Oh Charlie Boy

Charles calls media "bloody people"
31/03/2005 10:31

Doesn't know which side his bread is buttered on, does he our Chas?

Wait until the Revolution Charlie Boy, you head the list.

I'll be there, knitting...

Yep.

The Last Bog Roll

A leading Church of England bishop has said Prince Charles must apologise to the former husband of his fiancee before their wedding on 8 April.

This subject dominated the newspapers over the week end – and the News, and all those useless ‘Comment’ programmes that fill the TV schedules.

Plus, we are treated to the pompous pronouncements from the eminent Churchman, as he is filmed striding out from his Bishop’s palace to smile at the cameras.

What planet do these people live on, that they can waste their time, and ours, on mumbling away about whether a middle -aged, over privileged prince should say sorry to a middle-aged over pampered Parker-Bowles?

I’ll tell you.
Its a planet where:

1) British Telecom agree that they should repair your phone line.
2) British Telecom do not deny they should repair your phone line in less than 3 weeks.
3) British Telecom agree to pay you back all the money they stole from you.
4) The Water Board do not drive a damn great hole through the water pipes, and demand 40 quid for repairing it.
5) That your flatmate doesn’t use the last of the bog-roll and not tell you.

It sure ain’t this planet is it ? Nope.

Don't Trust the Trees

Prince Charles gets "confidential" trees
WELLINGTON (Reuters) - New Zealand could help Prince Charles widen his circle of confidants with a wedding gift of native trees and plants to mark his marriage to Camilla Parker Bowles.
Charles has jokingly admitted in the past that he talked to plants and vegetables, saying they had provided some of his more illuminating conversations and did not carry tales to the media.

Oh dear, poor Chas, doesn’t he ever learn? Believes that he’s safe talking to his Kiwi trees?

For Heaven’s sake, walls have ears, trees have leaves, you can’t trust anyone. I’m not paranoid, oh no, and you have been warned, you MI5 lot, I’m ready for you.

Those trees are probably in the pay of OK or Hallo, or the German press, and before long Chas and his Queen Custard, will be reading about themselves in the papers!

Watch this space, I told you first.
Yep.

Don't Go There, Don't Ask

I may not be the smartest cookie in the box, but most days I can work out what my computer is doing. Most days but not all.
And to all you PC nerds, bog off – go away and murmur amongst yourselves, and take all them IT managers with you.
I lost my belief in them IT bods a long way back.
Every one of them has the standard response. First, a shake of the head, rubs chin, sighs.
“Don’t know what you’ve done here.”
No sunshine, that’s why you are here, to sort it out.

And then they reach for the cables, and yank ‘em out.

“What happened?” you ask them.
“Don’t ask.”
No, don’t.

There’s a space inside every computer, its the ‘Don’t Go There’ zone.
And ‘Don’t Ask’, cos’ we sure ain’t gonna tell you.

My computer never tells me the answer either. For a space of around 4 days, it wiped various nifty applications out of my Word program.
No fonts, nope, just size 12, Times Roman, that’s it lady, take it or leave it.
I even lost the bloody dancing paper clip.

Life went on, and I tapped away in size 12, Times Roman, for a few days. Then it all came back, tra la la, here we are again.
“Where have you been then ?” I yell.
Don’t ask.
No, I won’t.

Tweety-Pie Time

Watching the Twitface party perform on television with a kind of awed fascination, I can hardly believe what I’m seeing.
What is Twitface Howard thinking of, parading his kiddies at the gathering of the party faithful ?

Quite recently we were treated to the spectacle of having Howard’s children stand on the podium and warble about what a great Dad he is, and how he would make a super Prime Minister: all delivered in the usual plummy accents of course.

Hell’s Teeth! Of course they are going to think their Dad is the greatest! Be a sight more newsworthy if they stood there and said he was the greatest plonker that ever breathed.

I find it totally insulting to our (us the voters) intelligence. Does the Twitface Party really think we are going to turn into a mush electorate by voting day? Hey?
Come off it, we have more political savvy than Howard or his Ozzy spin-doctor understand. A few tweety-pie children are not going to convince us that we should vote for this imbecilic moron, are they?

