Andy's Glasses

The shit’s hit the fan at Coutts bank. Which is actually just a few mediocre branches of Nat West specifically used by snobs, snooties, debs, Sloane Rangers, minor aristocrats, major wankers and the tragically aspirational. Because its a 300-year-old ‘private’ bank. Even though its now owned by Nat West who are a bit private but not when it comes to government bale-outs in financial crises. Coutts has its own rules for banking there, mainly that you have loads of money or don’t bother applying. Fine, they can do that. Then came ‘Farage-gate’ and they learned a valuable lesson that 300 years of banking hadn’t taught them, which is: don’t pick a fight with Nigel Farage. You’ll lose. Better off to take him down a quiet alley and beat the shit out of him. But don’t try to out-smart him.

The ridiculous chain of events resulted in the resignation of Dame whassname Rose, the CEO of NatWest, quickly followed by that of Peter Flavel, CEO of Coutts. Whereas Nigel Farage is still gainfully unemployed, his status remaining the same.

Flavel had to go, even though, after 7 years as head of the bank, he had ‘radically changed its attitude to include environmental considerations and ‘diversity and inclusion’. So here’s a question for Peter: why do the terms ‘diversity and inclusion’ range from the entire multitude of gender/sexuality bollocks or non-bollocks, extending to all manner of deviations, opinions and attitudes and yet, manage to EXclude horrible, right-wing, Europhobic racists? In which text book or bible is it written that the only people worthy of being treated to ‘inclusiveness and diversity’ are on the left-wing or are wombless women?

I fucking hate Nigel Farage, politically, (in all else he is wonderfully good value) but if you’re preaching ‘inclusivity’ then surely that implies no bias against anything, including politics. Otherwise it is just selectively inclusive which is back where they started, just with different selections.

I only raise this issue because I feel that right-wingers generally get a really bad deal, whilst everyone else enjoys inclusion and the celebration of their diversity. I’m no right winger and yet, like everyone else, MUST be entitled to air their views, however much they differ from mine. Surely the whole point of ‘inclusiveness’ is to include.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

Its all about money. Obscene levels of cash. And all of it, seemingly, going to Kylian Mbappe, the French superstar currently (as at time of writing) playing for Paris St Germain. But he wants to leave and go to Real Madrid. Because Real keep beating PSG in the champions league so the rationale is: move to the winning side, rather than, ‘we CAN beat them next time’. The French have a long history of such a paradigm, moving to the winning side, like when the Nazis arrived in Paris during the war. PSG are so fearful that their star player will leave next year ‘for free’, as his contract expires, the Qataris who own the club paid him 100 million Euros to extend another year. Plus his salary, about 50 mil, and you’re already way over the line of ‘stupid’ and into the realms of ‘Middle East oil and gas’. But they’re paying him that so that they have something to sell to Real Madrid and will get 200 to 300 million for him, so it’s not a bad investment. But then, in step Al-Hilal, the Saudi club (yes, they play football in Saudi Arabia, and they have a Premier League) who specialise in sweeping up older players to give them a pension plan they could never otherwise dream of. And Al-Hilal will pay 300 million Euros to get Mbappe, possibly only for the one year before he goes to Madrid. And pay him in the region of 600 thousand Euros. But in a game ruined by the glory-seeking and sports-washing aspirations of oil rich super-powers, (I would have included Russia in that bracket too, but they’ve gone), this is so fucked up.

Yet, you bring in stars, you please the crowds. Or in fact you draw the crowds in the hopes that they’ll be pleased. Little Leo Messi played his first game for Inter Miami the other day. Acquired on a free transfer from PSG, Little (and a bit ‘old’) Leo was drawn to Miami by David Beckham, cos he doesn’t need the $50million a year really. Immediately the stadium was sold out. And oddly, not just by people (if you count Americans as ‘people’) who are football fans, but people who have never wanted to see a ‘soccer’ match before. In steps the little Argie and changes the parameters. More ticket sales, more merchandising, more tv advertising, the train moves on. Will it ever ‘replace’ the holy trinity of NFL, Baseball and basketball over there? Doubtful. But as a nice little ‘addition’, it could improve with the addition of the greatest player of 3 generations.

