Sunday 22 November 2015
Sunday 21 June 2015
Monday 4 March 2013
An Ode-on the fey extrication of Good Queen Elizabeth from hospital
Twas March the Fourth. good Lord so soon
When loyal subjects keened, nay swooned
To hear foul storms atop the news
That Dear Queen Bet was rent of stool
Tis Eight O morn, it headeth herald
The bugle blasted swards and heath
A nation checked would she were welleth
Stool be made , or bounden free.
Oh did it splatter twixt the throne
Did courtly Bentley green we`re told
Did Ma`am raise good, go on her own
Or footstool laid for her below?
Oh prithee tell me good sir Humph
Dear Justin,bring us forth your news
A nation checks its bowls and bowels
Thus rarely queenly squits break through
Unto Today where Witchell Nick
Enquireth Bristol valid true
Firm yet yielding section crossed
Of royal issue, stooling groom
And now hushed tones, in reverent fear
That plastic sheets may`nt cope with t`gush
Yet, Bless our Monarch, wave forsooth
Or be that waft, Royal toadies hushed
Oh dear Beloved Queen of hearts and minds
Now add the bottoms to her bynde!
When loyal subjects keened, nay swooned
To hear foul storms atop the news
That Dear Queen Bet was rent of stool
Tis Eight O morn, it headeth herald
The bugle blasted swards and heath
A nation checked would she were welleth
Stool be made , or bounden free.
Oh did it splatter twixt the throne
Did courtly Bentley green we`re told
Did Ma`am raise good, go on her own
Or footstool laid for her below?
Oh prithee tell me good sir Humph
Dear Justin,bring us forth your news
A nation checks its bowls and bowels
Thus rarely queenly squits break through
Unto Today where Witchell Nick
Enquireth Bristol valid true
Firm yet yielding section crossed
Of royal issue, stooling groom
And now hushed tones, in reverent fear
That plastic sheets may`nt cope with t`gush
Yet, Bless our Monarch, wave forsooth
Or be that waft, Royal toadies hushed
Oh dear Beloved Queen of hearts and minds
Now add the bottoms to her bynde!
Le `hUbe.
`Twas a gay pleasure indeed to find myself perambulating `twixt the railway stations of this joyous splendid town, when I first chanced upon La Place des Comestibles that turns out to known as Le h`Ube to the local yeomanry.
Trenchermen all, no doubt.
So was it not grand to be so invited to dine and be seated at the foot of a sumptous salle de manger?
The local gentlemen of the road bid me tarry did they not/ Who was I indeed to gainsay these splendid fellows en passant between Yeovil and Weymouth, set foursquare to a prevaillant that I deemed maybe south, bidding upon the South and westerly so familiar to we country folk.
Oh how fragrant the carefully sauteed cabbage, how visionary the creamed potatoes turned out to be. Le Viande was clearly sourced in the locale and le Bisto de jus was a riotous pleasure upon the tongue.
Les carrottes were similarly of a craven vintage that begged culmination as I playfully toyed with them atop the formica de table.
Yes-only the best Adams ale followed and a rapturous custarde avec melange de fruts des tinnes set the very seal on a topping day.
My pet fly Jean enjoyed the shit that was outside on the entrance step too.
Oh, give it neuf dear boy...at least a neufs a neuf!
Lets hope it be a fair wind for when I deign to test the flophouse palace by Weymouths old gasometer...they say it be a splendour as Spring enfolds.
Trenchermen all, no doubt.
So was it not grand to be so invited to dine and be seated at the foot of a sumptous salle de manger?
The local gentlemen of the road bid me tarry did they not/ Who was I indeed to gainsay these splendid fellows en passant between Yeovil and Weymouth, set foursquare to a prevaillant that I deemed maybe south, bidding upon the South and westerly so familiar to we country folk.
Oh how fragrant the carefully sauteed cabbage, how visionary the creamed potatoes turned out to be. Le Viande was clearly sourced in the locale and le Bisto de jus was a riotous pleasure upon the tongue.
Les carrottes were similarly of a craven vintage that begged culmination as I playfully toyed with them atop the formica de table.
Yes-only the best Adams ale followed and a rapturous custarde avec melange de fruts des tinnes set the very seal on a topping day.
My pet fly Jean enjoyed the shit that was outside on the entrance step too.
Oh, give it neuf dear boy...at least a neufs a neuf!
Lets hope it be a fair wind for when I deign to test the flophouse palace by Weymouths old gasometer...they say it be a splendour as Spring enfolds.
Le `hUbe.
`Twas a gay pleasure indeed to find myself perambulating `twixt the railway stations of this joyous splendid town, when I first chanced upon La Place des Comestibles that turns out to known as Le h`Ube to the local yeomanry.
Trenchermen all, no doubt.
So was it not grand to be so invited to dine and be seated at the foot of a sumptous salle de manger?
The local gentlemen of the road bid me tarry did they not/ Who was I indeed to gainsay these splendid fellows en passant between Yeovil and Weymouth, set foursquare to a prevaillant that I deemed maybe south, bidding upon the South and westerly so familiar to we country folk.
Oh how fragrant the carefully sauteed cabbage, how visionary the creamed potatoes turned out to be. Le Viande was clearly sourced in the locale and le Bisto de jus was a riotous pleasure upon the tongue.
Les carrottes were similarly of a craven vintage that begged culmination as I playfully toyed with them atop the formica de table.
Yes-only the best Adams ale followed and a rapturous custarde avec melange de fruts des tinnes set the very seal on a topping day.
My pet fly Jean enjoyed the shit that was outside on the entrance step too.
