

Thus, he "struts and frets his hour upon the stage" but it will not last.  I have enormous pity for the long-suffering Russian people even whilst, at the same time, I blame them for not making their presence more strongly felt!  Of course, that's easy for me to say, living as I do in a free democracy.  

 

 

Your New Year's Eve Funnies - no, really . . .

Your friends and family will be deeply grateful that by the time the clock strikes midnight on New Year's Eve, you will have totally forgotten all these!

On New Year's Eve, Marilyn stood up in the local pub and said that it was time to get ready.  At the stroke of midnight, she wanted every husband to be standing next to the one person who made his life worth living.

Well, it was kind of embarrassing.

As the clock struck, the bartender was almost crushed to death!

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A Senator in the USA was once asked about his attitude toward whisky.

"If you mean the demon drink that poisons the mind, pollutes the body, desecrates family life, and inflames sinners, then I'm against it.

But if you mean the elixir of a New Year toast, the shield against winter chill, the taxable potion that puts needed funds into public coffers to comfort little crippled children, then I'm for it.

This is my position, and I will not compromise."

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A woman walks into a tattoo parlour and asks for a tattoo of a Christmas tree on her right inner thigh and a cocktail drink on her left inner thigh.

The tattoo artist say that's an unusual request, "Why do you want two tattoos there?"

She says "Because my husband needs to eat between Christmas and New Year."

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This has absolutely nothing to do with New Year but it made me chuckle:

A cowboy was taken prisoner by a bunch of angry Indians. They were all prepared to kill him but their Chief declared that since they were celebrating the Great Spirit, they would grant the cowboy three wishes before he killing him. The cowboy can do nothing, but obey them.

The Chief comes up to him and asks:
- What do you want for your first wish?
- I want talk to my horse, - replies the cowboy.

The Chief allows him to talk to the horse. The cowboy whispers in its ear. The horse neighs, rears back, and takes off at full speed. About an hour later, the horse comes back with a naked lady on its back. Well, the Indians are very impressed, so they let the cowboy use one of their teepees. A little while later, the cowboy stumbles out of the teepee, tucking in his shirt.

The Chief asks him once again:
- What do you want for your second wish?
- I want to talk to my horse, - once again replies the cowboy.

Again, the cowboy whispers in the horse’s ear. The horse neighs, rears back, and takes off at full speed. About an hour later, the horse comes back with another naked lady on its back. Well, the Indians are very impressed indeed. So, once again, they let the cowboy use one of their teepees. The cowboy stumbles out a little while later.

The chief comes up to the cowboy and asks:
- So, what do you want for your last third wish?
- I want to talk to my horse, - for the third time replies the cowboy.

He grabs the horse by the ears and yells @ it:
- You stupid animal, I said POSSE, POSSE not PUSSY!!!

 

That's it - and who said, 'Thank God'?

 

The Sunday Rumble: 29.12.19

Whither the House of Windsor?  The 'Heffalump' has an interesting article in The Telegraph today on the subject of the Royal family and its future.  As 'Her Maj' put it in her Xmas speech, it has been "a bumpy year" for the Windsors.  Andrew has been a prat - so no surprise there, then! - and Harry has married an American 'wannabe diva' who obviously detests all things British and much prefers the, er, 'high society' of Hollywood.  I don't altogether blame her for that but I suspect that 'Prince' Harry will eventually tire of it all.  Never mind, Charles stands ready, indeed, probably tapping his foot in frustration, to ascend the throne and hopefully his dottiness will be accepted by his subjects over time.  Let us all thank God that behind Charles stand William and Kate (and Kate's mother!), quite possibly the most sensible family unit in the entire Royal hierarchy!

 

Better watch out, BBC, the axeman cometh!   Yesterday, Mr. Charles Moore, he of the world's greatest magazine, The Spectator, was granted the role of editor on the BBC's morning agit-prop programme, "Today".  His report on the experience is well worth reading particularly the difficulties put in his way to stop him inviting in a 'global warming' sceptic for an interview.  Rumour has it that the swivel-eyed 'Greenie', Roger Harrabin, who purports to be the BBC Environmental Editor, was not amused!  Come on, Boris - and Dominic! - don't hang about, chop them off at the knees and let the BBC earn its living in the real world!

 

And it may be Douglas Murray wielding the axe!   As you may have gathered after several admiring mentions on this blog, I am a devoted admirer of Mr. Murray and his works.  Not least his latest article in today's Mail in which he hopes, and perhaps even prays, that the era of 'woke' dictatorship will end in 2020.  Alas, I fear that too many non-celebrities desperate for celebrity will keep the fires burning and continue to throw sensible people on them.  Still, a man may hope, may he not?

 

"The top ten most influential books of all time":   That is the courageous title of an article at The American Spectator written by Larry Alex Taunton.  I will leave y'all to judge his judgment but it prodded me into wondering which books have been the most influential on me?  Tricky one, that!  I suppose it boils down to which books have remained in my memory over the past 80 years?  Well, one in particular has never left it - "The White Company" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  It was the first book given to us in my first term at Grammar School - and whilst I am shaky on the details, the essence of it has never left me.  It demonstrated courage in war but also benevolence.  A terrific read for any young lad.

 

"First Things" first!   I have just read a book review by Peter Hitchens, alas written in July - my bad! - on the prickly, tricky subject of Benjamin Netanyahu.  Needless to say, Hitchens' views are always worth reading on almost any subject.  However, this particular review was published by a totally new site to me - "First Things".  Intrigued, I checked out the site - and instantly subscribed to it!  I would urge y'all to do the same!  Yes, at first glance it appears to have a religious bent but they don't shove it down your throat - and if they publish Hitchens then they can't be all bad, can they?

 

No more rumbles today

 

 

 

"Shurely shome mishtake here!"

Can't think what is going on in 'Buck House' these days!  Today they published the New Year's Honours List - and I'm not on it!  I assumed, when no letter was forthcoming from 'Her Maj', that our useless Postal Service had lost it but not so, apparently.  I blame the snidey little creeps who surround her  and who, I guess, have failed to read any of the stream of wisdom that emanates from this blog!  (Or perhaps they did!)

It is a sign of their total incompetence that they managed to give a Damehood to Ms. Alison Pearson, generally reckoned to be the most useless, incompetent Director of (non)Prosecutions ever!  Mind you, whether by accident or design, they did manage to get one thing absolutely right - they totally ignored that gurning, self-important prat, John Bercow, despite his (and his wife's, I guess) absolute expectation that he would be made a Lord of the Realm.  Sorry, 'Bercers', old chap, you're still a plain, old 'Mr'!

 

 

The evisceration of Lord Adonis

There are some people on the fringes of politics - and many of them at the heart, too! - who achieve very little except raise the contempt and irritation levels of, er, well, me, actually!  Lord Adonis is such a one.  He has been a limpet-like hanger-on to the coat-tails of the Labour party for too many years but now he has actually decided to embrace them! 

Part of what maintained a discreet distance between his Lordship and Comrade Corbyn was his Lordship's deep and abiding love for the EU.  For many a year he has fought vigorously and loudly against Brexit whilst Corbyn, of course, shuffled slowly and carefully along as neutral a path as he could manage, being neither pro-Brexit nor anti-Brexit.  Even so, beneath all his Lordship's ferocious anti-Brexiteering, there lay a deep and abiding desire for elected office.  According to Alex Massie writing on the CAPX site,  Corbyn has granted him his wish and offered him the chance to stand for a seat in the European parliament:

Having gained a place on Labour’s candidate list for next month’s vote, Adonis released a statement of extraordinary hilarity: “In our dangerously divided society, Labour is the only political party seeking to bring remain and leave voters together so that we can get on with the job of ensuring our country works for the many, not the few.”

Labour, you see, “has always been clear that it respects the result of the referendum. What we do not respect is the way the Conservatives have sought to use Brexit to create a more unequal economy and a harsher society”. Tory Brexit bad; Labour Brexit good. “That is why Labour has put forward a sensible alternative plan that would ensure a close economic relationship with the EU after Brexit.”

The stench of over-ripe humbug is overwhelming!

