That pure Cane Spirit since 1848.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Thierry Henry kicks his cat and never phones his mother. He quite possibly smells and his name is back to front. Personally I have no time for the man.
As you will know, 60 nautical miles is one degree on the surface of the earth meaning that 360 degrees is 21 600 nautical miles.
What you probably DIDN’T know, is that my year (boar) has just ended and the time of the dirty rat has begun.
Don’t ask for the fish in China for it will not be sole nor even a nice haddock; it will be an innocent goldfish wriggling on a skewer!
Sometimes foreigners know fine what you’re talking about, they just like taking a rise out you. They stare glumly while yours truly explains with pen and paper what the modern offside rule means in terms of playing with two attacking fullbacks. It’s better just to fill up on beer and noodles and stare back at them and see how they like their own medicine.
Luckily for all of you, I am a very important and clever person and I’ve been flying the flag of British exports, keeping our balance of payments in the black, and showing some true steel. Actually it was a complex alloy that costs a fortune but that’s none of your business.
Last night at half past six, a palsy of depression fell on me like a cloak. It was as sudden as a switch being turned off. There was no warning. It had lifted by 10 o’clock but it left me frightened and anxious.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
The Prince and The Paupers
Harry: Oh Papa, I am so tired shootin’ peregrines an’ red kites and badgers, may I not go to Afghanistan and shoot some fuzzy-wuzzys instead?
Charles: Ask your grandfather
Phil: Course you may m’boy, just make sure you wear a British uniform this time: leave Uncle Wolfgang’s armband at home.
And so it came to pass that the creepy little prince got his wish to go to a far off kingdom and bring down death upon the heads of the poor superstitious people in the fields of their own land using stand off weapons guided by British R.A.F. technicians 7000 miles away in the Nevada Desert of the Americans.
“They never knew what hit them, the silly things.” he sniggered, as the burning Afghans ran away screaming.
Oh how the young prince danced with glee...until his ripping good fun was stopped and the precious little prince was dragged home to protect him (from the enemy).
No one mentioned how sick it all seemed, or asked why the insufferable little scrub was there in the first place instead of wasting his subjects’ money in nightclubs.
“If it wasn’t just to indulge his morbid proclivities he must surely stay and fight on, taking his chances with the rest.” suggested nobody.
“What a thoughtless little weirdo.” said no one else.