Keep the Tourists Happy

In these days of political nannies, the gloom has been punctured by reactions to the Government’s call for a ‘oath of allegiance’ to the Queen and her collection of expensive and time-wasting kids.

Scotland was quick to announce unswerving hostility to the idea.

Scottish enterprise minister Jim Mather said it would not be supported north of the border. He told BBC Radio Scotland's Good Morning Scotland: "We don't support it and neither do the vast majority of parents, teachers and children in Scotland".

Oh good.

One thing about the Scots, they are blissfully keen to kick the English Establishment in the bollocks. The first hint of ‘Thou shalt’ and it’s ‘Scots wae hae’ and the bannocks start flying.

The Scots minister who is certainly enterprising, went on to say “People are hanging together, their loyalty is to each other here in Scotland. Sovereignty still lies with the Scottish people."

That cheered me up so much, I nearly packed my bags for Scotland straight away.
I refuse to swear ‘allegiance’ to a family of royals who are overpaid, overstuffed, and over here: and doing bugger all for us peasants.

I wanted to send the royals back to Hanover, but the Kraut refused the offer. We don't need 'em.
We can have lots of parades, (so very good for tourism) without them.

Think about it; keep the guards changing horses and have a coach driving up and down the Mall, with a card cut-out figure flapping a hand in a regal sort of way.
Keep the tourists happy won’t it?

On state occasions we can have card figures on the Palace balcony, with a flunky pulling strings, (lots of hand flapping)
I don’t suppose anyone will be able to tell the difference.

If any reader has the Gaelic for ‘I’ll do you in the bollocks, you Sassenach gits’ post it here.
Yep.

Doghouse Day

February 15th is ‘Doghouse Day’ and dedicated to all those thick ‘eads that forgot to deliver the required chocs/flowers/ gifts, and The Card, to the love of their life.




Note: ‘The Card’ and if you have got to this stage of your life, without understanding the importance of ‘The Card’ go live in the desert or something.

Only got yourselves to blame when war breaks out.

Once a year, Blokes are expected to present these tokens to their loved one.
The flowers from the local garage don’t fit the bill – they have ‘Desperation’ written all over their faded petals.



She told you it didn’t matter? Believe that and you are dead, really, truly, deeply ‘Dead’

Think about it: anything with a big red heart on it does the trick, so do your stuff and reap the rewards until next year.

If you get yourself into the shit like this again, you don’t deserve a sodding kiss.
Or anything else.

Yep.

'Get 'Em Off!"

Every time I go through the airport, they freak over my Boots – they are only Boots, for heaven’s sake. At Luton the people go bananas.
‘Off’ they yell, ‘Boots off!’

My Boots are nice, sturdy things, but they sure upset Luton where Easy Jet becomes ‘Total Freak Jet'.
Once I have removed my offending footwear, all the staff become ‘Jolly Jet’ and beam away.



No such carry on at the Berlin end – ‘Kommer!!’
The Frau waves a laser stick over my dangerous boots.
”Beepity beep beep”…and it’s over.

The train from Rostock to Berlin was empty, so I rested my booted feet on the seat (they were clean you know.)
The Kraut says she has a plastic bag for such occasions, she would.

It was all right until the Frau Controller appeared, ‘Schuhen, Schuhen!’
In other words ‘Get ‘em off’

Next time I go through Berlin Schonefeld, I’ll try out this costume.

The Kraut dragged me into this shop run by a charming lady from Morocco. For some reason, she and the Kraut wanted to dress me up in this green stuff.




I shall wear it with my Boots - that should do it.
Enough to get me arrested.
Yep




(The nice lady from Morocco)

Lookin' for the Good Stuff

I must say, how surprising it is to find that the world of work still exists - in the post-Holiday phase, that word had no meaning or credit (just like the Kraken)

On reflection, the words 'Time for a cup of tea, and/or, tot of whisky?' certainly did.

Sometimes, I find myself looking round for the whisky - like the song sez

'It's not there'

Let's begin this year as we intend to go on - like this squirrel, looking for 'The Good Stuff'




Photo by Red Fred - January 2008

Looking for his Nuts, I guess

Photo by Red Fred - January 2008

I'm sure we can understand his feelings


Yep

Santa's embers

Before Santa climbs down your chimney this Yuletide, I suggest you dampen the embers – a red hot arse is no way to impress the old man.

List of prezzis should be neatly typed, none of your spidery writing with ink blots, the result of too many whiskeys, and keep it short.