 

 

 

A very cinematic Boxing Day

I may not be a very exciting man to live with, as the 'Memsahib' will confirm - vigorously! - but, dammit, I have excellent taste in films.  Thus, yesterday afternoon and evening I slumped in my reclining chair and after cruising through the 'library' of films I have recorded on my 'telly'.  I began with "The Spy Who Came In from the Cold" with Richard Burton at his very best.  It is, of course, absolutely everything that the James Bond movies are NOT!  Grimly realistic and redolent of that now lost - thank God! - age of the cold war, the Berlin wall and the vicious but underhand trickery of the intelligence services - on both sides!

To lighten my mood, I then moved on to one of the most charming and delightful films ever made - "The Artist".  This is a French film but set in the Hollywood of the late '20s when silent movies were on the cusp of losing out to sound-tracked films.  Thus, most of the movie itself is silent and the two stars concerned, Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo, are simply superb - ooops, I almost forgot the other star of the film Uggie as the dog, Jack.

Last but definitely not least, I watched - again - for about the tenth time! - one of the greatest and most moving films - EVER!  I have bored on about "The Secret in their Eyes" too many times and oft so I will not add to your tedium but simply say that if you have never seen this deeply disturbing Argentinian film - THEN SEE IT NOW!  

Oh dear, sorry for shouting!  Anyway, I enjoyed a superb Boxing Day!

 

 

 

It woz 'Ollie' wot dunnit!

See, he wasn't all bad, that Oliver Cromwell.  Yes, perhaps he did decapitate rather too many of the dreaded 'Peeps', as well as kick off a civil war but in 1644 he stood up tall for all grumpy, old men and banned Christmas!  This, of course, caused lots of 'likkle kiddie-winkies' to burst into tears, so well done 'Ollie', me old mate! 

 

 

I am obliged to the witty and wise, and excellent actor, Mr. Simon Callow, who writes in today's Mail providing a history of the exceedingly dodgy passage of Christmas through the ages.  Of course, whilst I might come across as a grumpy, old, anti-Christmas curmudgeon, the fact is that, on the whole, I approve even if its worst excesses  do irritate enormously.  Even so, and particularly in this snapping, snarling era, any event that promotes goodwill and friendliness, albeit in a shortest of short truces, is to be welcomed.

 

 

What the hell happened to Monday?

I had lined up a row of excuses to explain my absence yesterday but the fact of the matter is that what with this, that and the other I completely forgot it was Monday!  All this Xmas stuff plays havoc with my sense of order.  Yesterday morning I was hauled off to the supermarket for shopping duties and I can tell you - it was hell, sheer hell!  Where do all these 'Peeps' come from?  Anyway you will be pleased to know that I battled on bravely through the hordes and I did not panic when I lost the 'Memsahib' four times!  Next year, I'm cancelling Xmas!

Anyway, by way of recompense I am attaching some 'Funnies' which, of course, are fairly filthy and thus not at all in the spirit of Xmas!

A businessman in the first-class cabin decided to chat up the , gorgeous flight attendant:

"What is your name?"

Flight Attendant: "Angela Benz, sir.” 

Businessman: "Lovely name ... any relation to Mercedes-Benz?"

Flight Attendant: "Yes sir, very close."

Businessman: "How close?"

Flight Attendant: "Same price.

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A woman, angry because her husband was late coming home again, decided to leave a note, saying, "I've had enough and have left you...don't bother coming after me" Then she hid under the bed to see his reaction.

After a short while the husband comes home and she could hear him in the kitchen before he comes into the bedroom. She could see him walk towards the dresser and pick up the note...

After a few minutes he wrote something on it before picking up the phone and calling someone... "She's finally gone...yeah I know, about bloody time, I'm coming to see you, put on that sexy French nightie. I love you...can't wait to see you...we'll do all the naughty things you like."

He hung up, grabbed his keys and left.

She heard the car drive off as she came out from under the bed. Seething with rage and with tears in her eyes she grabbed the note to see what he wrote..."I can see your feet. We're outta bread: be back in five minutes."

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A Maori bloke goes down to the Melbourne wharf looking for work and comes up to the captain of a fishing boat and says,'Hey Capt'n got any work for Me?'

The captain gives him a 28 page job application and says 'Fill this out and bring it back to me'. So two days later the Maori brings it back and gives it to the Captain.

The captain takes a quick look at it and says 'OK, you're hired, now go on board and find something to do..'

Just then, this Sudanese guy comes up to the captain and says, 'Looka work, needa work.'

The captain tells him 'OK you're hired.'

The Maori is standing right there and asks the captain 'Hey, you made me fill out a 28 page job application and you just hired this guy like that, Why?"

Captain replies 'He's got an honest face'.

The Maori sighs and walks onto the boat, all upset.

A few days later, they're out to sea and the Maori is up in the crow's nest looking for reefs and the Sudanese guy is down on the deck mopping the deck. Just then, this huge wave comes along and washes the Sudanese guy overboard.

The Maori gets down out of the crow's nest and walks into the Captain's' office and says:

"Remember that Sudanese guy you hired with the honest face?

Well, he just fucked off with your mop!"

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As a butcher is shooing a dog from his shop, he sees $20 and a note in his mouth, reading:” Ten lamb chops, please."

Amazed, he takes the money, puts a bag of chops in the dog's mouth, and quickly closes the shop. He follows the dog and watches him wait for a green light, look both ways, then trots across the road to a bus stop.

The dog checks the timetable and sits on the bench. When a bus arrives, he walks around to the front and looks at the number, then boards the bus. The butcher follows, dumbstruck. As the bus travels out into the suburbs, the dog takes in the scenery. After a while he stands on his back paws to push the "stop" bell, and then the butcher follows him off. The dog runs up to a house and drops his bag on the step.

He barks repeatedly. No answer.

He goes back down the path, takes a big run, and throws himself (whap!) against the door. He does this again and again. No answer. So he jumps on a wall, walks around the garden, barks repeatedly at a window, jumps off, and waits at the front door.

Eventually a small guy opens it and starts cursing and shouting at the dog.

The butcher runs up and screams at the guy: "What the hell are you doing? This dog's a genius!”

The owner responds,

"Genius, my arse. It's the second time this week he's forgotten his key!"

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The church organist, Was in her eighties and had never been married. She was admired for her sweetness and kindness to all.  One afternoon the pastor came to call on her and she showed him into her quaint sitting room.  She invited him to have a seat while she prepared tea..

As he sat facing her old Hammond organ, the young minister noticed a cut glass bowl sitting on top of it.. The bowl was filled with water, and in the water floated of all things, a condom!

When she returned With tea and scones, they began to chat The pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl of water and its strange floater, but soon it got the better of him and he could no longer resist.

'Miss Beatrice', he said, 'I wonder if you would tell me about this?'  pointing to the bowl.

'Oh, yes,' she replied, 'Isn't it wonderful?  I was walking through the park a few months ago and I found this little package on the ground.
The directions said to place it on the organ, keep it wet and that it would prevent the spread of disease.  Do you know I haven't had the flu all winter.'

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Y'all enjoy an excellent Christmas - that's an order!

 

 

 

 

 

 

'SoD' descendeth and, lo, Sunday is a write off!

Actually, to be fair, it is not his fault.  Like most of you, this is a fairly busy and social time of year which precludes the careful construction of profound thoughts which you expect from this blog - sorry, did you say something?  Anyway, we're off to lunch in Sherborne with 'SoD' and his lovely lady, and with old and dear friends.

Last night we had a 'fish 'n' chip' supper at our village restaurant.  Alas, I fear that I may have had more wine than I usually drink these days and so when we returned home I found myself - or rather, I heard myself -  droning on and on about my army days.  Oh dear, what an 'A1 crasher' I can be - 'waddya mean, ya know already from reading this blog'? - but there's no-one like an ex-soldier for droning on - except, maybe, golfers, they are the worst!

Anyway, it appears to have stopped raining for the first time in days, so its off to 'Sherbers' and a pleasant lunch.  Y'all have a good day!

 

 

Oh boy, I wish I had been part of that conversation!

Mind you, given the high intelligence of the other two interlocutors, I doubt I would have said a word!  I refer to an article in the 'Speccie' which describes a meeting between Mr. Douglas Murray, of whom I have written admiring words before on this site, and "the boy from Zlin", a.k.a. Mr. Tom Stoppard.  Actually, his birth name is Tomas Straussler and he was born in Czechoslovakia (as it then was) to Jewish parents who wisely 'did a runner' when Hitler marched in, and ended up in India.  Alas, his four grandparents were not so fleet of foot and perished in the camps, and later his father died when his boat was attacked by the Japanese outside Singapore.  His mother remarried a British army officer and thus Tomas Straussler was transformed into Thomas Stoppard, one of the very greatest playwrights of this 20th/21st century.

