First of all, It’s important to establish, the following story probably shouldn’t be laughed at. In fact, on first glance, it really is quite horrific. Yet here we are laughing. Why?
Imagination.
Probably best to let one of the papers explain. ‘Sacked Indian staff beat boss to death’ (Guardian). That’s 63 staff, all arrested. Plus a further 70 odd facing charges of disturbing the peace.
So just to clarify. That’s over 130 men against 1. In a car park with metal bars. Which is just bad.
And yet, consider this. Lets make a movie. Lets put Will Ferrell in as the leading protagonist, lets keep it in India but replace the metal bars with dead fish.
This is sticking it to the man.
I stole a stapler once. This isn’t.
Thought it best to mix things up a little with a topic that might best be described as ‘out of the box’. Something new, relatively untouched yet as deserving of our attention as any other story today.
And so, without further ado, I introduce you to: The Credit Crunch.
‘Things can only get much worse’
YYYEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!
The Independent Independent finally find themselves in apocalyptic heaven as at last, another iceberg has melted!
YYYEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!
The shackles are off. No longer will they hide in the shadows, tied down under literary constraint with nothing better to embellish than a little financial disharmony. Not for them the ailing fortunes of a few bankers.
Whilst we’re talking about it, lets talk about it. Apparently we can expect a nuclear winter as ‘millions of tons’ of methane gas will soon be released into the atmosphere. Lets be honest, the details mean little. Just to know our little drummer boys are happy at last, free to point fingers at us from their pedestals once again.
Welcome back. We’ve missed you terribly.
The competitive rivalry between Japanese scientists and the Times newspaper, is the world's worst kept secret, we all remember that awful mess a few years back, but things have just gone up a gear. From what I can gather, whilst sat in some smoky men’s club in Barnstable, drunk, stuck in a conversation running dry for inspiration, Times bet Japan they couldn’t build an elevator to the moon.
Swear to god, totally true. No April fools, check the date.
Grandpa Telegraph can’t compete today. He’s having a nap instead.
The Daily Mail is worried about Immigrants and The Sun has some breasts on page 3
Showing posts with label Today. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Today. Show all posts
Tuesday, 23 September 2008
Thursday, 18 September 2008
18.09.08
I love Lloyds TSB. Tip-toeing into the financial furore with greedy glee. But wait, no. This is not the circling vulture picture it may appear. Lloyds TSB are by no means exploiting the situation for their own gain and anyone who says so needs slapping. You see, it’s going to stabilise the sector, calming concerns all over the shop. The white knight rides in on his gallant steed. Hooray! Hurrah! All hail the Lloyds TSB juggernaut.
Reports of hand rubbing big wigs skipping through the autumn leaves might well be over exaggerated.
Ok so maybe we may have just created the most powerful financial organisation in history, with a seemingly unassailable control. So a few may lose jobs. The important thing is that alls well again. Feel free to nip back to the sand pit and bury your head.
6 years old and I was playing with Lego. Educated on Rhubarb, Custard and Postman Pat. Now whilst I admit to some strange fascination with the plasticine bird in the post office, ‘sexual thoughts’ never really got a look in. Which may come as a shock to some of you; before today I perhaps ignorantly assumed myself to be in the majority. Was I wrong? Misled by a blinkered childhood full of Tonka Toys and stickle bricks? Does the current batch of 6 years olds really require a sex education lesson?
The Times, today performing its best Daily Mail impression reports the publication of a sexual health pamphlet aimed at 6 year olds. Reporting with ‘horror’, it should be noted. That’s ‘horror’, in case we were in any doubt as to an opinion.
Please, please, please won’t someone, somewhere crash an oil tanker, kill all the Panda bears or chop down some trees. Something, anything to give Independent Tower an issue to attack. Another grossly overpowering headline and surely somewhere fairies will begin to die.
‘Mayfair mafia who toppled banking giant’
Mafia. In Mayfair.
Hedge fund gangs are dodgy yes. Corrupt, most likely. Horse head, drive-by, pasta eating wise guys?
One of them is called Crispin.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and The Sun has some breasts on page 3
Reports of hand rubbing big wigs skipping through the autumn leaves might well be over exaggerated.
Ok so maybe we may have just created the most powerful financial organisation in history, with a seemingly unassailable control. So a few may lose jobs. The important thing is that alls well again. Feel free to nip back to the sand pit and bury your head.
6 years old and I was playing with Lego. Educated on Rhubarb, Custard and Postman Pat. Now whilst I admit to some strange fascination with the plasticine bird in the post office, ‘sexual thoughts’ never really got a look in. Which may come as a shock to some of you; before today I perhaps ignorantly assumed myself to be in the majority. Was I wrong? Misled by a blinkered childhood full of Tonka Toys and stickle bricks? Does the current batch of 6 years olds really require a sex education lesson?
The Times, today performing its best Daily Mail impression reports the publication of a sexual health pamphlet aimed at 6 year olds. Reporting with ‘horror’, it should be noted. That’s ‘horror’, in case we were in any doubt as to an opinion.
Please, please, please won’t someone, somewhere crash an oil tanker, kill all the Panda bears or chop down some trees. Something, anything to give Independent Tower an issue to attack. Another grossly overpowering headline and surely somewhere fairies will begin to die.
‘Mayfair mafia who toppled banking giant’
Mafia. In Mayfair.
Hedge fund gangs are dodgy yes. Corrupt, most likely. Horse head, drive-by, pasta eating wise guys?
One of them is called Crispin.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and The Sun has some breasts on page 3
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
17.09.08
‘Please sir, can we have some more?’ wail literally every financially motivated organisation in the land as ‘Governing Global Government Inc’ reconsiders its decision not to wear a condom on all of those fateful nights stands.
So just to clarify, for those of us at the back; big, bad, billionaire banks throw money around willy-nilly, not a care in the world bless ‘em. Safe in the knowledge that, if in the ‘however unlikely’ event that their ridiculous gambling addiction fails to pay off, daddy government is on hand with a little extra cash to smooth the blow. Our cash. Tax to you and me. Which is nice.
US government bails out ailing insurance giant AIG
If grey was quite obviously black then this would represent a very grey issue. Lest we forget, financial trading amounts to no more than a day at the races, without any guide of form nor day for the ladies.
And so, I ask. One fateful trip to Vegas later and I find myself significantly out of pocket. Might the government do me the favour of financial aid, in order that I may maintain this bawdy gambling lifestyle that I have now become accustomed to?