Will Mbappe bring those Saudis flooding to the games? Possibly, but the rather sick thing there is that they don’t do things to recoup an investment. Nor turn a profit. They do things like spending almost a billion Euros on one player for one year, because they can. And if ‘we’ feel this to be vomit-inducingly obscene, vulgar and horrible, really and unfortunately, that’s our problem.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

I’ve decided to enter the word ‘Starm’ into the English vocabulary. I starm, you starm, he is a total fucking Starmer, we Starm… ya get the idea. Its a verb. You’ve seen those before. Even if most of you wouldn’t know it was a verb. Or it can be a noun. Either way, it means prevarication, obfuscation, pig-ignorance, obliviousness, rictus grin, moronic behaviour, wet as a test match in Manchester, clueless and ugly. So you can see; it is a very useful word, possibly the most comprehensive insult you could ever need. “He really starmed me”, means you had the worst day imaginable.

But here’s Sir Kier’s latest lovverly dilemma, which he’ll doubtless be addressing with the same incisive, razor-sharp focus as he gave to anti-semitism in his Corbyn years. Uxbridge-gate!

The conservatives held Uxbridge in the by-election which, really, should never have happened and must be seen as not just a loss but a catastrophe for the Starm Party. The seat was theirs for the taking but they blew it for one reason. ULEZ. The controversial plan to charge cars which emit… stuff at a higher level than Sadiq Kahn can cope with. And he’s a Labour mayor, so its a ‘Labour thing’ in the minds of the electorate. Yet we all know that, whilst ULEZ sounds like a pollution issue, like its about a cleaner city, in reality its just a tax. Thus many other cities are watching eagerly to see how ULEZ pans out because they want some of those seemingly green pounds coming their way too. Thus elevating the debate to national levels.

Which scares Starmer because he has delusions of Prime Ministerial aspirations, even though he’s worthless. So here’s his dilemma.

Green issues are BIG. Any plan which even sounds like its ‘helping’ reduce carbons or increasing vegetable levels or stopping cows farting, is perceived as part of our ‘cleaner nation by 2026!, possibly 2030!!!, maybe2040!!! but definitely 2050!!!’ As long as it all goes to plan. So having created the ULEZ monster, if Sir Kier just starms it out of the window, he may gain a few more voters, particularly those who work hard and can’t afford newer cars, like many labour voters, but he’ll lose the greener vote.

Leaving him and his party on the political merry-go-round of cynicism and electioneering, trying to calculate which would lose or gain more votes, abandoning ULEZ or keeping it, whilst what he should be doing is working out what is best for Britain and standing firm, regardless.

This would be a big problem in my life if I didn’t enjoy watching the man squirm so much.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

I only read the Mail on Sundays. Its all I can take. But I have to read it, as many millions of Brits do. Ok, not the clever ones, obviously, not even, in the most part, the nice ones, the decent ones, the caring ones, the tolerant ones or those who may have voted ‘Remain’, or those who would send Nigel Farage on a boat to Rawanda. But the ‘others’. Unless, like me, they are people who read it on the ‘keep your friends close, your enemies closer’ principle. We are different to the normal readers in that we are way superior, liberal, inclusive, decent folk, lacking the others’ blue-rinsed, twin-setted, white and WASPish right wing reactionary stance. I make no judgments.

But its amazing what passes for ‘news’ in that sad little rag. Boris is a God, in Mail-land, his time as PM revered as sacred, like they previously reserved only for Thatcher. Because he ‘did got Brexit done’. If you’ll excuse the words which sound like something from the Sun. Thus, even after Boris has, quite literally and very thankfully, ‘left the building’, the Mail will truck no criticism or complaint about him. And that is FOREVER. So there were various articles about Boris critics, all hammered and slated in the paper. No weighing of arguments in that editorial suite, you slag off Boris, you are a baddie.

Next up is the BBC. Hated by the Mail. Possibly because the Beeb suffers from accusations of leftism, particularly by people for whom ‘left’ starts at about Moseley. So they found that the BBC’s environment and ecology editor went to Spain to report on the heatwave, and came back on a PLANE!!! Which emitted so many million carbons and other shit into the air. MY air!!! As if he’s Greta Thunberg and has to travel the world using only sails and electricity created using non-fossil alternatives. The plane was flying anyway. The BBC man didn’t increase its output. But they see this as HYPOCRISY!!! Which is particularly annoying as the Mail remains in the ‘not sure about this climate business’ camp for all purposes other than slagging off the BBC.

