"Bollocks, Faye! Let's not start that again. Keep smiling and waving but I'm telling you, the bloody airport's THAT way!"
First of all, may I bid a fond farewell to all XX-chromosomed readers of these pathetic offerings - I fear you will not be stopping by in future. Why? Because it's Pither-The-Chauvinist-Pig Time!!
So, the 15 British members of the Iranian Tourist Board - sorry, sailors - held by the Iranians for just under a fortnight arrived back in London today (complete with goody bags, would you believe!). Hurrah! Welcome home, our brave lads and lasses (well, just lass, actually). That's one in the eye for Johnny Arab. God Save the Queen!
"Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame,
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never shall be slaves."
Now it's time to put away the little Union Jacks, break up the street parties and calmly reflect on the last few days.
So, those nasty Shiites were lying, weren't they? They had kidnapped our gaggle of expert seafarers for absolutely no reason other than sheer Iranian naughtiness. Royal Navy spokesmen had, after all, appeared on our TV screens with "proof" that the sailors had been in Iraqi and not Iranian waters. They showed photos of scans and radar screens and the like which they claimed clearly indicated that the HMS Fuckwit had not strayed.
Wrong!!! It now appears that the Navy Larkers HAD INDEED trespassed into Iranian territorial waters. Does this come as a surprise to anyone out there? Well, it doesn't to Pither. Why? Try this one on and see if it's tight around the hips? There were fifteen people in the boat and one of them was a woman. The woman was a qualified boatswain and so would, in all probability, have been the navigator. You do the maths! What the fuck do you expect? I'm amazed they didn't actually end up sailing up the Thames!! I can almost hear the frenetic chat on board as the Iranian gunboats loomed up over the horizon. "Give me the fucking map, Faye! Jesus, woman, it's upside down!! Not only that, it's the wrong page! No, I'm not going to stop and ask someone. Oh great! Crying! That'll help."
I know you should avoid cliches like the plague but women and navigating go together like bacon and custard. The soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither's complete lack of spatial awareness and map reading skills are almost legendary. Many's the holiday I have spent in Inverness, having booked a cottage for the week near Plymouth. Even when I think I have covered all the bases by pulling over to patiently point out on the map the route we need to take she then brings her other navigational no-no into play - dithering!
"Right, we're coming up to an island. Which exit do I take?"
"....so Brenda said that was just the way she parted her hair."
"Exit, woman, exit! Which exit?"
"Oh, yes, the map. Which page is it again?"
"Page 43! Quick! The island's getting very, VERY near!
"QUICK!! WHICH BLEEDIN' EXIT. HURRY UP!!"
"41..42...ah, here we are, 43. Now, which road are we on again?"
"THE BLOODY A449. HURRY UP, HURRY UP! WE'RE ON THE SODDIN' ISLAND!!"
"There isn't an A449. Oh no, hang on a bit, here it is."
"I'M TAKING THIS DAMN EXIT, I'VE GOT NO CHOICE NOW!!"
"Oh dear, you've gone the wrong way you know."
No, I'm sorry. It just does my head in. I shall, however, in a pathetic attempt not to be more of a sexist, send PEOPLE who cannot read maps to Grantham.
**********************************************************WHY GRANTHAM? JUST CLICK: TEXT **********************************************************
WEDNESDAY, 21 NOVEMBER 2007
SHORTS DON'T MATTER! 1. From the greatest programme ever made about association football, Barnstoneworth United FC manager Mr Dainty delivers one of the finest English soliloqiues of all time.......and afterwards, spare a thought for the club steward's wife Vera (YOU ONLY HAVE TO WATCH HALF OF THE CLIP!!).
Monday, 12 November 2007
Not everyone who agonises over their life is a painter. Some of us agonise because we're NOT painters.
....And On the Subject of Great Public Services
I know most of you have heard this marvellous song by those doctors who are the Amateur Transplants......but I think the video is a nice addition. P.S. If there are kids in the room I'd shuffle them out before hitting play.
On the subject of those great doctors, here is their version of More Than Words which presents their challenging views on women outside Watford. The very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither, coming from Cumbria, is a huge fan. Again, get those kids out of the room!
Leave Britney Alone, Ok!!!
Oh...........my............God!!!!! My heartfelt thanks go to BGT for this. I won't say much more, I don't need to. Mr Loony of Loonytown, USA (I think it's a bloke, anyway), says it all. I fear he may be wound too tight for.....well.....well for everywhere, really!
Tuesday, 18 September 2007.
I wish I'd sung this! For non-Americans, and with apologies to all the smart arses out there who already knew, the FCC is the Federal Communications Commission and it monitors TV and radio output in the States - a sort of broadcast police - while the EPA is the Yanks' so-called Environmental Protection Agency, a body which does exactly the opposite of what it says on the can. (P.S. We went to the same school, you know? Eric and me, that is, not George, Martha, Dick and Condoleeza and me. I don't think they went to school.) P.P.S. Please see below if you are I Like The View, Malc or Doris.
To Make You Laugh and Cry
I was listening to this on a Sunday, the very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither is a Catholic, Tom Lehrer is one of my all-time heroes and this is one of his best.............no other reasons. On a more sombre note (and with thanks to Fish for coming up with this Woman's-Own-passes-the-time-in-the-dentist's-waiting-room nonsense), why not get a computer to tell you that you are a waste of space and your life is a sham of a mockery of a farce? Ok, it's from one of those poxy dating sites but...go on, take the test. You ain't got much to beat!!
Apparently, in my case, "computer say 'no!'"
|This Is My Life, Rated|
|Take the Rate My Life Quiz|
Fuck, Fuckety, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck
It has been pointed out to me that, particularly for one whose profession is supposedly literary, my language is getting worse. My use of the "F" word is, I am told, far too prevalent and hence loses impact. To those who share this view I suggest you watch the following:
Tony Blair Isn't a Burglar - But If He Was.........
In the spirit of Gustav Holst's Jupiter and Manfred Mann's Earth Band, I feel like raising a smile today. The Big Green Thing alerted me to this and, for no other reason than to raise a smile on an otherwise crap Wednesday, I think it has to be shared. Grantham shall not have him - when he gets out of prison.
Life On The Edge - No Net.
I was wrong when I feared it might be a dull weekend, what with my pals being away, my soon-to-be ex-wife in rehab and only the dogs to play with. How wrong can a man be? This much fun must surely be illegal? Just click to see the japes and hoots I am having! Click again to see how things got REALLy exciting! Tomorrow we're going to chase pigeons.