The Other Island

Along with all the hype about Brenda going over the water but refusing the Guinness is a thoughtful piece(aren't they all) by Fintan O'Toole dated 23 May 2011 in openDemocracy.

Ireland and Britain: ends and beginnings

The other Island may have its, economic, troubles. I'm glad to see that they have not lost the wet and dry humour that nearly had Parnell's eye out.

The lack of reverence was obvious in the humour that was threaded through the week. There was the suggestion from an Irish Times letter-writer that making the queen sit through Westlife meant that we could call it quits for 800 years of oppression. Within an hour of the royal visit to Croker, people were showing each other texts and emails sent by an anonymous Louth GAA spokesman complaining that “at the site of the single greatest injustice in our history, to invite those responsible back to the scene of the crime is galling”. The target was the Meath forward Joe Sheridan, who was there to meet the queen and who scored an infamous “goal” to deprive Louth of last year’s Leinster title.

Bogie Man

I settled into the office chair which filed its usual complaint and I opened the bottom draw of my desk, my fist aid draw rather than a place for my trousseau. It contained a quart of bourbon and a few glasses that look as if they had been introduced to water but shortly after made their excuses and never returned. I poured a stiff one and tried it for size. It seemed remarkably fluid and a little small so I tried again. I pulled the phone towards me in case anyone rang. Nobody ever rings! I had the odd hour to kill. One, three, five, you get the picture. Things have been a little slack recently.

The latest LRB lay on my desk like the letter from a maiden aunt, without the cheque. I started to thumb through the pages. Not too many pictures and no sports section.
There was a piece by this broad called Diski. Seems someone was singing about a guy, Bogie, a real charmer. All the usual stuff; Hollywood, Cagney, Raft, and the broads, none of them from Norfolk, it was laid end to end by this canary Kanfer. Bogie made his dough, drank his scotch, and had his women. The last one, Bacall, was a real piece of work, classy. I ploughed on with the story and the bourbon. Seems like she wasn't the last one, she was beaten to the drawers by Verita, the hairdresser. He must have liked her style a lot, Verita! By this time the bottle was nearly done and so was I. The last sentence...

"Then again it might shake your world more to learn that Bogie…"

It stopped. I looked for what I might learn about this Bogie guy on the next page and the next. Nada! Back and forth through the paper, like a hop-head looking to score, but still I found nada. By the time I got to the funny ads by funny people, and I mean funny, it was over. I had been suckered by this Diski broad.

I hung around a club where I guessed she might take the waters. Sure enough, there she was, pretty as a picture but non too steady heading towards me on the sidewalk. I always come to the assistance of a damsel in distress and high heels. I took her arm and steered her into the alleyway.
"OK Sister, shake my world. Tell me the last thing I need to know about Bogie?"

She smiled and tried to kiss me. I asked her again but she was partying with the fairies somewhere and I wasn't going to get a look in. I'm no angel but I am not the guy to slap a broad around. I put her in a cab, gave the driver a twenty and told him to pour her home, gently.

So my desk is as empty as before, my calendar has spare dates, if you are interested, and the telephone is a silent as brick in a bucket of water. I reached down to reacquaint myself with the liquid trousseau. The post comes through the office door. I thumb through the bills and there at the bottom of the pile is the latest LRB. Do I want to be suckered again? No, but I need to know. I may be a man with a thirst but sometimes that thirst is not just for bourbon. I turned the pages. There it was - the remaining part of the sentence - three little words...

...wore a wig!

Would you look at that? Bogie had a syrup, no wonder he was sweet on Verita.

What can you do?

When I read a story like this piece in the Grauniad I almost despair.
The horrors, even if only half of it is correct, are beyond comprehension.
The Laogai is as much a stain on our humanity, collectively and personally, as the Gulags, the Holocaust and the casual genocide we have visited upon humanity from time to time.
We can't say we don't know. That lame excuse is no longer available to any human being.
We can only choose to ignore.
Never again we said. We were wrong.

Life has given us so much we owe it to the human spirit we all share to object, condemn and organise.

Ding Dong Mr Bell

I am reliably informed by that paper of recrod and journle of note, The Grauniad, that a certain Mr Bell has passed the 'Age of the Bus Pass'. God bless you sir. A quote -

What I craved was a job where I could shut myself in a room and talk to myself, sometimes very loudly and in a variety of accents.

Don't we all! However, Steve has used that to eviscerate the egos of people who would have been better off being placed in the charge of a large and sympathetic character who was able to listen attentively, supply tea, lashings of tea, and a firm, restraining, hand when their charges tried to enter the real world!

Here's to another 60 and may no politician or gombeen man feel safe from your pen!

Priesting

The day I was due to be electrocuted (therapeutic not judicial, even Suffolk is not that right wing) I had a late reprieve! The powers that be judged I had regained my wonderful sense of rhythm and the future for me lay in drugs not electrification. I am nothing if not a pathfinder for my country.
My own view is that the NHS had run out of shillings for the lecky meter and needed a few bob prior to privatisation, however, we will let that go.

