The disappearing perk

The perils of relying on the internet version of a newspaper were brought home yesterday when the Daily Mail website which offers access was unobtainable. You’re much better off with the paper version. And you can do the crosswords. Or try to.

Today’s word

Transplaining – either a man got up as a woman unable to shed an old bad habit or a woman got up as a man assuming a licence to annoy other women by right of revised gender.

Life is so untidy

All the virtue signallers were up in arms when a dosser got short shrift from the porters after making a pest of himself at a railway station. Then it turned out that the bloke wasn’t a worthy asylum seeker living on the charity of the British public, he was a drug dealer, who’d done a million years in goal and had at least one killing to his credit. Which kind of slowed the rush to offer him a spare room.

Another small change

Procrasstination – being paid out of the public purse to be crass. Think Jeremy Corbyn.

It’s a nice day – stop moaning!

All this moaning about the current clement weather is getting v. tedious. It’s not the work of the Devil. It’s not a huge global catastrophe. It’s just the weather, which changes unpredictably and upsets weather-watchers because all the weather computers in the world in tandem can’t handle what the planet does.

One small change

Guess The Definition in yesterday’s Daily Mail was the word ‘neaped’. Well, the connection with neap tides is obvious. What would have been harder is the Scottish word ‘neeped’ – being battered with a sockful of turnips!

Update

It’s a brand of toothpaste that contains ‘vince’ and ‘arbolino’, I discovered later.

Good fun

I heard about the 1975 film The Black Bird recently and decided to track down a copy because it hasn’t been reissued because it is so allegedly politically incorrect that it would give the average PC zombie the screaming ab-dabs. Back in real life, the film is funny and a normal person would have to try real hard to be offended by it. But let’s face it, normal can be very weird these days!

How reassuring

I wasn’t paying much attention to the TV whilst the adverts were on, as usual, but I did catch a young lady talking about some cosmetic product(?) containing ‘vince’ and ‘arbolino’. I have no idea what these mystery ingredients are but they do have very friendly names, which inspire confidence.

Any excuse for a day out

The Woman Against State Pension Inequality organization held a rally in Glasgow yesterday, attended by the First Meenister, to protest against women being required to get the state pension at the same age as men.
    Clearly a case of equality, but not as we know it, Jim.

There is no F in dignity

The DRAMA channel getting the superannuated Inspector Bergerac to spout their slogan as a trailer for re-runs of his past triumphs just makes him look like an old bloke with dementia and does Mr. Nettles no favours at all.

Job vacancy for trolls

The Three Hissy Tarts. THT – snappy, rolls off the tongue easily. A great name for the three Tory MPs who have actually flounced and/or the three ministers who are threatening to.

There is no F in sense

“There’s only one channel called DRAMA” (130 on Virgin) has to rank as one of the most pointless slogans ever created. Like there would ever be two different TV channels with the same name.

Catch 22b

Essex university’s students have come up with their own variation of Catch 22. If you want to vote when forming a new society is proposed, you can’t unless you’re a member of an existing society.

Not stating the obvious solution

Increasing human population is being blamed for all the world’s troubles in the latest DoomCast from the United Nations Organization. No danger of their suggesting that people who can’t afford to feed them should be persuaded to stop having children, though. Just, ‘throw more cash at the UNO’. Same old same old.

Sleepless in outer space

Watching an episode of the SF series The Orville last night, I was struck by a sudden thought – how do they ever get to sleep with all that blue light everywhere?
    We’re always being nagged about the perils of blue light from phones, tablets, etc. used just before bedtime. It’s in the corridors and rooms everywhere on the ship, that ghostly blue glow.
    But maybe the doctor lady just stocks up with strong sleeping pills at every port of call and it’s not a problem aboard The Orville.

For the faint-hearted

Anyone who’s daunted by having to shell out for 140 magazines at 9 quid a throw to build the Bismark might consider the alternative of building a Terminator. Still 9 quid a pop but there are only 120 extractions.

Obvious, or what?

“A cancelled flight cost me £600 – so how come Ryanair offered only £76 compensation?” it said in the paper yesterday. The big clue has to be the word ‘Ryanair’ in the question.

Not wanted on voyage

Crumbs! A Home Secretary with a bit of backbone has booted the Bride of Daesh into touch. Or is it just a scam to let his pals in the legal trade dip into the public purse for an appeal? Such is the state of respect for politicians right now that he’s no longer eligible for the benefit of the doubt.

“VIP, but not as we know it, Jim.”