But stop! Seriously, this is not perhaps the time to start dishing out frustrated mutterings of descent. It seems there be some strife ahead. Whisper it, but apparently the financial systems of the globe are in a bit of a pickle as ‘Wall Street and the City get their comeuppance’ (Independent). Don’t worry though, these things always blow over just as long as we all remember to stay calm. The secret is not to panic and where possible if the papers wouldn’t mind refraining from big bold statements of fear that would be lovely….
Global meltdown continues as contagion spreads (Guardian)
FTSE dives into second day of carnage (Times)
Now fear stalks British banks (Independent)
Financial turmoil: AIG and HBOS woes are tip of the Titanic iceberg (Telegraph)
Meltdown Monday: We lost our jobs…. now we could lose our dream wedding (Mail)
Eva: I bonked my way around the US (Sun)
I take it that’s a no then.
Now, in the past there have been some, quick to label Grandpa Telegraph as a bias, bigoted read with little in the way of balanced argument. Which just isn’t true; never one to pick sides, trusting us to make up an informed judgement, Grandpa proceeds to gives us only the facts, letting us make up our own mind. The Tories, not Labour, are best to tackle social breakdown. As if there were any other side, sometimes I make myself laugh.
Now, probably best you sit down for this next bit. Maybe take a few deep breaths. For as any 14yr old will tell you, the moment the teacher begins to talk the carnal talk, your stomach drops out through your arse. Independent quango the Independent chooses today to discuss whether or not we all might like to do the dirty thing just a little bit dirtier. A little bit of vomit jumps into our mouths; please Independent stop, we promise to play sensibly. God, let another iceberg melt sufficiently enough to return us to safer print.
“We are all sick in our own little way”, I’d like to disagree with you Felix Quinn but you can’t deny your instincts now can you.
Finally, news of what might be the greatest TV moment yet to make it to air. Tony Blair vs John Stewart.
Better than porn.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3
So just to clarify, for those of us at the back; big, bad, billionaire banks throw money around willy-nilly, not a care in the world bless ‘em. Safe in the knowledge that, if in the ‘however unlikely’ event that their ridiculous gambling addiction fails to pay off, daddy government is on hand with a little extra cash to smooth the blow. Our cash. Tax to you and me. Which is nice.
US government bails out ailing insurance giant AIG
If grey was quite obviously black then this would represent a very grey issue. Lest we forget, financial trading amounts to no more than a day at the races, without any guide of form nor day for the ladies.
And so, I ask. One fateful trip to Vegas later and I find myself significantly out of pocket. Might the government do me the favour of financial aid, in order that I may maintain this bawdy gambling lifestyle that I have now become accustomed to?
But stop! Seriously, this is not perhaps the time to start dishing out frustrated mutterings of descent. It seems there be some strife ahead. Whisper it, but apparently the financial systems of the globe are in a bit of a pickle as ‘Wall Street and the City get their comeuppance’ (Independent). Don’t worry though, these things always blow over just as long as we all remember to stay calm. The secret is not to panic and where possible if the papers wouldn’t mind refraining from big bold statements of fear that would be lovely….
Global meltdown continues as contagion spreads (Guardian)
FTSE dives into second day of carnage (Times)
Now fear stalks British banks (Independent)
Financial turmoil: AIG and HBOS woes are tip of the Titanic iceberg (Telegraph)
Meltdown Monday: We lost our jobs…. now we could lose our dream wedding (Mail)
Eva: I bonked my way around the US (Sun)
I take it that’s a no then.
Now, in the past there have been some, quick to label Grandpa Telegraph as a bias, bigoted read with little in the way of balanced argument. Which just isn’t true; never one to pick sides, trusting us to make up an informed judgement, Grandpa proceeds to gives us only the facts, letting us make up our own mind. The Tories, not Labour, are best to tackle social breakdown. As if there were any other side, sometimes I make myself laugh.
Now, probably best you sit down for this next bit. Maybe take a few deep breaths. For as any 14yr old will tell you, the moment the teacher begins to talk the carnal talk, your stomach drops out through your arse. Independent quango the Independent chooses today to discuss whether or not we all might like to do the dirty thing just a little bit dirtier. A little bit of vomit jumps into our mouths; please Independent stop, we promise to play sensibly. God, let another iceberg melt sufficiently enough to return us to safer print.
“We are all sick in our own little way”, I’d like to disagree with you Felix Quinn but you can’t deny your instincts now can you.
Finally, news of what might be the greatest TV moment yet to make it to air. Tony Blair vs John Stewart.
Better than porn.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3
Friday, 7 September 2007
07.09.07
Ancient legend has it that somewhere deep beneath Independent Towers, some 53 steps below the wine cellar, guarded by rabid dogs, you will find a vault.
And in this vault, so the legend goes, there are just the few remaining articles tucked safely away under dust. Articles with which to grab us by the bollocks, stare deep into our eyes and scare the crap out of us. Hand picked for those days when the war just doesn’t cut it any longer, when disease fails to arrive and when Global warming seems just a little bit tepid.
Sadly, the key was misplaced long ago. Blindfolded, the dart takes aim at the map.
‘Switzerland: Europe’s heart of darkness?’. Right, well thanks for that, now I know.
The Guardian is so desperate for this week to end. On the edge, we expect them to break at any moment. Throw enough mud in enough faces and surely some will stick; surely…
‘Foot and mouth reports blame drains at ‘shabby’ lab site’. Not the builders then, as someone may have suggested earlier in the week. Nor the cows, or the passing circus, the local tramp or the Polish.
No, this time the Guardian if confident. ‘Was probably spread by leaking drains’, ‘it’s now pretty clear’ that the outbreak started at the lab.
Cold hard facts are hard to dispute
‘Where’s the sex?’
My sentiments exactly Grandpa, my sentiments exactly.
‘Should the old lady do more to ease this crisis?’ Actually, I’d rather she didn’t if it’s all the same to you.
Times Head Boy is far too busy today. World Cup Rugger, hurrah!. What TVs were made for.
‘We should all cherish Ann Widdecombe’ (Independent). No Terrence Blacker, we shouldn’t.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
And in this vault, so the legend goes, there are just the few remaining articles tucked safely away under dust. Articles with which to grab us by the bollocks, stare deep into our eyes and scare the crap out of us. Hand picked for those days when the war just doesn’t cut it any longer, when disease fails to arrive and when Global warming seems just a little bit tepid.
Sadly, the key was misplaced long ago. Blindfolded, the dart takes aim at the map.
‘Switzerland: Europe’s heart of darkness?’. Right, well thanks for that, now I know.
The Guardian is so desperate for this week to end. On the edge, we expect them to break at any moment. Throw enough mud in enough faces and surely some will stick; surely…
‘Foot and mouth reports blame drains at ‘shabby’ lab site’. Not the builders then, as someone may have suggested earlier in the week. Nor the cows, or the passing circus, the local tramp or the Polish.
