I must say what a splendid job some people have done in decorating their houses in honour of the 75 year VE Day celebrations, which makes my little tribute look rather paltry but as you can see from the photo even if I had emblazoned the house with bunting it would still be hardly noticeable from the road. As they say, it’s the thought that counts.
HAPPY VE DAY EVERYONE.
I LOOK FORWARD TO A TIME WHEN WE CAN ALL MEET AGAIN.
IN THE MEAN TIME KEEP SAFE.
I happened to catch Prime Ministers question time on the evening news today and was wondering if the press and the Opposition were quite so hostile to Winston Churchill during World War Two, or did they all pull together for the benefit of the country?
Personally I don’t think I could have the sort of willpower displayed by the Prime Minister who one imagines is doing his absolute best to deal with the awful coronavirus situation, having indeed come close to death himself.
I’m sure if I was asked the sort of annoying and inane questions he has been asked I would have resorted to answering as follows; “any idiot can stand there and ask this nonsense with the benefit of hindsight, why don’t you fxxk off you annoying little shit, I’m doing my best!”
Sadly Professor Neil Ferguson has resigned as he has broken the rules of lock down which he himself designed by allegedly meeting his married lover in his house.
One has to feel sorry for the poor chap who will no doubt be held to ridicule for unfortunately being the man who proves yet again that an erect penis has no conscience.
Here are three of my works which were previously selected for THE SHORT OF IT, should you feel like submitting pieces here is the link with instructions on how to do so.
A MAN ENTERED THE BAR.
A man entered the bar,
He appeared to be moving like a sailing boat,
tacking against the wind.
With trouser belt above the waist, he stopped,
swayed back upon his heels,
and taking first position in a dancey sort of way,
he did a little plié.
He ordered a pint of snakebite, a Guinness,
and a crème de menthe,
then having downed the lot he proceeded to sing,
from the La Marseillaise.
Pulling down his trousers, like a man possessed
he waved his bits about,
and bending down to touch his toes he struck a match,
and lit a massive fart.
A blue flame shot all the way across the bar,
causing scorching damage.
The crowd erupted in spontaneous applause,
and cheers of joyous laughter.
Then it seemed almost in the blinking of an eye,
he had disappeared.
The man had left the bar.
Pay attention boy!
I entered a competition to write some prose and duly sent in my entry whereupon I received a reply saying I should have sent three, which reminded me of my school days which were spent mostly looking out of the window daydreaming.
The teacher would gain your attention by throwing a heavy wooden board rubber at your head which would land with a crack and bring a tear to your eye, on reflection I’m amazed more boys didn’t suffer from concussion.
It was the norm in those days for the teachers to have carte blanche to inflict any number of corporal punishments from a slap across the knuckles with a ruler, a whack on the bottom from a size 11 plimsoll to the full-blown six of the best with a bamboo cane.
The strangest thing though was having to say, “thank you Sir” after being beaten.
Happy days!
It could always be worse!
My life of late has not been great,
I’ve had an awful time.
My wife has left, the kids gone too,
I don’t know what to do.
This tale of woe began a year ago,
when I sadly lost my job.
No money left to pay the bills,
I foolishly turned to crime.
How hard I thought to rob a house,
I’ll try the one next door.
I dressed in black and took a sack,
in which I put the swag.
They say that crime it doesn’t pay
and sadly, they are right.
For now, I’m serving thirteen months,
in a dingy prison cell
I must say life inside is not all bad,
for I’m now a prison wife.
He’s not perhaps my ideal mate,
but in here you don’t say no.
If I behave, I’ll be out soon and
make sure I don’t come back.
I was reading a post on the Drizzle and Hurricane Books blog about a blogging slump and suggestions for ideas to keep your blog fresh which was most useful as I too have been slowing down with my posts, due to the lack of anything happening, or being reported in the world.
In my reply I suggested I might just copy and paste it as a post for today as I want to get on with my book, I know it’s cheating but I have posted a link to Drizzle and Hurricane so you can have two blogs to read today for the price of one!
It would be nice if the TV news reported something other than Coronavirus for I’m sure there are other things to report, personally I have slowed down blogging as I’m concentrating on writing a book which I’d like to get finished before the end of the lock down. The shock of having the freedom to go out again, to take my classic cars for a run, to meet friends etc might be too much temptation and enjoying myself may take precedent over finishing the book. Unfortunately Mr Donald Trump is a constant source of material for a blog post although having to watch him on television is exceedingly painful, I expect he might be easier to watch once he learns to read. I could cheat and just copy this reply and use it as a post!