The only real reason to buy the Mail (or, frankly, any other newspaper) is the Sport.

And the Mail sports’ section was the same as that of the Times, Telegraph, Guardian, in bemoaning the weather. Because we’re in the middle of a test match against the Aussies and its all but won, other than a few hours required to ‘get the Ashes done’. Well, draw the series. But God has taken upon himself to make this as difficult a challenge as possibly by bringing the rains down on Old Trafford. Ok, you may think, it ALWAYS rains in Manchester. Yeah, but there are a few breaks in the cloud. Just the odd one. Just give us a few overs!!!!

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

I’d just like to say that, as a rather smug and superior electric car driver, the extension of the Ultra Low Emission Zone is a welcome addition to London’s fight against congestion and pollution and its quest for a greener, more caring, more carbon-free contribution to the world and all the polar bears. Ahhhhhh. And ‘the world’ as we all know, begins and ends in Uxbridge.

And on Thursday there was a by-election in that very place. There were two others but as one was up north and the other so far to the South West that the indigenous population still haven’t heard of the futility of electing Lib-Dems into parliament (about as useful as filling an electric car with petrol), we shall focus on Uxbridge. Because it is the seat so recently vacated by The Fat Blonde.

By elections are, by their very nature, no real indication of what might happen in a General Election. You can vote for who you like, to make a point, to upset things, for whatever reason, because it won’t make any difference to the political landscape when a government has a sizeable majority. And generally, the points and protests people make are against the government. No point making them against the opposition; they do nothing and what little they say has insufficient substance to warrant protest. Or even comment in most instances.

But the Conservatives held Uxbridge. Which, considering how badly Boris fucked up virtually everything and still may end up in prison, must be seen as a massive loss by the Labour Party. And all because of ULEZ.

Because ULEZ is the brainchild of the Mayor with no Brain. Not just a tosser but a Labour tosser. And as ULEZ is preached as a ‘green’ issue, it is not. It is just a way to raise tax. And those generally driving the older cars which are not ULEZ compliant, are the ‘workers’. The not so wealthy, or they’d get a newer car. But they can’t afford it. So instead, they have to pay £12.50 each day they drive. In an area which is very rural.

Kier Starmer was asked ‘will you cancel the ULEZ extension if you get to power?’ To which, being a total tosser himself, he replied ‘the matter needs some reflection’. As if its a theological question about heaven. So the newsman repeated it, saying that ‘that’s not an answer’, so Kier clarified it by saying ‘it needs some reflection’. Fuckwit.

I had to get some petrol for my lawn mower and just loved the irony of this photo.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

Summer’s are dead boring. There’s no football. You go on holiday and spend a fortnight hiding from the sun and standing under a cold shower, eating foreign muck and spending Euros. Its so hot out there you can barely get your sandals over your socks before heading back into water. Ok, there’s a bit of cricket, some tennis, but without football, life is barely worth living. Until tonight!!!

Because the World Cup starts today!!!

Ok, its the… ‘other’ world cup. The ‘different’ world cup. I don’t think I’m allowed to use any gender specific terminology without getting cancelled, arrested or castrated by those of gender neutrality (like Switzerland) or of a trans-inclination. You see, I’m so ‘inclusive’ and ‘diverse’ and ‘woke’ that I shall just have to call it ‘the alternative World Cup’, just for purposes of differentiation and in no way implying any rank ordering of… those born with, but not necessary correctly deploying, or even keeping forever, a penis.

Talking of penises, Nigel Farage is causing trouble once more. This time he’s been sacked by his bank for being an impoverished, neo-nazi, Trump-supporting, right-wing, Brexeteering, tweeting, alt-right, totally-wrong… tosser. I don’t care that he doesn’t have the 30 grand required to keep a Coutts bank account open, in fact were I to find him begging on the street for pennies, I’d kick him and steal his hat. Or toss a Euro into his collection cup. And I get that no-one in their right mind should ever choose to have anything to do with the man. The question is: should the bank be allowed to so choose?