Are we surprised by the revelation that on-line betting companies don’t consider winners to be Very Important Punters? As they have a purely negative impact on the Bottom Line, not really.

Letting us all down badly

Giving a physical description of someone which includes their skin colour is now a hanging offence in broadcasting circles? Makes you proud to be British.

In all seriousness

What will the new splinter political party call itself? Semitist-Bremoaners or Bremoaner-Semitists? SB is less likely to promote mirth than BS.

The best ‘villain’ riposte?

If not for Winston Churchill, miserable commies like John McDonnell would be speaking bad German in a concentration camp at the back of beyond.

Bright idea

There’s a very easy solution to the problem of the Bremoaners who are demanding a People’s Vote. It should be possible to have them sectioned for their own welfare under the Mental Health Act (1983) if they can’t grasp the simple reality that the people did vote, back in 2016, and chose to Leave the EU.

Lowest possible quality

The shadow chancellor’s decision to spread fake news about the iconic Sir Winston Churchill has to be an example of a politician being too lazy to look up the readily available truth and expecting everyone else to be idle and ignorant enough to let him get away with it.
    Which doesn’t say much for Mr. McDonnell’s credentials as a financial genius. He’s obviously out of the same box as Gordon F. Brown.

Vegans strive for extinction of sheep

How wonderful that a clothes retailer called Booboo (at a casual glance) has chosen to get publicity by banning the use of wool in its garments on vegan ethical grounds.
    Farmers have pointed out that shearing sheep prevents them from overheating and suffering insect infestations, but such considerations seem to be outwith vegan ethics.

Who pays!

All these crazy kids who are bunking off school to stop global warming should stop and think about what they’re demanding. After all, they’re going to have to sacrifice their future to pay for all the scams the Warmists unload on them.

Their word is no longer a bond

“Should we really keep going with Brexit just because we said we would?” a Labour Bremoaner asked in Parliament yesterday. Which sums up the fundamental dishonesty of our current generation of politicians. “Tell ’em anything to get elected, then ignore the bastards.” That’s what our MPs really think of the people who pay their wages.

I think we should be told

I’m supposed to be reassured on hearing during a TV ad that ‘our coffee range contains 50% whole beans’. But I can’t help wondering what the other 50% is – maybe stuff swept up off the floor after the beans have been ground?

The way ahead

People who want to look like paupers can pay for a pair of jeans with the knees hanging out and trainers which look fit for the bin even with the £600 price tag still in place.
    Time to launch my new range of distressed donkey jackets to complete the Tramp on the Prowl look.

New Rules No. 46

If you’re not much cop at your job but you want to be noticed and get your picture in the papers, cobble together the biggest victim whinge you can manage and spread it far and wide on auntiesocial media.

Weird concept

Does it make any sense to call the late footballer E. Sala a Cardiff City player when he never actually reached our shores, never mind actually playing a single match for the club? Life is sure strange in the 21st century.

Rubbish! Boooo!

I’m surprised that the Go On Show (according to a BBC bigwig of yesteryear) was a lowly 21st in the list of the top 30 radio shows of all time, which was topped by Desert Island Disco. The Goons deserve much better.

Scoops are supposed to be worth having

The BBC solicits an exclusive interview with Venezuela’s Corbynist, election-rigging president to let him condemn President Trump as a white supremacist? BFD.
    On the other hand, if they hadn’t gone along with it, the reporter and entourage would never have got out of the country alive.

Sanity test

Anyone who’s prepared to blow two grand on a pair of shoes, even if they do have red soles, has something seriously wrong with them.

Sunk in the first sentence

“A band of veteran militant green activists are fuelling a campaign to encourage thousands of children to skip school.” This was that the Daily Mail assured us on page 13 today. Which is dismaying.
    Why? Because ‘a band’ is the singular subject of the sentence and it should be accompanied by the singular form of the verb, i.e. ‘is’ not ‘are’, which is a plural form.
    Looks like the Mail team of Sophie Borland, Glen Keogh and Neil Sears didn’t spend all that much time in English classes themselves when they were at school.

Yawn

This probably sounds terrible but I really can’t work up any enthusiasm over British athletics having an official yoghurt.

It’s only being so cheerful as keeps me going

Here’s a good one: That special place in Hell for Brexiteers has EU president J.-C. Druncker behind the bar and no one ever offers to buy him a drink.

Nice easy earner

The chief prosecutor of Nuremberg kidnapped 63 alleged Adolf Hitler paintings from an auction house but returned the ones to be offered in a sale yesterday. No one bought them due to doubts about the authenticity of the pictures. Apparently, Herr Hitler’s works are hard to distinguish from those of anonymous contemporaries and just doing a decent signature is the forger’s biggest challenge.

Lacking conviction

What do you do if you’re an exhibition-ish? i.e. not quite the whole hog? Strip off in a radio studio with a daft message written on your chest.

Better would be better

A drippy nose is Nature’s way of preventing your lungs from freezing in cold weather. Fine, but don’t you just wish that Nature has come up with something less messy?

Cloth-ears rides again

I walked in during a TV ad and it seemed to be offering a romantic purloined steak meal for two. Sounds like a brilliant Valentine’s Day offer!

No sherbert, Sheila!

Wine after beer and you’ll still feel queer. If you overdo it, of course. Strange no one questioned the credentials of whoever decided that the type, not the quantity, of alcohol consumed determines the severity of the hangover. Not at all strange that some academic was able to waste research funds on giving people booze and asking them to rate the hangover, though.

Data disconnection

Army explosives experts were called to the scene of an explosion in a flat block in West Yorkshire as the local MP and the mayor are tweeting syrup at the blokes who were blown up. Which suggests that the police are wondering if they made a bomb or someone planted a bomb on them, and the tweeters are liable to end up egg-faced.
    It could all be an unfortunate accident but you never know, these days.

Impossible leap of faith

Is there anyone in the whole Universe who believes that J. Corbyn voted Remain in the Brexit referendum? Only if he was too drunk to see straight and put his cross in the wrong box.

Bucking the message

Don’t you just love it when you see a headline like: ‘Gin sales up 23% in Dry January’? The People remain as bolshy as every in fairly harmless ways.

Rules for a no-police zone

What if some rowdy scumbag dies whilst being handcuffed by security guards filling in for the police? we are invited to consider.
    My advice would be to remove the cuffs for future use, dump the body in the correct recycling bin and move on to the next yob.

Do we really need a bloated BBC?

The time has come to tell the BBC’s bloatocrats that they have to persuade people to opt in to its services rather than being entitled to charge the whole population. A Committee of Concerned Consumers pruning the pointless jobs and capping the excessive salaries would be an excellent start.

Permanently tainted gestures

Recalling the case of the bloke who got away with making up his signs for the deaf for years, I couldn’t help wondering if the bloke who did it at this year’s rather dull Super Bowl was out of the same box.

Not so smart

Why is it that the scriptrotters for MacGuyver, the show about a gadget genius, and lots of other boffin characters have them talk about muriatic acid? No one who’s ever been to school calls it anything other than hydrochloric acid.
    From which, one can deduce that scriptrotters did a lot of bunking off and are uneducated?

Ram it up ’em!

Super Bowl Sunday and it’s got to be the Rams. It would be too dreadful if Armstrong United proved yet again that cheats do prosper.

Up in flames

They have an interesting way of tackling a major cock-up in Scottish Police circles. One of the bosses tells a suitable fall guy/gal to go and buy a garden incinerator and some petrol, and torch any inconvenient paperwork. Then the boss retires on full pension after the whistle is blown but before anyone does anything about it.

It’s definitely the prohibition which makes it hard

I’m on a course of antibiotics and the restrictions are irksome to say the least. A pill four times per day has to be taken on an empty stomach, which means that it has to be consumed two hours after food or one hour before.
    Taking one at 7 a.m. means no breakfast until after 8 a.m. (no big deal) and I have to take one at 12 noon to have lunch at one. Another at 5 p.m. lets me have dinner after 6 p.m. but I’ve cut out my slice of cake with a cup of tea at 3 p.m. to avoid complications. The last, at 11 p.m. has no associated problems.
    I rapidly found that I started thinking about food in the windows when I can’t have it. It’s only for a week for me, but this is what life must be like for a dieter: food at restricted times of the day and thinking about it constantly during the windows of unavailability.
    Definitely an incentive not to get fat in the first place!

No braces needed

Britain braced for the coldest night in 7 years? Not really if the temperature is going to go down to -16 deg.C only somewhere in Scotland. The rest of us are watching the residual snow vanish on a sunny day and looking forward to the early spring predicted by Groundhog Day Phil, who didn’t see his shadow on emerging from his bunker.

Booze-blast

Apparently, we’re in for a noisy weekend as all the young things who observed Dry January catch up on their month’s lost boozing before starting on February’s quota.

Welcome distraction

There’s not that much snow left around here. We keep getting bits of new snow then the sun comes out and melts it. But maybe we should be grateful that God is grotting on the south-west and Wales to give the news media something to bang on about other than bloody Brexit.