Reading the piece, I was reminded what an enormous effect he had on my life.  I was thunderstruck decades ago when I first saw his play "EGBDF - Every Good Boy Deserves Favour".  In a way, the simplest of plays but also, in its way, a hugely intense experience.  Since that mental and artistic shock, I have seen many of his plays and because of them I was driven into my very amateurish, er, 'career' in theatre.  For me, the very greatest was, and still is, "Arcadia".  Brilliant, inventive, highly intelligent, intensely moving it is, in my humble opinion, the greatest of all his plays.

 

 

For us - and them - the war is just beginning

I had intended to provide Boris with a warning to the effect that he should not expect even a millimetre of 'give' from the 'consiglieres' of Brussels but instead he should prepare for totally intransigent 'take'!  That is the way they do things 'just over there', as I kept telling that silly woman who thought that matters could be settled 'nicely-nicely' after tea at the vicarage!  (I wonder what happened to her?)

So I trust that 'Biffa' Boris is well into training before his heavy-weight fight with the 'consiglieres' next year.  Once again, they will give nothing - nada! - rien! - zilch!  I don't altogether blame them, after all, it is we Brits who are spoiling their tea-party, so why should they?  According to reports  - yeeeeees, quite! - Boris, perhaps with a little help from his friend and trainer, Dominic Cummings, is telling the EU that Britain has no intention of 'kowtow-ing' to their demand for automatic acceptance of EU 'rules 'n' regs'.  That should set the talks off to a frigid start!

Even so, given the mountains of 'wiffle-waffle' the Europeans would love to drown us in, it is perhaps best to start with a clear table and with each party knowing the basic position of the other.  Thus, if no agreement is possible then it's off to a Free Trade world on WTO standards. HURRAH!

 

 

I know it's a 'Boris Xmas' but why am I worried?

Well, it's no good me scorning and scolding 'Jezza' and his 'polit-bureau' for promising to spend money like a drunken sailor - er, no offence intended JK!  - if I then croon and swoon when Boris comes in and promises to do exactly the same!  Yes, indeed, there are some 'yuuuuuuuge' infrastructure projects that may be required in different parts of the country but - 'as any fule do no!' - politicians are the very worst at choosing which ones.  Also, of course, the 'yuuuuuuuge' infrastructure builders do not give a flying fig what happens where because they will be pocketing the tax-payers' cash as fast as they can.  Master Dominic Cummings, the Guru in Chief to Boris, is a very clever and imaginative fellow but do I trust his judgment - entirely?

We need to remember that the 'MLP', the new 'Marxist Labour Party' of Britian, is not dead and buried.  Electorally, it is as dead as the Dodo but it still exists, it breathes, it imagines and it plans from its still substantial base inside the husk of the old Labour Party.  One of the priorities for 'Boris and Co' is to make absolutely sure that they spend our money wisely and well.  Even more so when one considers that much of it will be borrowed and not necessarilly from sources friendly to this country!

I know, I know, you're thinking, "Oh ye of little faith" and you're right, I do not have much faith because I have been through all this borrowing and spending and indebtedness before - in fact, I'm still paying for it via my taxes!  So box clever, Boris, and remember Kipling's wise advice: "Softly, softly catchee monkey!"

 

 

 

R.I.P. General Sir Thomas Pearson, 1914-2019

Do the sums and you will see that this extraordinary soldier, General Sir Thomas Pearson, lived through an impressive and highly dangerous 105 years!  Apart from being an exceedingly competent officer, he was also, dammit, exceedingly handsome!

A portrait of Pearson by Dorothy Wilding on his commission into the Rifle Brigade

His WWII record, in which he served with the Paras, was, shall we say, 'interesting'!  But his post-war record also included participation in various potential hot-spots.  This incident seems fairly typical and it was with some wry amusement that I noticed that he was accompanied by Anthony Farrar-Hockley who a few years later was my Colonel:

In April 1957 there was an attempted military coup in Jordan. The Brigade was in a tented camp in Cyprus and was scrambled at short notice to fly to Amman. When Israel denied overflying rights, all the aircraft were ordered to return.

Brigadier Pearson, however, with a nod to Nelson, reported that his radio had malfunctioned and flew on alone to Amman. After the Beverley [transport aircraft] landed at the airfield, an anti-tank gun was unloaded. Pearson and Anthony Farrar-Hockley called for a table and chairs and were watched by a large, restive crowd while, with every appearance of sangfroid, they sipped their gin and tonics.

The operation could have turned out badly, but the use of bluff, moral force and the threat of reinforcements on the way deterred the rebels and played a notable part in putting an end to the uprising and preserving King Hussein’s rule.

Four years later, I was Col. Farrar-Hockley's radio operator so I am even more thankful that I never saw active service with him!  Anyway, it is worth reading the Telegraph obit in full to learn what an incredible soldier Gen. Pearson was.  

Sir, I salute you!

 

 

A quick word to my Aussie mates

Sorry, sorry, but it has taken a while for the size and scope of the inferno that is threatening you to become clear 'up over here'!  Words, of course, are utterly useless but even so I hope, and would pray if I knew who to pray to, that you get through this monstrous affliction safe and sound.  Keep at it, mates!

 

 

 

 

The Democrats are suffering with galluping Corbynitis

I try to tread carefully when commenting on American affairs because I am all too well aware of my ignorance.  Even so, the behaviour of the Democratic Party 'over there' strikes me as hysterical madness.  The behaviour and demeanour of the Dems reminds me of the worst sort of lunatic lynch mob who go on the rampage and having cornered their prey then realise they forgot to bring a rope! 

There is no way that the Senate is going to allow Trump to be impeached so the entire exercise is one of futile, cheap agit-prop.  Yes, they will thereby impress their followers as to how big and bold they are but at the same time they will convince the 'Trumpeters' that their man has been wronged. In other (foreign) words, "plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose!"  However, what these trans-Atlantic 'Corbynistas' forget is the stodgy middle of the political pudding.  Many of them may raise their eyebrows at Trump's ineffable crassness but they will view the screaming hysteria of the attacks on an American President, whom they elected, with alarm and dislike.  After all, it is the, er, 'duty' of the 'Peeps' to form a mob, not members of Congress!

As y'all do know, I try never to offer political forecasts but my guess is that 'The Donald' will romp home at the next Presidential election!

 

 

An excellent time to give Turkey a roasting

Increasingly over recent times I have been mildly irritated with Turkey and its boorish, truculent leader.  Also, like others I have come across in the 'meeja', I have wondered whether it is sensible to have Turkey as an ally?  It is, of course, a member of NATO and as such we would be obliged to rush to its assistance were it to be attacked.  Is the life of a single British soldier worth sacrificing to keep this hectoring bully in office?  Given Turkey's geo-political position, I am not saying that it has less than considerable value to us in the West but there is, or there must be, a limit.  In my opinion, Erdogan is moving ever-closer to that limit, in fact, I would not be surprised, given the blandishments from Moscow, if he didn't walk before he is pushed!

 

 

Not quite 'the classless society' but nearly!

Has anyone seen 'the working class' recently?  Poor, old 'Jezza' would dearly like to know if you have because he's lost his!  It's a bit like that old TV comedy show which used a posh chap in a bowler, an ordinary bloke in a raincoat and an 'oik' in a cloth cap to represent the upper, middle and working classes.  Problem today is that the working-class has disappeared - as 'Jezza' just found out the hard way!  The fact is that we're all middle-class now, even the old style upper-class has disappeared, replaced by successful 'oiks' who, by fair means or foul, have made 'loadsa dosh'!'

The political implications of this subtle and gradual 'revolution' are immense.  Suddenly, all that Marxist twaddle is reduced to the incoherent garbage it always was.  Today, we don't just yearn for more wealth, we are more anxious to protect the wealth we already have!  Quite literally, we have become a nation of, dare I say, small-c capitalists. 

We're all 'bourgeois' now!  'Vive, er, la revolution'!

 

 

Are you sitting comfortably?

Is nothing sacred?  Now, even toilet seats have been altered to make them uncomfortable to sit on for too long.  Obviously, it is a female trick to stop us chaps enjoying the Sunday papers in quiet solitude.

Dammit, why can't those 'wimmin' just leave us chaps alone?

 

 

 

The beginning of 'King' Boris's reign!

