Down with Skool

The Bomber makes the best of yesterday's INSET day, climbin' trees and scrapin' knees. Back to school, nose to grindstone, shoulder to wheel etc. at the beginning of next week.

Toper Tony

“I was clearly at the limit. A whisky or a gin and tonic before dinner, then one or two glasses of wine, even a half-bottle.”

We are admittedly spoiled for choice, but is there any more egregious example of Tony Blair's indestructible self regard than the "revelation" about his drinking above. He could drink that much every day for the rest of his life with no problem at all. Does he imagine there's a whiff of Devil may care glamour about it? Does he wear pajamas, leave the toilet seat up? The public has a right to know.

According to a breathless report in the Daily Mail, even Cliff Richard (the Peter Pan of pop whose home the Blairs borrowed for holidays a couple of times) finds room for a daily glass of wine or two in his never ending diet.

While Sir Cliff stands a good chance of drinking you under the table you're still a little way from skid row.

It's pathetic; the posturing of a milk monitor down for his 'hood.

Appeasement on the Help Desk

Chamberlain: Arthur Neville Chamberlain. Talk to me.

Caller: My computer deleted my entire hard drive overnight. All of my files are gone. It must’ve been some kind of virus.

Chamberlain: I can sense the pain and longing in your voice. You’re angry, seeking revenge for your loss, perhaps.

Caller: My dissertation was on this thing!

Chamberlain: In the short term, I can offer no salve for your pain. But let us look, for a moment, through the long lens of history, where aggression is rarely rewarded and retribution brings only further misery. In the face of such difficulties as yours, it is important to remain principled. This is an evil machine — one that uses brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution — and against it I am certain that the right will prevail in the end.

Caller: So can you help me retrieve my dissertation or not?

Chamberlain: We cannot risk this fragile peace.

A companion piece to the medieval http://nickbrowne.coraider.com/2007/12/help-desk.html.

Education, Education, Education

By observing the following six rules any boy of twelve can easily protect himself from the attacks of a full-grown man:

I. As your opponent makes for you, step quickly under his arm, and, stooping, grasp his left ankle with both hands, fingers interlocked. Rise smartly, and with a circular motion throw him over your right shoulder.

II. Enraged, your adversary will reach for you with his right hand. Step lightly aside, and, as his arm passes you, strike it sharply with your fist. This will break his wrist.

III. Your antagonist will now reach for you with his left hand. Take two rapid steps backward and kick his open palm, at the base of the thumb, upwards. This will dislocate his shoulder and cause a compound fracture of his left floating rib.

IV. Your mortified foe will attempt to kick you. Catch his foot in your left hand and twist his leg off at the knee.

V. Your enemy will make an effort to kick you with his other foot . Step quickly behind him and butt him in the small of the back with your head. Properly administered, this blow should break and dislocate every vertebra in his spinal column.

VI. The last attempt your adversary will make will be to bite you. As he opens his mouth place your open left hand on his forehead, and, thrusting your right down his throat, take a good hold, and with a long, strong pull, turn him inside out. This trick is somewhat dangerous and should only be tried by an expert, as otherwise your opponent may be painfully injured.

From the apparently genuine "The foolish almanack for the year 1906 A.D. and the fifth since the discovery of race suicide by President Roosevelt ..."

Any intelligence on what is being spoofed by "the discovery of race suicide by President Roosevelt" gratefully received.

Scammony

Last August I thought I had Japanese knotweed all over the back garden. Now I think it may just be bindweed, but I'm still pulling it up over a year later, and I wouldn't be surprised if it takes me another twelve months to get rid of it completely.

I've pretty much given up on looking after the lawn while this war is on, as I'm forever pulling foot long ropes of roots up through it.

Medicinal and other uses - http://earthnotes.tripod.com/bindweed.htm.

Fantasyfwit

Cardiff City are joint top of the Championship after beating Portsmouth 2-0 away. Sweet revenge for being beaten by them in the 2008 FA Cup Final.

It's too soon to get carried away though. The new FantasyFwit game and website could have been made for long term City followers.

