French

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m as francophile as the next man. M. Hulot is a hero, Bardot an icon, Paris the real deal. But like so many good things France is badly served by its people when the chips are down.

Remember Charles Le Nez? He’s the fella who decamped to London when les Boches invaded and returned home when the last shots had been fired, declaring he was the saviour of France. But he was the only European who believed it.

And now, when France faces a formidable force of British brains in the Battle of Brexit, what do les Froches do? They puff themselves up and bring out their most horrifying weapon, so often deployed against British tourists: Non speakee Eenglish.

It’s just the French way. Such self-belief! So divorced from reality! You have to admire them – or do you?

Having a larf, innit?

So the British Government agreed to accept 300 “child refugees” with family already in the United Kingdom. The first of the lot arrived in Britain today to much fanfare. Unfortunately, this isn’t quite the fanfare that the Delightful Mrs May Or Amber Rudd the Dud would have liked. It seems, as if, they look rather wiser than their years should allow. That is, they are as convincing as children as I am as a Japanese schoolgirl. This makes me wonder if it is ministerial incompetence, a fast-one pulled by the Frogs or if the British Government simply wanted to create so much public disgust with this that opposition to taking more would be insurmountable.

Is it presidential?

The Clinton Trump face-off is raising questions about what is acceptable behaviour from a wannabe Commander-in-Chief.

Trump’s life in business and the media is being exposed in all its unethical banality. Hillary is on the pillory (!) for alleged illegalities and deceptions over the years.

And now (remember both candidates are of retirement age) Trump suggests Clinton is boosted by performance-enhancing drugs. As if this is a quasi-athletic contest in which a level-playing-field must be guaranteed. So – is it? Do the most senior public servants have a duty to be subject to medical scrutiny and be ‘clean’? If so does such a prerequisite apply similarly to their staff; and their staff, etc?

So come to think of it, should Churchill and JFK have been disqualified from office? Is today’s political environment different?

Just askin’.

Living in a dream world

That is the SNP’s new slogan. A world where men in skirts play their pipes untroubled by the cruel realities of GDP, the national debt, the cost of welfare and the absence of the Great Scotch Free Lunch.

And the Caviar Queen, unable to look over the towering Hadrian’s Wall – owing to her myopia amongst other little problems – has no doubt about the appeal of a future already mapped out by Greece. Except the crumbling EU will no longer throw good money after bad.

So one must as an Englander wish her well with her dream, removing from the rest of the UK the Great Caledonian Burden. Give her a new vote to defect, help her to win it, cast her adrift and breathe a sigh of relief.

Of Sheep and Men

Since extricating myself from the sulphuric clutches of Dodgydagoland I’ve sought some purpose and meaning in my quiet, uneventful life. As I’m only in Germany for a few months, just until my December holiday and then a few weeks afterwards, establishing a truly regular routine is senseless. Through pure accident, however, I’ve found purpose and meaning in my life. I am a sheep observer. Continue reading “Of Sheep and Men”

Ward Musician – Visit no. 1

Its been light years since I put up a post, but following nudges from Janus and Christopher HERE GOES.

 I have just embarked on a new venture – as a Volunteer at University College London Hospital in the capacity as Ward Musician.   I had been interviewed and assessed over the last few months,  with workshops and induction courses and found to be of sound stock and yet, until Tuesday this week,  not one of my interviewers and assessors had actually heard me play the piano. Isn’t that just amazing?  Perhaps they were so desperate that they simply recognised my interactive charms and that was considered good enough, after all the main thing is to ENGAGE WITH THE PATIENTS. Continue reading “Ward Musician – Visit no. 1”

Te he he.

The Delightful Mrs May, after effortlessly vanquishing her foes after Wavy Davey’s spectacularly underwhelming collapse, has made great progress in cleaning up the slimy mess he left behind. George Hoes and Blow is decaying in the back benches and will hopefully follow Davey’s sally PDQ. After all, after his utter implosion in June it’s somewhat difficult to see how he could ever regain any credibility at Whitehall.

And now, the Delightful Mrs May has shown her hand at last. Article 50 will be triggered at the Queen’s Speech. By doing so, Britain will retain control over the timing and tone of negotiations. It will not be done in a typically wog manner, chaotic and sleazy, but in an eminently British way. The regular parliamentary schedule will be followed indicating that the Mother of All Parliaments, not the most useless, will be prepared to debate and criticise any proposals spewing forth from the busted sewer that is Brussels.

What is going on?

English football is an enormous business, so why is it incapable of employing top people who have the talent to keep its house in order and control its excesses and self-destructive urges?

I’m afraid the answer lies in the boardrooms of the biggest clubs, which  pull the strings of the FA, ensuring it employs only second-raters who will not threaten their own PR needs.

No FTSE-100 company would have hired Woy or Sam as England manager. The hiring process would have exposed their weaknesses – Woy’s spinelessness, Sam’s cupidity.

So Alan Shearer is correct: English football is a laughing-stock. The corruption is only now beginning to be exposed – and I’ll whisper ‘drugs’, the next scandal to break. Mama mia!

By any other name

Stop calling it the Czech Republic! It’s Czechia! Just like Slovakia.

Yeah, right. And Holland? Or Taiwan? Or Belarus?  And Cologne? Or Calcutta! Not to say Copenhagen.

I know we can’t say Ayer’s Rock any more but p-lease! Potayto, potahto, tomayto, tomahto – who cares? Unless you want to talk about scones.

 

Britannia Rules… Leith?

I remember staying up late on the night of 23-24 June. Several times throughout the night I woke up with a start and went to check the status of Britain’s vote for freedom. When the results were finally announced I was nearly delirious with joy and exhaustion. Naturally, the actual political machinations are far murkier and slow than one would like but being realistic is a necessity. There is one development that has left me SEETHING with ANGER, to borrow the STYLING of the EXPRESS. The Royal Yacht Britannia could be RECOMMISSIONED. Continue reading “Britannia Rules… Leith?”