I realised how out of touch I am when one of my young clan emailed me on my birthday, ‘Haps baps Gramps!’ A swift google informed that’s how the incrowd say it these days.
But senility apart, I’ve always been fascinated by dialect expressions, from Cockney slang to common or garden terms. All my grandparents (b. 1878 – 80) used them constantly. ‘Be said!’ ‘It’s a new gansey.’ ‘Give it some elbow grease!’ ‘I’ve got it fast here.’ ‘They’re gilli flowers.’ ‘Give me a dollop o’ that.’ It’s really taters out.’
Still awake? OK – show me yours!
The prophets of doom need a cause. The flavour this year is Brexit failing and the downfall of civilisation as we know it. Every hack has an informed source to prove the point; conspiracies, rebellions and incompetence abound in every corner of the Tory camp. Allegedly.
So may I respectfully aver that the Eurolands have no interest in a dead Brexit, whatever their unelected prats may say. In the next two years the wobbly wilderness aka the EU will be struggling to avoid further flounces, bankruptcies and distractions; never mind scoring a famous own-goal by upsetting its almost-former member, their trusted trading partner.
So come on Ms May, do it on Tuesday and stick it to those self-satisfied Europrats.
I commiserate with our Scottish friends on the Chariot about the Calcutta Cup result, Scotland were not that bad but England were awesome. While, I have every sympathy with most Scots I can only say, ” How do you like that you ‘orrible ‘arridan of a Wee Poisonous Scottish Witch? Have you seen the price of oil recently? Please forget any thought of a second referendum”.
Mrs FEEG, who is half Scottish, is bigging up her English half today! 🙂
Who or what is the entity known as ‘I’? The whole composite of mind and body? Or just the persistent voice in ‘my’ head that tries to deal with the rest? And how do ‘my’ deep-sleep dreams fit into the definition you prefer? Thinkers down the ages have wrestled with the topic and supernaturalists have formulated conflicting explanations, leading to revolution and war. And now some new science will fuel the flames of the debate. There seems to be brain activity after ‘death’ as defined by accepted medical practice.
Does this persistent brain activity have any ‘purpose’? Is the owner ‘conscious’ of it? That is, what is it for, if anything? Or is it like the decapitated chicken that keeps on running? Or a turbine spinning after shut-down?
Some of you might recall that I despise the Waffling Wanker of Wentworth. In less salubrious terms, he is referred to as “Malcolm Turnbull”. WWW, as I shall refer to him henceforth to save time and space, has the unfortunate distinction of making Cameron look like a succès fou in comparison. By synthesising the misplaced metropolitanism of Britain’s much unlamented former prime minister, the integrity of the unutterable T**y B***r and the pseudo-cosmopolitanism of the vile N**k C***g the WWW has seemingly brought his party to the brink of collapse. Read more…
Some of you may have four hours to watch this. I thought it apposite in view of Janus’ post on advertising.
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
I watched the results of yesterday’s Northern Irish election with some trepidation. For the first time, Unionists no longer hold the majority of seats at Stormont. In fact, the Irish terrorists’ preferred party, er, I mean, Sinn Féin were returned to Stormont with 27 members giving Irish Nationalist parties a total of 39 seats. Unionist parties were returned with 40 members. There has been some talk of an All-Ireland referendum on a united Ireland — Sinn Féin have, predictably, said that the results significantly increase the chances of this. Read more…