Now that the first flush of utter gob-smacked astonishment is wearing off, there is perhaps time to contemplate what might happen over the next ten years - and yes, I did write "ten years" because I suspect it could take that long for Labour to decide exactly what sort of a political party they are.  In the meantime, 'King' Boris rules and does so easily and comfortably given his 'yuuuuuuuuuuge' Parliamentary majority.  

Of course, I hope he takes a swipe at the BBC by, in effect, selling it off to the highest private bidder.  At a stroke he will save every family in the land £154 a year.  Cheers, Boris, drinks are on me!  I gather that plans are already afoot to give Whitehall a massive shake-up and if that results in far fewer ink-stained clerks sitting at their desks pushing pieces of paper round in circles then that will bring joy to my heart.  Also, the virtual erasing of the Dept. for Foreign Aid/Bribes would give me a warm glow!

And whilst he is scything his way down Whitehall, I do hope very much that he does not forget to look in on the Ministry of Defence which is, of course, merely an interim rest home for superannuated Generals, Admirals and Air Marshalls most of whom, judged by the past, are utterly useless!

But, above and beyond all else, Brexit is now on the last lap and by next Christmas we will be out, no ifs, no buts, no maybes - OUT!  I am not usually a man who praises his own country's virtues, possibly because I know from history that we have plenty of sins to answer for.  Even so, it took a lot of quiet, determined courage for the British people to take that monumental decision and I admire them for it.  There will be troubles ahead - there always are! - but I think we have what it takes to master them.

So, go Boris, go!

 

 

 

A very peculiar Monday!

Yesterday I managed to print off my 'Monday Funnies' lest their absence might cause riots in the streets but then I retired for the day because both the 'Memsahib' and I went down with excruciating stomach pains - obviously her plan to poison me went wrong!  The end result is that yesterday I ate and drank absolutly nothing!  Good for my waistline but not so good for my energy levels - never strong at the best of times!  Today, if not absolutely right, I am at least much improved and given the extraordinary political situation here in 'God's little acres' I feel the need to pontificate on the reign of 'King' Boris.  Back later . . .

 

 

Your delayed Monday Funnies: 16.12.19

Sorry for the delay but both the 'Memsahib' and I have slight tummy problems this morning!

Little Johnny's Breakfast -

A grade three teacher is giving a lesson on nutrition, and she decides to ask her students what they had for breakfast.
To add a spelling component, she asks the students to also spell their answers.
Susan puts up her hand and says she had an egg, 'E-G-G’.

'Very good', says the teacher.
Peter says he had toast 'T-O-A-S-T'.
'Excellent.’

Johnny has his hand up and the teacher reluctantly calls on him.
'I had bugger all', he says,
' B-U-G-G-E-R-A-L-L'.

The teacher is mortified and scolds Johnny for his rude answer
Later when the lesson turns to geography, she asks the students some rudimentary questions.

Susan correctly identifies the Capital of Canada.

Peter is able to tell her which ocean is off Canada 's east coast.

When it's Johnny's turn, the teacher remembers his rude answer from the nutrition lesson, and decides to give him a very difficult question.

Johnny, she asks, 'Where is the Pakistani border?’

Johnny ponders the question and finally says, 'The Pakistani boarder is in bed with my mother.

That's why I got bugger all for breakfast’

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

 

I changed my car horn to gunshot sounds. People get out of the way much faster now.

Gone are the days when girls used to cook like their mothers. Now they drink like their fathers.

You know that tingly little feeling you get when you really like someone? That's common sense leaving your body.

I didn't make it to the gym today. That makes five years in a row.

I decided to stop calling the bathroom the “John” and renamed it the “Jim”. I feel so much better saying I went to the Jim this morning.

Old age is coming at a really bad time. When I was a child I thought “Nap Time” was a punishment. Now, as a grownup, it feels like a small vacation.

The biggest lie I tell myself is..."I don't need to write that down, I'll remember it."

I don't have gray hair; I have "wisdom highlights"! I'm just very wise

If God wanted me to touch my toes, he would've put them on my knees

Last year I joined a support group for procrastinators. We haven't met yet.

Last year I joined a support group for procrastinators. We haven't met yet

Why do I have to press one for English when you're just going to transfer me to someone I can't understand anyway?

Of course I talk to myself; sometimes I need expert advice.

At my age "Getting lucky" means walking into a room and remembering what I came in there for.

Actually I'm not complaining because I am a Senager. (Senior teenager) I have everything that I wanted as a teenager, only 60 years later. I don’t have to go to school or work. I get an allowance every month. I have my own pad. I don’t have a curfew. I have a driver’s license and my own car. The people I hang around with are not scared of getting pregnant. And I don’t have acne

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

The other night I was invited out for a night with the “girls.” I told my husband that I would be home by midnight, “I promise!” Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easily. Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckooed 3 times.

Quickly, realising my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution, in order to escape a possible conflict with him. (Even when totally smashed… 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals 12 cuckoos = MIDNIGHT !)

The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, I told him “MIDNIGHT”… he didn’t seem pissed off in the least. Whew, I got away with that one! Then he said “We need a new cuckoo clock.” When I asked him why, he said, “Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said “oh shit” Cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.

    That's it!

 

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 15.12.19

Where to begin?   That, I suspect, is what Boris must be asking himself.  Fortunately, he has a small coterie of 'smart-arse' advisors around him who seem capable of thinking 'outside the box'.  According to the 'meeja' this morning, high on the list is the smug, metropolitan, Left-wing BBC.  Apparently, Boris & Co., have it as a priority.  Goody!  Now those smug, fat-arsed mandarins who have lived off my legally enforced licence fee will have to learn how to make a living out in a rough, tough and highly competitive market place.  Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of 'toss-pots'!

 

Next up, the civil (non)service:  Another 'yuuuuuuuuuuge' 'blob' that needs a major prune and re-organisation - starting with the Foreign Bribery Aid Department!  

 

A very English revolution:   No riots, no firing squads, no mass round-ups, no beheadings as we used to do back in the, er, 'good old days'!  No, this time, the usually lethargic, 'lumpen proletariat' who are much more interested in the City vs. United 'footie' match declared that enough was enough and decided to make their feelings plain.  With one massive heave, they sent a loud and clear message to the elderly Trot-lot' mouth-dribblers as well as to the incoherent juvenile 'squeakers' that enough was definitely more than enough.  In a very different context, Oliver Cromwell said it best in 1653:

It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonored by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice; ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government; ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money.
Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice you do not possess? Ye have no more religion than my horse; gold is your God; which of you have not barter’d your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth?
Ye sordid prostitutes have you not defil’d this sacred place, and turn’d the Lord’s temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices? Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation; you were deputed here by the people to get grievances redress’d, are yourselves gone! So! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors.
In the name of God, go!”

 

The 'Yerdie-derdi-burbles' are in trouble:   I refer, of course, to the Swedish people who threw open their doors to anyone and everyone from anywhere.  Consequently, violent crime has escalated to heights not seen before in peaceful Sweden.  According to Zero Hedge, this was mainly due to "Frederik Reinfeldt -- prime minister of Sweden from 2006 to 2014 and chairman of the Moderate Party from 2003 to 2015 -- urged Swedes in 2014 to "Open your hearts" to the refugees of the world."  The stupidity of politicians knows no bounds!

 

Mind you, Sky News, is not much better than the BBC:   For some time now I have become increasingly irritated with Sky News of whom I was once a big fan.  Their anti-Brexit stance has become ever more clear so it was no surprise to see that they actually paid that capering, malevolent monkey, John Bercow, £60k to appear on their news coverage of the election.  He is the most heartily despised man in British politics so one has to ask what world the over-paid Sky News execs inhabit?  Mind you, I am not too keen some of the regulars, like fat, bland and boring, Adam Boulton; and 'snippy-snappy' Kay Burley whose opinion of herself is swollen  to dangerously excessive levels.

 

The Jocks are coming, the Jocks are coming:   Being a semi-Jock myself, I could put up with that but unfortunately they will be led by 'Mrs. MacWhinge' whose voice could cut sheet steel!  There is no easy solution to the 'Jock' problem.  The notion of independence from England is obviously intoxicating - and no-one does intoxication better than the 'Jocks'!   Ear plugs urgently required!

