And Then, I see A Small Grey KA….

I see some psychic’s been in a bit of a stramash of a car crash. What can you say? Most surprised he didn’t see that one coming…..

I also note, without falling over backwards in amazement, that a very old man who passed away late last week is still most definitely and properly passed away despite repeated attempts, by the BBC and other media outlets, at reportage resuscitation.

MPs may get an 11% pay hike and the airwaves have been full to bursting with the poor dears whining and crying about how unfair this is as ‘hardworking families’ are having to make-do and they have no choice but to take the money as a big committee did it and ran away.

Is there a pop-up, ‘We Feel Your Pain’, Web page out there that we can go to so we can express our grief?

How about this then. Just hire one multilinguist, okay his nationality isn’t that important as long as he can speak a bunch of languages as is now needed in the UK, pay him a goodly wedge, call him a Prime Minister and make him responsible for ensuring the latest EU/Brussels dictates are transmitted to the entire populace in a timely manner to ensure rapid implementation. That’d work. And be cheaper. And all we really need.

Quote;  H. L. Mencken.

“There are two kinds of Europeans: The smart ones, and those who stayed behind.”

And Then A Little More Reportage….

Top of the news, occupying every available moment today and I suspect the next several weeks, is that a ninety-five year old man has died. The one saving grace is, to date, the words ‘unexpectedly’ and/or ‘suddenly’ haven’t been used. Media folk, thanks for letting us know. We know now, he was ninety-five, that’s a good innings, he lived in a land far, far, far away and was quite possibly a jolly nice chap but he’s gone, let him go and let’s move on please. {The BBC news is on right now and, no, they’re most definitely not ‘moving on’.}

And the storms? Two pieces of ace reporting caught my attention today. The first was sent to my fireside via TV. “Let’s look at some of the damage that’s been carried out.” Let’s hope the wind had planning permission eh?

My heat-felt thanks to local radio for the following from a reporter reporting from an East coast town. “I’m in a shop down here on the harbour that was flooded last night. This shop’s called the Deep Blue Fried Fishery and I’m with the owner. So, what do you sell in your shop then?”  You didn’t spot the clue in the shops name then.

One wonders how they’re reporting these horrendous winds and super high-tides in the Philippines.

Yesterday, despite BBC warnings to stay home as it was windy, we went for a drive along a few highways and byways. You know what? On our rout, not a windmill was turning. Two things crossed my mind, one, I’m guessing, impractical. Why don’t they capture the wind and release it at a more manageable rate later? They could keep it in the same locker they’ve got all that Co2, all those moonbeams and rainbow light and that unicorn horn dust. Okay, that’s that one out of the way.

Secondly, I thought the blades would be designed to automatically feather, is that the right word? change blade angle dependant on wind speed so as to keep generating even in extremely windy conditions . As like wot they do with yacht sails. No? Or a slipping break system to achieve the same result? No? Obviously not.

Being stopped, least they were quiet. Seems the noise is finally getting traction. Compensation claims would seem to be the next logical step. Bummer.

Anyhoo, as the storms pass by, check out Mr Gregory and his take on storms. You gotta love it.

Below is a repeat of this quote, or at least a variant thereof;

Quote;  Hunter S. Thompson.

"The news business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side."

And Then Ace Reporting….

As I passed by earlier I forgot to mention the wondrous bit of reportage picked up on TV this lunch time.

The guy was breathlessly reporting on that headline grabbing trial going on just now featuring that celeb Nigella Lawson.  Do you think that the very fact this trivia is headline grabbing could be  suggestive that something really, really scary may presently be ‘going down’ just off stage?

Anyhoo, our reporter stated that Nigella Lawson had said that she hadn’t used drugs this lunchtime.

Now, although you can never be sure of stuff where celebs are concerned, I’m hazarding a guess that the words  ‘this lunchtime’ should’ve been spoken between the ‘said’ and ‘that’ of the reporters report, right?  Isn’t that sad. And funny…..

Quote;  Sebastian Horsley.

“We can't all be stars because someone has to sit on the curb and clap as I go by.”

And Then Another Little Beauty….

It’s well worth a visit, as ever, to the good Bishop for his take on young Eddy Davey’s showing in front of the Energy and Climate Change Committee.

To date I’ve just satisfied myself with the Bishops words but later  I’ll probably download that Silverlight needed lookin’ add-on jobby to enjoy{?} the video.

For me, the icing on the posting comes later as down the way in the comments is, not all that surprisingly, a comment; a comment that’s so wonderfully short and to the point that it just seemed to be sitting there saying, ‘steal me’. This comment’s been submitted by someone with the catchy commenters screen name of Rightwinggit and is an absolute gem which, without further ado, having already been there, undercover of darkness, to do the cutting bitty, I’m going to paste right here. I must, of course, do that humble apologising stuff I’m wont to do when I lift something from someone who’s not me wot I wish I’d thought of. Thank you very big Rightwinggit.

