How often have you felt like singing “I can see a rainbow” after your first ‘line of the day? No doubt very often. Well, researchers from the University of Bristol have discovered that the buzz you get from that first toot of the day might not actually be down to the ‘feel-good’ chemical dopamine. It might actually be a reversal of the fatiguing effects of overnight cocaine withdrawal.
In an extensive and exhaustive study conducted over one helluva weekend, 300 cocaine users alternatively abstained then tucked into delicious mountains of lovely white powder. The staggering findings were then published in that gospel of Neuropharmacology, The Daily Mail. They make fascinating reading not least because they could undermine what is thought to be a multi-billion dollar global industry.
Professor Escobar from Bristol’s department of experimental psychology who ran the study said: “It is clearly all in the mind. And a lot of it is currently in my mind, yum yum. One thing I can say for sure is that I love the world and a want to teach everyone, every man woman and child, about this magical, magnificent substance that some call Bolivian marching powder... Though I fear none will ever understand the truly shamanistic odyssey that I have undertaken.
The Daily Mail researcher asked Professor Escobar to get back to the point. Whereupon he said: “The point? Well, what is the point? That is my point, if you catch my drift. Maybe there is no point. What is wrong with this wonder drug being all in the mind anyway, I ask you? There’s a lot of other crap up there in my friggin’ grey matter if you’ll pardon my French. And no, don’t ask whether I am actually French. My mother told me I’m not.”
“All I know is that the sun is shining, the birds are buzzing, or whatever it is they do... and my pharmacology students think I’m the bees fucking knees. You know, like I’m the coolest friggin’ Prof in Bristol, Lord knows, maybe even in the world. Ha! Call that withdrawal? Yeah, right... withdrawal. Cracks me up. Like, hello? Do you see this Professor withdrawing like any time soon. Don’t think so. Call me Ischmael. Coz you’re worth it. Screw withdrawal, I say.”
The Professor was subsequently dragged away from the department of pharmacology by a number of security guards whom he kept referring to as “my disciples”. He was diagnosed as having experienced an acute case of cocaine psychosis. There are now fears that the study will be shelved or worse still, abandoned altogether... At least, that is until the Daily Mail next decides to take it out of mothballs, dust it down and republish it.
Next Week: Professor Hoffman tells readers: “Why I'll be ditching the San Pedro cactus, the opium pipe, the laudanum... and buying myself a dirty great hypodermic needle instead.”
Friday, 4 June 2010
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
Post... Office
(Customer calls the complaints hotline of a major telecoms company)
Customer: Hello I wish to register a complaint about the speaking clock.
Voice: Please press one for sales, two for billings enquiries, three for negative, cynical rants about the quality of our service.
(Customer sighs then presses three)
Customer: Hello, i’d like to register a complaint. It’s about the speaking clock
Voice: Thank you. Please press one for rants about an existing order, two for rants about one of our many excellent services, three for some other matter that is totally pointless and irrelevant and, by the way, have you ever thought about getting a life?
(Customer shakes his head, thinks for a moment, then presses two)
Customer: Hello, I’d like to register a complaint.
Voice: Please press one to rant about one of our excellent services that nine out of ten customers prefer, or two one of our excellent services that one out of ten does not appreciate but continues to use anyway hypocritical little shits that they are.
(Customer ponders this one, then decides to be smart and to press one – he hopes he might get a more receptive customer services representative)
Customer: Hello, I’d like to register a complaint.
Voice: Now please press one for complaints about the speaking clock or two to go back to the main menu.
(Customer scratches his head. He is totally confused. But he presses one)
Customer: Hello, I’d like to register a complaint. It’s about your speaking clock service.
(A slightly different digital voice comes on the line)
New Voice: Thank you for using this hotline. I am sorry, but due to the unprecedented volume of traffic, you have been timed out. Please call back later. We hope that you have enjoyed using this service and we look forward to helping you in future.
Customer: (Sighs then mutters) Pah! Telecommunications..? It’s all one way traffic these days...
Customer: Hello I wish to register a complaint about the speaking clock.
Voice: Please press one for sales, two for billings enquiries, three for negative, cynical rants about the quality of our service.
(Customer sighs then presses three)
Customer: Hello, i’d like to register a complaint. It’s about the speaking clock
Voice: Thank you. Please press one for rants about an existing order, two for rants about one of our many excellent services, three for some other matter that is totally pointless and irrelevant and, by the way, have you ever thought about getting a life?
(Customer shakes his head, thinks for a moment, then presses two)
Customer: Hello, I’d like to register a complaint.
Voice: Please press one to rant about one of our excellent services that nine out of ten customers prefer, or two one of our excellent services that one out of ten does not appreciate but continues to use anyway hypocritical little shits that they are.
(Customer ponders this one, then decides to be smart and to press one – he hopes he might get a more receptive customer services representative)
Customer: Hello, I’d like to register a complaint.
Voice: Now please press one for complaints about the speaking clock or two to go back to the main menu.
