Category: Chips on Shoulders

Toldjyer so!

Cherished archive-trawlers will discover that when the Savile scandal broke last year I said his crimes were common knowledge oop narth!

It now transpires that in 1964 he was accused and allowed by police to ‘walk’ because of his celebrity.

Not long after, the stories were whispered widely around Leeds and I heard them first from a friend who worked at the big hotel where all the ‘stars’ used to stay.

As time went by, his appearance anywhere was heralded by the same whispers and for me the greatest scandal is that nothing was ever done about them to in his lifetime.

 

The church – as she is known

The Beeb continues to amuse us with the outpourings of a holy ‘professor of ethics’: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-21658218

Pinch yourself, to ensure you are not dreaming this drivel – which culminates with a cracker: “accountable to a board of directors: God Himself…the Blessed Trinity”. As with most analogies, the Rev’s attempt to explain the RC biz as a huge corporation runs out of rational, if not supernatural road.

Continue reading “The church – as she is known”

Queued Up.

I’m back from another place and have queued a lot in the process of going and coming.  Departure tax payment, airport check in, bag drop, passport examination, security check, flight boarding to name just those involving departure and with two changes (one involving a US border entry) and a final wait for my checked bags.  I lost the will to count them all.

They have taken all the fun out of queueing.  In the old days one would arrive at the queues, (and there were always as many queues as there were servers), and with a practiced eye one could quickly evaluate the options, length of queue, number of families in each line, number of bags per person in line, gender and age of those in line, estimated nationality of those in line and finally, and most importantly, the gender and estimated national origin of the servers.  The fastest service could be almost guaranteed by choosing that queue of bored, sober-suited, middle-aged, white gents with small carry-on bags waiting, with paperwork in hand, for the highly efficient oriental lady server with the indestructible work ethic.  You could be through and out in seconds, step forward, slap down your docs., two questions, “Did you pack…?” “Did anyone give…?”  Machine spits out boarding card and you’re gone.  She would be pushing them through about two per minute, easy.

Continue reading “Queued Up.”

Moving update

 

I know that the cherished friends’ breath is suitably bated until I tell you the latest in the windmill saga. So ‘yer ’tis, as they say in Cornwall.

The C_nt has had his surveyors out with their laser-thingies, measuring access roads and tricky corners, so we know he’s going ahead and we’d better get outta here pronto, Cisco! For reasons best known to themselves (are they masochists or wha’?) the wannabe new occupants of our former idyll still want to live here, so we have identified our new abode – pictured above.  It’s in the midddle of a beech wood with a family of deer for neighbours. The barn/garage is also thatched – for architectural consistency, you know – and it is q-u-i-e-t. No traffic noise, just the birds and the occasional hunter. Ten minutes to the nearest town/shops/doctor/hospital – the main concerns of people like us.

Can’t wait to move!

Blinding flash

Sometimes (or is it often?) I despair at the ‘insights’ offfered us by journalists. Or am I missing something vital here? http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-21633960 – all about wars being unwinnable.

Ever since the Trojan Horse episode, clever tacticians have managed to thwart the efforts of mere generals by the use of informal methods of warfare. And of course that really gets up the generals’ disrespected noses. They of course always liked it to be predictable – in serried ranks with breaks for tea and unseasonal showers. A favourite tactic was to settle the whole thing with the help of Sir Knight and his trusty lance, while the cannon fodder waited in the wings with their Woodbines, cakes and ale (anachronistically speaking). In more modern times they have been particularly offended by human shields and enemies who refuse to wear uniforms and keep hiding in caves; downright un-British, what? Continue reading “Blinding flash”

Cardinal sins

I see that Cardinal O’Brien, the new ‘C’ word with a hard ‘C’, who until recently was known for being anti-gay-marriage as a ‘grotesque subversion’, has scored another own goal; and it rates with Maradonna’s hand-of-God affair some years ago.

The holy man has confessed that “my sexual conduct has fallen below the standards expected of me as a priest, archbishop and cardinal”, having earlier contested the allegations against him, which, one might observe, suggested he sympathised with homosexual activities of various kinds.

But hold on! Surely the phrase ‘my sexual conduct’ holds the key to this case. Isn’t celibacy all about not indulging in any at all? How can it have ‘fallen below’ any expectations? Clearly this old cleric never understood the nature of his vow to keep it in his cassock. Luckily for the young men of Scotland, he’ll swing his thurible no more in the name of everything that’s holy.

Stand up

Five Star Movement leader and comedian Beppe Grillo (R) speaks during a rally in Rome February 22, 2013.

Maybe I shouldn’t tell you, but I’m an ordinary person from an ordinary background; the sort of chap (allegedly) Cameron should be appealing to, if he is to hold on to the high immoral ground he inherited from the Blair/Brown tendency. In that case, then, let me say that he should take a leaf out of Beppe Grillo’s book and talk turkey, so to speak. The Italian has the advantage is that he is a comedian by profession rather than by accident, unlike Cameron, and can speak from the heart without risking his reputation. He says Italy’s disastrous economic plight may have to be solved by leaving the Euro and starting again with the Lira. Such honesty is unheard of in the gilded committee rooms of Brussels. Greece should have admitted it years ago. So Cameron should simply tell it like it is. Tell Beppe he’s right. Tell Hollande he’s pathetic. Tell the Scottish nationalists to go ahead and leave and see where it gets them. Tell Rebekka he fancies her rotten. Tell Cleggover to get a life or a party or both. And ask Boris to take over the Tories. Sorted.