You try lugging round a sack, filled with Ipods and laptops, see how you feel.

My tip for successful Sants grovelling, is – forget the bloody milk, a decent glass of malt, and some nice cold grouse with game chips (to the hoi polloi, that’s crisps)

Oh yeah, keep the fearsome hound locked up in the coalhouse.
Father Nicholas will be making some very unholy remarks if ‘Fluffy’ sinks canine choppers round his private parts, or anywhere else.



This cold weather can make a chap remember his bladder – post clear signs to the bathroom, or you might find Santa putting out the embers, all by himself.
I’m orff to find the whiskey, I mean pour some out for Santa


Happy Christmas to everyone, (and with gritted teeth) that includes the Kraken groupies.



Yep.

Off to see the Kraut

Right, I'm orff to see the Kraut

While I am gone, there is no need for anyone to think they can let rip with Krakens, slimy sucker-pads, or anything else of that 'ilk'

And a word of warning, to the personage who asked if I was catching the Trans-Siberian train - he will regret that little quip (right where the sucker-plates go)

Yep

Can you hear the weather?

I don’t think the weather bods in this country have got it right; at one time our television broadcasts were bespattered by a clutch of toothsome young women, who beseeched us ‘to wrap up warmly’ and ‘take care out there’.

Not everyone cared for these sweetie-pies, and comments about ‘unwanted Nannies’ were rife: there were nostalgic longings for the weather forecasts of yesteryear.



I mean no one could imagine Michal Fish exhorting you to ‘Have a warm scarf’ or look terribly anxious at the thought of rain pattering down on your little head.

He might have assured us that the gales which flattened this country (1987) did not exist

I quote:

"Earlier on today apparently a lady rang the BBC and said she heard that there was a hurricane on the way. Well don't worry if you're watching, there isn't."

But he wore a tweedy jacket with a tie, and looked like everyone’s class teacher.
Fine, that’s how I like it – it’s going to rain, and the isobars do their thing.

(Mr Fish now says he was talking about Florida- I never heard him say anything about Florida)
Never mind

They’ve lost the plot, them at the BBC. The current trend is for the presenter to stand out in the rain, cold and miserable, telling you that....wait for it hombres....
‘It’s going to rain.’ Gosh.

I can’t see that having the poor sod stand in their Blue Peter garden improves it either.

(for you Yanks , BP is a kid’s programme where they make things out of cartons, and borrow the kiddies from a stage school, to make it look good)

What’s wrong with the studio format, where a person, in this case, a nice young lady, stands in front of a chart and points?
Nothing at all




I think the Yanks have got it right – cheerful person, in nice warm studio, and however bloody awful the weather is, beams at you anyway.



I guess the Beeb are into reality TV.
Let’s be happy they don’t ask the presenter to add sound effects, when it’s windy.

Yep.

The Contraction of Gonads

Some folks might think that I gloat over the misfortunes of blokes
If anyone is murmuring ‘No no, of course not’ all I can say is they haven’t been paying attention.




If any of you red-blooded males want to improve your chances of getting laid, all you have to do is leap into an icy stretch of water, do a few metres, and hey presto, there you are.


Pumping with testosterone, the idea is that you leap out of the water, beat your chest, Tarzan style and I guess the females find you irresistible. So says Tom de Castella, writing in the New Statesman.



Sold on the idea that leaping into cold water is good for you, Mr de Castella writes

‘Suddenly the leaves on the surface become icebergs, the swan on the far side is a Russian warship guiding me home, and the jetty is the Siberian shore full of waving Inuits….’

I find the spectre of a dripping wet, pimple- skinned male, quite resistible but then, Brad Pitt & co., don’t do it for me either

The icy water contracts the gonads, you know, and the testosterone...er...’pumps’
Quite so.
The enthusiastic Castella assure us that it works for women as well, but I’m not about to try it.

Check it out, do – without Me.

Yep.

Notes
‘Cold water, hot blood’
Tom de Castella. New Statesman 8 November 2007

Read the article online
Cold water, hot blood



Red Fred's Pics

'Father Christmas, Farts....'

I protest and object to Santa being told to slim down by the do-gooders who want our Claus to be svelte.
I quote "We want to make sure Santa is fit so he can deliver all the presents”



Eh?

Oh give us a break, and bugger off somewhere
What’s wrong with a Santa who has to struggle down the chimney, and might, just might get stuck?