(Customer scratches his head. He is totally confused. But he presses one)
Customer: Hello, I’d like to register a complaint. It’s about your speaking clock service.
(A slightly different digital voice comes on the line)
New Voice: Thank you for using this hotline. I am sorry, but due to the unprecedented volume of traffic, you have been timed out. Please call back later. We hope that you have enjoyed using this service and we look forward to helping you in future.
Customer: (Sighs then mutters) Pah! Telecommunications..? It’s all one way traffic these days...
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
Monty Einstein’s Flying Circus
The Dead Time Sketch
(The scene is a watch shop in West London)
Customer: I wish to register a complaint
Owner: Won’t be a mo… just finishing with this customer.
Customer: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this watch what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Owner: Oh yes, the, uh, the Roadrunner Blue...What's, uh...What's wrong with it?
(Other Customer walks off in a huff)
Customer: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. It don’t tell the time, that's what's wrong with it!
Owner: No, no, it’s uh,...it’s just resting.
Customer: Look, matey, I know a dud watch when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
Owner: No no it’s not dud, it's, it's restin'! Remarkable watch, the Roadrunner Blue, inn'it, ay? Beautiful carriage!
Customer: The carriage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.
Owner: Nononono, no, no! 'It's resting!
Customer: All right then, if it's restin', I'll wind it up!
(shaking the watch)
'Ello, Mister Time Piece! I'm going to wind you up with a good shake if you tell us the...(owner hits the watch)
Owner: There, the second hand moved!
Customer: No, it didn't, that was you hitting the watch
Owner: I never!!
Customer: Yes, you did!
Owner: I never, never did anything...
Customer: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) 'ELLO CARRIE CLOCK!!!!!
Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!
(Shaking the watch to wind it up, then banging it on the counter. Shoves it in the face of the owner.)
Customer: Now that's what I call a dud watch
Owner: No, no.....No, you overwound it
Customer: Overwound it?
Owner: Yeah! You overwound it, just as it was starting to tic! Roadrunner Blues overwind easily, major.
Customer: I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That watch is definitely a dud.
Owner: Well it depends on which way you look at it, Guv’nor.
Customer: Which way you look at it? What the ‘ell is that supposed to mean?
Owner: Yeah, well, Isn’t that what that Einstein geyser once used to say. Time is relative?
Customer: Time is relative??!! Time is relative??!! What kind of a feeble excuse is that?
Owner: Well, it’s like this: That Einstein bloke, that Albert Einstein, that man who is thought of as one of the greatest scientists ever, he said that the time on your watch all depended on something called the space time continuum. It all depended on whereabouts exactly in the universe you was when you was observing the watch, Guv’nor.
Customer: Really? You serious? Did he? Einstein actually said that?
Owner: Honest to God Guv’nor. Long as the day is short… I’d even swear it on my dear Grandma’s life.
Customer: Oh. I see. Gosh, I really had no idea Einstein said that.
Owner: Lot of things Einstein said what people don’t know about, Guv’nor. Lots of things.
Customer: Well then, I suppose I really have to owe you an apology… I’m most terribly sorry.
Owner: That’s all right, Guv’nor. It happens all the time… you know, what with ours being a watch shop.
Customer: Yes, I suppose it must do really.
Owner: Sadly, it does… Now, Squire, is there anything else I can help you with? Would you like a couple of batteries for that watch?
Customer: Batteries?
Owner: Yes, sorry, Squire… I forget to tell you earlier when you came in, batteries ain’t included with that particular model.
(The scene is a watch shop in West London)
Customer: I wish to register a complaint
Owner: Won’t be a mo… just finishing with this customer.
Customer: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this watch what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Owner: Oh yes, the, uh, the Roadrunner Blue...What's, uh...What's wrong with it?
(Other Customer walks off in a huff)
Customer: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. It don’t tell the time, that's what's wrong with it!
Owner: No, no, it’s uh,...it’s just resting.
Customer: Look, matey, I know a dud watch when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
Owner: No no it’s not dud, it's, it's restin'! Remarkable watch, the Roadrunner Blue, inn'it, ay? Beautiful carriage!
Customer: The carriage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.
Owner: Nononono, no, no! 'It's resting!
Customer: All right then, if it's restin', I'll wind it up!
(shaking the watch)
'Ello, Mister Time Piece! I'm going to wind you up with a good shake if you tell us the...(owner hits the watch)
Owner: There, the second hand moved!
Customer: No, it didn't, that was you hitting the watch
Owner: I never!!
Customer: Yes, you did!
Owner: I never, never did anything...
Customer: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) 'ELLO CARRIE CLOCK!!!!!
Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!
(Shaking the watch to wind it up, then banging it on the counter. Shoves it in the face of the owner.)
Customer: Now that's what I call a dud watch
Owner: No, no.....No, you overwound it
Customer: Overwound it?
Owner: Yeah! You overwound it, just as it was starting to tic! Roadrunner Blues overwind easily, major.
Customer: I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That watch is definitely a dud.
Owner: Well it depends on which way you look at it, Guv’nor.
