Rich pickings

This is about Airmiles Andy, who at best has generous friends who bankroll his and his daughters’ jetset lifestyles. At worst, he is living on the proceeds of shady deals with very colourful outlaws. Allegedly of course.

His mother, his siblings and his nephews work hard to maintain the unrivalled reputation of the British monarchy, while he and the Duchess seem determined to ruin it by hawking their wares around the back streets of international society.

So, all you monarchists! Time to put up or shut up! Who is going to clean up this mess? The Palace? The gubmint? Your move.

Male members only

peter alliss

 

Peter Alliss may have a point! The wives of Muirfield golfers are extended privileges denied to other women – so that’s the obvious route for wannabe female members to follow! There are of course all-women clubs which men cannot join either and even marriage to a WI person will not get fellas access to its mysteries.

So is the fuss justified? Why do the Open authorities disapprove – I mean really? The said females can’t play in the Open either, can they, even if they beat all the men? (That’s different, I hear somebody say.)

Not being a golfer, Backside doesn’t understand but he’s sure some cherished 19th holers will help.

My Telegraph

What happened, it appears to have disappeared into the blue yonder?

Must have been whilst I was in Wales and I failed to notice.  Did it die without a whimper?

Anyone got any info on it all?There now appears to be no comment anywhere except the published letters or am I missing something?

Queer stuff

Call me queer but I’m sure society has lost its marbles.

The Nat Union of Students, always slightly bent, is demanding college accommodation should segregate LBTGwo’evah from er….others, presumably referring to what I call normal folk. (Go on, sue me.)

Why not segregate by colour, religion, football affiliation, hair colour, height, weight, dietary choice – oh and of course country of origin? Not to mention any other passing fad.

And bugger the education.

Putin put out

I couldn’t miss out on a headline like this, could I? Even though I refuse to watch or enter discussions about the much-feted Eurovision extravaganza, which, allegedly Vlad himself dictated Mother Russia must win at any cost. Heads will roll, it is reported, now that a Ukrainian song about genocide in the Crimea (in English) beat the Russian entry. The votes were rigged by the pesky Western organisers, of course. So what’s new? Apart from the Aussies wanting to horn in on the show too. Typical Eurononsense.

 

Test of time

Looking back to my schooldays, I reckon many of my most valuable lessons were learnt by rote. Times tables, spelling, geographical facts and later, sorry, Latin declensions and conjugations. And how did my school teachers check that I knew them? By asking me politely to swear I’d made the effort? No. There was a test!

These days it is no longer pc, human or psychologically acceptable to demand proof of knowledge imparted. The pressure of being examined is too great for the modern child; and if you must check progress, offer multiple choice questions, to give ’em a chance.

Have you seeen the SATS papers for 6 – 11 year olds? Hardly surprising that by 16 so many children are illiterate and unable to do simple arithmetic. Ask employers how hard it is to recruit young people.

Some will blame Alex Salmond, but I think the Bliar Brigade should carry the can, believing you can make a silk purse out of a genetically modified sow’s ear and then cook the books to prove it.

‘They Think It’s All Over.’

I’m a wee bit Reginald* tonight.

On the evening of 16th December 1964, I was part of a crowd of just under 5,000 which crammed itself into Muirton Park (record attendance 29,972 when we were robbed 1-3 in the Cup by one of the teams from the Armpit of the Universe which is rightly reviled  throughout the civilised world). Also known as Dundee.

Where was I? Oh yes, 16th December 1964. We had  finally managed to afford floodlights, thanks to selling Jim Townsend to Middlesbrough  for £20,000  and we had invited a top team for the official onswitch.  It was the FA Cup  holders, West Ham. Continue reading “‘They Think It’s All Over.’”

Julian, Gregorian, Jaydubyian

There’s never enough time to do all the chores and leisure that a human wants to do. There’s still many mountains to climb, rivers to cross, swamps to ford, twisters to outrun. More time is needed and I have the solution.

Previously, I proposed an extra hour in the day. A 25 hour day would be manna from heaven. This gives us more time but it’s as clear as daylight that this pilot plan does not fix the problem. My suggestion now is to add an extra month to the calendar. This idea is not as crazy as it sounds. It’s obviously been done before.

Consider the calendarial ber month prefixes: sept, oct, nov, dec. I’m not an expert on these things but an educated guess would be, seven, eight, nine, ten. Yet these months September, October, November, December are months number nine, ten, eleven and twelve respectively. Somebody, somewhere along the line has added a few extra months to the total. Well played, that man, I know where you’re coming from. They must have been short of time in the Dark Ages or whatever and thus made more time available. Continue reading “Julian, Gregorian, Jaydubyian”