Ever noticed how I run these updates on textile research just to shove up a pic?
Except that the pert creature over there doesn't look very seeable through to me.
I was going to buy a raft of them and keep them for guests who arrived sans bathers and fancied a dip in our pristinely preserved pool.
Red alert from Wells-san - May Day May Day ~ Blog down, Bundled Boo His(s)
Quoth he:
"For some reason you are all in my website list, so, this is just to let those few of you who visit my blog know that the original Bundle of His(s) website and Resident Djinn blog has crashed, and I can now be found at a volume II"
Bundle of His(s) can also be found stolidly occupying the #5 slot in the Corfucian charts where I know it is clicked on by the more bemused of my readers.
About time I ran a piece on this excellent - and FREE - mag.
And, since I am a fan of pretty women, shove in a snap of mellifluous μέλι of an editor, Mellissa Rispin. [See Comment where I get my ass handed to me]
There she is interviewing the huggy-bear loveable David Bellamy.
Occasion: the Durrell School's visit to a Garden of the Gods as part of its eponymous seminar.
Clever Mellissa had the idea of catching talented young moth expert, Calum Lyle, *and* his mentor at the same time.
I'm not sure what I want to say about this chirpy free monthly mag (free, geddit? Not just fun to read but gratis)
"... quickly become known for it's [sic] unbiased views and opinion of life in Corfu.It covers an array of health, beauty and cultural topics each month and has a unique ability to draw interviews with some of the world's most famous people."
In both languages ~ Greek version courtesy of Sarah PandoniEven the ads seem of interest (and I never thought I'd hear gullible stuff like that spewing from *my* tapping digits)
Issue 10 that I'm looking at includes coverage of Lloyd Godson's 'Life Amphibious' adventure to peddle some ridiculous distance underwater in his customized human-powered submarine.Nisέa seems to be the first (the only?) local mag to get onto this great story and the tenacious Mellissa promises more coverage as the scheme gets underway.
Loipon, track down or pester for the mag because you won't be seeing any more coverage on Lloyd in this rag. By the blue pencil of Boeorobistas! Have you seen the determined cut of Ms Rispin's jib, the huntress look in her eye?
No way am I going to go scoop to scoop with that demoiselle.
A propos of nowt, click on the fatuous comment about 'too many babes'. I'm so thick these days: I still don't understand it.
How does that dick Dickie know that Nisέa is "babe"-heavy anyway?
Mellissa, are you?
I am a huge fan of the Daily Telegraph's Simon Heffer which means, I suspect, that M'sieur Sinbademocracy is not, but no matter.
Mr Heffer and I share the same spasms of anger and I share his disgust at the chasm uncovered between our crooked MPs and those who put them there.
I am delighted to read that SH is ready to run against the oleaginous 'Sir' Alan Haselhurst.
I look forward to observing Haselhurst's reaction and behaviour as Madame Guillotine is oiled for the spoil.
This cries out for the sort of pun only Wells-san will get right.
But what a laff - not just because no one complained.
Those Cretans are the hardest asses.
Softie corfiot nightmare was to be billeted for national service in Crete.
Bunch of Brit tourists parading in religiosa gear? The good old boys sitting around talkin' 'bout the good old days when you could count on whacking the shit out of at least half a dozen ouzerised Mancunians a night.
Frigging wimpo 'drink sensibly' campaigns.
"Red alert, dudes, Englishers in Nun drag, 10 o'clock. Scramble!"
By the sacred breasts of Benthesicyme! Sacrilege! Where's my taser and my gonad grauncher?
Meanwhile, back in Little Turdington on the Wold, it was
"Just off to Bradford, luv. Boring trade fair."Oh aye? If you've time, try to look in on Auntie Hettie.
Will do, pet.
Then wham! The nation's screens.
Barraclough & Hobbs (grocery to the gentry):
Morning Mrs Sutcliffe.
Morning Madge.
I see your Ernie has found God. Might we look forward to seeing him in t'church again?
You'll be better off asking himself yoursel'n when he gets back, Madge
Aye, lass. One thing I know, vicar will prefer him in collar and tie. I know we try to keep up wi' times here in Turdington, but I don't think we're quite ready yet for the lads to go Cretan.
Thank you, Madge. Yes, Brian, a leg will be wimple. I mean ample.
Nowt so trivial.
Mr Sakis Rouvàs of the parish of Prosperonia, hunk supreme, wet dream of millions failed to win the Eurovision chantathon.
Sakis knows his public:
"Here are my veins - drink as much blood as you want.I apologise.
I wanted us to win. I was very sorry that I was unable to meet people's expectations.
My aim was to bring Eurovision to Greece."
(He came 7th. Off with his head.)
OK, dude. Just this once we'll maybe overlook it.
Right on, Antoine!
