The anti-colonial era is over! There is a new pride in belonging to the British worldwide club – which rejects the demands of envious foreign cultures.
NZ has voted to retain its union-jacked flag!
Look on, you outmoded defectors – and weep.
The anti-colonial era is over! There is a new pride in belonging to the British worldwide club – which rejects the demands of envious foreign cultures.
NZ has voted to retain its union-jacked flag!
Look on, you outmoded defectors – and weep.
It’s women’s tennis – a feminist force mustered by Navratilova. There’s now an ova in every final and (the younger) Maria* is their diva. Easy on the eye, persistently histrionic on court, equally successful off the court, she announces her own doping indiscretions, seizing the high pr ground before the authorities have drawn breath. Be sorry for me, I made a mistake (for 10 years!), don’t be harsh.
Serena is closing ranks. Another diva with a unique agenda. Why is she so quick to speak up? Just remember: Big girls don’t cry – they pack a punch.
I don’t expect any comments from the men.
They’re ‘immoral’ – so she’ll bag Trident, with moral support from Jeremy. So what in my day was known as a deterrent will be left to the eight (known) ‘players’: USA, Russia, France, China, Israel, India, Pakistan and N Korea.
Should we draw in our horns then? Accept our role as a has-been bystander in world affairs? Rely on our friends (!) to deter the rest?
Answers please to Janus’s Bunker, somewhere too close to the Baltic Sea.
Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it’s written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Pope: If you build walls, you’re not a Christian. It’s not in the Gospel.
Trump: If ISIS attacks the Vatican, he’ll wish I were President. How dare he say I’m not a Christian?
But building a better wall around the Vatican, manned by Trump’s Troops, would prove Trump’s Christianity. Would it, Pope mate? Naeh, that’s different. Blessed are the peace-makers – especially meek ones, allegedly.
Since Janus inexplicably removed his latest post a couple of days ago, there have been no further posts from anyone and only one comment, from Sipu.
I have no idea why all you honoured Charioteers have ceased using the site, but of course that’s entirely up to you.
Anyway, and all that, if the inactivity continues for a few more days, The Chariot will be taken on its slow, sad journey to the knackers yard, there to be broken up as spare parts.
So long, and thanks for all the fish. 🙂
Next month I’m due yet another birthday.
I’ve grown fond of 72, six dozen, two cubed times three cubed and the year when I was in the wild no man’s land of being 29.
But 73? Numerically boring, even repulsive. But, you say, I’ve clearly got too much time on my hands, if I even think about such trivia.
But anyway I’m planning to milk the max from my last 21 days (3 x 7) of 72. And happily it’s thawing too, so I can commune with nature again; with creatures who understand.
Those beloved world leaders advise that if you want to make it bigtime – or even have a job – in 2020 you’ll need to evince cognitive flexibility and (an old fave) emotional intelligence.
I’m so happy they can be lured by 5-star luxury to cast their annual pearls before us.
Aren’t you?
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