 

Still 'n' all, we can enjoy the coming Labour bloodbath:   And it will go on and on and on and then on some more!  It's a pity, really, because I do not like a totally one-sided parliament but, alas, Labour have let themselves in for this and it is essential that the moderates put the extremists to the sword.

 

Before you start splurging, Boris:   Please remember it is our money, not yours!  Yes, of course, you need to reward all those former Labourites 'ooop north' who finally saw 'the bleedin' obvious', that 'Jezza' Corbyn and his, er, 'comrades' were a bunch of dangerous but dribbling nutters.  Even so, have a care for the Exchequer and the dupes who fill it up!

 

 

No more rumbles today

 

 

 

Happy Christmas - you betcha'!

This is going to be my happiest, merriest Christmas in decades!  Alas, today I have a raging, raw, sore throat - perhaps from all my cheering during Thursday night!  Consequently, being something of a wet wimp, my energy levels are lower than usual, so I will allow the excellent - and very attractive! - Ms. Allison Pearson of The Daily Telegraph to put my feelings into words far more elegantly than I ever could:

God, I love this country. There we were on Thursday afternoon with a sick dread roiling around our stomachs. The worst butterflies since exam results. Clutching at straws – or straw polls anyway. Unable to sleep peacefully until all was well on Friday morning (it’s going to be alright, isn’t it?) Pictures on the news of Gordon Brown and Ed Miliband made you nostalgic for a time when a Labour victory might mean you’d be a bit sad not downright terrified.

[…]

The thought of Jews with their bags packed, ready to flee. The thought of a man who loves hate preachers getting the keys to Number 10. The thought of our children and grandchildren being indoctrinated in the Marxists’ mirthless creed. It was awful, awful. As the Chief Rabbi warned, “The very soul of the nation is at risk.”

And then she finishes with a list of 'NOs' aimed at 'Jezza' and his collection of dim, dumb, juvenile 'revolutionaries' of whom even Lenin would have been ashamed:  [With my emphasis]

Well, the Remainers said they wanted a People’s Vote and they bloody well got one. And the people, they said, No:

No to that insufferably arrogant Remainer Parliament blocking the referendum result because they knew better.

No to Gina “Who the hell does she think she is?” Miller and her insufferable flicky hair.

No to the Remainer Supreme Court.

No to Question Time audiences seemingly packed with “unbiased” Momentum activists.

No to Jeremy Corbyn whose rightful place is selling copies of Socialist Worker outside Harringay station in a Leninist cap and a chequered Palestinian keffiyeh, not running this great nation of ours.

NO! Did you get it this time? Have we made ourselves clear?

Thank you Ms. Pearson, I could not have put it better myself - er, in fact, nowhere near!

 

 

 

You can't beat a really good gloat!

Yes, yes, I know it's not the 'done thing' to dissolve into helpless giggles as you witness the utter humiliation of other people but when they are, with one exception, miserable examples of the lowest of political 'low-lifes' then I think no mercy should be shown.  The exception, of course, is bottom right in the montage.  Frank Field, a man of some principle who was not prepared to 'kowtow' to the Marxist bully boys who infiltrated his constituency.

 

The total political demise of the two men on the left of the top row fills me with warmth and satisfaction.  David Gauke and his, er, 'comrade' in duplicity, the man who is suffering with rampant, terminal smugness and superiority, Dominic Grieve, is simply too, too delicious.  I hope we never look upon their like again!

 

Finally, the cherry on this Xmas cake, the, er, 'lady' on the left in the bottom row, the utterly despicable and dislikeable, Anna Soubry, who probably changes political parties more often than her underwear and does so with unfailing arrogance.  She is no more!  What a relief!

 

 

 

So much to write, so little talent for writing it!

So, as per usual, I steal from those with the intelligence and wit and knowledge to say what I think, beginning, of course, with the ever-astute Janet Daley in The Telegraph:

Well I have to admit it. I burst into tears. [So did I - nearly!]  The people of Britain have spoken - the real people. Not the social media trolls or the Twitter addicts or that whole parallel universe of ghosts who seemed - to the credulous - to be what politics was about now, but the grown-up, decent, rational people of this country who have once again asserted their right to be heard.

And because Boris Johnson insisted that this was a Brexit election - with that endlessly repeated mantra about “getting Brexit done” - this was more than an election: it was a second referendum too.

So that’s the end of that.

Well, yes, but it is also the beginning of some daunting problems, beginning, of course, up in bonny Scotland!  Mrs. 'MacWhinge' has succeeded in duping the silly Jocks who seem to have their heads stuffed in their sporrons!  She is determined to detach Scotland from the UK and there are ominous signs that the Northern Irish and the Welsh will join their campaign.  Thus, the edifice of the 'United Kingdom' is under real threat.  Fortunately, there are some hard realities that may concentrate their minds somewhat.  For example, how will tiny Scotland cope with a customs border across the north of England?  How will the 'Proddies' cope with pressure from the Catholic south?  Even so, it will be tricky and even worse, it will be time-consuming!

However, let us all pause and enjoy - nay, luxuriate - in the utter crushing of the silliest bunch of idiots to exist outside the monkey-house in London Zoo!  Don't just think of silly, old 'Jezza', a man who has suffered with old-age dementia since he was 15 years old!  Instead, think of the likes of his comrade and mentor, Seamus Milne, the ultimate in political/philosophical contradictions - a rich man with a Public School 'edukashun' who failed utterly to see what all the rest of us 'oiks' and 'plebs' saw years ago - that 'Jezza' is a total 'plonker' fit only for playing the central role in a political comedy series!  And spare a few laughs at the expense of John McDonnell, the grey man of the Labour party, who has just seen his Marxist dreams smashed into the long grass.  If 'Jezza' eventually goes, he should go to!

Finally, a brief word to the Jewish community who, I guess, must have suffered with some sleepless nights over the campaign as the true and brutal nature of Labour's anti-Semitism became ever more clear.  Sleep tight, my friends, the British people have made their mistakes in times past but this time they have stepped in and crippled the 'Jew haters'. 

 

 

This about sums things up!

Good, old Bob in The Telegraph, spot on - again!  

I must go and 'ablute' my person after a long and exciting night with my radio ear-piece jammed in my ear.  However, I shall return in short order to provide you all with my usual astute, penetrating insight into our 'body politic', albeit, not so astute, or witty, as Bob's up above!

 

 

 

Not just a win but a 'yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge' win!

It's only 22.15 hrs but the exit polls indicate a massive, 3-figure win for Boris and the Tories.  I shall go to my bed a happy and contented man even if my reputation as an election forecaster (see below) has been confirmed as crap!  What a relief and in the morning I can unpack my suitcases and cancel my flight to America.  In fact, it will be 'Jezza' who will packing his cases ready for exile.  I suggest Siberia!

'Night-night' everyone, I'm off to bed with the biggest, silliest smile on my face.  See you in the morning!

 

 

Right, Left and Centre, in war they all lie and lie and lie again!

By "they", in my title above, I don't just mean the politicians, I also include the 'Top Brass' who are supposed to have the care and welfare of their warriors in their hearts.  Yes, in mitigation they can plead that they are honour bound to execute the orders of their political masters but surely there comes a time in all long-running campaigns which are evidently failing in their purposes and resulting in the needless slaughter of their troops, for them to stand tall and tell truth to power.

I raise this subject because of the release yesterday of US government documents showing that the US army command hierarchy lied through their teeth during the Afghanistan campaign at the behest of their political masters.  No doubt they were well rewarded with promotions and medals for their deceit and their abandonment of the soldiers for whom they were responsible.  No surprise, really, given they had done exactly the same during the Vietnam campaign.

My only question is how do they manage to shave every morning given the necessity of looking at their faces in a mirror?

 

 

Why do I think I am being got at?

A quick skim through the 'meeja' this morning and they are all singing the same song - 'the election is on a knife-edge' - 'Labour have bounced back' - 'The polls have suddenly tightened' - and so on and on and on!  Why do I 'see' the not-so-surreptitious hand of the Tory party HQ behind all this alarmist stuff? I don't blame them, that's politics, but do I believe them? NAH!  So now I will give you my, er, not very considered opinion and forecast - Boris wins with a 30 - 40 seat majority!  (Stand by for incoming tomorrow morning!)  Of course, later this morning I will be off to vote and this afternoon I will be checking my passport just in case 'Jezza' wins.  Not that I need worry, I'm sure my many American/Australian friends will welcome me as a refugee - er, you will, won't you?

