“If you cant value a commitment made by someone else, your own commitments lose their value too.” Ram Mohan
Is It Me?
Contemplating getting up one morning last week I thought I would hang on for the weather forecast with an weekend of planting out my brassica crops coming up. All was well explained the impossibly cheery BBC weather girl except…there could be a few late frosts in the Scottish mountains!
It has always perplexed me that the BBC afford so much airtime to irrelevances such as Scottish football, an annual two-horse race made even less relevant as one of the runners has gone lame of late.
Scottish independence would also be a blessing if we did not have to suffer wee Nicola pouting daily. Why I need to know if it is snowing up a mountain Heaven only knows.
I’m sure cauliflowers don’t grow there.
Delete
After another week in Never Never Land, as Friday afternoon meandered to a close, a pint was called for. With The Scruffy still shut, where better after a gentle stretch of the legs than The Idle Draper.
On my walk down a car horn pipped but I’d not seen it before so wandered through the graveyard onto my fate.
Soon enough, one of the brightest products of my decades as a coach wandered into the bar sporting his unmistakeable grin, as if to say “found you!” Dam the young I thought.
Inevitably talk turned to old days although we avoided the time his mum tried to strangle me mid-pitch, attributing full blame for a crap shot to the poor coach. He then told me of a lad, barely eighteen, who had just left the club for around the fourth time.
Doubtless instigated by his buffoon of a father, the kid had taken up another “offer”; I sipped my pint, glad I was free from idiots like this.
Then I remembered the annual phone call each Spring as Mr Buffoon would call me to discuss his sons prospects from about the age of ten.
“What about Yorkshire?” he would ask. I resisted suggesting the best he could hope for was a job on the turnstiles. Instead, I recommended he extract the best from his expensive education.
Mr Buffoon is not alone; the one-eyed parent is alive at all levels of sport. You hardly need me to tell you how it all ends; few of these kids continue into adult sport. If only they were allowed to simply play.
I then realised I still had Mr & Mrs Buffoons number in my phone; not anymore.
Line of Hype
As the nation watched the weekly unravelling of the latest Line of Duty series, I decided to binge watch, just in case the Scottish snow flurry headed South.
Halfway in I was of the opinion that I would be hard pressed to find a copper trustworthy enough to walk me across the road. I can only imagine the pre-production meeting.
Director General (DG): “Look Jed or Jez, we’re under a bit of pressure here at Auntie so we need a blockbuster…know what I mean?”
Writer: “‘Er it’s Jed Sir! No problem this will have them coughing up their licence fees in the millions! Plus we’ll have them scared shitless of the cops. Time to stir a few demos up!”
DG: “Have you got every box ticked? Plenty of nutters too?”
Jed: “One around every corner Timmy! Before you know it we’ll have the streets full…sort than one out Boris!”
DG: “What’s the storyline?”
Jed: “What storyline? This lot have been locked up for a year they’ll watch any old shite!”
DG: “True but you will have a couple of lesbians in won’t you?”
Jed: “Deffo…can’t have Middle Englander nodding off after a case of cut-price Stella! Tell you what we’ll have a one of every colour!”
DG: “So who did it then?”
Jed: “Did what? I thought you said you wanted another series?”
It had enough cliches to last a lifetime with even a ginger lesbian thrown in as the credits rolled. I leave the last word to Superintendent Hastings.
“We’ve been round the houses Steve; round the houses and down the bloody drains!”
Size Matters
One of the most frequently covered topics on the web is the size of the Cadburys Creme Egg. This week I received one in thanks for delivering The Trumpit locally for the last few months; I could barely believe my eyes.
It’s like buying a Rolls Royce with three wheels on.
According to Wikipedia it the best-selling confectionery item between New Year’s Day and Easter in the UK, with annual sales in excess of 200 million. So why muck about with it? It is time questions were raised in the House.
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