15 Oct 2019

And Then A Hattrick...

Firstly, to state the obviously, I’m still here cluttering the place up; it’s just after the attack on my heart, putting together a regular Blog post has, surprisingly, slipped from one of my top three things to try and do daily. As indeed have the other two...

Anyhoo, I’ve typed before regarding the use of ‘well’ and ‘so’ and occasionally ‘but’ and how almost every answer offered up to any question just has to start with one of said words. But, like, joy of joys, the other day when some lady on TV, introduced, as so many of these talking heads are, as something along the lines of the Director of Fiscal Oversight for the Institute of something or other - and as a by-the-by, one has to wonder how many of these weirdly titled ‘Institutions’ there are out there, how many folk they employ and on wot salary levels, where their offices are with a door us lower order folk could knock on and, importantly, wot do they actually do? Who knows? Tell you one thing that’s probably a given; I bet us lower order folk pay for it all.

Anyhoo, I digress. She was asked a question and – BINGO – started her answer thus. “Well, so, er but...” then continued with a brief ramble round the English language. You beauty!

Before I sign-off, I’m guessing you all saw the photos over at Not A Lot Of People Know That that dramatically illustrate the catastrophic rise in sea levels over the past one hundred or so years? That’s really scary stuff right there!

Quote;  Bern Williams.

“I like the word ‘indolence.’ It makes my laziness seem classy.”

8 Oct 2019

And Then, The Glue That Binds...

Well, so, I see history repeating has been good to me again thus enabling me to copy and paste a post from, would you believe, 2013.  May I thank those enviro-mental folk who’ve glued themselves to some government departments doors for presenting me with an easy Blog day. By-the-by, good to see the police are in full ‘stop and watch’ mode.

Once again, imagine if this was a ‘far-right’ protest about the over-populating of these small islands via mass immigration and all the environmental and infrastructure overloading problems this is rapidly creating... Anyhoo, here we go; I’ll just press Paste. Damn!! Nothing! Wot went wrong then? Ah, right, copy first. That worked better so my work here is now done. Bu-By.

“’Scuse me Boss, a couple of protesters of some sort are stuck on the front glass door.” Says the secretary sombrely.
“By their tongues I’m presuming? Damn those window lickers.” Said the Boss, light-heartedly.
“No, sorry to disappoint. Stuck-up by their arms. With super glue. Shall I call the police?”
“Lordy-lord, no. They’ll just clutter up the sidewalk reviewing their paperwork. Anyhoo, if we call them they’ll tow those BBC TV types along and we’ll end up with a frack-fest out front.”
“Ain’t that the truth. So what shall we do then?” asked the secretary.
“Just leave ‘em stuck there. Can’t do any damage can they? Them being glued in place an’ all. Just give ‘em a glass of water occasionally. But please tell Security to starve ‘em of oxygen, okay?” Instructed the Boss.
”Whoa!! That seems a tad harsh Boss; and it could well be illegal.” The secretary said, worriedly chewing the non-pointy  end of her H2 pencil.
“When did giving water to people become illegal? I didn’t mention the word ‘board’ at all.”
“No, the oxygen bit was my worry. The BBC would love that! A couple of dead greenfly hangin’ on our doors come AM of the o’clock tomorrow morning!” Suggested the secretary, somewhat scarily.
“I see what you mean. Let me explain a little better. Ask Security to put up some screens and starve them of the oxygen of publicity.”
“Ah, ha!! Right then. Cool. Oh, and tonight when we all go home?”
“Take some petty cash and ask someone from reception to pop down to a pet shop to buy a couple of they hamster drip lookin’ water bottles and glue ‘em on the glass just above their heads. Better get catering to leave ‘em a bowl o’ berries and beans as well. And drag a rubber mat under ‘em.”
“I can do that, that I can.”
“Good. Hay, get maintenance to call me please.”

Time passes then the Bosses phone rings as only a Bosses phone can ring.
”Yup? Boss here.”
”Yo Boss. Maintenance here. You be needing something?”
“That I do. You know the front doors? Stupid question. Of course you do. Today, please order a new set for delivery cock crow tomorrow; it’s only glass, right? Then tomorrow I’d like your boys to remove the old doors, complete with affixed greenfly, install the new doors then load the old doors, complete with environmental attachments, in your truck and go find an isolated area of countryside, preferably in the shadow of some windmills, and off-load the doors and the environmental attachments so the attachments can spend some quality time with dead birds and without a phone signal.”

Quote;  ??

"People are more violently opposed to fur than leather because it's safer to harass rich old women than motorcycle gangs."

2 Oct 2019

And Then, One More...

Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to catch the early BBC TV news and was delighted to see another child of  the corn has got his cherubic head above the parapet and into the lime-light. I can only guess how many parents are out there who, since the Greta, blessed be her name, phenomenon, now see their kid as a gateway to further their own political aims and, at the same time, realise there maybe money in them thar kids...

Then, early AM today, the TV news was full of righteous outrage at some Conservative MP having once done that dreaded blackface thingy and, horror of horrors, was unrepentant. Well done that man I say.

I continued hopping channels, as you do, and arrived at the BBC and they were covering Mega Sparkles and Prince Hurray taking legal action regarding some newspaper publishing some letter or other. So far, so what? They then cut to a video of Hurray solo in Africa smiling happily while a bunch of sleepy lagoons joyously danced and cavorted in front of him. However, wot caught my attention was the fleeting scene of one of the sleepy lagoons, resplendent in some sort of red uniform, who was, horror of horrors, made-up in whiteface. Or was it a mask? No matter, it was white. How very dare he! The righteous outrage at such a scene? 3-2-1... No, not a hint at time of typing. Guess wot? That clip was spookily missing from subsequent coverage of the same topic and Inter-Web searching – for me – has proved futile. Oh! Look! Over there! Is that a squirrel?

Quote;  Sid Vicious.

“This whole thing has become a pantomime.”