The last ten days have not been the best. I have been suffering from severe pains at the back of my head. I have a high pain threshold and while the ache was not excruciating it was an annoying jabbing throb. With great reluctance and as a last resort I booked an appointment with my GP.
Before I get to the nitty-gritty (no nits were found in my hair, for the record) I must recount my waiting room experience. Continue reading “Feel Good hit of the Summer*”
Yes, this is the Chariot’s Law Week! And this time, Auntie Beeb is getting it in the neck! She’s paying some staff via their own private companies rather than direct, which means they can pay substantially less income tax. The Public Accounts Committee reckons that’s morally, if not legally wrong, having already forced a couple of thousand civil servants to give up a similar arrangement.
Now this strikes me a something of a conundrum. Either it is legal to employ people in this way (as I have been during one of my incarnations) or it isn’t. The Gordian Knot is the gubmint’s to cut, but what it cannot do, imho, is to play the morality card whenever they suffer PR problems. It would be like giving special tax breaks to, say, married couples and then implying that such couples were exploiting the system.
Of course the Dept. of Envy is quick to point out that some of the Beeb’s beneficiaries are famous names. So what? Does that somehow validate their gripe?
What do you think? http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/tvandradio/bbc/9587937/BBC-complicit-in-tax-avoidance-for-household-names-say-MPs.html
I’m surprised if anybody of my advanced years hadn’t already heard of the DJ’s disgusting practices during the ’60s and ’70s. As a family man with a Yorkshire spouse, based oop narth and inevitably aware of ‘pop’ culture, not least from my children’s conversations, I certainly knew that he had a ‘dodgy’ reputation among teenage girls. For all his much-vaunted good deeds as an unpaid porter at Leeds Infirmary, he was widely reputed to have ‘unusual’ sexual preferences. The fact that he was never nailed for them was probably due to the laissez faire attitude surrounding the whole entertainment industry at the time – and before the social media even existed to report what was really going on. It is a moot point whether the higher echelons of the BBC were aware of Savile’s activities or even considered them their business. Weird was (and still is) very good for audience ratings.
Victory for Europe in the Ryder Cup yesterday afternoon was sweeter for its achievement in the face of the unsporting behaviour of the Chicago mob, egged on by some of the USA golfers themselves. And the resilience of the European players faced with a mountain to climb (from 6 – 10 down) was inspiring. They had to take eight of the 12 singles to retain the Cup and went a half better to win it outright. Tiger Woods’ bogey at the 18th typified the American collapse from their pomp of the first two days.
Well done, lads! Great entertainment!
The last I heard, wee Alex was defecating defecting, but obviously One either didn’t know or is happy if the wee defector still sings his liege lord’s song. Not sure who’s paying the piper here, whoever the Bonnie Lass of Fyvie may be. But maybe it’s all over for defection when the fat man sings with One.
The game of bluff adopted by President Saddam Hussein of Iraq to confuse nuclear weapons inspectors of Iraq’s nuclear capability didn’t work. The toppled and deceased Hussein brought invasion on his land and no weapons were found; the dictator was playing with an empty hand. It begs the question, what game is Iran playing at? Are they also full of bluster or more sinisterly have they an ace up their sleeve?
Secret papers smuggled out of the Islamic Republic of Iran by a dissident scientist reveals the truth behind Iran’s nuclear program. Continue reading “Closing time in Iran”
Soutie’s touching pome reminded me of this song from the Depression:
If you’re squeamish, read no further! This is about a song tradition to rival rock.
Down in the smoke in Berkeley Square –
Sans nightingale, at J Walter T –
Then the Prince of Wales -they took me there
To see the famed Sweet Charity.
Everybody I know (except my sister who is only just starting to use the remote for her telly) has a mobile thingy somewhere about their person. And the younger they are, the more complex their devices. Something to do with apps and uploads – whatever they may be. So as I was noticing yet another Rolex ad on t’telly the other day, I thought, “Why do people bother? ‘Cos I don’t.” OK, I’ll modify that. I realise that fashion victims have to display bejewelled time-pieces as a mark of their wealth/coolness/superiority, but normal people really don’t need one, do they, even if they work at two hundred fathoms? Just nudge your ikit and check the time in every time-zone imaginable. And the same goes of course for alarm clocks, grandfather clocks and Big Ben himself. Surplus to requirements, redundant, as useful as a chocolate teapot, if Christopher will allow me.
Boadicea's Chariot 
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