Customer: Which way you look at it? What the ‘ell is that supposed to mean?
Owner: Yeah, well, Isn’t that what that Einstein geyser once used to say. Time is relative?
Customer: Time is relative??!! Time is relative??!! What kind of a feeble excuse is that?
Owner: Well, it’s like this: That Einstein bloke, that Albert Einstein, that man who is thought of as one of the greatest scientists ever, he said that the time on your watch all depended on something called the space time continuum. It all depended on whereabouts exactly in the universe you was when you was observing the watch, Guv’nor.
Customer: Really? You serious? Did he? Einstein actually said that?
Owner: Honest to God Guv’nor. Long as the day is short… I’d even swear it on my dear Grandma’s life.
Customer: Oh. I see. Gosh, I really had no idea Einstein said that.
Owner: Lot of things Einstein said what people don’t know about, Guv’nor. Lots of things.
Customer: Well then, I suppose I really have to owe you an apology… I’m most terribly sorry.
Owner: That’s all right, Guv’nor. It happens all the time… you know, what with ours being a watch shop.
Customer: Yes, I suppose it must do really.
Owner: Sadly, it does… Now, Squire, is there anything else I can help you with? Would you like a couple of batteries for that watch?
Customer: Batteries?
Owner: Yes, sorry, Squire… I forget to tell you earlier when you came in, batteries ain’t included with that particular model.
Sunday, 30 May 2010
A Hadron a day keeps reality at bay - Chapter One
The Good Lord sent A and E packing. And boy, was he livid? But, you know, he was a kindly old fellow and he made sure they didn’t leave empty handed.
“Call this a golden handshake,” he said as he saw them off.
“Golden what?” asked E
“Bit like a goody bag.”
“Oh, I like goody bags,” said E
“I know. You women were put on Earth to like, like er...” He stopped mid-sentence – didn’t want to cause offence.
He held aloft two cool-looking gadgets – the like of which A and E had never seen. He grinned. “You know, I’m not just that boring old guy with a beard, who invents people and dogs and donkeys and peyote and turnips and sheep and mountains and Bolivian marching powder and people and...”
“You already said people.” Said E
“Yes. I did, didn’t I?”
“Did you mention Peyote?” asked A
“For crying out loud, numbnuts.” shouted E. “He mentioned peyote. Like, er, right after donkeys?”
“Ok, keep your hair on,” replied A
“Bloody people,” whispered the Lord. “Knew I was biting off more than I could chew when I created people.”
“Anyway, as I was saying, these are what people will call gadgets in years to come. They will arrive in large numbers from the Orient and lives will come to depend on them.”
To E he handed an Apple computer. “It’s a prototype, as you can probably tell. Ain’t she a beaut? These are going to sell like hot cakes one day. You’ll see.”
“And what precisely am I to do with this Apple, as you’ve so humorously named it?”
The Good Lord smirked. “You can do what you like with it, love... But essentially, it’s a bit like what you have up there in your noddle.” He tapped his own furrowed brow. “It’s a processing centre. It helps you think, it helps you get things done. Gives you more time for daytime TV.”
“Great, just what I need,” she replied somewhat ambiguously.
“My one piece of advice to you is this: Use it wisely and it will bring you much succour. But use it foolishly... and it will prove to be a double edged sword. For, as easily as it can improve life, so can it destroy it.”
E snatched the Apple from Him with very little grace nor gratitude and tucked it under her arm.
A, by now impatient, coughed loudly and asked, “And my gadget, Lord?”
“Yes, well, this one is even weirder,” replied the Lord. “Not sure quite how to describe it. But let’s just say that it could potentially read MY own mind.” The Lord then shook his head in disbelief, grunted and thought: what am I letting myself in for?
A was exuberant. “Coooo-oooo-oool!” he said in his time honoured fashion. "Read your bloody mind!"
“Not my words exactly... But that’s how clever marketers might be able to pitch it in years to come.”
“Friggin’ A,” he said.
The Good Lord sent them on their way and as he did so, he said once again. “Now remember. Use these gadgets wisely and resourcefully, my children. That is all I ask.”
A and E wondered off into the sunset, and as they did so they cussed and swore and did frequently take the Good Lord’s name in vain, as was their want.
“Jeeees-us!” said E. “What a jerk that guy was... What the f- are we going to do with these so-called gadgets, for crying out loud?”
“Oh, don’t worry my love....” replied A in his meek and humble way. “We’ll think of something... I’m sure.”
But in truth, neither he nor she had the slightest idea.
“Call this a golden handshake,” he said as he saw them off.
“Golden what?” asked E
“Bit like a goody bag.”
“Oh, I like goody bags,” said E
“I know. You women were put on Earth to like, like er...” He stopped mid-sentence – didn’t want to cause offence.
He held aloft two cool-looking gadgets – the like of which A and E had never seen. He grinned. “You know, I’m not just that boring old guy with a beard, who invents people and dogs and donkeys and peyote and turnips and sheep and mountains and Bolivian marching powder and people and...”