What do the Little People know of the burdens of being a Tory Grandee with a multi-million-pound home in Devon to maintain?
Fuck 'em, right?
What right do we worker ants have to query your taking £87,000 of *our* taxpayers' money?
Look at that lubricious haughty face over there.
Doesn't it just ram home the reminder that Us Lot can't handle the truth (see the marvelous comments posted, including Dickie Wells' tumbril ditty).
Of course, I blame the government for bringing in that ridiculous "Freedom of Information Act".
That's what did it, along with all those meddlesome disclosures.
“What right does the public have to interfere with my private life? None.”
Fair nuff, all just a storm in a moat. But tell me, do you hear that distant tumbril roll?
Dept of Cool Comment: Badass Ley delivers the goods on the heroic Heather Brooke, 'one of the 'few good men' who helped surface this disgusting mess.'
I play it to everyone and they go ooh and ahh!
What do you mean, 'competing views'?
Cheney is out and disgraced and he should be keeping his face well down, like his buddy's face he managed to pepper with buckshot on that turkey hunt.
The fuck is going on? Does Cheney think he's still in some sort of job?
Still carries some weight?
God, this sort of thing makes me sick - and my family live there, so don't tell me to keep my Redcoat nose out of stuff that ain't my business.
Just because Lucy Gordon is rather lovely, why should I think that her suicide is any more wasteful than a Plain Jane topping herself?
Beautiful people get in just as awkward jams as the rest of us, and yet whenever I see some glam has taken a dive, I react with illogical extra concern and sympathy.
Telegraph's take
"Google has been banned from sending its Street View cameras out in Greece.
The internet company's cars have been ordered off the country's roads until it tells the authorities how it will store the images.
The Greek Data Protection Agency also told Google to give residents advance warning of its filming schedule.
'Simply marking the car is not considered an adequate form of notification,'
I thought when I started life here I'd have to make my own entertainment repelling boarders with over-worked tales of doom and gloom in the humanitarian cause of keeping Οι Γρωκλοί at bay.
I had reckoned without the plethora of endearing local 'b'logs charting "life" on Prosperonia.
Now and then there comes along a corker that says it all and merits slipping it into every guide book and meddling manual peddling building/buying/ballsing up Zoe Kerkyraïki.
A splendid example just popped into my in-box, all about some geezer's pal who's in the:
" ... final thro's [sic] of a 3-year plan to move to Corfu. Technically he should have arrived today ..."
[What's wrong with retaining the 'e' and spelling throes in full? Nothing wildly cool about snipping off the 'e'. Sounds just the same. - Ed]
Back to the hilarious tale:
"Basically every thing that could go wrong has"[Good catch - exactly the stuff we ought to be running. Well found - Ed]
"but hopefully we'll complete on the new house (in Corfu) today
[Heaven forfend. Don't we know someone in the Land Office who could mislay a crucial document up the spout? What about that Demetra lass whose dad we helped stitch up that Italian berk? - Ed]
... We have had to do some laughing over last five days. It was that or cry!
[That's what I like to hear - Ed]
Both of us feeling absolutely shattered. Jane is on antibiotics, suffering with tonsilitis, I feel like I've been hit by a car! All the fun of the fair!"
Memo from Editor: Come off it, you're making this up - which is what we pay you to do.
But "absolutely shattered ... antibiotics, suffering with tonsilitis ... hit by a car"?
Jackpot stuff. This is what we light candles to our Main Man Spiridon for - and that other saintly geezer entrusted with making life hell for daft buggers thinking of moving to Mirandaville.
St. Joseph, that's the cove - angel told him to get his ass over to Egypt and then with equally impeccable timing, told him to hie his derrière right back again. My favourite story. Laughed so hard the Samos went down the wrong way.
Cute Comment: Badass Ley bends it like Beckham to deliver a good one: Scary. Our language. If you put 'thro's' in spellchecker it comes up 'throe's'. So no help there. My etymology says it's from Middle English 'throwe' or from Old English 'thrawu' (I can hear why that didn't survive!) or 'thraw' (Scottish! Good for Scrabble - (except I hate the game)] which means 'pain' or 'affliction', and it's of unknown origin. But 'thrawn' means crooked or mishappen as in 'Old Corfiot tiles are thrawn because formed on the thighs of different women...making them trickier to lay.""Sure he didn't mean Thros?
Response: The Devil take you, Sinbad! Yes, I'm sure because he wrote 'thro' apostrophe 's' which I have decided is the grocer's apo.
But of course I'm *not* sure because I didn't know all that braney stuff wot you wrote up there.
What's the betting Chalky will give you a star for sucking up and being so clever-clogs, then we will bete you up in the playground after prep and you will go blubbing to matron who wont care because Ellison heard her saying to Mr Ozanne, 'Reelly, that Baddeley Minor boy is too sensitive for his own gude.'
