Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The larder is bulging with buy one get one free boxes of minced pies and the fridge is packed with poultry and trimmings; the last thing we need is some Middle Eastern, homeless refugee giving birth to yet another scrounging baby.
One day this child might grow up to become some ranting lunatic demanding equality, an end to war, freedom for all and might even suggest that the greed of individuals is less important than the benefit of the many. God forbid that this should come to pass and even more horrific is the thought that this anarchist should reside in Hackney, or Handsworth, or Govan, or Byker, or Moss Side, or Walsall or Westminster. A revolutionary daring to question the rich being rich and the poor being poor should not be something to spoil the adoration of our Christian decency when pushing each other out the way to get to the discounted brandy butter. (more…)
Screen grab via YouTube
Parody can all too often be a blunt instrument when attempting to employ what passes for a sense of humour in a world ruled by an elite required to undergo a sense of humour by-pass.
The original premise of the Downfall Parody clips posted to YouTube was very clever, nicely crafted and rather funny. However, the endless repetition of the same joke adapted for football clubs, pop songs and the internet itself resulted in the genre eating itself with a Downfall Parody rant ranting about Downfall Parody rants. It stopped being funny but still has some millage. The actor selected to portray Joseph Goebbels, who stands in sinister silence behind Hitler, bears a striking resemblance to the Heath Secretary, a certain Jeremy Hunt.
There is not enough parody left in the world to direct at Jeremy Hunt. Hyperbole, sarcasm, analogy, ironic juxtaposition, metaphor, derision and cynical mockery will fly way above the head of this freeloading shyster. (more…)
Tonight, I taught my son how to play Imagine on the piano; I also taught him this… (more…)
Image via Warner Brothers
Regular readers of this influential, widely-read and award winning blog will no doubt remember the arrival of a rabbit into the domestic bliss of family life.
I must make clear that the rabbit entered our lives without any consultation or any agreement from me. For further clarification, this blog can be defined as widely read because at least one person in Romania and possibly three people in Bulgaria clicked on a recent opinion regarding the moral bankruptcy of UKIP. The award is based on a survey of about a dozen 14-year-olds undertaken by UKTV Gold who were asked the following question:
“Which anonymous blog written by someone pretending to be a polypropylene river horse from Botswana is least likely to have any influence on Michael Gove`s vision for a return to medieval education?” I would like to thank all the little people and, above all, God for this marvellous honour.
The rabbit, after about three days of looking cute, went through a rampant and deranged adolescence and emerged from the cocoon of fluffy bunnydom as a violent sexual predator. (more…)
From the very outset, I unequivocally deny that I have ever knowingly promoted the musical offerings from a Cee Lo Green and completely refute the suggestion that Mr Green is responsible for the financial crisis bringing Cyprus to the brink of bankruptcy.
Indeed, up until about two years ago I had never heard of Cee Lo Green but was aware of his irritating vocal style that was featured on the annoying Gnarls Barkley hit record “Crazy”. But, on a eagerly anticipated holiday to Cyprus in the summer of 2011, the overweight singer and rapper almost managed to ruin the stay on the first night by having his masterpiece “F**k You” played over and over and over again at full volume and at two in the morning from a neighbouring apartment. Early the following day, the lure of the communal swimming pool proved irresistible to the children and they were splashing about by eight thirty which was when the noise polluter made himself known. If I have learnt anything in my lifetime, it is that you should never offer unwarranted criticism to the children of a Yorkshire woman.
From the balcony, I watched the altercation with some amusement. The man bore a striking resemblance to a Chuckle Brother. His spiky hair and retro moustache was sufficient to make even the most innocent and trusting child feel distinctly uncomfortable. His accent, however, suggested that he might be the missing and so far unknown third Kray triplet. “Tell your farrrkin kids to keep the farrrkin noise down and get out of my farrrkin swimming pool” he bellowed. “I farrrkin live here and you`re just farrrkin tourists.” He was, as you can imagine, completely destroyed by the Yorkshire woman. (more…)