“You already said people.” Said E
“Yes. I did, didn’t I?”
“Did you mention Peyote?” asked A
“For crying out loud, numbnuts.” shouted E. “He mentioned peyote. Like, er, right after donkeys?”
“Ok, keep your hair on,” replied A
“Bloody people,” whispered the Lord. “Knew I was biting off more than I could chew when I created people.”
“Anyway, as I was saying, these are what people will call gadgets in years to come. They will arrive in large numbers from the Orient and lives will come to depend on them.”
To E he handed an Apple computer. “It’s a prototype, as you can probably tell. Ain’t she a beaut? These are going to sell like hot cakes one day. You’ll see.”
“And what precisely am I to do with this Apple, as you’ve so humorously named it?”
The Good Lord smirked. “You can do what you like with it, love... But essentially, it’s a bit like what you have up there in your noddle.” He tapped his own furrowed brow. “It’s a processing centre. It helps you think, it helps you get things done. Gives you more time for daytime TV.”
“Great, just what I need,” she replied somewhat ambiguously.
“My one piece of advice to you is this: Use it wisely and it will bring you much succour. But use it foolishly... and it will prove to be a double edged sword. For, as easily as it can improve life, so can it destroy it.”
E snatched the Apple from Him with very little grace nor gratitude and tucked it under her arm.
A, by now impatient, coughed loudly and asked, “And my gadget, Lord?”
“Yes, well, this one is even weirder,” replied the Lord. “Not sure quite how to describe it. But let’s just say that it could potentially read MY own mind.” The Lord then shook his head in disbelief, grunted and thought: what am I letting myself in for?
A was exuberant. “Coooo-oooo-oool!” he said in his time honoured fashion. "Read your bloody mind!"
“Not my words exactly... But that’s how clever marketers might be able to pitch it in years to come.”
“Friggin’ A,” he said.
The Good Lord sent them on their way and as he did so, he said once again. “Now remember. Use these gadgets wisely and resourcefully, my children. That is all I ask.”
A and E wondered off into the sunset, and as they did so they cussed and swore and did frequently take the Good Lord’s name in vain, as was their want.
“Jeeees-us!” said E. “What a jerk that guy was... What the f- are we going to do with these so-called gadgets, for crying out loud?”
“Oh, don’t worry my love....” replied A in his meek and humble way. “We’ll think of something... I’m sure.”
But in truth, neither he nor she had the slightest idea.
Saturday, 29 May 2010
1984 Revisited or The New Manchurian Candidate
(1982. Michael Foot realises the next general election is all but lost. He strolls down Walworth Road with a young party worker by the name of Peter. They discuss Labour’s future.)
Michael: Sense of foreboding, young Peter?
Peter: Beg your pardon?
Michael: 1984, my boy. Just around the corner.
Peter: 1984. Yes. (Contrived) Brrrrr....
Michael: Know it’s just a book, but...
Peter: Yes?
Michael: Even though Eric Blair - George Orwell to you and me- wrote it thirty years ago, still sends a shiver down my spine.
Peter: Really?
Michael: Oh, yes.
Peter: Why would that be, if you don’t mind my asking?
Michael: Because it’s possible, my boy. Because it’s possible.
Peter: What’s possible?
Michael: Orwell wasn’t making it up. He’d seen how these people operate.
Peter: What people?
Michael: The far left.
Peter: I thought most historians and critics had revised their view. Assumed the threat would ultimately come from the far right.
Michael: Left-right, right-left. Doesn’t really matter, does it, Peter? It’s about how extremists organise in order to grab power.
Peter: Don’t see that happening any time soon, do you?
Michael: Indeed. I don’t have a crystal ball. But...
Peter: But...
Michael: (Hesistant) Peter... People tell me you know a thing or two about the Militant Tendency
Peter: (Laughs nervously) You could say that.
Michael: And what’ll happen to them, do you think... If the party ever manages to rid itself of them?
Peter: Tell me. I’m game.
Michael: No one can say for sure, of course. But one thing I do know is that they won’t go quietly.
Peter: Quietly?
Michael: Perhaps the wrong word. What I meant is that they won’t go.
Peter: No?
Michael: Denis Healey and I were turning this one over a while back. You’re probably aware that once upon a time Denis was a somewhat darker shade of pink. As were many of us.
Peter: Right?
Michael: Right... Well... to continue, Denis and I were wondering whether they will re-invent themselves, these Militants. Make themselves more voter friendly. Rebrand is the word they use nowadays, I do believe. It means taking on a new name, a new logo, is it?
Peter: Yes, a logo.
Michael: A logo that people are more comfortable with... something that sounds perhaps more... conservative.
Peter: Interesting proposition.
Michael: Terrifying proposition, I’d say, Peter.
Peter: Yes , terrifying. (Cheerily) Shivers down the spine stuff indeed (A grin appears on his face. He quickly suppresses it.)
Michael: The dreadful thing is, my boy, the dreadful thing...
Peter: Yes, Michael.