ADDITIONAL:  Right, that's it, sorted, job done, I have just voted and where I lead, zillions follow so you can expect a stunning victory for Boris!

 

 

Oh, how the mightily virtuous have fallen!

I refer, of course, to that 'saint of virtuosity', Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi, the holder of a Nobel Peace Prize, no less, who yesterday was hauled in front of a United Nations, er, 'court' to explain the wholesale slaughter of thousands of Rohingya Muslims executed by the Burmese army which has forced over 730,000 of them to flee their country.  She, of course, having risen to world-wide 'sainthood' as the victim of the ghastly military junta that really runs the country, eventually became the Prime Minister of it under exactly the same rule of exactly the same military thugs who once ill-treated her!

What can one say except:

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

And what a pity old Bill Shakespeare isn't around to write a play on it!

 

 

My election opinion - well, everyone else has one - or two - or more!

I have kept relatively quiet about tomorrow's election, not out of discretion, or because I will almost certainly be proven wrong or even because I am pretty sure you are all as bored with it as I am!  No, my main reason is my almost total ignorance.  I am not ashamed of this because it is a condition I share with all the 'meeja' and their highly-paid 'experts' and with most of the opinion polls.  Of course, one of the opinion polls will prove to be more accurate than the others but as nobody knows which one then it is a total gamble to choose which one!

So instead, I will give you my hopes for the result tomorrow.  Obviously, I want Boris and the Tories to win, not because I am a 'yuuuuuuuuuge' admirer but because, despite the 'cock-ups' and 'snafus' one expects from a Boris-led administration, it will be infinitely preferable to anything else on offer.  Part of my support stems from my fascination with the career of Dominic Cummings who to my - and probably his, too! - surprise has ended up as a key advisor in the Tory HQ.  Where this man will lead us, no-one knows for sure, least of all himself!  He will already have built up some hefty opposition for his 'off the wall' approach to politics from the usual 'collective' of stodgy mediocrities who control the Tory hierarchy.  Still, some ideas are glinting through the smog, such as kicking the BBC out into the public arena where they will have to earn their own living instead of relying on licence payers.  Similarly, it seems that, at last, a cool and detached eye will be cast over the foreign aid department which shovels so much of our 'dosh' into the pockets of sundry gangsters and murderers around the world!

I am less than impressed with Boris's glad-handing of 'zillions' of my money (as I fondly think of it!) to all the 'usual suspects' such as the NHS, et al!  I live in a small hope that all those, er, 'promises' will go the way of most pre-election promises!  If indeed, Boris really and truly 'gets Brexit done', then we must expect exceedingly troubled times ahead, particularly given the suggested 'decline and fall' of the EU as Germany slides towards recession.  I know nothing of the details of Boris's so-called 'deal' with the EU but I fear the worst because our civil service couldn't negotiate their way out of a paper bag, let alone the fine mesh net the EU will cast over us. So long as we manage to evade the control of their wretched Courts system, I will be satisfied.

Now, having donned my NBC warfare suit, I turn to Labour!  I sort of want them crushed but not, I hope, totally!  Corbyn and his polit-bureau need to be smashed by the electorate but we need a functioning opposition, so I hope that a core of decent Labourites survive.  In fact, and I find this difficult to write, I suspect that Labour will do rather better than the experts believe.  It is almost unbelievable that anyone with more than three brain cells and a sense of smell could even contemplate a Labour government given their political make-up today.  But, to paraphrase an old American saying of great wisdom, 'you'll never go broke underestimating the intelligence of an electorate!'

Finally, the 'il-Lib-non-Dems' who proved my summary of their two-faced hypocrisy to be absolutely spot-on when they decided to stick two fingers up to the democratically decided decision by the British people to leave the EU by simply announcing that were they to win they would simply rip up the referendum result.  I suspect, or at least, I hope that that ghastly, bossy and stupid 'head girl' who leads the party gets a big slap from the electorate that she so obviously despises!

I was going to finish this tedious diatribe but I suddenly remembered that hideous woman, 'Mrs. McWhinge', up in, er, bonny Scotland.  Come on, you Jocks, sober up and just 'stick yure heed in wi' your bonnet on' and get rid of her so that I never have to hear her voice ever again!

There you are, that was a useful and perceptive analysis of the political situation in dear, old Blighty, don't you agree?  Sorry, I missed that . . .

 

 

 

Alas, funereal duties this morning

No, no, not mine - you should be so lucky!  Unfortunately, it is the lady who used to own this house I now live in.  The 'Memsahib' and I throughout our married life could be described as 'Genuine Bedouins'!  We have always been on the move, not to avoid the debt collectors but because most of the time we have lived through an inflationary housing market in which every house we bought would sell for a profit a few years later.  In none of the other transactions did we strike up a friendship with the owner(s) except in this case.  Happily, their move to a new dwelling was only a few miles away and so we kept in touch.  He died some time ago and now Eve has gone and I will miss her.  In her youth she had trained as an actress so you can imagine we had plenty of shared interests.  Alas, I detest funerals, in fact, I have instructed the 'Memsahib' and 'SoD' NOT to hold one for me but to throw a party instead.  Even so, I shall go to this one and quietly bid farewell to a lovely and charming lady.

 

 

The (late) Monday Funnies: 9.12.19

I know, I know, late again, I'm worse than British Rail!

One Christmas Eve, Santa was under a lot of stress.

He and Mrs. Claus had just had a fight, it was nearly time to leave and his sleigh wasn't loaded, and the elves were talking about going on strike.

Then an angel walked into his office and asked, "Hey, Santa, what do you want me to do with this Christmas tree?"

And so was born the tradition of there being an angel on top of the Christmas tree.

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

 

A guy decides to buy his new girlfriend a pair of gloves for Christmas. After all, they've only been dating for three weeks so it seems like the ideal gift - romantic, yet not too personal.
He asks the girlfriend's younger sister to accompany him to buy them then she can point out a pair she'd like.

They go to the mall and the sister points out a pair of white gloves which the guy then buys.

The sister then picks up a pair of panties for herself and buys them.

But during the wrapping, the clerk mixes up the parcels without anyone realising. As a result, the sister gets the gloves and the guy takes home a gift box containing the panties.

Without checking, the guy rushes the gift to his sweetheart, but only after drafting this loving and helpful note to accompany it:

"I chose these because I notice you are not in the habit of wearing any when we go out in the evening. If it had not been for your sister, I would have chosen the long ones with the buttons, but she wears the short ones that are easier to remove.

These are a delicate shade, but the lady I bought them from showed me a pair she'd been wearing for the last three weeks and they were hardly soiled.

I had her try yours on for me and she looked really smart.
I wish I was there to put them on for you the first time. There's no doubt other hands will come in contact with them before I have a chance to see you again.

When you take them off remember to blow in them before putting them away, as they will naturally be a little damp from wearing.

Just think how many times I will kiss them during the coming year. I hope you will wear them for the coming Christmas Eve.

P.S. The latest style is to wear them folded down with a little fur showing."

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

Santa comes down a chimney one Christmas Eve and to his surprise finds a gorgeous brunette waiting for him, wearing the sexiest lingerie imaginable.

"Santa," she purrs, "Can you stay for a while?"
Santa says, "Ho, ho ho! I've gotta go! Have to deliver toys to children, you know!"

She comes close, starts playing with his beard, whispers in his ear, "Santa, don't you have a gift you would like to give me?"
Santa says, "Ho, ho, ho! I've gotta go! Have to spread Christmas cheer, you know!"

The brunette takes off her straps, giving Santa a view of her breasts and says, "Santa, are you sure there's no gift you'd like to leave?"

Santa says, "Hey hey hey, might as well stay. I can't get up the chimney this way!"

 

Sorry for the delay but my Aussie joke-smith is still malingering 'down under there' so I had to find all these by myself!  Didn't I do well?!

Sorry, did you say something . . . ?

 

 

Never trust those damned, smoothie Brits!

A fascinating article via Zero Hedge which originated at The American Conservative.com.  It details the, er, 'dastardly deeds' of William Stephenson (a Canadian actually) who in 1940 - a rather sweaty time for Britain! - was despatched to the USA by Churchill in order to set up - dare I say it? - a 'fake news factory' to help persuade the American 'Peeps' to give up their really rather sensible insistence on neutrality as the rest of the world went to hell in a handcart!