No, this time the Guardian if confident. ‘Was probably spread by leaking drains’, ‘it’s now pretty clear’ that the outbreak started at the lab.
Cold hard facts are hard to dispute
‘Where’s the sex?’
My sentiments exactly Grandpa, my sentiments exactly.
‘Should the old lady do more to ease this crisis?’ Actually, I’d rather she didn’t if it’s all the same to you.
Times Head Boy is far too busy today. World Cup Rugger, hurrah!. What TVs were made for.
‘We should all cherish Ann Widdecombe’ (Independent). No Terrence Blacker, we shouldn’t.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Thursday, 6 September 2007
06.09.07
We begin this morning, with the sad news that, whilst perhaps inevitable, still manages to extinguish just a little more hope from the world.
Yes, it has now been confirmed that the B52 bomber sent to fly across America has failed to drop its nuclear arsenal. We heave a heavy sigh………..
The revolution has not materialised.
What’s that you say? No foiled military coup to see here. No radical attempt to right a worldly wrong.
What do you mean it was a mistake? They’re nuclear warheads not head lice; can’t really carry them around unawares now can you.
‘As many as 6 nuclear warheads. Each with a destructive potential almost 10 times that of the Hiroshima bomb, were mistakenly flown across the US’ (Guardian)
Oh, it seems you can.
Of course everyone’s received a severe telling off as expected and ‘US air combat command has suspended all similar operations until September 14’.
What exactly happens on September 14 is still unclear.
It’s difficult to look any further a field than human error as the cause. Mistakes were made, checks missed. End of blame trail.
Apart from Head Boy of course who, never shy to point the finger, has started to wink and nudge a little bit in the general direction of another suspect. All the while whistling the Dam Busters tune.
‘A B52 bomber was mistakenly armed’, ‘the B52 took off’, ‘if the B52 had crashed’…….
‘The B52 was evasive in interrogation’, ‘the B52 has links to a number of terrorist networks’, ‘The B52 is from a broken family, has a god complex, wants to be infamous.’
That’s it Head Boy, say what you really think.
‘Popcorn addicts risk lethal lung condition’. Quick, urges the Independent, phone all your popcorn addict friends to warn them.
The Russian Bears are back, but fear not; Grandpa is up and out of bed. Yes he’s still in his slippers but don’t let that fool you. No time for complicated diction today folks,
‘Tornados scrambled to intercept Russian jets’.
Ever wondered how to stop an asteroid? I know I have. If only……….
‘How to stop an asteroid’. By Grandpa Telegraph.
Almost as if he’s reading my mind.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Yes, it has now been confirmed that the B52 bomber sent to fly across America has failed to drop its nuclear arsenal. We heave a heavy sigh………..
The revolution has not materialised.
What’s that you say? No foiled military coup to see here. No radical attempt to right a worldly wrong.
What do you mean it was a mistake? They’re nuclear warheads not head lice; can’t really carry them around unawares now can you.
‘As many as 6 nuclear warheads. Each with a destructive potential almost 10 times that of the Hiroshima bomb, were mistakenly flown across the US’ (Guardian)
Oh, it seems you can.
Of course everyone’s received a severe telling off as expected and ‘US air combat command has suspended all similar operations until September 14’.
What exactly happens on September 14 is still unclear.
It’s difficult to look any further a field than human error as the cause. Mistakes were made, checks missed. End of blame trail.
Apart from Head Boy of course who, never shy to point the finger, has started to wink and nudge a little bit in the general direction of another suspect. All the while whistling the Dam Busters tune.
‘A B52 bomber was mistakenly armed’, ‘the B52 took off’, ‘if the B52 had crashed’…….
‘The B52 was evasive in interrogation’, ‘the B52 has links to a number of terrorist networks’, ‘The B52 is from a broken family, has a god complex, wants to be infamous.’
That’s it Head Boy, say what you really think.
‘Popcorn addicts risk lethal lung condition’. Quick, urges the Independent, phone all your popcorn addict friends to warn them.
The Russian Bears are back, but fear not; Grandpa is up and out of bed. Yes he’s still in his slippers but don’t let that fool you. No time for complicated diction today folks,
‘Tornados scrambled to intercept Russian jets’.
Ever wondered how to stop an asteroid? I know I have. If only……….
‘How to stop an asteroid’. By Grandpa Telegraph.
Almost as if he’s reading my mind.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Wednesday, 5 September 2007
05.09.07
We all knew it was coming, we’ve all seen the original and we all wept just a little bit. So it should come as no surprise to find the inevitable spin-off hotfooting its way towards a cinema near you.
‘Basra: The soldiers’ tales’ (Independent Productions) premieres later today. Critics are calling it a masterpiece, a triumph. It’s got it all; fear, loss, relief, heartbreak, animal cruelty………….
“I remember once a group of Bulldogs came under fire. I dived under one of them and there were rockets and mortars landing everywhere”. Says the only soldier in the world small enough to obtain sufficient cover from a dog. Or perhaps they’re giant bulldogs, genetically enhanced for warfare. Yes that’s much more likely.
Genetically enhanced, warrior bulldogs. Now that would be worth seeing.
(Yes, Bulldog in a term for an armoured vehicle. No animals were harmed during the making of this movie)
Also out this week we have the return of Chinese super spy ‘Titan Rain’.
The Guardian seems jumpy, maybe even a little nervous. Dressed immaculately as always in bright summer colours they smile. Cannot help but return the compliment, and damn it we feel better for seeing them. Yet beneath lies the fear and skittish ways of a newspaper on the edge. Desperately clawing at the newsreel for that one killer punch. Pilled up to the eyeballs, headlines descend into chaos.
‘Foot and mouth linked to builders’. That’s made up isn’t it; you’ve gone a bit ‘Daily Mail’ there haven’t you. Within two lines, the article has admitted the ‘exact cause is unlikely to be established’.
‘Please don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. There’s so much more to me, you’ll see’.
An intervention is planned for next week.
Oh and Mattel have gone off in a sulk, recalling 800,000 more Barbies (Times). Apparently no one would talk to him after last week’s ‘Ken’s got Lead’ incident. If he can’t play with them, neither can anyone else.
‘Yeti footprint photos go under the hammer’ reports Grandpa. As the world first conclusive evidence of the snowman’s existence goes on sale. ‘Yeti’, ‘footprint’, ‘photos’; no room for mistruths there then. Apparently any resemblance to a size 12 walking boot is purely coincidental.
Headline of the Day?