Michael: I sometimes fear that there are some in the party who have read Orwell’s great work... and who have come to look upon it not as a prophecy, not as a warning but...
Peter: (Eagerly) Yes?
Michael: But as a training manual, Peter. As a blueprint, as a manifesto... as a mission statement...
(to be continued)
Michael: Sense of foreboding, young Peter?
Peter: Beg your pardon?
Michael: 1984, my boy. Just around the corner.
Peter: 1984. Yes. (Contrived) Brrrrr....
Michael: Know it’s just a book, but...
Peter: Yes?
Michael: Even though Eric Blair - George Orwell to you and me- wrote it thirty years ago, still sends a shiver down my spine.
Peter: Really?
Michael: Oh, yes.
Peter: Why would that be, if you don’t mind my asking?
Michael: Because it’s possible, my boy. Because it’s possible.
Peter: What’s possible?
Michael: Orwell wasn’t making it up. He’d seen how these people operate.
Peter: What people?
Michael: The far left.
Peter: I thought most historians and critics had revised their view. Assumed the threat would ultimately come from the far right.
Michael: Left-right, right-left. Doesn’t really matter, does it, Peter? It’s about how extremists organise in order to grab power.
Peter: Don’t see that happening any time soon, do you?
Michael: Indeed. I don’t have a crystal ball. But...
Peter: But...
Michael: (Hesistant) Peter... People tell me you know a thing or two about the Militant Tendency
Peter: (Laughs nervously) You could say that.
Michael: And what’ll happen to them, do you think... If the party ever manages to rid itself of them?
Peter: Tell me. I’m game.
Michael: No one can say for sure, of course. But one thing I do know is that they won’t go quietly.
Peter: Quietly?
Michael: Perhaps the wrong word. What I meant is that they won’t go.
Peter: No?
Michael: Denis Healey and I were turning this one over a while back. You’re probably aware that once upon a time Denis was a somewhat darker shade of pink. As were many of us.
Peter: Right?
Michael: Right... Well... to continue, Denis and I were wondering whether they will re-invent themselves, these Militants. Make themselves more voter friendly. Rebrand is the word they use nowadays, I do believe. It means taking on a new name, a new logo, is it?
Peter: Yes, a logo.
Michael: A logo that people are more comfortable with... something that sounds perhaps more... conservative.
Peter: Interesting proposition.
Michael: Terrifying proposition, I’d say, Peter.
Peter: Yes , terrifying. (Cheerily) Shivers down the spine stuff indeed (A grin appears on his face. He quickly suppresses it.)
Michael: The dreadful thing is, my boy, the dreadful thing...
Peter: Yes, Michael.
Michael: I sometimes fear that there are some in the party who have read Orwell’s great work... and who have come to look upon it not as a prophecy, not as a warning but...
Peter: (Eagerly) Yes?
Michael: But as a training manual, Peter. As a blueprint, as a manifesto... as a mission statement...
(to be continued)
Sunday, 16 May 2010
"I have a cunning plan..."
Dramatis Personae - Which means “persons of the play” (for those educated whilst New Labour was in office.)
Lord Mandelson played by Blackadder
Gordon Brown played by Baldrick
(Two guys with hangdog expressions, sitting in a bar, nursing whiskies.)
Gordon: Peter?
Peter: (Wearily) Yes…?
Gordon: I… I…
Peter: (Sneers) Aye… aye?
Gordon: I… I…
Peter: Yes, whatever aye, aye… Captain.
Gordon: No Peter. I… I have a cunning plan.
Peter: (Withering look) You have a cunning plan?
Gordon: (Excited) Yes, a cunning plan. Peter. A really cunning plan.
Peter: (Yawns) Well, that’s nice for you, Gordon. Really nice. Might I enquire what this cunning plan is?
Gordon: Oh, yes, Peter. You can enquire away. In fact I would love to divulge my cunning plan.
Peter: Go ahead. Shock me with your cunning plan, why don’t you?
Gordon: (A massive smile spreads across his face) Tony. It’s er… Tony.
Peter: (Chuckles) Tony?
Gordon: Yes.
Peter: Tony… is your cunning plan?
Gordon: Yes, great isn’t it?
Peter: Gordon. Might I remind you that Tony was my cunning plan. You were originally the heir apparent to John Smith. And I invented, I mean, I discovered, Tony.
Gordon: I know all that. With respect, Peter, I do not need a lecture on the history of New Labour. I was there. Remember?
Peter: Yes, I remember.
Gordon: So I am re-inventing Tony. Tony Two. Tony Mark Two. We bring him back as Prime Minister Tony Two. And then we are back in the driving seat once again. We own Britain once more.
Peter: (Sighs) Yes… But might I remind you, Gordon, that David Cameron is in the driving seat now. Like, er, hello? He’s like er won the election. The Con-Dems won the election.
Gordon: Yes, I know, Peter. But if Tony comes back, were Tony to come back, he could relieve Cameron of his duties as it were.
Peter: Just like that, eh? Just like that? The British people elected David Cameron, right?
Gordon: Right.
