25 Nov 2014

And Then Yet More….

So Mr Cummerbund is going to give the security services several million more magic money then.

You know what? If, a long time ago, they’d been a tad more fussy about who rolled up here we may have been able to use that non-existent money for something else.

Having an ‘open house’  for fellows with totally incompatible belief systems to ours was bound to present ‘problems’ eventually. But then, unbelievably, they compounded the problem by running off and invading and bombing countries who’s populations have the same belief systems as the people they just let in here and they expected everything to remain hunky-dory. This shows a little lack of lateral thinking on our leaders part don’t ya’ thunk?

It seems that, despite the many millions of billions that it’s cost to ‘keep our streets safe’, we’re now so unsafe even Facebook’s in the frame.

You know what? If we’d had decent doormen back a ways, and kept well out of various playground tiffs, all those squillions could’ve gone a long way to putting a Bobby back on the beat on almost every street to keep ‘em safe. No, not in a car. Just in big boots. Lace-ups.

Remember those days? When the guy on the beat knew most folk on their streets. The old, who they’d check on from time to time – especially on cold winter days. They knew who was on holiday so would give their doors a periodic rattle in the night. Where the local hooks, crooks and comic singers hung out. And even took time to have a street footy kick-about with the local kids. Remember that?

That would’ve worked again - but to be told, after wasting so very much to make our streets safer, that we’ve never been less safe sounds like something out of ‘Alice in a Parallel Universe Through a Wormhole With a Jolly Big Rocket Propelled Rabbit’ does it not?

Quote;  Michael Marshall.

“Terrorism isn't James Bond or Tom Clancy. Even al-Qaeda is looking old school these days. Now it's just some guy with a bomb. He walks the same roads as us. He thinks the same thoughts. But he's got a bomb.”

23 Nov 2014

And Then, A Rough Paint Job….

So this fellow was sitting in his study studying stuff when there was a ‘bing-bong’ sounding sound signifying someone was seeking his attention at the front door.

Upon opening the front door he could see, through the porch door, a scruffily attired youth. Ah hah! thought our fellow, someone looking for a hand-out and he prepared his negative response accordingly while opening the porch door.

He was, however, caught completely off-guard by the youth who proceeded thus; “Good afternoon Sir. I’m so sorry to disturb you like this but, as you can see, I’m presently down on my luck and trying desperately to get back on my feet and was wondering if you had any odd-jobs I could do for you to earn a few pounds.”

Shocked by the polite and, apparently, well intentioned request from the young lad our guy frantically tried to think of a task for the guy. Then he remembered, owing to where he was standing, that the exterior of the porch was on his list of things to do, come spring, owing to the flaking paint that was exposing bare wood here and there. This kid could slap a quick coat on it thus protecting it from the rigours of a possible harsh winter to come; even though the BBC were predicting this winter would be the warmest since their records began. Way back in 2012.

Asking the lad to standby, he ran to his shed and located a three year old can of white gloss. The type we all have that has  a half inch of hard paint on its surface owing to the fact the lid hadn’t been correctly replaced after the last use. This skin he removed, depositing various solid bits into the paint. He also located a three inch paint brush of the type we all have; semi-hard owing to the fact it was given only a cursory cleaning after its last use.

He considered taking the three-step step ladder but doubted the lad had a Care and Use of a Three-step Step Ladder Health and Safety Certificate so decided to tell him just to do what he could comfortably reach which, it being a relatively small porch, wouldn’t leave a lot not painted.

Returning to the front our fellow presented the rubbish paint and semi-useless brush to the polite young painter and quickly moved his new car, his pride and joy, a couple of feet to avoid any possible splash-back.

“There you go my friend; just give the porch a quick protective coat o’ white. Can you do that?”
”That I can.” said the lad.

Our guy returned to his study and continued studying the stuff he’d been studying in the study prior to the ‘bing-bong’.

Time passed and eventually there was another ‘bing-bong’ suggesting the task was complete so our chap proceeded to the door and proffered a twenty to the lad.

Accepting the money with a smile of gratitude the lad said, ”Thank you Sir, that’s greatly appreciated.”
”No problem. Happy I could help in a small way. Good luck
to you in all your endeavours!”
With that the lad turned to leave and, just as the porch door was closing, turned back and called out, “Oh, by the way. It’s a Lotus not a Porsche……”

The moral of the story? Always put paint tin lids back on firmly and clean brushes properly. You never know; you may need a smooth finish sometime in the future.

Quote;  Françoise Sagan.

“Money may not buy happiness, but I'd rather cry in a Jaguar than on a bus.”

21 Nov 2014

And Then, That’s Two….

Well, there you go Mr Cummerbund; proof, if proof was needed, that you couldn’t hit a by-election with a kitchen sink! Despite the size of the target and hurling the sink several times, you missed. Time to stop romping around like a kitten with a ball of wool and try to come up with a proper plan you think? Yeah, I know.  Well done You KIP and party hearty - again!!

Dave? Ed? Nick? Heeelloooo, Nick! Where IS that pesky boy? Never mind. Dave, Ed, you familiar with the phrase, ‘Don’t rock the boat’? Well, can you feel that very, very  gentle swaying motion? That’s your comfortable, select gravy boat slowly starting to rock.

Today the radio and TV news and comment programs have been overflowing with representatives of the ‘main’ two political parties stating, from their parallel universe, how well they did and how pleased they were with their respective parties showing and how it was all coming together as planned. Come on, please, you lost; accept it gracefully and let’s hear more about the lessons you’ve learned, how we’re all in it together, you’re listening to us and that you feel our pain. Okay, that last one may be a step too far.