This pearl of wisdom comes from some politically correct moron who told his 12 Santas, that they had to slim down, before they could work in his shopping mall



I’ve always admired the Father Christmas created by Raymond Briggs.

Santa is grumpy, he drinks too much, eats too much and he farts.
Sounds like the real thing to me.

Mr Correctness went on to say “There's nothing wrong with Santa being the size that he is, we just want him to have a modern day makeover to reflect the realistic demands of being the world's most renowned delivery man."

I detect ‘managementspeak’ and I don’t think they give a toss about the little kiddies (and the big ones) who are eagerly waiting for Santa (correctly FAT) to park his reindeer, gobble all the mince pies, and belch loudly by way of thanks

That’s how it is.
Yep.

Father Christmas by Raymond Briggs
Hardcover: 32 pages
Publisher: Hamish Hamilton Ltd (20 Sep 1973)

The article may be read in full here
Shopping centre keeps Santa fit

A Stiff Upper Lip

There are some places, a bloke will not boldly go, in fact he won’t go there at all – and I can assure you, it requires a stiff upper lip for anyone to investigate these dark and noisome places.

And before any blokes spring to the defence, and proclaim how new age you all are, don’t bother – the caveman lives





There is a Land behind the Cooker, where festering substances have parties and celebrate their long life.
I do not exaggerate, I only observe.
Inside the cooker?

Forget it, blokes just burn stuff and wonder why the oven is sending out smoke signals.





What I like is the look of blank surprise (but very faint interest) on a bloke’s face, when you inform him that parts of his cave are supporting a whole new eco-system, most of them alien to human life



Beam me up, Scotty.
Yep.

'Winds, veering to moderate'

Sod the Foodies, we know what we likes.

Marmalade sarnis, along with our famous chip butties, are truly English, and Marmite may be good for you, but us Brits stand paw to paw, with our famous bear (see the previous blog for enlightenment on that one)

Some things always take us home, wherever we may be

Before the era of day-long television, we only had the radio, so I can understand why the exiles amongst us, still tune in for Classic FM or the BBC’s World Service.

Part of that life was the Shipping Forecast that was first broadcast on the British Home Service, now on Radio 4 (1967) As a child I used to listen to the modulated tones of the broadcaster, as he went through the areas around our coasts.

‘Dogger, Fisher….’ wondering if those sailors tossing around in the sea were all right, and would they get home?




‘Cromarty and Forth…Winds veering to moderate’
That was good, the winds would veer, and the rain would come along later.

The names have a poetry all their own ‘Viking’ ‘Rockall’ ‘Shannon’. We used to have ‘Finisterre’ but we lost that in 2002.

To the Spanish, would you believe?

‘A name known to millions of radio listeners after appearing in broadcasts every day for 53 years has passed into history. Finisterre ranks alongside Dogger, Fisher and German Bight as one of the most distinctive areas of sea included in the BBC's shipping forecast, but from Sunday at noon it will be heard no longer. Feb 2002’ (BBC News)





Just because of the bloody Spanish – they wanted the name, so now that area is named ‘FitzRoy’, and if you think I begrudge the Spanish their ‘Finnisterre’ damn right, I do.

Captain FitzRoy became a governor of New Zealand, so they should have named somewhere in New Zealand after him, if you think about it. Or maybe the whole country.

Only fair isn’t it?

And left ‘Finnisterre’ where it should be.





Yep

Notes and Bibliography

1) The first weather forecast broadcast on radio was a script prepared by the Met Office and read by an announcer on November 14, 1922, from Marconi House, London. From March 26, 1923, this became a daily service.

2) Captain Robert FitzRoy

Robert FitzRoy is best known as the captain of 'HMS Beagle' After a brief interlude as Governor of New Zealand, FitzRoy went on to develop an interest in meteorology becoming the founder of the UK Meteorological Office and inventor of the weather forecast.

He invented the earliest form of the Mercury Barometer. In parallel with the issuing of forecasts and the gathering of meteorological data, FitzRoy also distributed free barometers to poor fishing communities



I recommend this book by Charllie Connelly, available from Amazon

Attention All Shipping: A Journey Round the Shipping Forecast (Radio 4 Book of the Week) by Charlie Connelly. May 2005.

A List of Shipping Areas
Pub Quiz

Charts and Maps, very informative
Marine weather

Met Office

BBC Weather

The lowdown on just how the Shipping Forecast is produced
Media UK