Peter: But you’re saying that Tony just breezes back in and strolls up Downing Street… he bangs on the door and says: “Hey, Dave. It’s me. It’s me, Tone. Tony Blair, used to work here, mate… I’m back… And er… you know what… I’ve still got the keys to No.10… and er, hey, a little bird told me that you guys, like, haven’t changed the locks since Gordon and I left the old place. Capiche? So I’m kinda like, er… coming in. And I kinda got backup from my old buddies, Pete and Gord.
Gordon: Precisely. That is precisely what Tony should say.
Peter: (Shaking his head, staring into space rather than looking at Gordon. He whispers to himself). The guy’s cracked… totally cracked.
Gordon: Whaddya think, old pal?
Peter: (Shaking his head). What do I think?
Gordon: Yes, what do you think?
Peter: (Still shaking head) Er… No Gordon.
Gordon: What?
Peter: No, Gordon. It won’t work, I’m afraid.
Gordon: What do you mean, it won’t work?
Peter: Gordon, this is rubbish. This is nonsense.
Gordon: Why? Why is it nonsense?
Peter: Gordon… I think that you need help. I think that you need to see somebody.
Gordon: But, Tony, Peter... I must have my Tony. He must come back.
Peter: No Gordon. Tony is not coming back to No10.
Gordon: Please Peter. I cannot govern without Tony.
Peter: Gordon, you’re out of office. You cannot govern full-stop.
Gordon: But Peter. I must have my Tony.
Peter: (Exasperated) Yes, Gordon. You must have your Tony.
Gordon: I must have my Tony. Can you do something? Can you summon Tony?
Peter: Ok, Gordon. (Shakes his head) I’ll see what I can do. I’ll see if I can summon Tony.
Gordon: Ok thank you Tony. Thank you so much.
Peter: Er, yep. Remember, I’m Peter.
Gordon: Yes, I’ll remember you're Peter from now on.
Peter: The guy is totally cracked.
Lord Mandelson played by Blackadder
Gordon Brown played by Baldrick
(Two guys with hangdog expressions, sitting in a bar, nursing whiskies.)
Gordon: Peter?
Peter: (Wearily) Yes…?
Gordon: I… I…
Peter: (Sneers) Aye… aye?
Gordon: I… I…
Peter: Yes, whatever aye, aye… Captain.
Gordon: No Peter. I… I have a cunning plan.
Peter: (Withering look) You have a cunning plan?
Gordon: (Excited) Yes, a cunning plan. Peter. A really cunning plan.
Peter: (Yawns) Well, that’s nice for you, Gordon. Really nice. Might I enquire what this cunning plan is?
Gordon: Oh, yes, Peter. You can enquire away. In fact I would love to divulge my cunning plan.
Peter: Go ahead. Shock me with your cunning plan, why don’t you?
Gordon: (A massive smile spreads across his face) Tony. It’s er… Tony.
Peter: (Chuckles) Tony?
Gordon: Yes.
Peter: Tony… is your cunning plan?
Gordon: Yes, great isn’t it?
Peter: Gordon. Might I remind you that Tony was my cunning plan. You were originally the heir apparent to John Smith. And I invented, I mean, I discovered, Tony.
Gordon: I know all that. With respect, Peter, I do not need a lecture on the history of New Labour. I was there. Remember?
Peter: Yes, I remember.
Gordon: So I am re-inventing Tony. Tony Two. Tony Mark Two. We bring him back as Prime Minister Tony Two. And then we are back in the driving seat once again. We own Britain once more.
Peter: (Sighs) Yes… But might I remind you, Gordon, that David Cameron is in the driving seat now. Like, er, hello? He’s like er won the election. The Con-Dems won the election.
Gordon: Yes, I know, Peter. But if Tony comes back, were Tony to come back, he could relieve Cameron of his duties as it were.
Peter: Just like that, eh? Just like that? The British people elected David Cameron, right?
Gordon: Right.
Peter: But you’re saying that Tony just breezes back in and strolls up Downing Street… he bangs on the door and says: “Hey, Dave. It’s me. It’s me, Tone. Tony Blair, used to work here, mate… I’m back… And er… you know what… I’ve still got the keys to No.10… and er, hey, a little bird told me that you guys, like, haven’t changed the locks since Gordon and I left the old place. Capiche? So I’m kinda like, er… coming in. And I kinda got backup from my old buddies, Pete and Gord.
Gordon: Precisely. That is precisely what Tony should say.
Peter: (Shaking his head, staring into space rather than looking at Gordon. He whispers to himself). The guy’s cracked… totally cracked.
Gordon: Whaddya think, old pal?
Peter: (Shaking his head). What do I think?
Gordon: Yes, what do you think?
Peter: (Still shaking head) Er… No Gordon.
Gordon: What?
Peter: No, Gordon. It won’t work, I’m afraid.
Gordon: What do you mean, it won’t work?
Peter: Gordon, this is rubbish. This is nonsense.
Gordon: Why? Why is it nonsense?