And yore not alowed to say 'lay' becoz it is rude.
Oh, OK - I *really* thought that Sinbers was being serious about the tile forming on the women's thighs making the wenches 'trickier' to bed. Didn't bother to ponder why: Maybe gals who formed tiles were cannier to the wicked ways of men; maybe the tiling left the thighs deformed in some way; maybe working all those tiles left the senoritas with such oaken thighs that the guys had to bed them real carefully lest they be pythonised at the moment of ecstacy. Boy was I giving the stalwart a massive benefit of the doubt.
I search and search for the full text of that overweening PD Hewson's Poem to Elvis.
Perhaps, as part of its idiot decision to actually broadcast the 'verse', the Beeb feels it can stave off derision by leaving it as late as possible to unveil its full incompetence.
Hewson's birthday a few days hence, on May 10, advances him dangerously towards that age where pomposity and malodorous sanctity of his brand are more difficult to overlook and meet less patronising good humour.
Here is some of the laughable poesie, verbatim as reproduced in McCormick's article:
"Elvis the hillbilly brought rhythm to the white race, blues to pop, and rock'n'roll to where ever rock'n'roll is.
elvis the pelvis, swung from africa to europe, which is the idea of america.
elvis liberation.
elvis the kung fu would come later.
elvis hibernation.
elvis built a theme park he later called Graceland.
elvis woke up to whispers.
elvis thought of himself as a backslider.
elvis knew guilt like a twin brother.
elvis called God every morning then left the phone off the hook.
elvis turned las vegas into a church when he sang "love me tender".
elvis turned america into a church when he sang "the trilogy".
elvis was harangued by choice; flesh vs spirit, God vs rock'n'roll mother vs lover, father vs the colonel.
elvis grew sideburns as a protest against tom jones' hairy chest."
I would definitely be in trouble over culling crims.
If I caught a burglar breaking into my place, I'd pot him one without batting an eye, certainly before he shot or knifed me.
Or I'd encourage him towards the stake pit or the snake pit, or the bear trap or the abrasive embrace of the quicksand - perfect, engaging him in genial conversation over a whiskey and soda as he sank to armpits and past.
So, this unfortunate OE copping a manslaughter rap resonates most definitely.
I mean, chummie burgular (as we kids used to call them), is even described as a poacher.
Bang bank, Sambo, hands orf my livestock. By jove, I'll give you 'sprawl'.
Take that! (Which, it seems, he deservedly did).
Michael Cieply reviewing this movie in the NY Times:
"Jeff Daniels as the politician George Fergus squares off with Russell Crowe as the pen-wielding journalist Cal McAffrey.Two men. One notebook. Four chins."
Rewiring the garden electrics and the ants' nests are everywhere.
Bitey bastards. Can you see those big muthas from where you're sitting?
Ouch yaroo.
They stream down (or up) the arms and into the T-shirt where they dig in.
I am plunging self into pool to get them off me but now as I tap, I feel them in my ear and nostrils and nipping my elbow.
I look and feel like a pincushion with chickpox, or is it measles?
Wonderful wonderful reportage by the Deputy Political Editor of the Daily Telegraph, clever Melissa Kite.
Also terribly unfair, letting Prescott speak for himself in his usual porcine mumbo-jumbo.
Writes MK:
"John Prescott has launched an impassioned attack on two of his greatest enemies – Charles Clarke and the English language."
That had me hooked and reading on.
"The former Deputy Prime Minister gave a bravura performance on Radio 4’s Today programme as he got stuck into Labour rebels making trouble for Gordon Brown.His rambling rant was vintage Prescottese. With jumbled syntax he managed to suggest that he undressed a crowd of students and that Tony Blair’s famous election pledge card was brought out in 1967.
“I undressed 450 students yesterday with Ed Miliband and Eddie Izzard and I did 300 last night.
“You have got to talk to our people and when I hear Charles Clarke saying it’s a shame, I have got to say ... bit of dayjay vu. They were the same people who crawled out of the woodwork last September, told us they were finished, Gordon should go."
Do click the link and read the whole piece, also this sharp piece about friends like John.
And the very attractive Sara Watson has an entrancing touch of Lindsay Lohan about her.
Not Buck House, thank gawd, but Windsor Castle. Phew.
The best line is,
"They even ignored the Please Keep Off The Grass signs."
Will everyone stop calling it swine (or 'pig') 'flu and call it by its WHO-approved technical scientific name of H1N1 Influenza A.
Thank you.
What we are being told is "swine flu" is actually a combination of human and animal strains and has not been shown to be transmissible through eating pork.
So go easy on the piggeries and pork business, yeh? The misnomer is hurting them.
Say what? Influenza 'Flu casualties are now hiring Max 'Goody' Clifford to announce their woes?