Stephenson knew his way around the 'meeja' which barely differed in its crookedness then, to what it is today!  Also, given Roosevelt's quiet determination to get America into the war, he was content to allow Stephenson to pump his fake news into the American system.  Of course, it was not simply love for Britain and dislike of Hitler that moved Roosevelt but his absolute determination to use the disaster of yet another world war to provide an opportunity to create a new, American world order.

So, let's hear it for 'Fake News'! 

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 8.12.19

Art criticism at its very best:   As y'all do know, I am in a quiet way a bit of an old 'arty-farty'.  I rarely pay attention to art critics because I know what I like even if, sometimes, I don't exactly know why!  But here is a man whose, er, 'taste' I would trust implicitly.  Recently an 'artwork' was unveiled which consisted of a banana duct-taped to a wall with a price tag of $120,000 attached.

On Saturday, the man, Mr. David Datuna, who is obviously of impeccable, er, taste, ate the banana!

 

Are you as confused as me over the forthcoming election?   Well, neither of us can be blamed given, as an example, two headlines in the same edition of the Sunday Mail:

"Tories scent victory with fresh poll showing late Labour surge has not materialised"

"Boris Johnson refuses THREE times to say if he would quit, should the Tories fail to win the election, as polls tighten with just days to go" 

I think I'll just stick to the pattern of the tea leaves at the bottom of my morning cup of tea!

From The Telegraph

 

Classic Peter Hitchens:   He is always a 'Must Read' on a Sunday but today he covers a range of topics all of which make you think.  I never followed his late brother and I wonder if he was a patch on Peter?

 

Hoot of the Year:   I am indebted to the Red State site for providing the hoot of the year from the lips of that well-known American comedienne, Mrs. Hillary Rodham Clinton.  She was re-acting to that mummified creature who calls herself Nancy Pelosi who has inveighed against Trump's evil ways and threatened dire legal counter-measures.  'HillBilly' responded with these immortal words: “no one is above the law”.

 

If only!   Apparently that irritating little girl, Greta Thunberg, is complaining that 'they' are trying to silence her!

Well, 'they' are obviously not very good at it because she never shuts up talking total 'tosh'!  Good job she's not my daughter!

 

Why I no longer go the theatre:  Particularly if it is a play by William Shakespeare.  The pig-ignorant dolts who rule 'theatre-land' these days are an insult to my intelligence but not to theirs because they do not have any!  This from a review of Richard III in this week's 'Speccie':

This modern-dress production (co-directed by Sean Holmes and Ilinca Radulian) has been cast without regard to race, gender or age. Anyone who doesn’t hold a professorship in Plantagenet genealogy will struggle to comprehend the sinuous plot. Richard (Sophie Russell) enters wearing a white footballer’s shirt inscribed RICHARD 03. Clear enough. Margaret, played by a man, also appears with her name embroidered on her football kit but with the letters covered by a coat. An easy blunder to correct. Harder to fix is the sparse company which isn’t populous enough to serve the text. Matti Houghton plays Anne and two other large-ish roles. Colin Hurley begins as Hastings and morphs into Tyrrell, the Mayor and Oxford. Steffan Donnelly opens as Margaret and ends as Richmond.

Need I say more?

 

No more Rumbles

 

 

 

A 'yuuuuuuuuuge' 'THANK YOU' to JK

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bd8_vO5zrjo

My American political/military/history correspondent and, I almost forgot, also my Chief Archivist, 'JK', sent me the above link because of my utter fascination with the Battle of Midway.  Whilst I recognise that not all of you share my fascination with matters military, this battle was utterly crucial in the war in the Pacific against Japan.  Given its, er, 'fluid' nature - well, dammit, it was a naval/air battle! - and therefor the myriad 'ifs, buts and maybes' - this computer generated illustration is superb! 

Even so, for anyone coming fresh to it, I would advise reading a couple of books on the subject first!  I would recommend "MIDWAY: The Battle that doomed Japan" by Mitsuo Fuchida and Masatake Okumiya which, just like the YouTube presentation above, gives a Japanese perspective to the battle.  For an American view, try "Miracle at Midway" by Gordon Prange.  In its way, this single battle sums up the nature of warfare in which tiny incidents and factors can tip a battle this way or that.

Sorry to bore on but  . . .

 

 

 

Feeling good this morning? Then don't read this!

Let me begin by tweaking a famous phrase from those old, British, PoW films from the 1950s in which the smug German officer tells his British prisoners, "For you, ze var iss over!"  Instead, given a fascinating article by Matthew Lynn in The Telegraph, I will flip it over and say to Germany, "Awfully sorry, mein Herr, but for you, your economic dominance is over!"  Not, I hasten and emphasise to say, that it is neccessarilly good news for us!

According to Mr. Lynn:

Its main industry is in freefall. Its political system is descending into chaos. The banking system is in crisis, and consumer demand is stuck in the doldrums. Which country? It is, of course, Germany. With every week that passes there are more and more signs of a deep malaise in its economy.

I have nothing much against post-war Germany.  I was quietly pleased that they made such Herculean efforts to rebuild their country from the rubble they inherited in 1945.  Needless to say, as their industrial and economic power grew they began to use it to influence European affairs but, hey, that's what all nations do if they can!  At least this time they did so quietly and discreetly by twisting the arms of the various sock-puppets, like 'Junck the Drunk' who ran the EU, and happily, we in Britain were (for a change!) shrewd enough to heed the words of the late, great Nicholas Ridley that "the EU is a German racket" and given our chance we voted to leave.

Even so, Mr. Lynn's news is sobering:

When Germany released its industrial production figures yesterday, they were predictably awful. Output dropped by 5.3pc over the same month a year ago, the worst reading since the depths of the last recession in 2009.

But then, the news out of the country is usually grim right now. Retail sales figures out this week showed a 1.9pc year-on-year fall. Its mighty auto industry, the engine of the industrial machine, is slashing jobs, with 9,500 redundancies at Audi announced in the last month and another 10,000 at Daimler, as its manufacturers desperately try to pivot away from high-pollution diesel to electric vehicles.

The once mighty Deutsche Bank is still cutting jobs as it tries to keep itself alive. Meanwhile, the government looks more fragile than ever, with Angela Merkel’s grand coalition coming apart at the seams and with the anti-business Greens almost certain to win a share of power soon.

I am tempted to ask what the German is for "Oh dear, what a pity, never mind"?  However, I will set aside my sneer because the economic crash of any hitherto prosperous and democratic nation is bad news for everyone.  We are about to launch ourselves away from Europe and the last thing we need is a major economic - and therefor political! - car crash 'just over there'!

 

 

The day my latent homosexuality received a tweek!

I hasten to make clear that it was only the very merest of 'tweeks' and I was only 15 or 16 years old at the time and didn't recognise it as such until I was much older - by which time I was well past it having fallen in lust with the well-developed Josie B. who had the desk next to me in school!  So who, you ask, piqued my immature homosexual interest back then?  Marlon Brando, of course, who else?  His tremendous performance in "On the Waterfront" had just been released and his sulky, brooding good-looks were everywhere.  I saw the film and was awe-struck at his looks, his persona and, above all, his terrific acting ability which perhaps, just perhaps, set off my desire to try acting.

Nor was it a 'one off'!  He went on and on and on to a string of superb performances.  Who will ever forget his brooding 'Godfather'?  Alas, as Tom Leonard makes clear in a fascinating article in The Mail today, whilst Brando was a superlative actor, he was also a total shit of a human being!  His sexual appetite was gargantuan and given that he would 'swing on both sides of the street' he had plenty of choice.

'Still 'n' all', as they say 'over there', I don't care what he did 'off the set' because what he did on it was simply superb and unforgettable!

 

 

 

'Midway' - refought for the third time!

I have written before, many a time and oft', on the incredible battle of Midway.  In my heading I indicate that the battle has been fought three times but what I mean, of course, is that it was, in reality, fought once, and then refought twice by Hollywood!  The latest Hollywood version has just been released 'over there' and the appropriately named, Steve Sailor, offers a crit of it at Taki's Mag.  ( He approves, in the main.)

I am totally fascinated with this battle which, in effect, and in retrospect, won the Pacific war for America!  Not the least of its fascination lies in the element of chance which played a crucial role in the eventual outcome.  Another crucial element was what I used to call, in my Army days, 'SigInt' which the Americans had mastered to a high degree of expertise.  Thus, the Japanese steamed on in blissful ignorance and boundless conceit following their devastating attack on Pearl Harbour whilst the canny Americans listened in to their wireless transmissions and planned accordingly.