Farage is, unfortunately, famous for being a nob. Most of Coutts’ esteemed, wealthy and monied clientele are not famous. It would come as no surprise to me if half their account holders were Brexiteers, 96% are Tories, 87% hold right wing views and 42% don’t hate Donald Trump. But Coutts wouldn’t know because its their private lives. So by ‘un-banking’ Farage they’re actually discriminating, but against famous people who air their views. NOT just against disgraceful racists, because they don’t know who they are.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

Everyone moans; “ohh, noooooo, not anOTHER!! destination wedding!!! That’s my fifth this week, thirteenth in the last month, 43rd this year so far!!! And because no-one ever wants to get married in the rain or snow, as the year progresses, the venues move from Southern Europe to the Middle East, then the Far East and eventually when its the only place left the sun’s still shining; Ethel from Wolverhampton and Nigel from Norwich will tie the knot at sunset at Ayers Rock because… they’ve always felt an affiliation to aboriginals, as their persecution in Australia is a parallel to that of dim-witted Black Country laggards and inbred East Anglian carpet fitters. So it all makes a lot of sense to drag the family half way round the world in sympathy, on their own coin.

But the fact of the matter is: destination weddings can be simply amazing. And sometimes, almost worth the outrageous cost of entry. I’ve been to a few like that. And what they actually do is make you realise that ‘normal’ weddings are somewhat formulaic, a bit staid, totally unimaginative, but… just a short tube run or taxi ride away.

Last weekend’s was an extravaganza of… extravaganzes. It was an orchestra of orks. It was the last wedding you’ll ever need to go to til the next one, but with pasta. It had everything. A spectacular cast of characters many of whom looked like ‘Love Island’ contestants!! Unfortunately, most had that same level of intelligence, but the photos were fantastic. Fabulous food, spectacular scenery and loads of whingeing Italian taxi drivers.

The bride and groom are beautiful, inventive, creative, entrepreneurial types who associate with similar, plus a few wannabes and hangers on, but every wedding has those, and they’re important to make us true stars shine brighter. And so it started on Friday night. With 2 challahs which I brought all the way from Golders Green, across land and sea and air. Then they were left in the back of a taxi, retrieved and finally eaten at the meal in one of the most spectacular restaurants ever.

Sunday was the wedding and it was long and luxurious, and it was in the most beautiful villa and it was late and boozy and speechy and dancey and we got back to our hotel at 2.30am. A new record. Whereas we only danced to the old records.

Monday was the beach party, at the venue in this photo. I know, its shit, innit? No significant concrete in the pic, no flash cars, no hanging gardens of Babylon, no Daleks. Booor-riiing. To complete a truly amazing weekend.

Happy Married Life, Bamber

A xxxx

The first thing you notice when you arrive in Ischia is the heat. And approximately 3.7 seconds later, just as you’re looking to change your t-shirt because that dry one is suddenly soaking wet, you notice the humidity. It is intense.

However, as someone who has quite literally sweated all over the entire world, this is possibly one of the most beautiful environments in which I’ve ever chosen to abundantly perspire.

The island, a mere hour’s sail from Naples, is, like everything else in this part of the world, volcanic. So its not blessed with endless golden beaches. Instead, it would win a rock contest with anywhere. And for a tiny island, its very hilly and mountainous. So you don’t really drive ‘round’ it as ‘up and down and in and out’ of it. And you find some fantastic little coves, like the one pictured, on the south coast, where the sea itself is so full of volcanic… stuff, that merely swimming in it makes you at least 12 years younger, fitter, stronger, healthier and better at ‘wordle’. Of course, in the land of Ulysses, you don’t just ‘get’ there. Life’s little rewards have to be earned in truly epic fashion. So you drive until the road runs out. Then you walk and descend hundreds of steps to the cove. Which is rocky. And only after you spend some time stumbling over those, heading towards the sea in 40 degree heat like a baby turtle hatchling trying to get to the water before they die!!!!, only then can you submerge into the volcanic wonders and thermals of the region. Although the sea ‘bed’ is in fact just more big rocks too, which is interesting in a ‘don’t fall over and don’t cut your arms and legs’ kind’a way.

Lunch there was fabulous in the beach bar and also possibly makes you younger and healthier.

Today’s Wimbledon final is something special. Is Carlos Alcaraz, the world number one, really ready to get between a Djok and a hard place to prove his arrival at the top? Winning endless tournaments that no-one’s ever heard of is all well and good, but Djokovic on Centre Court? I hope he succeeds, I really do. Everyone in the crowd really hopes so too, except Goran Invanisovic and Mrs Djokovic, and even she’s not decided who she’s cheering for. Carlos will need to bring a game of such A-ness, as he never has before. I’m not sure the man has been invented who can beat the horrible Serb. Not yet.