I can put up with Gordon Brown smiling at a bunch of five year olds, and pretending to be enjoying it, its a game, he knows it, we know it.

Like one astute journalist pointed out to a Party lap-dog “This could be a mistake you know.”

You bet it’s a mistake.

Gracious Dave

LONDON (Reuters) - Irreverent Irish comedian Dave Allen, famed in for his sit-down comic routines with a whisky in one hand and cigarette in the other, has died aged 68.

The loss of Dave Allen brought home to me, how much we have lost in the art of gracious comedy: the ability to point out, minus the use of swear words and abusive attitudes, the hypocrisy of the Church, and the double-dealing of our politicians.
To comment on our world without resorting to irrational invective.

In other words understand the absurdity and laugh about it.

Gracious Dave left no-one in any doubt that the glass in his hand did not, and never would, contain cold tea or any other fake alchohol, it was whisky and nothing else.

To Gracious Dave, a fond farewell.

Twitface Fights On!

I quite understand that politicians of all persuasions go fairly mental in the run up to a general election, but when they start dragging out these cases of apparent neglect, I do think the element of farce goes off the scale.

We will gloss over the fact that dear Twitface, Leader of the Opposition waxed in lyrical terms over his Party’s concern for the lady who, we are told, had her operation cancelled seven times.

The unfortunate patient has been in this state for months, but only recently has she become the object of compassion, as Twitface vows he will fight on. Daresay he will, but I doubt that will help this lady, or anyone else.

Worse was to come, as recently a ‘anguished’ mother addressed the Faithful with Twitface beaming at the cameras from the podium. I’ve forgotten what she was being anguished about, because I got so pissed off with the whole thing, as I am absolutely certain, she will be left to deal with the whole sodding mess, without any help from Twitface or Uncle Tony.

‘Compassion’ is not a buzz word in politics, nope it surely is not.

The Confessions of a Toast Eater

Some of us takes the glories of toast seriously – and you mockers out there are obviously not one of us. Toast lovers know all about how a good slice of toast should be.
Basically , brown, not pallid, but brown, and then there’s the butter, lots of it and oozing nicely through the pores.

I tried pitta bread the other day – it wasn’t the same, hell no. Just sort of pallid, and no way was butter going to ooze anywhere, even after being subjected to a hot grill.

Something horribly restrained about pitta bread.

Of course, there’s the way you eat the toast, or rather, where.

I mention this because I like to eat my slice of large buttery toast in front of the computer
But only if there are no witnesses.
Only if there is no-one to see me scatter toasty crumbs over the keyboard, or press buttery fingers to the QWERTY .

Nothing better than a gleaming pc screen in front of me and a slice of butter laden toast to hand.
These are the confessions of a secret toast eater, and you have been privileged to read them here.
Am I eating toast right now ? You bet I am.

I quote the good doctor of Toast: “I'M AFRAID THE ADDICTION TO TOAST is an extremely real and frighteningly common phenomenon.”

I found this web site, I knew I wasn't the only one.

Toast Facts

We're the FBI, do not cry

I wish I had thought of it. Terrifying the bejesus out of a bunch of college kids, who all woke one morning to find in their email box, a stark warning from the FBI
“You have visited illegal web sites!”
I expect all the little kiddies had done that, for pete’s sake full of jumping hormones, that’s what college kids do.
Bit of a bummer to find out the FBI are onto you though.

The e-mails bear the subject line "You visit illegal websites," stating in the body of the message that the user's IP address has been found on more than 40 illegal Web sites and to contact M. John Stellford of the FBI.

And then accuses the culprit of having bought a Paris Hilton Video: that’s not illegal, that’s pathetic.

Not quite the same over here is it? No one is going to loose any sleep over warnings from Uncle Tony, no one can take a cheesecake grin like that seriously, maybe Batman would. Not the rest of us.

Even MI5 would only raise a cackle. “What ho you bounder, we got you fair and square.”
Yes all right Jeeves, pass me the sherry.