Category: Chips on Shoulders

A view from Down-Under

OK, in common with several other Charioteers, I no longer have a vote in the UK – my citizenship counts for naught, except taxes.

And agreed, I am a long way away from the action – but I have read extensively on the subject and Boadicea remains close to the debate, as one would expect from a Doctor of Economic History from the LSE.

I have been impressed by the standard of debate on the Chariot, which has been streets ahead of the scare tactics and downright lies promulgated by many senior UK functionaries who really should know better.

But –

There is a limit to the applicability and validity of too much analysis – one can easily lose sight of the big picture by searching too assiduously for the devils in the detail.

So here is the summary of my conclusions –

Everyone should vote to leave the EU, because a vote to remain betrays the individual as either corrupt (cherchez l’argent) or terminally stupid.

I’ll get my hat.

Good in parts

Our beloved country is a curate’s egg. (Consult google if in doubt.)

We have a parliamentary democracy (good?) that regularly disappoints (bad?). Be honest, when did we have a competent PM unsullied by dishonest proclamations?

More importantly, we have sports teams that make inconsistent look unbeatable! Today Wales are the best, England are their usual inscrutable (and Scotland?). Come on, N Ireland!

Milk and sugar, Vicar?

 

How many times?

The Oscar Pistorius show is back for a re-run. It made fascinating telly the first time, combining the salty ingredients of celebrity, disabled sport, gun mania and the South African judiciary. But its story-line was flawed, allowing the anti-hero to escape with a soft sentence.

Common-sense prevailed though when it came round again. People who fire guns into small rooms, suspecting they are occupied, know they can kill –dolus eventualis. And Oscar did just that.

Now it’s round three, a determined recycling of the evidence for the benefit of a court that obviously can’t read transcripts too well. Does every murderer in SA get such considerate, elaborate treatment? I hope so but I doubt it.

Luncheon is on One today (maybe)

mall-1-992x558

One has a lorra mates, in 600 charities. If only one could remember them all. So today One is inviting* a select 10,000 of their luminaries to a bijou little street party in the Mall (oh dear, is it pronounced Morl or Mell?).

*Is it a free lunch this time? If not, what is the price of a plate? And will the charities pay for their high-ups to attend? Better get out with them collection boxes quick. Just askin’.

Theory ain’t everything

Prof Hawking has views – and not just into space. But his feet are not on the ground, it seems. He ‘doesn’t understand’ the Donald – despite describing him as a demagogue who appeals to the lowest common denominator’. What else is there to understand about Trump? That is exactly his appeal, talking to people with a grudge.

And like a couple of thousand Cambridge dons, he is a Bremainer, talking about scientific cooperation and the movement of people, as if enlightenened self-interest won’t continue to ensure that scientists cooperate, whatever the politics; and haven’t we had enough movement of people already – for the time being anyway?

‘But what do I know?’ says Backside. ‘It’s probably rocket science.’

 

Enough rope

Wanting it and wanting it now was the ‘eighties mantra –  and things obviously haven’t changed at all, especially in the two fields that matter most to many people: politics and football. So let me mention a few prize-winners in the race to hang themselves this year.

First in politics, Dave and Donald.  The Pied Piper should be their emblem. Follow them to oblivion, folks.

Then, inevitably football. Follow the money, guys. And now they’ve got everything they asked for, they must show us what they are worth. I mean the two Mancunian clubs and their new heroes, Pep and Jose.

This is probably going to be the year of pyrrhic victories, methinks.

Incoming

The big challenge with refugees is establishing their credentials as bona fide asylum seekers. Are they genuine ‘friends’ or do they harbour sinister motives?

Unfortunately the guardians of the Big House failed to police the estate, allowing marauders to plunder the residents, some assuming multiple identities to escape capture.

So, cherished charioteers, let us be vigilant and preserve the pax Britannica.

Rich pickings

This is about Airmiles Andy, who at best has generous friends who bankroll his and his daughters’ jetset lifestyles. At worst, he is living on the proceeds of shady deals with very colourful outlaws. Allegedly of course.

His mother, his siblings and his nephews work hard to maintain the unrivalled reputation of the British monarchy, while he and the Duchess seem determined to ruin it by hawking their wares around the back streets of international society.

So, all you monarchists! Time to put up or shut up! Who is going to clean up this mess? The Palace? The gubmint? Your move.

Queer stuff

Call me queer but I’m sure society has lost its marbles.

The Nat Union of Students, always slightly bent, is demanding college accommodation should segregate LBTGwo’evah from er….others, presumably referring to what I call normal folk. (Go on, sue me.)

Why not segregate by colour, religion, football affiliation, hair colour, height, weight, dietary choice – oh and of course country of origin? Not to mention any other passing fad.

And bugger the education.