Given that we were not doing anything else, Lady BP and yours truly went off to the local wildlife trust. A lovely day and glad to be electrically neutral we wandered thither and yon looking for a kingfisher or two (Ed... you're getting carried away and besides this blog can not afford more than one kingfisher at a time!)

In one of the hides we spotted a heron, priesting, as we say along with Dylan; Thomas that is not Bob. A completely different kettle of herring. ( Ed... Jesus, let's do the artwork and get out of here back to the asylum before you are locked out. )

Snapped on the old Magi-Phone, not very good, but you can see, surely, the blatant levitical posturing of the bird in the centre

Spanish Revolutions

Just when you thought you had got to grips with the last one along comes another
#SpanishRevolution!

Very excitable, foreigners, but as rubber man Cameroon and Gideon are always banging on about it, we are all in this together. I think that is what El Pueblo Unido Jamas Sera Vencido means in English. Can't think where I have heard that before. One of the perils of long life Dave, a view!

If you are perplexed it may help to read an article about Understanding ‘Spanishrevolution’
by Pedro Silverio Moreno in openDemocracy.

Then again, it may not! I think I'll just sit down now while someone phones for the Cruz Rioja!

Fun

World Peace and Justice have long been, I think, modest objectives for my considerable talents.
As you may have noticed, I have experienced a few setbacks recently.
I could be going about this the wrong way.

In order to persuade people to invest trust and commit to the building of social capital perhaps we should adopt the change through fun agenda.

What do we want? Fun!
When do we want it? By 16:00 hrs and our position is not negotiable!

If it don't work, neither do I and at least we've had some.....
You got it.
Amen

Big Numbers

The Wall Street Journal has an article

The Really Smart Phone by Robert Lee Hotz

(Linked from the Grauniad)

Many interesting statements:-

Today, almost three-quarters of the world's people carry a wireless phone.

Splutter as muesli goes out of mouth in explosive spray - big numbers!

My good friend Mr Wikipedia would make that an estimated population, world for the use of, 7 billion and change - give or take. Three quarters of that number gives you about 5.25 billion and change - give or take. (Ed... Yes, yes we all know you had the benefits of a catholic and a scientific education.) The WSJ probably checks the odd fact or two. However, here at BP Towers, we have the latest supercomputer fact checking department and our staunch friend Mr Wikipedia. According to the man there are an estimated 4.6 billion mobile phone subscribers ( not handsets.) Not so far out but still big numbers and when they are potentially linked in a network the mind bogoggles!

The article has other points to make; minor questions of identifying location, 'privacy' and predicting behaviour. You can read for yourself.

The following did catch my mental funny bone

Perhaps less surprisingly, people are happiest when they are making love and most miserable when sick in bed. The most despondent place in the U.K. is an hour or so west of London, in a town called Slough.

Didn't someone write a poem about that once, Slough, bombs, despond! Rings a bell.

Being Wrong.

Mr Murphy has had some problems with his blog and in a Freudian moment described this as
big BT problems today.
He claims
I meant to say IT problems
but then sees the potential wisdom of his mistake.

A comment suggests this could be described as a Freudian Blip.

However, I think it's a Spoonerian Bong Wryte.
Just a thought!

Tax Research is good stuff.
Get your mice clicking and your keyboards rattling to demand principle based tax payments and tax justice from your MP and this miserable bunch of looters and gombeen men we call the government!

T' Urns Wormed

Didn't old Salmo Salmar do well.
Keith's mum thinks that he is worth a snog and a cuddle.
Given he is such a slippery character I hope he makes Rubber Man Cameroon's life slow hell.
(Sour grapes and wishful thinking... Ed)
Talking about Rubber Man and Gideon the word on the street is they are now brilliant strategists. Hmm... a few bob from the men in Bermuda Shorts (Oh even I can't believe I said that) must have helped.
I found that I had to indicate on my ballot in the local elections that I was spoilt for choice.
Seems to have produced a few chuckles.

Is there a progressive majority?
Not sure.
If the Jocks go their own way eventually, and good luck to them, what will be left?
Depressing thoughts over.
Just been listening to Tamikrest — Ayitma Madjam - Toumastin
Not that I understand the words but my informant, a Ms Kothari of the British Broadcasting Corporation, assures me that it contains a positive message.

Having finished off The Man from Beijing my staunch pals at the Local Library have provided Being Wrong for my delight and delectation.

It seems the pheasants of Suffolk, having risen up as one person with their hammers and sickles, have saved our local library, banished the wicked Witch of the East, and ensured that world peace and justice are just around the corner.

Being wrong, yes I'm looking forward to that!

Later, on Page 84, a group of individuals with little or no knowledge or expertise discussing theoretical physics:-

In fact, we could far more aptly have have been called shoestring theorists: virtuosos of developing elaborate hypotheses based on vanishingly small amounts of information.

I like that.

Red Kites in the Sunrise

Slo Mo to take your breath away.

We used to watch these birds with endless fascination in Cantabria.
Little did we know!

Thanks to the Grauniad for the Link