I’m just reading a book by Robert Harris. He’s a writer. Likes a historical novel. He’s written about the Nazis, he’s written about Tony Blair and he’s written about the Romans. Loads of books about the Romans, starting with Pompeii. They’re great. Not because of the history of the events but because of the picture – Read More-
I love Wimbledon. Don’t know if I’ve mentioned that. And watching it on tv is a constant reminder of why I love the BBC. No adverts. Just tennis, pundits, more tennis, more tennis. No power drink adverts, no on-line gambling (its SOOOOOO easy; just nick mum’s credit card and you’re OFF!!!!), no feminine hygiene products, – Read More-
I’m normally very cynical and skeptical about scientific research. Not all of it, obviously. When they make cars go faster, that’s brilliant. New drugs, either for heart failure or for ‘recreational’, fantastic. I’m cynical because there seems to be so much research (a good thing, so you’d think) about such a load of bollocks (a – Read More-
How tragic it seems that on the very day the town of Mosul is finally freed from the dark and tortuous clutches of ISIS, another terrorist group announces its evil intentions to the world. Not that the ISIS story is in any way over, because the seed, the poison, the evil and murderous ideology is – Read More-
After the rugby yesterday, I played tennis with the younger daughter. Nothing unusual about that except we were brilliant. And normally… one of us, sometimes isn’t. But yesterday, in the searing heat and horrible humidity, sheer brilliance. And then I watched Roger Federer. He’s 83 years old (so you’d believe if you listened to the – Read More-
So every day I get photos. Natalie’s obsessed with photographing her daughter and sharing and I’m obsessed with seeing them. Its become an epidemic. I may have to give up work to spend more time looking at Lila pics. And going ‘ahhhhhhh’, or ‘awwwwww’ or ‘Oh My Gawd!!’ or whatever. That’s my business. Then yesterday, – Read More-
And remember, ‘B’ is for Brexit. Ok, and also ‘bollox’, just by the way. And bastards. And, if you’re really dyslexic, B is also for headless chickens, tossers and morons. So we’re leaving Europe. And we’ve triggered ‘article 50’, our intention to leave those garlic-eating, bottom-pinching, jack-boot strutting bunch of ultra-bureaucrats and go it alone. – Read More-
So a widow phones the Jewish Chronicle to place an obituary for her husband. What would you like to say? ‘Morry Goldberg. Died’ That’s it? ‘Yes’ No ‘loving father, wonderful husband, missed by…’ He was a terrible father, awful husband and everyone hated him. Well you might as well say something else, the first 6 – Read More-
Iss’all abart the workers. Everything. The Corbyn way. The distinction is a subtle one. ‘Workers’ are not professionals. So Doctors in the NHS may not be included, for their 97-hour weeks, because they do a bit of private consulting on a Sunday. Workers is workers! Bus drivers, coal-miners, dirt-diggers. Teachers are professionals but for some – Read More-
The Grenfell Tower saga enters several more stages of lunacy as what started as a simple humanitarian tragedy was first stolen by the Corbynites as a political issue, who then elevated it to virtual accusations of ‘rich people murdering the poor’ and now its being hijacked from the Lefties by the racists. Not, like ‘racists’ – Read More-