‘Hospital bans crocs’. About time too.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
‘Basra: The soldiers’ tales’ (Independent Productions) premieres later today. Critics are calling it a masterpiece, a triumph. It’s got it all; fear, loss, relief, heartbreak, animal cruelty………….
“I remember once a group of Bulldogs came under fire. I dived under one of them and there were rockets and mortars landing everywhere”. Says the only soldier in the world small enough to obtain sufficient cover from a dog. Or perhaps they’re giant bulldogs, genetically enhanced for warfare. Yes that’s much more likely.
Genetically enhanced, warrior bulldogs. Now that would be worth seeing.
(Yes, Bulldog in a term for an armoured vehicle. No animals were harmed during the making of this movie)
Also out this week we have the return of Chinese super spy ‘Titan Rain’.
The Guardian seems jumpy, maybe even a little nervous. Dressed immaculately as always in bright summer colours they smile. Cannot help but return the compliment, and damn it we feel better for seeing them. Yet beneath lies the fear and skittish ways of a newspaper on the edge. Desperately clawing at the newsreel for that one killer punch. Pilled up to the eyeballs, headlines descend into chaos.
‘Foot and mouth linked to builders’. That’s made up isn’t it; you’ve gone a bit ‘Daily Mail’ there haven’t you. Within two lines, the article has admitted the ‘exact cause is unlikely to be established’.
‘Please don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. There’s so much more to me, you’ll see’.
An intervention is planned for next week.
Oh and Mattel have gone off in a sulk, recalling 800,000 more Barbies (Times). Apparently no one would talk to him after last week’s ‘Ken’s got Lead’ incident. If he can’t play with them, neither can anyone else.
‘Yeti footprint photos go under the hammer’ reports Grandpa. As the world first conclusive evidence of the snowman’s existence goes on sale. ‘Yeti’, ‘footprint’, ‘photos’; no room for mistruths there then. Apparently any resemblance to a size 12 walking boot is purely coincidental.
Headline of the Day?
‘Hospital bans crocs’. About time too.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Tuesday, 4 September 2007
04.09.07
As David falls Goliath we cheer, we all cheer as the once great, unruly oppressor falls undignified at the feet of the little man, our little man. Little David, we are so proud, behind you all the way. Your motive and fear have captured our spirit so much so that even as this fearsome giant falls directly onto our homes, we cheer, we still cheer.
So what if our homes broken, we’ll build new ones. So what if our lives have been hindered, it matters not for tomorrow is another day. This day we see your cause as a just one and so will back you to the hilt.
That is what we do you see, for we are Londoners
Derek (for that is surely his name), is leading the London Underground network in protest. No longer shall they work under this iron fist, beaten, drained and desperate, they rise up, make a stand and clap great Goliath slap bang between the eyes. He will fall upon our livelihoods and we shall ask for nothing more than a worthy cause to hide behind. Go on Derek, stick it to the man!
‘What do we want?’ Assurances that no jobs will be cut or pensions lost at any time in the future. ‘When do we want it? Now!
Steady on there little man, that’s a bit vague. ‘At any time in the future’? You cant really demand that sort of thing, but then again what do we know, I bet conditions down in the pit are bloody terrible, cant even begin to imagine. We still believe in you Derek, if its lifetime assurance you want then you bloody well go and get it, London is right behind you.
“Both the mayor and the direct employers have given trade unions clear written assurances that meet all their concerns; namely that there will be no job cuts ……and no loss of pensions now at any time in the future” (Guardian)
Right so that’s all your demands met. Goliath it seems is a realist named Ken. Can we have our tube back now please?
3 days of Tube strike for no apparent reason. You may have got 2500 workers to whimper into a tissue Derek, but just you wait and see what a real ‘angry mob’ looks like.
If ever a party looked destined to bleed, it seems the conservatives might just edge it. Lost in a world of unknowns, poor little Tory Dave just doesn’t know where to turn. Forehead on a broom handle he’s just been spun 50 times. And now he’s forgotten the new rules (published this morning). Commons tactics seem to have buggered off out the window a long time ago. “Tory MPs sign up to PM’s ‘new politics” (Independent). Whilst no expert on the finer displays, surely a red bumper sticker is perhaps one compromise too far.
Fear not Tory Dave, tomorrow is yet another day and with it a new set of rules by which to play. Surely this dizzying red whirlwind will move on soon, leaving your thoughts to clear and regain their muster.
Maybe tomorrow.
Grandpa’s sat up in bed eating his Cheerios, shaking with fear. Curtains drawn, quilt tucked in tight, he has barely managed one sleepy moment, his dreams too full of fear. ‘The Chinese army is invading London. On September 13,’ so confident they name the date. Terracotta Grandpa, models. Please get dressed; the paper is lost without you. The dog barks a gunshot; Grandpa’s breakfast jumps to the floor.
Ever wondered what the Times Head Boy would call the school gardener once his affections had been repelled?
‘Unprincipled ruffian’ snorts Head Boy, lapels firmly gripped, nose proud with purpose. Some cover story regarding the Nazis and an Argentinean submarine, but we don’t really want to read that now do we? No.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
So what if our homes broken, we’ll build new ones. So what if our lives have been hindered, it matters not for tomorrow is another day. This day we see your cause as a just one and so will back you to the hilt.
That is what we do you see, for we are Londoners
Derek (for that is surely his name), is leading the London Underground network in protest. No longer shall they work under this iron fist, beaten, drained and desperate, they rise up, make a stand and clap great Goliath slap bang between the eyes. He will fall upon our livelihoods and we shall ask for nothing more than a worthy cause to hide behind. Go on Derek, stick it to the man!
‘What do we want?’ Assurances that no jobs will be cut or pensions lost at any time in the future. ‘When do we want it? Now!
Steady on there little man, that’s a bit vague. ‘At any time in the future’? You cant really demand that sort of thing, but then again what do we know, I bet conditions down in the pit are bloody terrible, cant even begin to imagine. We still believe in you Derek, if its lifetime assurance you want then you bloody well go and get it, London is right behind you.
“Both the mayor and the direct employers have given trade unions clear written assurances that meet all their concerns; namely that there will be no job cuts ……and no loss of pensions now at any time in the future” (Guardian)
Right so that’s all your demands met. Goliath it seems is a realist named Ken. Can we have our tube back now please?
3 days of Tube strike for no apparent reason. You may have got 2500 workers to whimper into a tissue Derek, but just you wait and see what a real ‘angry mob’ looks like.
If ever a party looked destined to bleed, it seems the conservatives might just edge it. Lost in a world of unknowns, poor little Tory Dave just doesn’t know where to turn. Forehead on a broom handle he’s just been spun 50 times. And now he’s forgotten the new rules (published this morning). Commons tactics seem to have buggered off out the window a long time ago. “Tory MPs sign up to PM’s ‘new politics” (Independent). Whilst no expert on the finer displays, surely a red bumper sticker is perhaps one compromise too far.