“Ed Davey would be out of his depth on a wet pavement.”

That beauty is closely followed by another little cracker from Sherlock1. Sir, please accept my apologies as per the above;

“Does anyone else feel slight unease that Ed Davey looks like Wayne Rooney's older cousin that they kept in the attic, but he got out somehow..?”

Quote;  Arthur Harris.

“They sowed the wind and now they are going to reap the whirlwind.”

And Then The Bit I Missed….

Last night, and in the recent past, talk turned to that train of state that seems to be repeatedly rolling down the tracks and right over the top of us.

You good folk out there, being a whole hell of a lot smarter than me, will have spotted that I didn’t end the relevant posts with the obvious statement. To put things to rights this is my last thought on the subject of thin wedges, slippery slopes and lights in tunnels attached to locomotives.

However many trains of totality they send down the tracks it’s obvious the vast majority of us, even though we see it coming every time, are just too dumb to get off the tracks. We need to start stepping to the side and letting the loco go by. Better still, collectively, we need to build a bloody big buffer just inside our end of the tunnel to derail the sucker. And the wedges they slipped into town on……

Quote;  Edward L. Bernays.

“The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country. …..we are governed, our minds are moulded, our tastes formed, our ideas suggested, largely by men we have never heard of. This is a logical result of the way in which our democratic society is organized. Vast numbers of human beings must cooperate in this manner if they are to live together as a smoothly functioning society. .….in almost every act of our daily lives, whether in the sphere of politics or business, in our social conduct or our ethical thinking, we are dominated by the relatively small number of persons... who understand the mental processes and social patterns of the masses. It is they who pull the wires which control the public mind.”

And Then It Comes A Creeping….

Music first, it being Sun.. Saturday an’ all; let this rip through your swede while you venture through the words below then come back, play it again and sing along why don’t ya?

Remember Dave declaring a victory when those internet service provider lookin’ fellows agreed to introduce family friendly filters that would block web sites wot contained inappropriate stuff? Remember most folk thought, ‘that’s a good idea, but…’ but Dave said something to the effect that that was all he wanted – nothing else - and those who where declaring that this was just the non-thick edge of a wedge with a limitlessly thick edge elsewhere where being paranoid?  And who be us to doubt such a nice, sincere young chap. Guess wot; read this.

For those of you who honestly never saw that coming, you see those lights in the distance? They’re not pretty little twinkly lights being readied for Christmas. They’re glued to the front of a really, really big wedge of a locomotive revving up ready to continue ripping remorselessly down the tunnel of totality.

Plain packaging for smokes? No. Yes. No. Possibly. Well, let’s have a study then. Cool. If this do come to pass one of the unintended consequences we can all see, but they can’t, will result in those of us wishing to visit the continent having to fly as all the ferries will be constantly fully booked, wall-to-wall, with white vans and their drivers.

The good news? We’re getting a one-off £12 electrickery rebate. I’m guessing this’ll be one of those, ‘….for hard working families as I feel your pain’ moments. So now we know what we’re worth – a one-off £12 rebate. A crumb thrown to all of us who sit below the salt. You reckon that’s a vote winner Dave? I reckon you need to get out more as I doubt you’d recognise a ‘hard working family’ if you found one in your soup.

However, on the other side of the world and possibly going to get closer…

Quote;  George Orwell.

“If you can feel that staying human is worth while, even when it can't have any result whatever, you've beaten them.”

And Then A Quick Visit….

Yup, I’m still here. By that I mean here – where I am. I haven’t been here for a few days as my head’s been devoid of stuff to type. Okay, more devoid than usual then.

Thinking about the above, I’ve never ever actually been here at all. I usually just type some words where I am and then send them here; I don’t need to bring them so, there ya’ go – never been here. Or should that be ‘…been there’ as I’m most definitely here where I am and not some other place as well.  Whoa!! Time for one of they blue lookin’ pill thingies I’m guessing.

Anyhoo, as it’s been a while I though I’d better pop into the laptop to clean the screen and generally tidy up. And guess wot?  With a tidy laptop and fingers poised over the keyboard it was still only me and my head-bound bluebird and, although he was singing his little heart out, it didn’t help and that ol’ Bloggers block still has a hold.

However, for a damp, grey Thursday evening may I leave you with this classic routine? Thanks. Enjoy. Bu-by.

Quote;  Elizabeth J. Kolodziej

“The music lets me see the story but the story doesn't let me write the words.”

            Terry Pratchett.

“There's no such thing as writer's block. That was invented by people in California who couldn't write.”

