Worry, worry worry

Anxiety is big business these days.  What is there to worry about?  Let me count some of the ways:

Nuclear War
Overpopulation
The Korean crisis
Global Warming
Energy depletion
AIDS
Plague,

That is enough.  The answer to these problems is to adopt anxiety denial.  There is so much to worry about that it is not worth worrying at all.

May Day, May Day

It is no use calling for help. The Euro is doomed.  First Greece, now Ireland, next Portugal and so on until the clever men who thought up the scheme meet a country who will not be bullied into sinking into a morass of debt.  And that will be the end of the whole ridiculous enterprise.  But what a long time it will take as one crisis follows another and the unthinkable becomes thinkable.  How BOOOOOOORING!

Polar Bears

>Mummy, Mummy.  Why do we have to always ask for plastic bags?

>It's to stop polar bears from falling through the ice.

>I do wish you would stop telling me these stupid fairy tales.  I'm seven yars old now.<

Has anyone noticed that twenty nine is a prime number?

A Fine piece of Talk

Fifty years ago Ireland was wonderfully poor.  Was I naive in thinking that the people were happy?  Women seemed to do most of the work and certainly the men did most of the drinking.  Living well was the aim of life as we drove over the uncluttered roads where every lorry was carrying bottles or barrels.  And every  modest village had an auction of horses going on:

The proper study of mankind, of course,
Is not technology, it is the horse.

The heroine of one of Synge's plays decides to follow the penniless hero saying only "Tis a fine piece of talk ye have.  And it's with yourself I'll go."

So there they have something to start with all over again - horses and a fine piece of talk.  Good luck to them.

Pope Blesses Condoms

Three cheers for the Pope;
Let us hope against hope
That he very soon will
Sanction the pill.

When Kate Middleton orders sticky toffee pudding at her local pub she always asks for a small helping.

Sweet Thames run softly till I end my song.

Dave's KO

Dave had not delivered the coup de grace to Lord Young when I last mentioned the subject.  WELL DONE! Now we know how brutal he can be to one of his supporters, let's see what he can do to an opponent.

Narrow Escape

Phew!  Lord Young nearly gave the game away and had to be rebuked by the Head Boy.  The noble lord said that a lot of people had never had it so good what with price cutting in the High Street and incredibly cheap mortgages.  Dave and Boy George know this of course and will tell everybody when they declare just before the next election that the recession is over and they have saved the economy single-handedly from a recession caused by Labour's profligate policies. Watch this space.

Cameron

Dave and the schoolboys have just managed to squeeze  into Parliament so that Dave can play at  being Prime Minister after fighting  an appalling campaign and having to gang up with little Cleggie. Actually Dave quite likes leading a coalition as he always has someone to blame when things go wrong.  Meanwhile he can bang on about the Big Society until someone tells me what he means by it.  One thing is certain: it is not inspiring. More thoughts on Dave to come.

Ballet

Everything was beautiful at the ballet the other night when we saw the white hope of English dancing Laura Cuthbertson dancing oh so very beautifully Sylvia.  They wanted to make her change her name but she stuck to her guns.  Edris Stannus became Dame Ninette de Valois.  To what  should we change Cuthbertson?

Agony at Fort Wayne

So this is Fort Wayne Indiana

Yellow corn stretched to the low horizon as I emerged from the airport built of rusting steel.  A single decrepit taxi was waiting.  I got in.

The driver wanted to talk.

Ain't it a shame what a woman can do to you?  Seven years we've been together and today she just said, "I'm gonna let you screw me one more time then you can git!"  So I did what she said and gave it to her good and hard then she threw me out.  I never felt worse.

The world is always the same even in Fort Wayne Indiana

Three o'clock in the morning

The title of a maudlin old music hall song as the red nosed comedian staggered from one lamp post to another. He was drunk but that is the time that I am never more sober and ready to take on the world in disputation.  So look out!

Preface

To blog or not to blog; that is the question.
No it isn't.
To brag or not to brag; that is more like it.

So what's my excuse? I pledge my age.

I have reached the time when the days are taken up with precepts:

"Don't fall over.
"Don't trip over anything.
"Don't ever drop anything."

These preoccupations absorb my mind by day so who can I talk to at night -
probably about three o'clock in the morning?