The other morning I was lucky enough to catch Crazy Davey on my radio….. actually, if I had caught Crazy Davey on my radio I’d have popped him in a weighted sack and dropped it off a bridge at black o’ dark o’clock. What really happened is he was talking on the radio I was listening to at the time so he was, sadly, out of my reach.

Anyhoo, did you hear him? He was frantically justifying the hundreds of millions of that money stuff  ‘we’ are planning to give away to places far, far away for them to ‘fight’ that climate thingy. And let’s be perfectly honest, we really are giving it away.

All the stock shock statements were wheeled out by young Mr Davey; it’s getting colder ‘cous it’s getting hotter, wetter and dryer and the tide’s coming in right quick! You know what? Not once did the questioner question any of his stock shock statements. Not even a hint of, “Whoa! You say what now good buddy?”  Yup, it was the BBC.

Who in their right mind would dream of taking a boy with obvious learning difficulties, give him the exalted title of Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Change and leave him to play on his own totally unsupervised by a grownup?  And ‘they’ wonder why us out here are racked off with ‘em all.

Dave, there’s a general election in a few months so, for the sake of sanity, why don’t you stand Crazy against a wall and get some kitchen sink throwing practice in? Damn!! That won’t work will it? You’re right out there with him, right?

Quote;  Jaachynma N.E. Agu.

“Don't blow off another's candle for it won't make yours shine brighter.”

18 Nov 2014

And Then, Let’s Give It Away….

I noted a couple of days ago that young David Cummerbund has pledged another eye-watering amount of our money to yet another fantasy scheme. When I say ‘our money’ what I mean is it used to be ours but it was taken off us so now, I’m guessing, it belongs to Dave to do with as he pleases. Whether wot he does pleases us or not matters not a jot. As this money will be given away one can only assume everything here’s fixed and this money is now surplus to requirements. Pardon? No? Oh.

It gets better. The fantasy scheme in question? Let’s give it to poor countries to ‘assist’ them with coping with the fantasy of  climate change.  In essence, this means helping poor countries to either remain poor or get yet poorer.

Dave, here’s a cunning plan. Let’s keep and use the money here.  This will work in a couple of ways. It’ll cut out the possibility of huge amounts of this further ‘aid’ money from ol’ whitey getting skimmed off by the bad fellows over there. We do, however, have to accept that similar amounts will, undoubtedly, be skimmed off over here but at least it’ll be our very own home grown skimmers skimming, right?  Secondly, if you ensure Crazy Davey uses  what’s left of these many millions on the most outrageously goofy green initiatives imaginable, eventually we’ll be as poor as the poorest countries out there and thus we’ll all be on a level, all be it uncomfortable, playing field.  Job done!!

To butcher yet another John Sandford quote, “If Mr Cummerbund had been a lightbulb instead of Prime Minister, he would’ve been about a twenty-watt.”

Quote;  Imran Khan.

“A country that relies on aid? Death is better than that. It stops you from achieving your potential, just as colonialism did.”

15 Nov 2014

And Then An Excuse….

…..for being a no-show here over the past few days.

The excuse is I don’t have one other than, during the course of my frantic daily affairs, absolutely nothing’s happened here worthy of talking about never mind typing about. All a  bit boring really.

We’ve been nowhere and done nothing, other than that wot I needed to get done outside. Even all meals have been prepared and consumed at home and may I add that during the various processes involved relating to the preparation of these gastronomic extravaganzas, no colanders where damaged. In fact I’ll go yet further; no colanders where used.

I did, however, receive a nice little number for which many thanks to Big D down-under. By the way D, I believe you have our dear leader right now. Feel free to keep him, okay?

Paddy shouts frantically into the phone to the Doctor.
"My wife’s pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart!"
"Is this her first child?" asks the Doctor.
"No" shouts Paddy, "this is her husband!"

An old Irish farmer's dog goes missing and he's inconsolable.
His wife says, "Why don't you  put an advert in the paper?"
He does, but two weeks later the dog’s still missing.
"What did you put in the  paper?" his wife asks.
"Here boy".

It’s Saturday and the weather’s miserable here so let’ step a little bit back in time the ways. It matters not one jot wot your political persuasions are as the lyrics seem to work even better now than they did back in the day  and it no longer seems to matter who’s clammy hands are holding the levers of  ‘power’. Once upon a time was a long time ago indeed.

Quote;  Jon Kabat-Zinn.

“When you pay attention to boredom it gets unbelievably interesting.”

12 Nov 2014

And Then A Joke….

I picked this up over in the comments at Frank Davis’s site the other day and it brought  a smile to my face and perked up an otherwise pretty dire day. Brought a smile to my face?Is that stupid or wot? I obviously don’t know about you but whenever I smile it’s always, and I mean ALWAYS, via my face.

Mr Conway – thank you. “…the old joke.”  You say. It’s new to me Sir.

Stewart Cowan says:  What happened to laid-back Ireland? Like the old joke:

A Spanish singer chatting on television used the word ‘mañana’. When asked what that meant, he said it means “maybe the job will be done to-morrow, maybe the next day, maybe the day after that, next week, next month or next year. Who cares?” An Irishman in the conversation, Shay Brennan, was then asked if there’s an Irish equivalent. “No. In Ireland we don’t have a word to describe that level of urgency.”

Here’s a little midweek ‘pick-me-up’. Don’t be shy; sing along!

In other news, I see they’ve delivered and landed a box on a rock three hundred million miles away. They can do that but I still get boxes delivered here that should’ve gone to addresses only a couple of streets away.

Quote;  W. B. Yeats.

“Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.”