That pure Cane Spirit since 1848.

Saturday, June 13, 2009



Thank God for the bomb.


I am acutely aware that by 14.58 BST today, Boris Johnson and Cameron (I forget his first name; is it Ian?) have already accomplished a lot.


They are old Etonians you see. I am of an age when all my heroes were Etonians. It was the only school worth mentioning. In fact a college. Now my school was a college too, and we had the twin chips on our shoulders of being Scotch and Jesuit. Beat that! Let Eton flourish? Let Glasgow Flourish!

I’ve met three; Etonians that is. They were très good company and as tough as nails and had that effortless English quality of being at ease. I became quite friendly with one, for a while, a year or so, during various crises in the world of agriculture. We emailed regularly, got pissed a few times home and away, had him home to dinner, that sort of thing. I would meet him at the airport and he had that superb way of looking very grateful to be met. Perhaps he was. Anyway, we got on. He was elevating company. What a leech I am. He liked malt whiskies and I have an "in" where malt whisky is concerned and would press white labelled bottles of Glen Farclas 1968 (62% ABV) on him as he left for London.


I foolishly dropped all my network a while back. Pissed them against the wall like the faux Benzedrine I was guzzling at the time.


To get back to the subject; I, on the other hand, have done sweet Fanny Adams today.

Because I am not an Old Etonian?

No.

Because I am an old, hopeless, worthless aunt with an autumnal timor mortis perched on my shoulder the size of a parrot.


OH bee tee doubleyou Pat, a "Frenchie" is a kiss, nothing more. Shame on you if you thought otherwise.


20 comments:

savannah said...

lookaheah, sugar, but ah ned a translation!*sigh* xoxox

Gorilla Bananas said...

Timor Mortis, Dr? I thought you didn't like Latin. I remember being dead. It was very peaceful and not the least bit boring. A billion years went by in the blink of an eye.

Scarlet-Blue said...

If I ever get Hinge and Bracket in the same room together I will knock their heads together.
Both old Etonians for sure.
Sx

Kim Ayres said...

Good old home made self pity. So much better than the mass produced stuff you pick up from reality shows these days. Good for you, Doc, keeping the old ways alive. Kids today just don't know the half of it.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Oh poor Maroon.
Wanna McGonagall?

Dr Maroon said...

I'm sure you do not, Savannah my lovely. It's frairly straightforward. see Kim's comment below. ;) oxxooxox

Mr Gorilla Bananas, truly you are the most learned of the anthropological literary apes. Your wisdom stretches across the aeons, beyond the ken of mortal man. Would you care for a fig? It rhymes with pudenda.

Scarls, they were moderately funny weren't they? In a "let's drag up and piss around like two old spinsters" sort of way. Yeah. Here, have this MM. The vodka's Sainsbury's but it's Idris ginger beer. V.G.
Ax.

Kim of course you are correct. Doesn't help mind, but the point is yours. I have not forgotten all of the phonecall, still no sign of the godamn chocolate cake though, and now i'm thinking about it, I crave it. Gee thanks Kim, swell!

Clarissa!

O for a beaker of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocreme,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim
And purple stained mouth...

That I might drink and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget,
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever and the fret...

Sarah said...

how are you? it's been ages since we spoke last.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Oh very nice, Maroon. Nothing like one of the dear old metaphysicals to round off the perfect Saturday night! Please accept the following in response.

Four ills, of all my hates the chief,
Are met in one together:
Coughing, age, sickness, grief.
I am old, lonely, twisted and cold
After the bed of desire; I'm galled
With misery and my back's thrice-snarled.
No man wants me, no friend haunts me,
Age daunts and enwalls me.
Death - why do you not call?

Kevin Musgrove said...

Possibly apocryphal:

Student: "At Eton, sir, we were always told to wash our hands after going to the lavatory."

Wisnton Churchill: "At Harrow we were always told not to piss on our hands."

Dr Maroon said...

Kev, we didn't have a pot to piss in.

Dr Maroon said...

Ah, but age shall not wither YOU,
Nor custom stale your infinite variety.

Dr Maroon said...

Sarah, you're right! Let's chew the fat. Shoot the shit, run it up the flagpole and see who salutes.

Sarah said...

i've a feeling you are a touch yellow.

Dr Maroon said...

Sarah how perceptive you are. I am as yellow as a Chinee with beri beri.
My Physic says 'tis nothing more than the ravages of strong liquor upon my poor liver.
"It must be like an old pipe major's sporran by now, Maroon!" was how he put it, pacing about, checking his watch for opening time, the damned lush that he is.
Abstinence and the missal twice daily is his prescription (he is dreadful Catholic when he wants to be).

savannah said...

y'all aren't gettin around much anymore, sugar or have i just missed it? xoxoxo

Dr Maroon said...

Gout! Sav, my darling. :) oxo

Mrs Pouncer said...

Gout: the Disease of Kings. Let us hope and ardently pray that it doesn't lead to hyperuricemia or, even worse, Lesch-Nyhan Syndrome. Are you presenting with any of the following: finger biting, lip sucking, eye rolling, nose thumbing, ear waxing, knee trembling, rib tickling, pure fizzing, thigh slapping, groin straining, arm wrestling, bee keeping, dam busting, tap dancing, nail filing, hair raising, ever loving Pepsi?

(Only two of these symptoms are genuine. I was on a roll with the rest).

Dr Maroon said...

God Clarissa, if only. I presented with;
finger suckin’- lip nibblin’- eye crossin’- nose bleedin’- ear wiggin’- knee feelin’- rib kissin’- pure fizzing- thigh lubin’- groin lickin’- arm wrappin’- bee pipin’- dam holdin’- tap turnin’- nail scratchin’- hair strokin’- ever lovin’ PEPSI!!
What a to do.

Ax.

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