Peter: Gordon… I think that you need help. I think that you need to see somebody.
Gordon: But, Tony, Peter... I must have my Tony. He must come back.
Peter: No Gordon. Tony is not coming back to No10.
Gordon: Please Peter. I cannot govern without Tony.
Peter: Gordon, you’re out of office. You cannot govern full-stop.
Gordon: But Peter. I must have my Tony.
Peter: (Exasperated) Yes, Gordon. You must have your Tony.
Gordon: I must have my Tony. Can you do something? Can you summon Tony?
Peter: Ok, Gordon. (Shakes his head) I’ll see what I can do. I’ll see if I can summon Tony.
Gordon: Ok thank you Tony. Thank you so much.
Peter: Er, yep. Remember, I’m Peter.
Gordon: Yes, I’ll remember you're Peter from now on.
Peter: The guy is totally cracked.
Saturday, 15 May 2010
Space cadet commends lack of female ministers
Commenting on the news that only 17% of ministers are women, astronaut Neil Armstrong said: "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."
Thursday, 13 May 2010
Better out than in
There’s a lot of male bonding going on at the moment. And I reckon it’s time to jump on the bandwagon.
After watching the Clegg / Cameron love-in yesterday, I realise I must ‘come-out’. I have to break the news to my mother first - quite naturally. But she does not take it well.
“Mother, you better sit down. I have something to tell you.”
“What is it dear?” she asks. “Are you gay?”
“No, mother. I am indeed coming out. But I’m not gay.”
“Oh dear.” She says, disappointed. “What do you mean by 'coming out' then?”
“Mother. I am terribly sorry. But I am a C...C... C”
“You’re a C... C... C? Whatever do you mean?”
“I’m a C... C... C... Conservative.”
“A Conservative,” she shrieks. “A big C Conservative?”
“Yes mother. A big C Conservative.”
“Oh darling. How could you? After all we have done for you.”
“I know, mother. And I cannot tell you how terribly, terribly sorry I am.”
“This isn’t a wind-up, is it? A ghastly, Pythonesque wind-up?”
“No mother. I’m afraid that it is true. Last week I voted Conservative.”
She sighs. “Oh, darling. I cannot tell you how gut wrenching it is to hear this. And after the thoroughly liberal-humanist upbringing we gave you. I really just don’t understand.”
“I know mother. It must be very hard for you.”
“Oh, believe me. It is really hard. Terribly, terribly hard.”
“I know, and I’m sorry mother. I really just don’t know what to say.”
“Well, how about... you’ll talk to someone about it?”
“Yes mother. I am talking to Nick Robinson at the BBC, then Andrew Neil and after that, I am heading over
to Sky to talk to Adam Boulton.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. But I suppose it’ll have to do for now.”
“Yes, mother. And as I say. I am really, really sorry.”
“I know. You’ve said it about three times.”
“Yes, mother.”
She dabs a tear from her eye and says: “Just one thing dear. What was it that made you come out of the closet?”
“It was getting somewhat musty in there.”
“Oh, yes... Of course. I suppose it does after a while.”
“Yes mother. Thank you for being so understanding.”
She shakes her head and mutters: “Where did I go wrong?”
After watching the Clegg / Cameron love-in yesterday, I realise I must ‘come-out’. I have to break the news to my mother first - quite naturally. But she does not take it well.
“Mother, you better sit down. I have something to tell you.”
“What is it dear?” she asks. “Are you gay?”
“No, mother. I am indeed coming out. But I’m not gay.”
“Oh dear.” She says, disappointed. “What do you mean by 'coming out' then?”
“Mother. I am terribly sorry. But I am a C...C... C”
“You’re a C... C... C? Whatever do you mean?”
“I’m a C... C... C... Conservative.”
“A Conservative,” she shrieks. “A big C Conservative?”
“Yes mother. A big C Conservative.”
“Oh darling. How could you? After all we have done for you.”
“I know, mother. And I cannot tell you how terribly, terribly sorry I am.”
“This isn’t a wind-up, is it? A ghastly, Pythonesque wind-up?”
“No mother. I’m afraid that it is true. Last week I voted Conservative.”
She sighs. “Oh, darling. I cannot tell you how gut wrenching it is to hear this. And after the thoroughly liberal-humanist upbringing we gave you. I really just don’t understand.”
“I know mother. It must be very hard for you.”
“Oh, believe me. It is really hard. Terribly, terribly hard.”
“I know, and I’m sorry mother. I really just don’t know what to say.”
“Well, how about... you’ll talk to someone about it?”
“Yes mother. I am talking to Nick Robinson at the BBC, then Andrew Neil and after that, I am heading over
to Sky to talk to Adam Boulton.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. But I suppose it’ll have to do for now.”
“Yes, mother. And as I say. I am really, really sorry.”
“I know. You’ve said it about three times.”
“Yes, mother.”
She dabs a tear from her eye and says: “Just one thing dear. What was it that made you come out of the closet?”
“It was getting somewhat musty in there.”
“Oh, yes... Of course. I suppose it does after a while.”