And Then, You Can Bank On It….

As best I can make out, the guy who was top dog at one of our major banks was, allegedly, and in no specific order, a church chap, a financial illiterate, a drug user and a loin ender.  You have to wonder about the interview system employed by that banking group and it’s obvious it didn’t run along the lines of, “Please tell us what experience you have of running a major financial institution.”
”Err, actually, none.”
”Thanks. We’ll let you know.”
End of.

And now our glorious politicians are falling over each other to blame anyone but themselves – partily or collectively. They’re obviously playing for time and a ‘report’ that will lay all the blame for this debacle firmly in the dish of Mr Flowers cat. Bad cat! Nothing else to see here; move along.

The latest politico wheeled out today to talk without saying anything was that nice boy, Grant Shapps, who, it seems is never off the TV and/or the radio and appears to have more air time that Biggles. Another thing. have you noticed you never see Sherpa Shapps below the waist? Could this be because the school he’s obviously still attending, has a dress code that precludes the wearing of long trousers below a certain age?

All us folk down here can do is watch and wonder at this latest debacle and wait for the next which, as sure as eggs is eggs, is just round the corner. Possibly not that corner, but no further along the road than that corner just down there.

For all those involved in this disaster and presently scrambling around to become uninvolved, you may enjoy this.

And here’s that Sherpa fellow warming up the committee that’s been formed to oversee the selection of a committee that will seek to find a myriad of ways to bury any inconvenient findings found out about a bank.

Quote;  Dan Quayle.

“Bank failures are caused by depositors who don't deposit enough money to cover losses due to mismanagement.”

And Then, Let’s Get Rid….

Seems there’s another bit of confusion about what’s been said by that rascal Dave. I believe someone has said he’d heard from a friend that a person in a pub understands that an occasional drinking buddy knows someone who meets up with a close relation of an ‘insider’ who mentioned Dave said something, with a husky voice, that sounded like it could possibly be, “….get rid of all this green crap.”  Dave, if you did say that, and you weren’t just referring to the apple peel scattered all over your desk, I’m with you young lad. However, if, as is your wont and our belief, you said it but don’t really mean it, be it apple peel or proper green pain, well, situation normal and you still can’t call me a pal.

By the way, that seems like a jolly naughty word for a nice, well groomed young boy like you to use don’t ya think Dave? What sort of rubbish education did you get then?  Sent to bed early with no supper last night? BAD boy!!

Anyhoo, as the above bit hit the newspapers, a speaking-for-people-who-daren't-speak-in-case-they-get-it-wrong-person has supposedly said that they don’t recognise those words. Which words don’t they recognise speaking-person? Was it ‘cut’ or ‘green’ or ‘crap’? Now, as it seems to have confused no end of people from different camps, wouldn’t you think that Dave, him being the supreme leader an’ all, would’ve instantly called a press conference, complete with a minimum of 162 interpreters to ensure a good proportion of the population of these fine isles have an equal stab at understanding him, and set the record to rights?

Okay, I know, all it’d really prove is that Dave’s lips, just like ours, do indeed move when he talks but the actual words, although they’d be in the right order, would, once again, mean nothing.

This, being yet another amusing aside by our highly educated leaders, reminded me of an incident from the mists of time. I know, I know, ‘Oh Lord, please, not another tale from the river bank.’ Sadly, that it be, but stick with me as it follows on neatly from the above, okay? Okay? Oh, you’ve already gone…..

For me then; first off, I don’t follow football so names are not known**. Back in the mid nineties some UK club had a French guy playing for them who was, I believe, a pretty good player but also a bit of a thug on the field and thus, because of his roughness, not all that well liked by opposing clubs and the fans thereof.

On a particular Saturday, during a game, an opposing teams fan chose to hurl abuse at this player. Unfortunately for the fan, he hurled his abuse while thug-in-boots was in hearing range. This resulted in the thug-in-boots loosing it, bounding over to the fan whereupon a pretty one sided mêlée ensued.

Next day I was waiting for a flight down Heathrow the way and, spookily, found myself in a bar sitting close to some other guys, one of whom burst out in merriment while reading his Sunday papers sports pages relating to the Saturday incident. He was good enough to share the salient points with his buddies and thus also with a closely parked me. The article concluded, as best I remember, with, “At the end of the day it’s just another case of the s**t hitting the fan.”

**At the end of the day, via the magic of Google; nice one Eric!!

Quote;  Brian Clough.

“Players lose you games, not tactics. There's so much crap talked about tactics by people who barely know how to win at dominoes.”

And Then We Connect….

