Friday, March 19, 2004

Are you sitting comfortably children?
Then I’ll begin………

So started Shadow Chancellor, Oliver Letwin’s Party Political last night on the telly. Well, OK, I’m exaggerating a bit - but not that much. Honestly, I thought condescending politicians were supposed to be a thing of the past – or the exclusive preserve of the Party in power. Isn’t ‘humility’ supposed to be the new black for Conservative MPs? Especially seeing how the sleaze disease took its toll on them in the ‘90’s.

I’m just tucking into my salmon steak and chips (with added gee-emery for extra flavour) when wide-eyed Olly shoves his moniker into my face. Well….. it’s better than Emmerdale I suppose?

Oliver starts his heavyweight fiscal fandango "Do you know kids, that when you borrow from the bank, you have to pay it back – that’s what Gordon Brown has done kiddie-winks. He’s spent your pocket money. He's raided your piggy banks and filched all your birthday money. He’s taken it to the tuck shop and wasted it on cream cakes and lashings of jelly, but you will have to pay for it"

"Naughty, Mr Brown, go straight to bed, there’ll be no jammy dodgers and milk for you tonight"

‘Simplistic’ was not the word for Mr Letwin’s performance. Well, it wasn't the word I was thinking of. ‘Herbert’ …. ‘Berk’ ….. and ‘Pinstripe-Prat’ are probably more apt.

After Oliver’s mindless meanderings he almost finished off with "Night, night children, sleep tight and don’t let the nasty Taxman bite"….

So much for incisive political debate.

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Porn in my garden……

I’ve got shedloads of it. It’s ‘porn central’ in our garden at the moment. Gooey, sticky body fluids, writhing contorted bodies and non stop hedge to hedge jumpy-rumpy-pumpy-humpy action. Yes, frogs’ porn is back and it’s left a tapioca slick of Torrey Canyon proportions in my pond.

Frogs – millions of them, billions more probably, but I don’t want to get accused of hyperbole. They are bloody everywhere – and all desperate for a shag. Strolling through the daffs’ today, I was acutely aware of the all pervasive scent of froggy testosterone and the all too obvious ‘in tandem’ bouncing of amphibians on the grass and in the pond …. They’re all sex mad. I’ve come to the conclusion that frogs, when they are in the mood, will have a go at anything….

Several years ago, I found a half-dead carp flapping around on the surface of the pond. The fish didn’t look very well, not surprising really, on top of it with his little hands stuffed into each of the fish’s gills and hanging on for dear life was a randy rogering little frog. I mean, it's just not right is it? What future would their offspring have? Would they be called frish, figgs or foggs?

Good God almighty, I tried and tried to get that frog off the fish, but his little hands were shoved right into the gills, the more I pulled, the worse the fish looked.

Alfreda, helpfully suggested that a good dose of cold water sploshed over the couple would shock Freddie sufficiently to bring about coitus interruptus. I’m so desperate, I don’t even consider the insanity of the suggestion. Eventually, Alfeda’s ‘under the influence of drugs’ idea is refined. I grab my son’s ‘SuperSoaker’ water bazooka, take aim and fire.

Incalculable p.s.i. of pressure later and no effect whatsoever. The frog is still riding for all he’s worth. By now, the fish is well and truly buggered. Drastic situations require drastic actions. I land the two lovers in a net and put into action ‘PLAN B’.

It’s amazing how versatile a tool a cocktail stick can be. Sure, it skewers glace cherries and slices of lemon….. But it also makes a superb frog prodder. It’s my tip of the day. If you are ever in a position where you need to get a frog’s complete and undivided attention, then a 3-inch bit of wood will do it. A few well directed digs into his soft and wobbly nether regions soon does the trick – the frog rolls off, happy as you like and my carp is free, if a little weary.

Of course, frogs haven’t always had it so easy in our garden. Our late cat, Tizzy Wizzy Woo, especially valued this time of the year as a useful protein supplement. She would catch them, bite the legs and arms off the unfortunate amphibian, eat them - then calmly walk away, licking her lips.... Nice.

Sounds a bit brutal I know, but it was just a food thing with her – nothing personal. I tried to stop her as much as possible obviously, but ultimately I had to take a view. With the help of my pond, we raised thousands and thousands of froglets every year, a few got eaten, but most got away – it’s the law of my jungle.

Whenever I did find a Frog with an appendage deficiency of three or more as a result of Tizzy Wizzy Woo’s tyranny, I would get out my ‘despatching mallet’ and do the decent thing. If they only had one or two limbs missing then they coped pretty well, our pond is a wildlife haven – a frog doesn’t have to move very far to get a meal. Occasionally, she would bite off the limbs from one side only. Predictably, they swam in ever decreasing circles…….

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

Binge drinking……

I agree, far too much binge drinking around. I blame the cheap cost and the easy accessibility of booze.

I mean, it’s not as if they just have ‘Happy Hour’. What with all the subsidies, Happy Hour lasts for as long as the bars are open…….. Which is all the time. So, happy hour becomes happy days, weeks, months……

I’m on one of my favourite subjects again – the ‘don’t do as we do, but do as we say’ crowd from Westminster.

So when you’re sat there, in your local, nursing a taxed to the hilt pint that’s just cost you £2.25 whilst looking at a £6.85 lump of stale bread and cob of polystyrene laughingly masquerading as a nice bit o’ Cheddar combo, consider this…..

The Palace of Westminster has over 20 bars and pubs within its boundaries. Well that’s nice – and thoughtful, that makes for an average of around 31 MPs per bar, thus avoiding unseemly and plebeian behaviour such as pushing and shoving to get served first. (I haven’t included any of your Lordships, I couldn’t locate any during my in depth survey).

Notice, I didn’t say ‘pushing and shoving to get served for last orders’ - this being Westminster means that there are no last orders. Licensing hours within can only be described as ‘non-existent’ The bars have a 24-hour license; whenever the 2 Houses are sitting, the bars are open 24/7. Well that’s comforting – no ’10 to 11’ panic induced scrum for them, then..

All drinks bought in the Palace are subsidised, by us - as are the bottles of vintage wine, as is the entire restaurant menu. In the case of the food, they pay about 20 to 30% of the true retail worth. Well that is predictable – looks like I’m picking up the tab again.

Where does the word ‘binge’ come from then? My guess is it’s something to do with pigs, troughs and naked greed.

It’s comforting to know that when we stagger out of a club at 2 in the morning we’re at best embarrassing and at worse a bloody disgrace. When an MP is found in some Whitehall gutter with puke dribbling down their best pinstripe, they are described as ‘overworked’ or ‘tired and emotional’

Aint democracy wonderful?