23 Sep 2017

And Then, She Spoke...

No, I haven’t listened to or read {red} the ladies speech but, as is my want, I just read {read} various Web site headlines then skip to the comments for the real people deal. Seems it hasn’t gone down too well and you invariably run into a commenter ripping the speech apart only to have another commenter commenting on that comment with a counter comment only to have yet another commenter tearing the commenter commenting on the first comment a new one and so on and so forth ‘till all the commenters finally admit that none of them have a scooby what Old Mother May meant. In? Out? Shake it all about? Fascinating stuff and would be so funny if it wasn’t so sad.

It’s always been obvious to me that those who would rule over us live in some parallel universe but it wasn’t always as obvious as to how similar our languages are and yet so very different. It would seem, Ma May, that you need to get someone to translate that speech, with all its tricky nuances, into simplified Plebonese so’s us down here can all get a little bit of a grip on what you actually said and what’s really going on, okay?

However, it certainly looks like yet another tin can is whistling down the road. I’ll post my idea on tin can kicking tomorrow after I study my theory in a little more detail. Assuming I can get adequate funding of course. But that’s only common sense.

Remember a couple of days after the vote to leave when Mr Mirage ‘quit’ saying his job was done? I thought at the time, too soon for quitting old boy. And look where we are now. It could be time for Mr Mirage to pull out o’ the garage, rev up, get a tight grip, make his old party hearty and scream back into the fray all guns blazing.

Quote;  Baltasar Gracian.

“Dreams will get you nowhere, a good kick in the pants will take you a long way.”

1 comment:

Caratacus said...

Indeed, Mac - so much was spoken and so very little said.

Watching and listening to Maggie May I have been reminded of a lady some years ago who was driving us both to somewhere in Teignmouth from Paignton in her Vauxhall Ventora. Magnificent motor, 3.3 litre straight six, bags of power, and she nursed it in third gear all the by-our-lady way. God it was painful; she drove with her nose very nearly touching the windscreen, flinching every time a car came the other way and I swear she may have broken wind once or twice during the journey ... there's only so much one may reasonably blame upon the drains after all. I longed to ask to be allowed to complete the journey, you know, to share the driving as it were, but one doesn't like to intrude upon private sorrow and so forth.

Well old Boris not only took the wheel, he slammed the old bird into first, revved the bolleaux off it and didn't drop it into top until he was sailing along at something near top whack. He then handed the car back to Mrs. May (having shown how it could be done) and this is the best she could do?? That's not back-seat driving, Mother May, it's called leading by example; just because you happen to be PM does not automatically give you any magical insight to the ways of the world. You are as splendid an example of the Peter Principle as one may wish to see.

Better shut up now. Totters off to the decanter in search of spiritual renewal :-)