I haven’t done a FAKE NEWS story for a little while but was prompted to do so by Mr Donald Trumps ridiculous suggestion that we should inject disinfectant to kill Coronavirus, I have to say this man has proven himself to be a dimwit on numerous occasions and now his latest hair brained scheme has ended in tragedy.
It seems Mr Trump injected himself with Nitroglycerin, an unstable explosive liquid in an attempt to kill the deadly virus and sadly while travelling in the Presidential limousine they hit a speed hump with tragic consequences, it is reported that all those aboard have been blown to smithereens.
That is the end of the FAKE NEWS for today and with that I hand you back to the studio.
I am getting sick to death of the British television news, especially Her Majesty’s British Broadcasting Corporation breaking their reports to listen to the rambling nonsense spouted by Mr Donald Trump.
What is the point in having to listen to the wittering of this awful man who seems barely able to read let alone form a coherent sentence, except; As some of you may know, I write children’s stories and am always looking for new ideas to write about and having never written a Fairy Story I thought I might manage to obtain a transcript of Mr Trump’s daily briefing and use that as a plot for the book.
I shall call the book, Mr Trump and the Corona Fairies at the bottom of his garden.
I received an email from a friend of mine in the Bentley Drivers Club and as we are not able to use our cars at the moment, he described a walk taken in the countryside together with a portion of the wonderful Robert Browning poem Home Thoughts from Abroad, (with its often miss quoted first line!) which I think summed up the spirit needed to get us through the current situation, I hope you enjoy his letter.
Hi Joe
Hope you like this musings from a 87 year old window cleaner down to just one Bentley. Please feel free to send it on if it stirs you.
Roy
Since the lock down Margaret and I have been taking the opportunity to explore the wonderful surrounding Hertfordshire countryside by walking as far as two oldies can.
Today it was North Mymms Park with its untold acres of Greenfields surrounded by Woods not far removed and untouched since pre Norman times. Numerous coppices and complimented by the pleasure of being able to hear the seemingly inexhaustible rich clear sound of bird song without the noise and fumes of the A1M. Was this really Good Friday 2020?
With this thought, and while taking a moment to rest and trying to maintain this magical moment of tranquillity we noticed the 400-year-old plus North Mymms Tower of St Marys Church peeping through the tops of the trees. On further exploring we noticed the memorial erected in 1920 to all those brave souls who gave their all in the dreadful wars of WW1 and WW2 resisting tyranny and the very reason I am able to write this.
Memories of my boyhood of the dark days in Finsbury Park North London and the 40s blitz came hastening back of the time, when just as all seemed hopelessly lost, somewhere in this old brainbox Robert Browning’s epic poem that also sustained fellow countrymen and women in WW1 and WW2 came back.
***Oh, to be in England Now that April’s there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England – now!! ***
This is the England I knew and remembered when we alone stood against Nazi tyranny and so proudly wore our Cubs and Scouts uniforms freely giving our allegiance to the King/Queen.
I have tried to savour and hold on to the moment and record it as very soon we will be back to normal (what is normal) and instants like this will be lost for ever.
Future generations will never know the pride of being English. The World should be on its knee’s thanking this tiny Island, Waterloo 1815, WW1, WW2, alone, we gave our all.
Please Think On This and Thanks for your time
Grumpy, but proud Old Roy
I wanted to pay my own little tribute to the racing legend Sir Stirling Moss and to say thank you for the many happy hours we spent watching you race at the Goodwood Revival over the years.
Whilst never having watched Stirling race when he was competing professionally, (I was too young) he was accepted as the best driver never to have won the World Championship.
From 1955 to 1961 he was runner up four times and third on three other occasions and was famous for winning the 1955 Mille Miglia with Dennis Jenkinson reading the pace notes.
Ironic, perhaps that the crash that ended his career in April 1962 should have been at Goodwood, the very circuit where he gave so much pleasure to spectators after the end of his professional career.
Thank you for the pleasure you gave us. RIP Sir Stirling Moss.
The Diary of a Country Bumpkin 