Maybe he can dress up as a fat cat and curl up on DRoss’s lap.
In August 2019, Ruth Davidson, when she was a mere mortal, common or garden nobody, stood down from being the leader of the Scottish Branch Office of the greet british Conservative party.
She said at the time that she wanted to concentrate of being a full-time mother. She didn’t have time for politics and motherhood and motherhood came first.
This, surprise, surprise, was a fib! In truth, of course, she had taken the huff at Boris Johnson who had recently become the leader of the Tory party in grating britain and, I suppose, Northern Ireland.
As we all know she was replaced in the Scottish backwater job by Jackson Carlaw, who clearly didn’t meet Mr Johnson’s exceeding low standards and found himself, after about 5 months sacked… and replaced by DRoss, who has a talent for plumbing the depths and very much meets the standards we associate with the Conservatives and with Boris Johnson.
In the meantime, Ms Davidson had a visit from a magical aristocrat fairy and a blood transfusion unit, and lo, with a wave of Mr Johnson’s wand (that’s quite enough, Niko) and an infusion of blue british blood, she became the Right Honourable, Noble and Gallant Baroness Don’t Call Me Baroness, Colonel of this parish and a member of the House of Lords, the second largest house of parliament in the world, after the The National People’s Congress of the People’s Republic of China. It is, however, less democratic than the Chinese parliament.
So it’s another one of these things at which grate britain leads the world.
And it seems, according to Mr Gove who, I’m sure, knows all sorts of things about what’s what and whose got the powder, I mean power, that the Noble and Gallant Colonel Aristocrat will have the place in government over Scotland that she was never able to achieve by her own efforts… that is to say by getting herself elected.
Ahhhh, the will of the people in this great british britain, huh?
Shall we all have a guess at which position the eternally unelectable Baroness Don’t Call Me Baroness will be given…?
A HUSBAND and wife are grocery shopping. He picks up a case of beer and puts it in the cart.
“What are you doing?”
“They’re on special. Only R15 for two dozen cans.”
“Put them back, we can’t afford it.”
They continue. She puts a R30 jar of face cream in the cart,
“What are you doing?”
“It’s my face cream, it makes me look beautiful.”
“So do two dozen cans of beer and they’re half the price.”
His body was found in Aisle 5.
SOME agonising puns come this way:
· Dad, are we pyromaniacs? Yes we arson.
· What do you call a pig with laryngitis? Disgruntled.
· Writing my name in cursive is my signature move.
· Why do bees stay in hives during winter? Swarm.
· If you’re bad at haggling you’ll end up paying the price.
· Just so everyone’s clear, I’m going to put my glasses on.
· A commander walks into a bar and orders everyone around.
· I lost my job as a stage designer. I left without making a scene.
· Never buy flowers from a monk. Only you can prevent forest friars.
· How much did the pirate pay to get his ears pierced? A buccaneer.
· Scientists got together to study the effects of alcohol on a person’s walk. The result was staggering.
I once worked at a cheap pizza shop to get by. I kneaded the dough.
· I lost my girlfriend’s audiobook and now I’ll never hear the end of it.
· Why is “dark” spelled with a “k” and not “c”? Because you can’t see in the dark.
· What do you say to a friend who’s struggling with grammar? “
Thanks to Brenda, Marcia, John, Graham, Erik, Russ and Andi.
Bonus, bang-up-to-date toon from Andimac:
Thanks to Andi and Quokka.
With thanks to John, Russ and Dave.
Little anecdote about Piaf which I heard directly from Petula Clark (although I’m sure she has told it many times on stage).
When Petula first went to France in the early 60s her boyfriend (later husband) took her to see Piaf at the Olympia. It was something you really had to do… you know, you just had to see Piaf.
Pet knew little of Piaf, except that she was the darling of French showbusiness and that the concert would be an occasion with all the big names of Parisian glitz there.
So, the curtain rose and this rather unimpressive little old lady (actually she wasn’t really old; she just looked it) limped on to the stage. She wore a rather plain, short black dress which Pet described as “pas du tout chic”. There was no lighting except the spotlight, nothing pretty on the stage, no stage decoration…and Piaf, who was already very ill, in fact dying (she died in 1963, aged 47), looked most unimpressive.
Petula said she thought to herself, “Je ne crois pas que je vais beaucoup l’apprécier”. (I don’t think I’m going to enjoy this very much.)
Then the orchestra started to play and this ill woman started to sing… and suddenly everything changed, or seemed to. The audience forgot that the robe was unchic, the stage unadorned and the singer bent and crippled by arthritis… and they were transported to the magical world of Piaf’s music … and the next two hours passed in what seemed like minutes.
Piaf wasn’t my cup of tea certainly, but she was undoubtedly an enormous talent.
JUST FOR RODDY
I am so heartily sick of politics (including the SNP*) and royalty that I don’t even want to think about any of it at the moment.
So here’s a story of a little donkey who thinks he’s a dog… which is no bad thing to think, I guess.
*No matter how fed up I am with the SNP, they are streets ahead of any other party in Scotland, whether or not for independence. So, fed up or not I will be voting SNP in May. Some say the SNP won’t get us independence. Well, I don’t know about that. One thing I’m really sure of is that without them we will not get independence, or certainly not an independence that will be recognised by the rest of the world.
The Greens are too small to do it, although they may very well help the SNP along the way, and they will almost certainly record an increase in MSPs in May.
The ISP seems to have taken leave of its already limited senses and if this person is any guide to the standard of candidate have become an embarrassing laughing stock. Have a read of this, from our own Terry.
So, I’ll return to politics in the future, but right now, I need a break.
So donkeys seems a good place to be and a refreshing change from silly people and self important racist blue bloods.
We need some cheering up…
Thanks to John and Russ.