After spending all yesterday without a mobile phone, or a cell phone, or a smart phone, early this morning I checked the new smart phone and found that, as if by magic or modern technology, it’d smartened up and got itself connected. Thus, unlike yesterday, when I had no way of knowing if anyone was attempting to contact me, today I can confirm nobody was or is trying to contact me. I’ll turn it off now and put in the kitchen draw then.

To conclude yet another phone saga, let’s let James Gregory have the last word….. 

Quote;  Lily Tomlin.

“We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.”

And Then I Was Told To Get One….

A new phone that is. And who told me to get one? My easily embarrassed little nest of vipers is who. Seems she gets shy when we’re out an’ about or in polite company and I suddenly whip it out. This I can relate to, but my phone makes her shy? Could it be that it’s the size of a house brick with a two foot antenna requiring a charger the size of several house bricks? And It’s an essential bit o’ kit, right? Right. I use it, what, twenty times a year? And ten of those are calls to check the balance so’s they don’t confiscate the money thinking the phone’s inactive.

So off to the shop we went and I was wondering if this adventure would be on a par with the last expedition.

“Yes Sir, how can I be of assistance?” and, after spotting what I was clutching in my hands, exclaimed, “Whoa!! That’s a big one!”
”Why thank you.” I replied modestly. This elicited a hefty kick on the shin and a dagger-like look from her outdoors.
“Just look at the size of that ol’ phone! Looks like a brick!”
”What? Oh, yes, the phone. I’m looking for a new one and, after a brief perusal  of your wares, I’m guessing this is the right place.”

While I was in conversation with the sales guy, I say ‘conversation’, he was talking and I’d drifted off to watch that little bluebird in my head, she’d been an’ gone an’ chosen me a phone which, good on her, seemed to be the smallest and cheapest smart phone in the shop.

“Okay,” said the reduced commission sales guy, “what I’ll do now is shift stuff of this brick to this little piece of sh… this new phone. Would you like to keep your number?”
This brought back memories of a previous number keeping attempt and so I enquired, “You can do that for me?”
”Can.”
”Can?”
”Can.”
”Can?” Her outdoors joined in.
”Can.”
On completion of this three-way can-can, during which we collected a small amount of money for a local donkey shelter, my man did what he had to do.
“In a few hours this brick will go dead and the new phone will go active. Could be this evening, could be twenty four hours.”
”Cool. Thanks. Bu-by.”

That was Saturday morning. It’s now approximately now and after another two trips to the shop I’m  the proud owner of a switched off brick and a brand new mini smart phone that’s as dead as my old brick. Pardon? No, brick.
”We’re having problems; it should be okay in another twenty four hours. Sorry about that. Any further problems, please try to call into the shop when I’m out at lunch. Bu-by.”

What I want to know is who’s smart idea was it to put the word ‘smart’ in front of  ‘phone’ then?

Quote;  David Mitchell.

“Right, my phone. When these things first appeared, they were so cool. Only when it was too late did people realize they are as cool as electronic tags on remand prisoners.”

             Susan Orlean.

“I have no idea how to get in touch with anyone anymore. Everyone, it seems, has a home phone, a cell phone, a regular e-mail account, a Facebook account, a Twitter account, and a Web site. Some of them also have a Google Voice number. There are the sentimental few who still have fax machines.”

And Then, What If….

The more you drink in the news the more you wonder what that chap, Mr George Orwell, would make of it all.

Pretend he wasn’t around back then but was new on the block right now. He looks about himself, as we do, but he, unlike us, decides to write a dystopian novel of the future as he perceives it could be.

He cloisters himself in his study and, after choosing the title ‘2054’, carefully crafts the first two chapters. Having completed these chapters he carefully checks for errors, applies corrections as needed and, well pleased with initial progress, puts them to bed and takes a break.

With drink in hand and feet up by the fire he twiddles with the TV remote and takes in the evening news. Part-way through the news Mr Orwell mutters, “Damn!”, leaves the comfort of the fireside for the cool regions of his recently vacated study, takes the first two chapters, prepares back to the fireside, tears the pages up and throws them on the fire. “Oh boy! What’s the point?” He opines, “It’s impossible to keep up with these bloody people - never mind get ahead of ‘em. What to do. Guess I’ll have to get down to Tesco’s tomorrow and see if that camera operators job’s still open.”

In other recent news, I see the political parties have deleted their respective histories prior to 2010. That’ll work. However, they can’t hide the Chilcot Enquiry into that war thingy can they?  What? They can?  Bet none of you saw that one coming then.

And if you really didn’t see it thundering down the line, reflect on this; how spooky is it that Mr Orwell is the pen name for - you know don’t you? Yup, Mr Blair.

Quote;  Golda Meir.

“One cannot and must not try to erase the past merely because it does not fit the present.”

             John Perry Barlow.

“The Internet treats censorship as a malfunction and routes around it.”