Each week you have to pick a team you reckon are most likely to screw up: you are awarded points according to the accuracy of your prediction. There are any number of ways to acquire points, but the basics are as follows. All players on a losing team score one point – that's doubled if you lose by three goals or more. The most disappointing player on the pitch, chosen by a panel of F**wit experts scores an extra three points. (On the first weekend of the season this accolade went to Wayne Rooney.) An own goal gets you three points – with a bonus for comedy value – as does giving away a penalty

Oh Krapp

Michael Gambon's going to be doing Krapp's Last Tape in London from the middle of September. I learned of this from an advert on Facebook, that took me to its Fan page where I registered my Like. I'll certainly try and go. Its Beckett so book it.

That said, I'm now getting tugged on the sleeve about this production by targeted adverts everywhere. I've seen it on the Google ads on the blog itself (subtle and understated they are to be found at the very bottom of the page), and on the Google mail web client that I use to manage a few email accounts.

It's starting to get on my nerves. I had imagined myself as something of a twinkle toed sprinkler of fairy dust when I'm writing. The idea that impersonal number crunching engines should look at my blog and correspondence and decide that "plays and novels of loneliness, despair and human degradation" are right up my alley is deeply discouraging.

Prodnose: Never throw letters around carelessly. It could spell disaster.

Fighters Uncaged

The Bomber and I are agreed. The new XBOX for his birthday at the end of September, then Microsoft Kinect for Christmas.

Bring on the heroically unPC Fighters Uncaged:

Among the new films

Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky
Darling! Divine! It's divine! It's divinsky!

(She looks a mess in her little black dress

and his Rite of Spring's held together with string.)

I have no idea what I mean by this.

I am not a free man, I am a number

The Bomber is back later today from three weeks in the States, and I have missed him very much indeed.

We (plus a lot of other friends) are doing the Richmond To Windsor Bike Ride on September 5. I am number 1248 and he is number 1249, so there will be a fair few people there.

Then on September 26, I'm doing the 30th Anniversary SwanseaBay10k with my brother. I'm number 35787 in that. There can't be thirty six odd thousand competitors surely? That said I seem to remember that the elite Kenyans had practically finished by the time our part of the throng managed to get past the starting line last time I did it.

Sir William Topaz McGonagall

...... Poet and Tragedian.

For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

I didn't know until I read it here, that the immortal McGonagall tread the boards as well as versifying.

McGonagall as Macbeth refused to die when run through by Macduff; he maintained his feet and flourished his weapon about the ears of his adversary in such a way that there was for some time an apparent possibility of a real tragedy. Macduff, continually telling him to go down became at length so incensed that he gave him a smart rap over the fingers with the flat of his sword. McGonagall dropped his weapon, but dodged and pranced as if to wrestle. Macduff threw his sword aside, seized Macbeth and brought the sublime tragedy to a close in a rather undignified way by taking the feet from under the principal character.

swarm in here

I suggest you count your bees, you may find that one of them is missing.

After a 3-week boot-camp rehearsal period in Battersea Park, hundreds of youngsters dressed as bees swarmed across London to create site- specific happenings last weekend, highlighting the recent alarming drop in the honeybee population.

The project - called "S’warm" - was the largest performance that the U.K.’s National Youth Theatre has put on.

To think I missed it (c.f. the mouse problem).

World Party

And if you listen now
You might hear
A new sound coming in
As an old one disappears
See the world in just one grain of sand
You better take a closer look
Don't let it slip right through your hand
Won't you please hear the call
The world says

Put the message in the box
Put the box into the car
Drive the car around the world
Until you get heard

Now is the moment
Please understand
The road is wide open

My brother, my sister in law, and my nephew have taken the bull by the horns and set off to travel the world for a year. They've got as far as the wonderfully named Swakopmund in Namibia. We can follow them on http://www.3worldwanderers.blogspot.com/

Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that.

This morning the Telegraph in its mission to explain informs us that yoga protects the brain from depression.

Yesterday the message on the same pages was that the drug Ketamine acts like "magic" lifting people out of depression.

It stands to reason then that combining horse tranquiliser injections with asanas would have you walking on air.

Am I really learning anything by reading this twaddle day after day?