Not being much of a political animal I steer clear of the circus that is British politics. However, a comment by the current PM, Boris Johnson, comparing Jeremy Corbyn with Stalin made me pause for thought.
Labour propose to introduce a 4 day working week in the next ten years. All good and well but are they imitatating one of the Soviet Dictator’s doctrines.
In 1929 Stalin had a calendar moment and eradicated Saturdays and Sundays from a normal week. And then there were five, as it were. Workers worked four days a week on different rotas and got one day off. That’s one way to boost productivity.
Labour aren’t saying but does this mean, in the near future we must proclaim…
Saturdays no more.
Sundays no more.
…An advert comes on. And after a few listens, because I’m staring at the model and as models go She’s a Rainbow and a half, I recognise the voice in the background. Get Back! It’s the Rolling Stones, and a song I’ve never heard before. How can this be? I’m the resident rock/music expert around here.
The advert in question is promoting Joy the perfume and the song accompanying it, I later discover, is She’s a Rainbow by the Roling Stones. Geoffrey, Bungle, George and Zippy! How has this delightful tune passed me by?
Then it dawns on me. That’s not my generation. I’m not from those hippy times; I know the hip bands of the present, for what its worth. Sorry for all the hip references for all the Charioteer hip replacement platoon out there (hippy hippy shake smiley thingy)
Here’s the song. For those Honky Tonkers out there, turn those hearing aids up to 11. Play it Loud.
Enjoying the first Aus v Ind test. Low scoring, 50/50 winner bet wise at the moment. A bit of rain (time out to read The Telegraph/Beano) and a multitude of Richie’s (Richies? You decide) grey hairing the Adelaide venue with mic accoutrement/s.
Cricket, we love it. Day 1, Marcus Harris’ parents crying in the stands. Only in cricket. For MCC read 10CC, we love it.
Status Quo 1979 vintage. Boredom, isolation, exiled for tax reasons. Not themes that are grounds for prohibition. Yet this bland little number by The Quo has murky undertones and wasn’t banned by the Beeb. Well played, Quo.
Nobody ever has a bad word to say about Nostradamus. Indeed, volumes and volumes of books have been written about this arch-predictor of future events. That should be enough for my argument that astrologers are relevant and prophets of the first division (now called The Premier League but old habits and that) but I will write further of their great service to humanity.
It is a fascinating science the study of astrology and in the morning I fervently read all the newspaper horoscopers that divine the day I am going to have. Using their foreknowledge I know whether to get up out of bed or not. Pre-warned means I can change the road of my life without any Frostian gambles and avoid the pitfalls, so you seer they do serve a purpose.
The celestial language employed by these mighty sages make you want to tail it like a comet to your nearest telescope and gaze at the stars. “The five moons of Pluto are converging , this means pentagonal good luck for you.” Thanks a bunch of fives, Mystic Meghan. Who knew the Kuiper-belted dwarf planet Pluto had five moons? And that their names have Underworld connotations. It’s just so interesting. Our big bad planet has only one moon and it’s boringly called- the moon.
There’s a thing called a cusp which gives you the characteristics of two signs of the Zodiac. Quasar! You can be a crabby twin or a lion and a virgin at the same time. The cusp word is one of my favourites as is the phrase “on the cusp”. Without any modesty I attest that “on the cusp of greatness” is applicable to me. Nearly there.
Horoscope is a fine word but I would prefer the more scarier Horrorscope to be used when there’s writing on the wall. Ominous words daily for all twelve signs would make the population take notice that this world is rough and we ain’t all called Sue. Continue reading “Underrated: Horoscopes”