Fear not Tory Dave, tomorrow is yet another day and with it a new set of rules by which to play. Surely this dizzying red whirlwind will move on soon, leaving your thoughts to clear and regain their muster.
Maybe tomorrow.
Grandpa’s sat up in bed eating his Cheerios, shaking with fear. Curtains drawn, quilt tucked in tight, he has barely managed one sleepy moment, his dreams too full of fear. ‘The Chinese army is invading London. On September 13,’ so confident they name the date. Terracotta Grandpa, models. Please get dressed; the paper is lost without you. The dog barks a gunshot; Grandpa’s breakfast jumps to the floor.
Ever wondered what the Times Head Boy would call the school gardener once his affections had been repelled?
‘Unprincipled ruffian’ snorts Head Boy, lapels firmly gripped, nose proud with purpose. Some cover story regarding the Nazis and an Argentinean submarine, but we don’t really want to read that now do we? No.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Monday, 3 September 2007
03.09.07
Why does the cat always bring the half dead sparrow to your feet? Flapping, lifeless, bleeding from new holes. Conjures up that little bit of bile from bowl to mouth doesn’t it. Puss peers towards you, so proud of their gift, expectant of reward. An invitation into the house to sit by the fire. ‘My, what a catch I’ve caught this time, it can’t fail to impress, admittedly last weeks dismembered toad was perhaps a bit over the top but I’m onto a winner with this claret covered feather. Snuggling up in owners lap in no time’ Tabby purrs under his breath.
But we just don’t want these mangled remains, oh no we don’t little tabby cat. The bird was fine in the first place, flying high, graceful. No concern of ours yet no doubt fulfills its purpose, whatever that may be.
This mess on our doormat; this bloody heap. Neither grace nor purpose. A wing, a beak, all parts are present but it’s such a mess little tabby, such a bloody mess. What’s more, it’s now on our doorstep and now we have to worry about it. We shake our heads and curse. Not angry, just disappointed. Tigger spies a door mouse.
And so ‘Blue Blood Dave’ has vowed to match Labour spending plans (Guardian). On the doormat in front of me is a bloody mess. Match? Match? Since when is that a strong enough argument to get in the house? You bring me what fundamentally amounts to the same amount but in an untried, unfamiliar structure and I’m supposed to be happy. Where is the bird that flies higher, faster? No little tabby cat, Rover stays inside tonight.
And what do we get from Labour? ‘Brown announces plans to revamp politics’. Revamp politics! Now that’s what I’m bloody talking about. Forget all this ‘we’ll be just as good as the other guy’. Not even ‘we’ll be better than the other guy’. Oh no no dear voter, apparently it’s perfectly reasonable to inform everyone that we’ll be playing a new game from now on. Always the perfect prefect, the Times Head Boy wanted this story and by golly it got it. New rules, new regulations. Until next week when they need to shout something else from the rooftop. Isn’t it exciting, you never know what the hells going on? I’m sure it’ll settle down soon, I’m sure they’ve got a plan for a bit of stability, are able to just run a country. I mean just how much more reinvention can we take? Wham! There goes Basra. Bam! Take care Tony. Crash! There goes the monarchy, oops! Sorry that’s next week
Poor little tabby cat, shut inside whilst all the fireworks are going off. Just for tonight, tomorrow is another day.
It seems someone has taken a cheeky swipe at Head Boy and they didn’t like it one bit. Not content with announcing a change for democracy, the Times, itching from its weekend constraints, has decided it’s about time to change the way the world looks. ‘Times atlas shows how world is changing’. Chest puffed out, Head Boy parades around the room.
Would someone please just stroke their ego a little bit before they take a crack at the legitimacy of religion.
4 years we’ve been in Basra, 4 long years. ‘What was achieved?’ Asks the Independent, who today takes the award for ‘please ask someone else’ question. If, 4 years ago, our goal was to sit in a palace and fight with those we sought to aid, finally sneaking out on tiptoes, swearing blind that ‘we’re not going nowhere guv’ each time someone asked. Then yes, job done. Pat on the back for one and all.
Grandpa had a long weekend. What with the hefty roast dinner and the grandkids circling his feet, he’s feeling tired, out for the count; hasn’t stirred at all yet today. Rest easy Grandpa, come back firing on all cylinders tomorrow.
Someone should probably just go in and check on him, you know, just in case.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3
But we just don’t want these mangled remains, oh no we don’t little tabby cat. The bird was fine in the first place, flying high, graceful. No concern of ours yet no doubt fulfills its purpose, whatever that may be.
This mess on our doormat; this bloody heap. Neither grace nor purpose. A wing, a beak, all parts are present but it’s such a mess little tabby, such a bloody mess. What’s more, it’s now on our doorstep and now we have to worry about it. We shake our heads and curse. Not angry, just disappointed. Tigger spies a door mouse.
And so ‘Blue Blood Dave’ has vowed to match Labour spending plans (Guardian). On the doormat in front of me is a bloody mess. Match? Match? Since when is that a strong enough argument to get in the house? You bring me what fundamentally amounts to the same amount but in an untried, unfamiliar structure and I’m supposed to be happy. Where is the bird that flies higher, faster? No little tabby cat, Rover stays inside tonight.
And what do we get from Labour? ‘Brown announces plans to revamp politics’. Revamp politics! Now that’s what I’m bloody talking about. Forget all this ‘we’ll be just as good as the other guy’. Not even ‘we’ll be better than the other guy’. Oh no no dear voter, apparently it’s perfectly reasonable to inform everyone that we’ll be playing a new game from now on. Always the perfect prefect, the Times Head Boy wanted this story and by golly it got it. New rules, new regulations. Until next week when they need to shout something else from the rooftop. Isn’t it exciting, you never know what the hells going on? I’m sure it’ll settle down soon, I’m sure they’ve got a plan for a bit of stability, are able to just run a country. I mean just how much more reinvention can we take? Wham! There goes Basra. Bam! Take care Tony. Crash! There goes the monarchy, oops! Sorry that’s next week
Poor little tabby cat, shut inside whilst all the fireworks are going off. Just for tonight, tomorrow is another day.
It seems someone has taken a cheeky swipe at Head Boy and they didn’t like it one bit. Not content with announcing a change for democracy, the Times, itching from its weekend constraints, has decided it’s about time to change the way the world looks. ‘Times atlas shows how world is changing’. Chest puffed out, Head Boy parades around the room.
Would someone please just stroke their ego a little bit before they take a crack at the legitimacy of religion.