Happy Wedding day

A xxxx

We need to talk about Naples. The City. Ok, we checked in to our hotel at about 10.30 on Thursday night and at 2.35 the following afternoon we were on a ferry to Ischia. So our experience of this fine city is… a bit limited. And our experience can be pretty much defined by: “stayed in a fab hotel, but not the best part of town”. Unless you would describe a building site, 6 months after demolition, 3 years before building due to start, currently used as an ad hoc rubbish tip, as ‘the best part of town’. And everyone we spoke to reported the same thing: “I don’t think we were in a nice part”. So if you add up all the parts which weren’t nice, in sufficient numbers, at some point you have to accept that Naples is just a dump. Filled with mafiosi, cut-throats, pick-pockets and murderers.

This photo of Mel was taken on the walk from the tube station back to our hotel and I think, is the ‘picture that paints a thousand words’ about Napoli.

However, it is an access point to two true wonders. Pompeii, which we went to about 20 years ago (though its ‘changed a lot’, since, I’m informed. Like, really? The whole point is that it is as it was in 89 AD when Vesuvius shot a big load) and Herculaneum, which is ‘the other one’. The town on the other side of the volcano. Which was also totally wiped out in the eruption, but thanks to God’s eternal mercy, although no people survived, some of the buildings were saved in much better condition than in Pompeii. And Herculaneum is just fab. Brilliant and fascinating and, like Pompeii (in July/August) hotter than hell. And we’ve wanted to visit it for ages, and now we have. And in the ruins, they found the world’s oldest pizza. Honest. They were invented there. And Naples. Florence. New York. Chicago and Rome. Though we really have to burn those places to the ground to decide who was really first. One petrified cheese and tomato sandwich tastes just like another, right?

Ischia is something else. This is no-one’s rubbish tip. Its beautiful. Ain’t big. We drove round the entire island today in a Smart car and it’s less than 2 hours to get round it. Though we stopped, obvs, you can’t eat ice cream without stopping, FFS. And on slow, mountain roads most of which are the width of one and a half Smart cars. Interesting drive. Amazingly beautiful island. More about that tomorrow; ‘wedding day’!!!

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

So it was Huw Edwards wot dunnit. Oh no. I love Huw. He’s been my main man (and I NEVER miss the 10 o’clock BBC news, series record, alarms, warning alerts, post-its on the tv) for 20 years!!! And now this! He’s just a… he’s nothing better than… he’s a downright… hmmm…

What’s he done then? If the police have stated that there is no investigation because nothing is illegal, then why are we even ‘here’? Oh, because The Sun brought us here. Oh, that’s fine then. Slam out a few amazingly provocative headlines making wildly inflammatory, career-destroying, BEEB-destabilising allegations, for which ‘they have loads of evidence’ which they’ve not shown to ANYBODY!

And then, its just ‘oh well, it appeared to be a bit tasty, a bit illegal, but anyway, its downright disgraceful, inappropriate and fuckin’ IMMORAL for a newscaster to act in such a way’. No foul. No penalty.

So here we are now. With basically, The Sun newspaper ruining a man’s life, on grounds of immorality. The Sun. Immorality. I’ll let the sheer hypocrisy and laughable irony just sit there for a second. The newspaper who only stopped showing its daily pair of tits because of a government act, the one which has more employees listening to hacked phones than listening to the radio. The sleazy, scummy, low-rent rag now decides on matters moral.

What really happened was the newspaper speculated and lost. And yet the only real loser is Huw. A long-time depressive, he’s currently in a hospital sorting out his head. And he may have acted in ways ‘unbecoming to a news presenter’, that’s yet to be proven. But his life is ruined. By a filthy newspaper on a fishing expedition for a scandal.

Let’s face it, if you published a headline ‘FAMOUS GOVERNMENT MINISTER/HEAD TEACHER/CORPORATE CEO/CONSULTANT FILMED WITH RENT BOY!!!!’ you have 14,000 very important people sweating over their morning cornflakes.

Get well Huw. Even though, it would appear, if all pans out, that you are a bit ‘odd’.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx