[Groans]
I know Christmas is traditionally a time of overindulgence but…
…I think I might have had too many peas yesterday.
[Groans again]
Still, can’t blame Shana for that. Own stupid fault; eyes bigger than belly, as Shakespeare (or was it Mrs Beaton?) used to say. The main suspects are, in no particular order, a giant Yorkshire pudding, a veritable Everest of peas and carrots, Quorn roast slices, cauliflower (not a whole one though–I’m not that greedy), sprouts of the Brussels variety, roast potatoes, and a rich ocean of delicious gravy. Enough to sink a battleship.
And for pudding (ha! had you going there, didn’t I?).
Actually, yes, for pudding, albeit some hours later, after watching one of the Star Trek films (itself after an abortive attempt to watch the utterly unfathomable ‘Inception’) we downed half a tub each of Mr Tesco’s finest mince pie ice cream. Really lived up to its name, that did. Couldn’t manage too much though: all those peas , you know. They might be small, but you know when you’ve had ‘em.
Happy Boxing Day!
[Groans]
Posted in food and drink
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Tagged food, xmas
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Merry Christmas/Bah humbug1 (Take your pick.)
Will you be watching the Queen’s speech this afternoon? No, me neither. Oh sure, the official ratings will, as usual, reveal millions of viewers who are, apparently, riveted by the monarch’s annual waffle-fest. But do the figures tell the whole story? Is it not just a teensy bit possible that those millions of Queenie fans are actually millions of Britons who overindulge at lunchtime and simply flop down on the sofa and fall asleep, crucially leaving the telly on while E2R does her thang.
Nobody actually watches it. Not seriously anyway.
But the Queen’s speech could attract millions more–genuine– ans. All it needs is a few small changes:
- The Queen could present the speech while wearing a ‘V’ mask. Maybe she could broadcast live from a one-person dome tent in front of the palace, with a hand-scrawled ‘Occupy’ sign nearby, thus showing she truly is the People’s Monarch. That would be fun.
- Or the speech could be produced by Banksy. She’d have to make a few concessions, like wearing a black hoodie, not actually showing her face, and being subject to voice distortion software at the final editing stages. But it would add an air of mystery to a ruler who, sometimes, is on the box a bit too much. (Did I mention that she has two birthdays a year? Gor blimey!)
- Or–and I personally like this one best–the Queen’s speech could, from now on, be written by the Duke of Edinburgh, everyone’s favourite controversial member of the royal family. Let’s face it, he’s been trying to upstage the missus for years, and this year he almost managed it. Even in hospital though, there’s probably no escaping the Queen’s speech; an incentive to make a quick recovery, I’d say.
Posted in humour
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Tagged humour, xmas
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The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Dog Breeds of the World, by Mike Stockman, arrived just over a week ago: one of Shana’s surprise presents after my mentioning that I’m clueless when it comes to identifying the various pooches that pass our house on their morning walkies every day.
I am now much more knowledgeable about dogs. I can also recommend the book to anyone who’d like to invent better excuses for their misdemeanours. One example should suffice: imagine you’re late home from the local hostelry one evening and have, owing to your mullered state, managed to stagger through several hawthorn hedges while heading home via what you thought was the shortest way but which actually entailed ploughing through everyone’s muddy back garden en route to your house. You’d look a bit of a mess, wouldn’t you? Now just think how much more convincing you’d sound if, on finally reaching your destination, you called, ‘Sorry I’m late dear, but I just got savaged by a grand basset griffon venden!’ (It’s a dog of French origins, so be sure to give it plenty of the old Gallic accent.) How impressive would that be, huh?
Re. the above advice: whatever you do, don’t substitute a breed with an intrinsically funny name, e.g., the Nova Scotia duck-tolling retriever. You’ll simply find yourself getting laughed at. And frankly, you’d deserve it.
Posted in books
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Tagged books
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Britain is being battered by severe gales at the moment. Not so bad here, but fairly wild up in Scotland. The police, in their usual well-meaning way, urge everyone not to travel. And what do the BBC always do? Yes, they send one of their reporters to stand underneath (or as near as dammit) the Forth Road Bridge. If he got swept out to sea, I suppose they’d take the cost of the rescue out of the licence fee, would they? Frankly, they’d be better spending the money, including the foolish journalist’s travel expenses, on better comedy or drama shows; failing that, they could shell out for some brand new neckties for newsman George Alligator or Huge Edwards. We all know what gale force winds sound like. Do we really need anyone to risk life and limb to keep telling us the same old stuff?
BBC News 24 continues to dish up the same stuff dozens of times an hour. Today they kept showing footage of David Cameron emerging from 10 Downing Street with his briefcase crammed with French and German phrasebooks for the forthcoming EU summit. Now imagine if, on coming out of the door, Cameron had been blown away by all those strong winds and sailed off, Mary Poppins-style, across London and over the Channel. What an impact that would have made in Brussels. (‘Cameron Airways, you’re clear to land…‘)
On a more local note, the big sycamore over the road from our house is looking a little careworn, with several branches on the verge of breaking off, I’d say. The crow’s nest remains firmly in place at the very top, though, and you have to wonder how those birds manage to build such solid structures. Do they start off, as all good boy scouts would, with a simple clove hitch and just keep lashing the nest to the nearest branches until they’re done? Or is it a timber hitch start, followed by crochet knots, for that professional finish? Or do they just use an indestructible form of bird-spit mortar to bind it all together? And if so, how come the council couldn’t have synthesised the stuff so that the walls of 1960s housing stock didn’t turn to virtual sawdust in only half a century? (I could go on about all the ‘fun’ we’ve had trying to fix things to the walls–including the hole that once appeared in our wafer thin bedroom wall. I could, but I won’t; otherwise we’d be here all day.)
Posted in news
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Tagged weather
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