4 years we’ve been in Basra, 4 long years. ‘What was achieved?’ Asks the Independent, who today takes the award for ‘please ask someone else’ question. If, 4 years ago, our goal was to sit in a palace and fight with those we sought to aid, finally sneaking out on tiptoes, swearing blind that ‘we’re not going nowhere guv’ each time someone asked. Then yes, job done. Pat on the back for one and all.
Grandpa had a long weekend. What with the hefty roast dinner and the grandkids circling his feet, he’s feeling tired, out for the count; hasn’t stirred at all yet today. Rest easy Grandpa, come back firing on all cylinders tomorrow.
Someone should probably just go in and check on him, you know, just in case.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3
Friday, 24 August 2007
24.08.07
Grandpa Telegraph feels unloved. Last night he spilt hot milk down his front and ate a few too many Cashew nuts. Awaking this morning after a terrible night’s sleep he finds himself in quite a sad, bloated state. ‘Am I still pretty?’ he asks his mirror. ‘Do the girls continue to love my uptight ways?’ With a dejected grumble he shuffles back towards the comfort of his floral patterned quilt.
Well hang on a bloody minute Grandpa! It seems those busy little ants you call Journalists might just know a trick or two about the motivational compliment……
‘Still sexy at seventy’. Oh yes you are Grandpa; and they’ve got data to prove it. So you haven’t changed your style since the 50’s, so the logo font slightly resembles a Swastika and maybe you mumble your lines just a little bit. None of that matters for according to a researcher who has apparently collected far too much information, you lot are still at it two or three times a month. Don’t you feel better for hearing that? I know we all do.
‘Hurrah for the sexy, silver surfers!’ shouts Grandpa, throwing his quilt across the room and leeping to his feet.
In a desperate attempt to halt Briton’s impending withdrawal from Iraq, the US Air force has decided to drop a bomb directly onto one of our regiments in what the Times describes as ‘the worst friendly-fire incident in recent years’. Not possibly the expected plea for continued support but in a week where Gorgeous George decided to try and win back support for the war with references to Vietnam, I guess anything is possible.
Vietnam.
He compared it to Vietnam.
Continuing to ask the big questions, the Times does us all a favour, answering the one that’s been on our minds all week. ‘What’s wrong with coconuts?’
I don’t know Andrew Anthony, but why don’t you tell us.
‘For the first time, Britons’ personal debt exceeds Britain’s GDP’. I want to understand what the Independent are so worried about I really do. And to be honest, I almost get it. For want of a couple of experts to break it down just a little, but sadly they’re all busy presenting for the BBC. Global warming, I get that; I can share in your worry when you shoot me in the chest with that sort of front page. Or some nasty dictator who needs to be halted; we haven’t had one of them for a while have we.
The Guardian looks as pretty as ever.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Well hang on a bloody minute Grandpa! It seems those busy little ants you call Journalists might just know a trick or two about the motivational compliment……
‘Still sexy at seventy’. Oh yes you are Grandpa; and they’ve got data to prove it. So you haven’t changed your style since the 50’s, so the logo font slightly resembles a Swastika and maybe you mumble your lines just a little bit. None of that matters for according to a researcher who has apparently collected far too much information, you lot are still at it two or three times a month. Don’t you feel better for hearing that? I know we all do.
‘Hurrah for the sexy, silver surfers!’ shouts Grandpa, throwing his quilt across the room and leeping to his feet.
In a desperate attempt to halt Briton’s impending withdrawal from Iraq, the US Air force has decided to drop a bomb directly onto one of our regiments in what the Times describes as ‘the worst friendly-fire incident in recent years’. Not possibly the expected plea for continued support but in a week where Gorgeous George decided to try and win back support for the war with references to Vietnam, I guess anything is possible.
Vietnam.
He compared it to Vietnam.
Continuing to ask the big questions, the Times does us all a favour, answering the one that’s been on our minds all week. ‘What’s wrong with coconuts?’
I don’t know Andrew Anthony, but why don’t you tell us.
‘For the first time, Britons’ personal debt exceeds Britain’s GDP’. I want to understand what the Independent are so worried about I really do. And to be honest, I almost get it. For want of a couple of experts to break it down just a little, but sadly they’re all busy presenting for the BBC. Global warming, I get that; I can share in your worry when you shoot me in the chest with that sort of front page. Or some nasty dictator who needs to be halted; we haven’t had one of them for a while have we.
The Guardian looks as pretty as ever.
The Daily Mail is worried about immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Thursday, 23 August 2007
23.08.07
Gorgeous George W. Bush has sought to highlight the positive nature that is developing in the war on Iraq.
A sensible route to take, try to encourage public enthusiasm, keep moral up, an act I’m sure we would all consider if we were in his position. The reason of course we aren’t in his position, the reason we aren’t in control of one of the most powerful ‘organisations’ in the world, is that we mere mortals just aren’t anywhere near clever enough. We just don’t see all the angles. But embarressing uncle George Bush can, oh yes!
You see, where we might perceive certain decisions to be mad or foolhardy, the man they call Bush sees potential. How else could you explain the following?
He’s compared the current state in Iraq to ‘the bloodshed and chaos that followed the US pullout from Vietnam’. (Guardian)
Vietnam.
He’s compared it to Vietnam.
Sleeping happily through the night Beavis/Butthead (delete as applicable) also smiles safe in the knowledge that his opposition the ‘Defeatocrats’ have finally understood their new nickname. For another 6 months anyway.
Butthead, he’s definitely Butthead.
Today’s award for ‘The Headline Most Likely To Be Used In A Doctor Who Script’ goes to the Independent with ‘Iraq: The vanishing coalition’. Yes, they were the only entrant, but you can’t deny their effort nonetheless.
‘Are devil girls really on the rampage?’ If Joan Smith is smoking something, then I for one would like to try some. Devil girls Joan? Really?
David Cameron’s Laurel and Hardy impression seems to be coming along just fine these days. After an early hiccup where it seemed he might be erring towards the ‘strong’ ‘leadership’ type, we rest easy, happy to see him jump from one fine mess to another. ‘Tories’ hospital campaign in disarray’ reports the Times. How exactly the Tory party has managed to offend every hospital in the land is far beside the point. How they make the leap to assaulting the elderly then possibly pregnant women is a far more exciting a prospect. Watch this space people, watch this space.
He’s compared it to Vietnam. Seriously.
And finally after yesterday’ shambles of an effort, Grandpa Telegraph comes back with a bang. 'Let’s get the excitement back' says Grandpa's little helper, 'let’s show the youngsters that we can still cut it'. Yeah! says Grandpa, eyes boggling at the possibility. All we need is the explosive story that everyone else has missed................
