The second series has finally arrived in the Nordic region. Stale news, I expect, for many viewers on the cutting edge, but hey! I’m eating it like the best mature cheddar, with relish. And I have my reasons, which I think Christina might recognise.
40 Berkeley Square, JWT, 1954
Even Backside couldn’t have invented this PoW story.
Whether Thomas Carlyle or Edmund Burke should have the credit for the original use of the expression , the fourth estate, it is now used Stateside to refer to the ‘regular’ meeja, alongside the Executive, the Legislature and the Judiciary. The fifth estate, which began life in the ’60s, is the new meeja: special interests, social media and of course you and me – the bloggers.
Isn’t it interesting that President Trump seems to ignore the (no doubt already blurred) boundaries between the fourth and fifth, to the extent that this happened yesterday at a press meeting, as reported by the Grauniad?
‘Outlets seeking to gain entry whose requests were denied included the Guardian, the New York Times, Politico, CNN, BuzzFeed, the BBC, the Daily Mail and others. Conservative publications such as Breitbart News, the One America News Network and the Washington Times were allowed into the meeting, as well as TV networks CBS, NBC, Fox and ABC. The Associated Press and Time were invited but boycotted the briefing.’
Does that infringe the First Amendment? Or does Trump’s idea of ‘fake news’ justify his actions?
Who says big biz has no sense of humour?
Guess who’s buying the baby formula giant! The owner of Durex. That’s all about preparing for the worst, I suppose. Buy me and stop one or if not……….
It’s been a while since I reported on the royals. Probably because Kate can do no wrong and Wills is doing his best, bless him.
But sources tell me that the PoW is side-lining his rapacious brother whose strings are obviously still being jerked by the inimitable Fergie. Andy’s been whining about his daughters’ having to work for living – which they seem do do but rather spasmodically – arguing that the Heir’s lads are fully subsidised royals. With his nose well and truly out of joint, Andy asked HM the Queen to intercede on his behalf – and got what can only be described as the bum’s rush from the Palace too.
Come on girls! Use your natural talents, tap into Daddy’s well-oiled connections, marry well – and Chuck’s your uncle!
As an aspiring writer, my big breakthrough piece of fiction is still unwritten, I have always wanted to visit the Cheltenham Literature Festival. The chance to hob-nob with fellow unpublished sorts and to see in the flesh real authors would be happiness unbound.
Mingling at social gatherings with the lit-set I would forgo the glasses of bubbly on the trays and demand a beer from the Jeeves-like waiter. After all, With Faulks’ powers faltering, I’m the next big thing in town. I’d also ask Jeeves for the big daddy of vol-au-vents, a scotch pie. And I’d tell him to drown the pastry with Bertie Worcester sauce. Read more…
‘Alice is marrying one of the guard. A soldier’s life is terrible hard,’ says Alice.
‘Hum hum hum. Nobody can be un-cheered with a balloon.’
Even a Primate can’t choose his family, it seems.
It turns out that that there was quite a lot of monkey business in Churchill’s corridors of power – and an ocean of alchol (hic) to wash away the detritus. So Justin’s mother, Mary, managed to conceive only days before her marriage but it has taken her 60 years (allegedly) to find out that Justin’s father wasn’t the man she wed. Despite the clear facial resemblance between her paramour and her son. She blames the booze.
I suppose if Justin had stayed in the oil biz nobody would have taken much notice, but you’d think the Lord would have arranged things a bit more decorously, wouldn’t you? Or perhaps it’s another of his little jokes.
Just another Canterbury Tale really.
As our music editor has opined, the world has changed since the digital revolution.
Remember Kim Philby, who spied for the USSR? Fiendishly clever? Ahead of the technological game? A modern spook whose expertise led his British masters up the garden path?
Well – no. A filmed master class he conducted in the DDR in ’81 shows what an amateur affair it was. He ‘borrowed’ paper files every day, took them home to be copied and returned them the next day! No fancy equipment, no 007 tricks, no subtlety at all.
The Beeb has the story. Fascinating.
Well, akshully I was in a pub in Bootham, York, when our boys beat Germany 50 years ago. And believe it or not there was a telly, very small, b & w but a telly nevertheless. A group of maybe 20 enthusiasts huddled round it and cheered for England.
Tonite, they meet again. In colour. Without Kenneth Wolstenholme (sp?). Not really a friendly. See you there.