“Yes mother. Thank you for being so understanding.”
She shakes her head and mutters: “Where did I go wrong?”
Wednesday, 12 May 2010
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Penfolds Grange 1989
It is three weeks since I heeded my doctor’s advice and came off stimulant drugs. I will celebrate this landmark in the next couple of days by drinking a bottle of Penfolds Grange 1989.
I have heard mixed reports about Grange. But, rather like Petrus and Cheval B it is allegedly one of those wines you should try at least once in your life…before skulking back to more affordable wines like Pagodes and Forts
I have not decided on the accompanying meat however. Perhaps, like the wine, it should be Australian in origin - Kangaroo? Koala? Kookaburra? Unfortunately my sommelier buddies haven’t a clue. These are alien meats. So I might just have to settle for some mutton or a couple of rabbits. A hog roast might work as well
If anyone can give me advice on a suitable accompaniment, please email me at bohodotcom@yahoo.com
I have heard mixed reports about Grange. But, rather like Petrus and Cheval B it is allegedly one of those wines you should try at least once in your life…before skulking back to more affordable wines like Pagodes and Forts
I have not decided on the accompanying meat however. Perhaps, like the wine, it should be Australian in origin - Kangaroo? Koala? Kookaburra? Unfortunately my sommelier buddies haven’t a clue. These are alien meats. So I might just have to settle for some mutton or a couple of rabbits. A hog roast might work as well
If anyone can give me advice on a suitable accompaniment, please email me at bohodotcom@yahoo.com
Sunday, 9 May 2010
Exit Ghost
(Gordon catches some well earned shut-eye. An apparition appears. It is the ghost of Chairman Mao.)
Mao: Get up, Brown. You shouldn’t be sleeping . Remember what I said? It’s still too early to tell…
Brown: (Mumbles) Early to tell? Tell what?
Mao: How can your memory fail you? A time like this? The French Revolution! Too early to tell the outcome of the French Revolution.
Brown: Oh… Yes. That revolution. I thought you meant…
Mao: I didn’t ask you to think.
Brown: No. But…
Mao: No buts.
Brown: But the outcome, I thought that…
Mao: You thought?
Brown: Yes, I thought that, you know, power. The name of the…
Mao: Yes, the name of the game. A game by any other name. We’ve been here before.
Brown: We’ve been here before.
Mao: So where did you go wrong? Did you not study the examples of Deng?
Brown: Deng?
Mao: Yes, Deng.
Brown: You hated Deng. So I thought.
Mao: Says who?
Brown: Historians?
Mao: Deng kept the revolution alive whilst tolerating the filthy rich.
Brown: Good point.
Mao: (Wearily) Good… point… You tell me that? Good point?
Brown: I’m tired. (Yawns). What do I do now?
Mao: Hold on to power at any cost.
(The apparition starts to fade.)
Brown: (Mumbles) At any cost. Yes. At any cost. Hold on to power.
(Mao stares angrily at Brown as he vanishes)
Brown: At any cost.
(Exit Ghost. Enter Blair)
Blair: 'Tis not gone.
Mao: Get up, Brown. You shouldn’t be sleeping . Remember what I said? It’s still too early to tell…
Brown: (Mumbles) Early to tell? Tell what?
Mao: How can your memory fail you? A time like this? The French Revolution! Too early to tell the outcome of the French Revolution.
Brown: Oh… Yes. That revolution. I thought you meant…
Mao: I didn’t ask you to think.
Brown: No. But…
Mao: No buts.
Brown: But the outcome, I thought that…
Mao: You thought?
Brown: Yes, I thought that, you know, power. The name of the…
Mao: Yes, the name of the game. A game by any other name. We’ve been here before.
Brown: We’ve been here before.
Mao: So where did you go wrong? Did you not study the examples of Deng?
Brown: Deng?
Mao: Yes, Deng.
Brown: You hated Deng. So I thought.
Mao: Says who?
Brown: Historians?
Mao: Deng kept the revolution alive whilst tolerating the filthy rich.
Brown: Good point.
Mao: (Wearily) Good… point… You tell me that? Good point?
Brown: I’m tired. (Yawns). What do I do now?
Mao: Hold on to power at any cost.
(The apparition starts to fade.)
Brown: (Mumbles) At any cost. Yes. At any cost. Hold on to power.
(Mao stares angrily at Brown as he vanishes)
Brown: At any cost.
(Exit Ghost. Enter Blair)
Blair: 'Tis not gone.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Regime change means DeBaathification
One of New Labour's great achievements was state control of gay and lesbian politics.
New Labour said: "Don't be one of them! Be one of us!"
But as a chap who can understand the appeal of dressing to the left as well as to the right, I am pretty certain that were I totally, or even moderately gay, I would rather be "one of them" than "one of THEM."
New Labour said: "Don't be one of them! Be one of us!"
But as a chap who can understand the appeal of dressing to the left as well as to the right, I am pretty certain that were I totally, or even moderately gay, I would rather be "one of them" than "one of THEM."
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