‘Terror in a balloon’!!!!!!!!! screams the headline. Awakening a sleepy Tubby from his slumber.
Well done Grandpa, well done.
The Daily Mail is worried about Immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
A sensible route to take, try to encourage public enthusiasm, keep moral up, an act I’m sure we would all consider if we were in his position. The reason of course we aren’t in his position, the reason we aren’t in control of one of the most powerful ‘organisations’ in the world, is that we mere mortals just aren’t anywhere near clever enough. We just don’t see all the angles. But embarressing uncle George Bush can, oh yes!
You see, where we might perceive certain decisions to be mad or foolhardy, the man they call Bush sees potential. How else could you explain the following?
He’s compared the current state in Iraq to ‘the bloodshed and chaos that followed the US pullout from Vietnam’. (Guardian)
Vietnam.
He’s compared it to Vietnam.
Sleeping happily through the night Beavis/Butthead (delete as applicable) also smiles safe in the knowledge that his opposition the ‘Defeatocrats’ have finally understood their new nickname. For another 6 months anyway.
Butthead, he’s definitely Butthead.
Today’s award for ‘The Headline Most Likely To Be Used In A Doctor Who Script’ goes to the Independent with ‘Iraq: The vanishing coalition’. Yes, they were the only entrant, but you can’t deny their effort nonetheless.
‘Are devil girls really on the rampage?’ If Joan Smith is smoking something, then I for one would like to try some. Devil girls Joan? Really?
David Cameron’s Laurel and Hardy impression seems to be coming along just fine these days. After an early hiccup where it seemed he might be erring towards the ‘strong’ ‘leadership’ type, we rest easy, happy to see him jump from one fine mess to another. ‘Tories’ hospital campaign in disarray’ reports the Times. How exactly the Tory party has managed to offend every hospital in the land is far beside the point. How they make the leap to assaulting the elderly then possibly pregnant women is a far more exciting a prospect. Watch this space people, watch this space.
He’s compared it to Vietnam. Seriously.
And finally after yesterday’ shambles of an effort, Grandpa Telegraph comes back with a bang. 'Let’s get the excitement back' says Grandpa's little helper, 'let’s show the youngsters that we can still cut it'. Yeah! says Grandpa, eyes boggling at the possibility. All we need is the explosive story that everyone else has missed................
‘Terror in a balloon’!!!!!!!!! screams the headline. Awakening a sleepy Tubby from his slumber.
Well done Grandpa, well done.
The Daily Mail is worried about Immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
22.08.07
Whoever decided to send the Russians a pirate copy of ‘Rocky Balboa’ for Christmas needs to be slapped around the face with numerous dead fish.
Rule one in world domination; never ever remind an 80’s superpower full of muscle and ignorance, trained in the snow, tough as old boots with little between the ears but good for fighting and wailing like a wounded walrus, that they possibly, possibly might have another shot at the title.
Impossible odds I hear you say, the world’s moved on, new fresh faced champions who don’t even remember dear old Rocky. Just a movie at the end of the day, not real, bit of a fairytale.
So why then are we now seeing pictures of Putin with his shirt off? Why then is Russia, as the guardian puts it ‘resuming long-range missions by strategic bomber aircraft’? RAF ‘Tornados were scrambled to warn of Russian Bear aircraft’.
Shoo, shoo, shoo little bear cub.
Just don’t play them the White Album backwards. Got consequences written all over it.
The Independent has decided to put Bertrand Des Pallieres across their knee today to highlight the growing problem in this country of ignorant rich people. Evil Pallieres, when told that his £80,000 Maserati was in the pound awaiting collection said ‘he was “too busy” setting up new businesses to fetch his car’. Proceeding to wait 3 months; the bare faced cheek.
And Mark Steel wants to talk about football or conflict, which ever way you choose to look at it
“Women love me” says humble Nanu Ram Jogi, the oldest father in the world at just 90. “Yeah, I was just really inspired by that Rocky Balboa film last year, so I just want to show I can still hack it physically, you know?” he almost certainly never said in the Times.
Grandpa Telegraph has been smoking the wrong pipe again and as a result has nothing remotely interesting to say. Drugs are bad kids, very very bad.
The Daily Mail is worried about Immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Rule one in world domination; never ever remind an 80’s superpower full of muscle and ignorance, trained in the snow, tough as old boots with little between the ears but good for fighting and wailing like a wounded walrus, that they possibly, possibly might have another shot at the title.
Impossible odds I hear you say, the world’s moved on, new fresh faced champions who don’t even remember dear old Rocky. Just a movie at the end of the day, not real, bit of a fairytale.
So why then are we now seeing pictures of Putin with his shirt off? Why then is Russia, as the guardian puts it ‘resuming long-range missions by strategic bomber aircraft’? RAF ‘Tornados were scrambled to warn of Russian Bear aircraft’.
Shoo, shoo, shoo little bear cub.
Just don’t play them the White Album backwards. Got consequences written all over it.
The Independent has decided to put Bertrand Des Pallieres across their knee today to highlight the growing problem in this country of ignorant rich people. Evil Pallieres, when told that his £80,000 Maserati was in the pound awaiting collection said ‘he was “too busy” setting up new businesses to fetch his car’. Proceeding to wait 3 months; the bare faced cheek.
And Mark Steel wants to talk about football or conflict, which ever way you choose to look at it
“Women love me” says humble Nanu Ram Jogi, the oldest father in the world at just 90. “Yeah, I was just really inspired by that Rocky Balboa film last year, so I just want to show I can still hack it physically, you know?” he almost certainly never said in the Times.
Grandpa Telegraph has been smoking the wrong pipe again and as a result has nothing remotely interesting to say. Drugs are bad kids, very very bad.
The Daily Mail is worried about Immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3.
Tuesday, 21 August 2007
21.08.07
Tim Tim Tim. It seems this midnight fumble we’ve called a love affair is finally coming to an end.
Our little lame duck has finally given up trying to fly, the weight upon his shoulders too heavy a burden. “The first human being called Tim to achieve anything at all” says the guardian in polite applause for the man that made semi-finals day at Wimbledon the closest thing to an orgasm that most British women will get.
All together now: ‘Go Tiger Tim Tiger Pump Fist!’
“Cartoons labelled food villains” screams the Guardian in an attempt to out Daily Mail the Daily Mail. Children everywhere tucking into their breakfast cereal in front of the ‘Cheese Demon’ and the ‘Asparagus Mangler’.
Frightening.