Even so, as in all battles everywhere, that fickle 'Lady Luck' played her part so that the first American warplanes to spot the Jap fleet were torpedo bomber who naturally attacked at sea-level, thus dragging down the Jap fighters from on high to deal with them.  This allowed the American dive-bombers, released from a Fleet of which the Japs were unaware, to arrive overhead and then dive down unopposed - with devastating results for the Japs.

The result - Japanese disaster and the first indication that they would lose their stupid, il-conceived war!

 

 

 

'Steady the Buffs', er, I mean the Duffs!

I must confess to a very slight sense of uneasiness as I approach next Thursday's election.  All the 'meeja' seem confident of a Tory majority, albeit, somewhat divided over the probable size of it.  As a sane, semi-educated Brit, I cannot conceive of anyone outside of a mental institution actually voting for Jeremy Corbyn to be Prime Minister.  Not only is he dim, dumb and daft, he is also a disgusting human being.  Anyone who spends a lifetime cosying up to every murderous terrorist with a hatred for Britain, ranging from IRA thugs to Muslim killers, is the worst of all types because whilst he nurses his hatred inwardly, he actually lacks the guts to take his chances on the streets with a bomb in hand!

Even so there are one or two factors in this coming election which, alas, I am unable to quantify with any exactitude.  First, there are the 'kiddie-winkies', a.k.a. as 'young people'.  Mostly soft in body and in mind - given their pathetic 'edukashun'! - they are incapable of detecting the nature of the evil in the current cabal that has seized power in the Labour party.  They can just about master the slogans they carry around on demos - provided none of the words has more than one syllable!

These 'ninnies' dance to the tune of 'Twitter' which, I gather, utterly dominates their lives and which, I am told, is a constant source of Left-wing agit-prop.  Hitherto, I have relaxed in my confident expectation that the lazy, little sods will be too idle to actually get out of bed and vote!  However, so powerful is the grip of the internet on their lives via the plugs constantly jammed in their ears that this time they might just be galvanised.

All of that, of course, is a call for action from us 'oldies'!  Come on, 'Gramps', get your arse out of the armchair and get voting next Thursday!

 

 

Cartoon Corner #1

I am a great admirer of cartoons, particularly political cartoons which sum up complex situations in a single illustration - with wit and humour.  This, the first of many, I hope, is from The Telegraph:

 

Pheeeew, so far, so good!

I must confess to opening my Daily Mail this morning with trembling hands.  Well, 'Big Don' was in town and the least I expected was a couple of 'hooooge' big 'clangers' to be dropped.  I mean, he was attending the 70th anniversary of NATO and was thus surrounded by dozens of national leaders so the opportunity for some 'schlock-horror' pronouncements was enormous.  Consider the opportunities offered by him meeting and greeting the likes of  'mini'-Macron, although I gathered they went into max-hand squeezing when they shook hands.  (By the way, don't you just detest those uber-masculine twerps who go in for that sort of thing - I always want to jerk them towards me and then 'nut' them!)

Even more potentially hazardous was the prospect of 'Big Don' meeting the ghastly thug who now runs Turkey - not so much the 'clash of titans' as the clash of total tits!  Incidentally, what the hell is Turkey doing in NATO?  Yes, I know that geographically it is situated in at an exceedingly strategic place but even so, do I want to go to war to protect the Erdogan government?

Rather wisely, given that he is in the middle of an election, Boris, I gather steered well clear so as not to offer 'Big Don' the chance to opine on the contest.  Any exuberant words of praise from him for Boris would go down like a shit sandwich.  As Michael Deacon describes it in The Telegraph:

The one subject he tried not to express a view on was our own election. Supposedly Boris Johnson is worried that Trump might inadvertently derail the Tory campaign – but on Tuesday, at least, the president was clearly striving with all his might to break the habit of a lifetime, and keep his opinions to himself.

Mind you, he couldn't resist the chance of bragging about Brexit:

Although determined not to comment on British politics, Trump did reiterate his support for Brexit. Not for the first time, he boasted that he’d predicted it. “I called it the day before [the referendum],” he told reporters, with an air of fond reminiscence. “I was opening up Turnberry [his Scottish golf course] the day before – many of you were there, I recognise that many of you were there. And they asked me whether or not Brexit would happen. I said yes, and everybody smiled, and they laughed. The next day they had the [referendum] – and I was right.”

A great story. Pity it isn’t true. In reality, Trump didn’t arrive at Turnberry until the day after the referendum. It’s fascinating. Not only does he seem to forget things that have happened. He also seems to recall – with the most dazzling clarity – things that actually never happened at all.

Actually, I don't think he's that bad a President but I just wish he would button up two things - his jacket and his mouth!

 

 

Sorry, sorry, sorry and all that sort of thing!

Yes, I do realise that yesterday markets fell, production slumped and sundry religious fanatics foretold the imminent end of the world because my Monday Funnies failed to appear!  Of course, my foreman-elf in the Australian joke mine has gone a.w.o.l. which meant there was a dire shortage of jokes to go round yesterday.  Anyway, it wasn't so much those "Events, dear boy, events" that got in the way yesterday, more like 'bloody this, bloody that and the bloody other'.  Today, I'm pleased to report that all's quiet on the 'Zummerzet' front!

Which leaves me to ruminate on the young tartlet and the middle-aged Prince - of course, you know to whom I am referring because every bloody newspaper in the western world is full of it!  The Prince, of course, is a total prat with the intelligence of a rutting stag but we have all known middle-aged men like him whose brains appear to be packed inside their Y-fronts!  The tartlet concerned, although she is more grown-up now, is plastered all over The Mail and to be honest I could not be bothered to plough through all of her tear-stained diatribe for which, I suspect, she was exceedingly well-paid!  At the time, she was only 17 years old and so can be excused somewhat from her silliness but I can't help wondering where her parents were?  They are the ones who should be dragged before that most severe of tribunals - the court of public opinion!

 

 

The Sunday Rumble: 1.12.19

God bless 'Speccie' readers:   Well two of them, at any rate.  They wrote in to the latest edition to settle an old puzzle which has baffled drunks the world over!  How do you pronounce 'vermouth'?  Alas, both writers disagreed so we are no further forward:

Sir: Henry Jeffreys (Books, 16 November) asks if vermouth should be pronounced ‘vermuth’ or ‘vermooth’. I can’t go past Cole Porter’s song of ‘Two little babes in the wood’, who discovered that ‘the fountain of youth is a mixture of gin and vermouth’. Vermooth it is for me.

Sir: Regarding the pronunciation of ‘vermouth’, I strongly maintain that it should be ‘vermuth’. A resident of a well-known Dorset seaside resort would not say that they lived in Bournemooth, nor would a Geordie pleasure-seeker spend a beach holiday at Tynemooth.

Oh dear, I need a dry martini!

 

I told you the Poles were mad!   One of the courageous civilians who leapt into action to deal with the terrorist in London was a Pole called Lukasz.  Rather sensibly he armed himself with a 'pole' in the form of an enormous whale tusk which was displayed on a wall in the building where things kicked off.  Here he is in action on London Bridge with two others.

Well, makes a change from charging German panzers on horseback armed with a lance!

 

Oh God, now 'panto' has fallen to the 'woke' brigade:   According to Toby Young, in the 'Speccie' of course, good old-fashioned pantomimes enjoyed all round Britain have been got at by the PC miserabilists.

If you were hoping to escape the bilge that’s been pumped out by supposedly neutral organs of the state during this general election campaign — the BBC, schools, the NHS — I don’t recommend going to see a pantomime. Gramsci’s long march through the institutions has finally reached the last redoubt of political incorrectness. Say goodbye to bum-pinching, boob-squeezing and irreverent, smutty gags about holier-than-thou political figures; say hello to anti-austerity scripts, racially sensitive casting and three-hour lectures on climate change.

 

(Sir) Lewis wins again:   What an incredible young man!  Brought up in a council house in Stevenage but with the help of an even more incredible man - his father who once held down three jobs to pay for his son's early attempts in motor racing - he has now won the last Grand Prix of the year - his eleventh.  Only one thing holds him back - he must, absolutely must- get rid of that dreadful hairstyle!  How can he expect 'Her Maj' to entertain him to tea and a Knighthood with his head covered in dead rats?

 

 

No more rumbles