Nutty Yettaw

Gawd preserve us.

That flipping flipper flake, wonky Yettaw, swam to warn Suu Kyi of something he'd seen in a frickin' dream.

He's the one who should be rotting in a roachy cell, not fragant madame ... instead *he* gets off. No justice.

I thought these Burmese myanmarionettes were meant to be hard cases ... one minute they dish out a sensible sentence, next volte face as my mune buddy Berlusconi would have it.

Pah!

D Teleg Funny signs

A sort of 'Eats, shoots and leaves' caption - and is that a steering wheel some wag has inked in?

Building a Mystery

Rather funny.

After 30 years' rustic view from the cottage, suddenly our neighbour - call him Eddie because his son is a Net freak and ever googling girls and the family name - starts 'developing' and, to our horreur, keeps *on* developing.

It started as a joke - I sent my bro in Italy the first shots of ground-breaking and he took the bait and hit the ceiling.

I went on snapping and suddenly it seemed a shame to break the chain.

The workers liked it not one bit and would shout and gesture and I'd wave cheerily back with many a thumbs-up and admiring words on their good work.

Finally, a project manager demanded to know what I was taking all the photos for:

"My workers say you have take many photographs!"

"From Day one!" I call proudly, "Every day, no I lie, I *try* to take every day but not always possible.

But every week I have taken."

"Yati;"

"Is a good record for Eddie and for buyers and for you."

His face clouded at the mention of the guv'nor's name.

Meanwhile, Eddie visits chez nous now and then to see if we'll accept his paltry offer for the Pagoda and we quote a price and he looks glum.

"So much money"

We say: "Where we going to live? To move, we want much money."

But mum takes him round the garden and gives him cuttings and his rich sister comes and she takes cuttings and her posh pals come and *they* take cuttings and we sip our prosecco and talk about America and the latest fashions coming out of Paree.

Then one day Eddie comes on site and the foreman calls me and I wave at Eddie and tell him I'll be right down.

Why these photos? I'm asked

. Eddie looks curious and I tell the site boss he has spoiled my surprise.

• First off, I've worked with construction all my life - Hong Kong, Boston, France (the Bouygues group) - and if I've learned one thing it's that 500 photos worth a 10,000-page report:
• The workers like it
• The good workers have a good record of their good work.
• The boss sees and knows he is getting good work.

  Eddie nods and looks at his site boss who scowls.

• The bad workers are pleased: they see their mistakes and can correct them
• The project manager is happy: he can see progress and where the work is good and where it is not so good and can be corrected.

  Eddie nods more.

• It is good for the selling. The buyers can see how their fine houses were built, with the best materials. Eddie nods and looks at the project chief who glowers
• Also, the owners have a nice album to show their friends:

  'See this is the history of our nice new home'.

• The lawyers like it: you know how buyers are (nod), they always find complaints about this, about that.

  'You said you would use top materials ... this is not top material'.

  The seller - nod to Eddie - can say

  'Here! On this day we do this job, see the lorry, see the name of the material, see the date of photo, we are always on time'.

  Site chief shifting in chair.
• Such a pity you had to go and spoil my surprise for Edward here - I was going to make a CD of all the photos and also print the best ones and make a presentation album. Eddie claps me on the shoulder; I'm a good friend. Looks at site chief, See? Nothing to worry about?

COMMENT: See also Sinbad's supportive follow-up

"Hot Girls", indeed, "on Roda Beach"

Courtesy of Celebrity News, who clearly walk differents streets of Roda than the ones I hobble down.

Ghastly colour for a swim suit, but there's a solution for that.

The date on the banner - has it taken the fotos 2 years to catch the search engine's eye?

SAFIRE, RIP

Carla Crashed

~ A site too popular ~

I could've told them that:

Any website hoisted by that hottie Mrs Sarkozy is bound  to be over-visited.

Now that I've given her a plug here, it'll nae doote crash all over again as like-minded readers throughout the world rush to click.

No room for modesty: the name "Carla" is now synonymous with good work and beauty.

Craque Boum!

How dare they diss Carla's site?

FEEL IT IN MY TOSS

Well, *I* like Rod Liddle

I remember that article he wrote for the Speccie

"Harriet Harman is either thick or criminally disingenuous".

Good stuff, so of course it's "got him into rather a lot of hot water."

Lovely kick-off, the sort of irksome eye-catcher I aspire to for my own blatherings:

"So - Harriet Harman, then. Would you? I mean after a few beers obviously, not while you were sober."

Well done Taki's tottie, Spectator assistant editor Mary Wakefield, finding the piece "very funny."

Says RL,

"It was supposed to be a parody of guttural, base sexism ... I got it wrong on a number of counts.

Clearly it gave offence to too many women and clearly it was ill-judged."

No, it wasn't.

What might have been ill-judged is my glimpsing that photo up there.

He's the first person I turn to in the Spectator - OK, if I happen to flip to Ms Lightwater's page, it's impossible not to read her whole diary - and I just like that reassuring tousle-haired doodle of him.

The reality in the photo isn't quite what I'm after.

Streakers' Lurve Story

Sort of cute

Dang, I've got to write to Bert Thompson and commission him to redo his cartoon with another three letter word.

Then I would send it as loo art to a lady who played exactly that trick on my birthday, Feb 4, 1972.

LOVESICK BLUES

Because we're heading into the weekend and my rider ain't here.

Gone to London

With her husband (ffs) ~ if you've heard anything more disorderly or unnatural

She'll do me, she'll do you - she's got that kinda loving.

Linda Sarah Helen

I note that my Twitter twin, toughie business supremo Jack Welch, has spotted Gordon Brown as 'a dead man walking'.

I agree: when you're so frazzled you storm out of a TV interview, the end is nigh.

Spot on, frère Jacques.

Deuced clever, therefore, for Gordie to have gone for the distracting ploy of dolling up his missus as a Helen Goddard lookalike. (OK, an HG d'un certain age).

Still hard to tell them apart.

Always thought that a presentable spouse was essential to Poisonality-challengés coves like dour Bruin.

Same went for that fakeroo Jeffrey Archer and his icy fragrant Mary.

But got to give it to him, he wove a damn'd good story. Some of his books were page-turners, too.

I had a 'Sarah Brown' once. Married her, too.

Much too good for me.

I remember sitting in the bar of the Mandarin Hotel Hong Kong eavesdropping on two shrewd types talking about *me*:

"Perfectly nice chap, but when it comes to getting things done, I say hire the wife or the brother."

God that hurt. Damn damn that hurt.

It hurt because it was so goddam true.

Great line, tho'.

Worst Lovers

"German men have been voted the world's worst lovers, narrowly beating English men to the unwanted title."

Well, she chose poorly, then. Only went one grade up.

WORLD'S WORST LOVERS:

1. Germany (too smelly)
2. England (too lazy)
3. Sweden (too quick)
4. Holland (too dominating)
5. America (too rough) So ... I thought chicks rather liked that
6. Greece (too lovey-dovey) Ha!
7. Wales (too selfish)
8. Scotland (too loud) Och aye, that's the lassies' job
9. Turkey (too sweaty)
10. Russia (too hairy)

WORLD'S BEST LOVERS

Spain

Brazil

Italy

France

Ireland

South Africa

Australia

New Zealand

Denmark

Canada