Serious Report time as apparently the longer it takes for you to get to hospital, the less likely you are to get better. Which I’m sure you’ll agree is a turn up for the books. Unless of course you’re David Cameron who according to the Times, is all over this little issue, promising a “bare-knuckle fight’ in response. Which is nice.
Like a student on assignment day, the Times deem it completely reasonable to start ‘copy and pasting’ articles from yesterday’s Telegraph as Mexico receives a warning of stormy times ahead. “Rare category 5” stormy at that.
The Independent, as bemused as the rest of us report on David Cameron’s plea to the nation, urging Britons to face up to their fears as ‘anarchy’ hits the UK. Now I can’t speak for an entire nation, but having just popped outside I can safely report no signs of anarchy just yet. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have just trotted by though, but I doubt it’s related.
Grandpa Telegraph takes it a step further with a new Tory response to the outbreak of violence, asking families along with their values to take to the street in an attempt to quell this rising storm. Crack teams of four roaming the streets looking to teach crime a lesson with a family dinner and a game of Scrabble; The A-Team it is not.
The Daily Mail is worried about Immigrants and the Sun has some Breasts on page 3.
Our little lame duck has finally given up trying to fly, the weight upon his shoulders too heavy a burden. “The first human being called Tim to achieve anything at all” says the guardian in polite applause for the man that made semi-finals day at Wimbledon the closest thing to an orgasm that most British women will get.
All together now: ‘Go Tiger Tim Tiger Pump Fist!’
“Cartoons labelled food villains” screams the Guardian in an attempt to out Daily Mail the Daily Mail. Children everywhere tucking into their breakfast cereal in front of the ‘Cheese Demon’ and the ‘Asparagus Mangler’.
Frightening.
Serious Report time as apparently the longer it takes for you to get to hospital, the less likely you are to get better. Which I’m sure you’ll agree is a turn up for the books. Unless of course you’re David Cameron who according to the Times, is all over this little issue, promising a “bare-knuckle fight’ in response. Which is nice.
Like a student on assignment day, the Times deem it completely reasonable to start ‘copy and pasting’ articles from yesterday’s Telegraph as Mexico receives a warning of stormy times ahead. “Rare category 5” stormy at that.
The Independent, as bemused as the rest of us report on David Cameron’s plea to the nation, urging Britons to face up to their fears as ‘anarchy’ hits the UK. Now I can’t speak for an entire nation, but having just popped outside I can safely report no signs of anarchy just yet. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have just trotted by though, but I doubt it’s related.
Grandpa Telegraph takes it a step further with a new Tory response to the outbreak of violence, asking families along with their values to take to the street in an attempt to quell this rising storm. Crack teams of four roaming the streets looking to teach crime a lesson with a family dinner and a game of Scrabble; The A-Team it is not.
The Daily Mail is worried about Immigrants and the Sun has some Breasts on page 3.
Monday, 20 August 2007
20.08.07
Aaah Monday bloody Monday. Try and raise a smile, even a grin. Impossible isn’t it; one of the unwritten rules that govern our week. Just ask Naomi Campbell whose managed to get her knickers in a terrible twist about something, ever so upset bless her. Obviously voicing the feelings of a nation I’m sure, finger right on the public pulse that one.
The Times is all about the warnings today, “Britons told to stay away as hurricane hits Jamaica”. What we Brits have done to incur the wrath of Windy Dean remains unclear though he’s made his demands clear so I happily follow suit. The curious among us must wonder the consequences though, or maybe that’s just me. The Times do know best though don’t they so probably best to steer clear.
Bold Lipstick and a pretty skirt do not a paper make says the Guardian, who’ve decided to slap us round the face with bare facts today. “Offshore winds of 145 mph reach land”. Don’t be fooled as I was, into thinking that once ‘offshore winds’ strike land they become just normal ‘wind’ 145mph or otherwise. No no no dear reader, ‘offshore wind’ it seems is a far different beast.
Not sure if it’s totally fair to punish the locals for big Deano’s mess however, who’ve been grounded for 48hrs by a government imposed curfew. Yes they are sorry and no they won’t do it again.
Today’s Telegraph filled its ‘big-word’ quota by page two. One step ahead of everyone else, Grandpa now worries for Mexico as Windy Dean enters the ‘Extremely Dangerous’ category.
And god bless Maradona whose decided to put the record straight over the whole ‘Hand of God’ affair on ‘The Never-ending President’ Chavez’s weekly chat show. “Laughing, Maradona recounted how he urged his Argentina teammates to celebrate with him so the referee would not realise what had happened.”
I still blame Peter Reid.
‘Independent Issue of the Day’ time now as reports flood in that apparently, the war in Iraq is a bad idea. Who’d have thought? An interview with Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr makes for a surprisingly comforting read.
“The British have realised that this is not a war they should be fighting or one they can win”
“Senior British military commanders [who] have come to view the mission of UK forces in Iraq as finished”.
Oh and Dom Joly has joined Facebook.
The Daily Mail is worried about Immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3
The Times is all about the warnings today, “Britons told to stay away as hurricane hits Jamaica”. What we Brits have done to incur the wrath of Windy Dean remains unclear though he’s made his demands clear so I happily follow suit. The curious among us must wonder the consequences though, or maybe that’s just me. The Times do know best though don’t they so probably best to steer clear.
Bold Lipstick and a pretty skirt do not a paper make says the Guardian, who’ve decided to slap us round the face with bare facts today. “Offshore winds of 145 mph reach land”. Don’t be fooled as I was, into thinking that once ‘offshore winds’ strike land they become just normal ‘wind’ 145mph or otherwise. No no no dear reader, ‘offshore wind’ it seems is a far different beast.
Not sure if it’s totally fair to punish the locals for big Deano’s mess however, who’ve been grounded for 48hrs by a government imposed curfew. Yes they are sorry and no they won’t do it again.
Today’s Telegraph filled its ‘big-word’ quota by page two. One step ahead of everyone else, Grandpa now worries for Mexico as Windy Dean enters the ‘Extremely Dangerous’ category.
And god bless Maradona whose decided to put the record straight over the whole ‘Hand of God’ affair on ‘The Never-ending President’ Chavez’s weekly chat show. “Laughing, Maradona recounted how he urged his Argentina teammates to celebrate with him so the referee would not realise what had happened.”
I still blame Peter Reid.
‘Independent Issue of the Day’ time now as reports flood in that apparently, the war in Iraq is a bad idea. Who’d have thought? An interview with Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr makes for a surprisingly comforting read.
“The British have realised that this is not a war they should be fighting or one they can win”
“Senior British military commanders [who] have come to view the mission of UK forces in Iraq as finished”.
Oh and Dom Joly has joined Facebook.
The Daily Mail is worried about Immigrants and the Sun has some breasts on page 3
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