Oh, give it neuf dear boy...at least a neufs a neuf!
Lets hope it be a fair wind for when I deign to test the flophouse palace by Weymouths old gasometer...they say it be a splendour as Spring enfolds.
Trenchermen all, no doubt.
So was it not grand to be so invited to dine and be seated at the foot of a sumptous salle de manger?
The local gentlemen of the road bid me tarry did they not/ Who was I indeed to gainsay these splendid fellows en passant between Yeovil and Weymouth, set foursquare to a prevaillant that I deemed maybe south, bidding upon the South and westerly so familiar to we country folk.
Oh how fragrant the carefully sauteed cabbage, how visionary the creamed potatoes turned out to be. Le Viande was clearly sourced in the locale and le Bisto de jus was a riotous pleasure upon the tongue.
Les carrottes were similarly of a craven vintage that begged culmination as I playfully toyed with them atop the formica de table.
Yes-only the best Adams ale followed and a rapturous custarde avec melange de fruts des tinnes set the very seal on a topping day.
My pet fly Jean enjoyed the shit that was outside on the entrance step too.
Oh, give it neuf dear boy...at least a neufs a neuf!
Lets hope it be a fair wind for when I deign to test the flophouse palace by Weymouths old gasometer...they say it be a splendour as Spring enfolds.
Tuesday 14 February 2012
Archdunce Dawkins -strike 2
This might not be a Christian country Richard Dawkins. But I`m damned even more than you are if I`m going to let you decide whether I am a Christian or not.
How dare the High Priest of Militant Atheist Secular Science set up for me a survey that will tell him whether I conform to his caricatures of Christianity or not. He has already set out his stall, and will be loading the questions in order to set me up to fail in whatever way he wants. He is not the slightest bit interested in me as one of the little people, nor of my views or testimony. He Does want to gather his evidence to ensure that no census question ever goes forward with any query about the "faith" of the person concerned.
In that way, Christianity will be banished to the margins-I mean if no Government even bothers to ask, then why should the views of Christians be bothered with in any regard whatsoever. A private opinion at best, and then he`ll doubtless be wanting to do something about that afterwards.
His survey has the interest of the fascinated and hypnotised cobra that only waits for the unexpected movement. Then it will strike and kill, contented that it observed and saw enough to learn.Learn enough hopefully to strangle any such stirrings at birth in future anyway.
That is not to say that there is nothing to learn from Dawkins survey. What you learn is that he is a flaccid biologist turned witchfinder general, and so statistical methods as well as survey techniques that screen out prebias are not his area of expertise. Neither by the look of this survey is theology, but that does not stop him from having his ill-informed opinions being quantified and measured as grooms might once have checked the stools of the Dauphin.
The survey if pretty much one a sixth former might have done for Heat Magazine in language and gauche simplistics. It holds no water in terms of what Christians do, think, believe or could possibly assist Dawkins with. His enquiries are those of the bent copper, wanting to frame the Christian bookseller for inciting racial hatred at a time more convenient to himself-pension secured and too old to be brought low for perjury or corruption.
Dawkins let this survey go out in his name,and so his ignorance and malice are inexcusable. He-like his UEA chums and Climategate-is responsible for this farrago, and so should resign...or desist from talking about much else that sexing the fruit flies. About the only followers that will be left with him if he does not use better sampling and survey techniques in future...oh yes, and do a bit of checking on doctrines, variations on the Christian message, and allow for errors a little. Then trying not to set us all up for the Today programme, who are no better at science or statistics than is the archdunce Dawkins on the basis of this pitiful survey of his.
Wednesday 4 May 2011
Moral Maze
Was able to predict that the Moral Maze would be visiting the idea of Bin Laden and his termination in its programme tonight. I was right.
The programme is now bereft of any meaning. Mere pointless posturing by the liberal elite as it wrings out its hankies over the bones of any topic it chooses to suck the marrow from. The meaning and significance of the topic will long have been removed.
That is not to decry the wondrous fearless Melanie Phillips, but they only need her on to make themselves feel better and more virtuous by her presence. The liberal elite hate her kind.
Cue one of Blairs former policy wonks and Lauries lad...what was that about cosy interns then?..as he wonders whether Bin Ladens day in court might have served us all better than his rather cliched death. Typical graceless Yankies and all that.
So it is that we the usual parade of aimless controversists with remaindered books and a taxi running outside. We also get good people who are reduced to squabbling with the BBCs favoured fops who thought 9/11 was an artistic triumph with a bit of tasteless collateral excess in parts.
Tell us how you felt Mr Bin Laden as you stuck it to the maan in the White House. No further questions as we draw a discreet niqab over events we have all moved on from-or ought to have anyway!
The programme is now bereft of any meaning. Mere pointless posturing by the liberal elite as it wrings out its hankies over the bones of any topic it chooses to suck the marrow from. The meaning and significance of the topic will long have been removed.
That is not to decry the wondrous fearless Melanie Phillips, but they only need her on to make themselves feel better and more virtuous by her presence. The liberal elite hate her kind.
Cue one of Blairs former policy wonks and Lauries lad...what was that about cosy interns then?..as he wonders whether Bin Ladens day in court might have served us all better than his rather cliched death. Typical graceless Yankies and all that.
So it is that we the usual parade of aimless controversists with remaindered books and a taxi running outside. We also get good people who are reduced to squabbling with the BBCs favoured fops who thought 9/11 was an artistic triumph with a bit of tasteless collateral excess in parts.
Tell us how you felt Mr Bin Laden as you stuck it to the maan in the White House. No further questions as we draw a discreet niqab over events we have all moved on from-or ought to have anyway!
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