Don't patronise me about the correct use of 'there'

Their. Their. Their.

Gordon Brown's leadership was a disaster waiting to happen.

Then he cut the waiting time.

Disaster.

Opinions welcome. Remember, if you sit on the fence...

...the sheep can see you from both fields.

A short sharp sentence

There are two types of people who visit police stations. Those with blankets over their heads and those without.

Happily, on my visit to the local station last week, I was without a blanket.

It seems, however, I was not without a blank expression.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yes, can you tell me where the public meeting room is please?"

"Just go into the lift and press button four."

The Dundee accent is not the easiest to translate into English and so I understood the instruction to be "...go into the lift and press bottom floor".

Hopefully I'll be out by Monday.

Go easy on the greasy pehs!

The whaling industry has returned to Dundee.

Or so you might think when confronted and affronted by the blubber that walks down the High Street each day.

Scotland is in the midst of an obesity epidemic and Dundee is at its heart.

But let’s not lose heart.

Our elected fatheads in Holyrood have at long last recognised the link between education and diet. Just how long it is since Simple Simon met a pieman I do not know, but surely that pastry encrusted clue didn’t take them that long to solve....?

Don’t get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with the occasional Dundee peh, as we lovingly call our local delicacy.

It's just that we need to encourage a different school of thought as well as a more svelte school of whales.

Alistair Darling. He gave with one hand...

I warned you.

He's a one-armed bandit.

Don't confuse the palette with my palate

The blurb described my local barista as an "artist".

To me, an artist mixes black and white to get grey.

A barista mixes black and white to get brown.

I don't 'do' grey coffee.

Let's outfox Guy Fawkes and get them one by one

Cast your mind back to the dying days of the last Tory Government.

Embroiled in sleaze, my lasting image is one of Neil Hamilton clinging on for dear life to the greasy pole of power. Whenever he did slip down a tad, there was his faithful wife Christine armed with a hat pin, ready to give him an encouraging prod.

Wind the clock forward to the present debauched administration.

It's not a hat pin they need up their jacksies so much as a stick of dynamite. And yet somehow, I still don't think they will 'get it'.

But that shouldn't stop us trying.

Who's first?

King Harold - the Patron Saint of Politics?

At least he got the point.

I've just been accused of always wanting the 'last' word

Cobblers!

The crude facts of life

How often is the US accused of ‘only being interested in oil’?

Of course they are.

Why else would they concern themselves with Iraq and not Zimbabwe?

But before you join the chorus of disapproval and park your tank (petrol) down that particular one way street, why don’t you #*CK OFF?

We all have cars, fly abroad and centrally heat our homes.

We all buy food and other products that are shipped and flown in from every corner of the globe.

We all live oil-fuelled lives.

Well, most of us do.

So let’s not get hypocritical about it.

Instead, here’s a little analogy.

A hunter sees a big grizzly bear about to maul a poor defenceless man.

The hunter, who is after the bear’s skin, shoots the grizzly dead.

Does it really matter what the hunter’s motives are?

Surely the crucial point is that the man is saved from almost certain death.

Yes, the US is interested in oil.

We all are.

What’s more, we are all prone to making incorrect assumptions.

When I told you above to #*CK OFF, I meant BACK OFF!

What did you think I meant?

If I should fly think only this of me

BA is not the quickest way from A to B.

Fortune telling

Is the worry of all that money beginning to tell on Sir Fred?

Dis.

Cuss.

Is organised crime the neatest way to make a tidy sum?

I’ve made a fortune in life

But I’ve also lost two.
Ah well.

Affluence or effluence? You decide.

I’ve often had my suspicions as to why GB (the country, not Gordon Brown) is in such a mess, but now I know.
The truly gifted and talented are either writing newspaper columns or are busy blogging.
In truth, everyone has an opinion.
We all know what needs to be done – where and when and how.
Don’t ask why. Just trust us.
However, it takes untold arrogance to believe that you are the best man for the job.
Insecurity has a much more restraining influence than delusions of competence.
Meet Gordon Brown.
He has screwed things up so badly we are now completely threadbare.
And yet he still believes he is the best man for the job.
I believe that what matters to Brown is brown matter to the rest of us.
That's why I'm voting Green.

Our dumdum Prime Minister

Instead of biting the bullet and properly equipping our troops, it seems that Gordon Brown is more intent on providing extra ammunition for the opposition.
Never mind inflation and "in real terms".
In real terms, lives are being lost.

It's a horrible spectre

Having to choose between ghosting Mandy's memoirs or poofreading his manuscript.

BA. HUMBUG.

BA BA blackleg,
Have you lost your cool?
No Sir, no Sir,
I'm on a work to rule.

5 years - it's what you get for rape, manslaughter, serious fraud.....

.....or voting Tory.

I didn't mean to call Gordon Brown a 'bloody buffoon'

It just came out as a spoonerism.

Apostasy

Ive given up believing in apostrophe's.

Michael Foot. Spinless. Gordon Brown. Spineless.

AC/DC

I learn from today's Times that Alastair Campbell is playing the part of David Cameron as Gordon Brown rehearses for the leadership debates.
AC as understudy to DC should be an easy switch.
We always suspected he was a Tory at heart.

Labour ahead by a nose

Carry on lying and they’ll win by a landslide.

Should we really give a duck?

There is a small tract of land on the east coast of Scotland just outside Aberdeen that a duck once waddled across.
That land is now sacred.
So when an American billionaire berthed his corporate ‘warship’ alongside this hallowed place of worship, hackles were raised and the locals got agitated.
To achieve this in Aberdeen, it helps if you are either cloven-hoofed or heavy-handed.
In this case, let’s go for the latter.
Donald Trump (no relation to Donald Duck) wants to invest over £1 billion of his own money in creating a world class golf course with accompanying hotel and luxury homes.
So far, so good.
At least, so you would think.
But let’s not forget about the duck.
This duck has a lot of followers and I’m not referring to its cute little ducklings.
I allude to those hobby-less members of society desperately seeking a hobby horse to mount.
Had Donald Trump known all those years ago just how much grief this innocent little duck would bring, I’m sure he would have eaten it there and then, feathers and all.
Instead, he has had to wait until now to get ‘down’ in the mouth.
The rest of the world must think we are quackers.

My entire world has been turned upside down

I think I was a bat in my last life.

Don’t let Alex Salmond off the leash

With Alex Salmond behaving like a pug with an attitude, never has it been more important for dog owners to take out dangerous dogs' insurance.
What has really got him straining at the leash is his desire to be included in the impending leadership debates on television.
Such rabidity would not be particularly nice to watch.
Neither before the watershed nor behind the bike shed.
As Scottish taxpayers, we have duty to pay and a duty to perform.
Does anyone have a scoop-a-poop?

Vote Conservative. Just because.

It’s becoming more embarrassing by the day - witnessing the Tory press groping for reasons to vote Conservative.
There ain’t any.
The hacks are beginning to take on the guise of pimps trying to procure some business for a couple of old slappers.
The only difference is, at least the slappers have a bit of experience under their belts, if you can forgive me that last metaphor.

Taken for a ride

Ballathie House Hotel is always a decent place for lunch and today was no different. More than a few visits back it was very different.
Britain was different.
The banks had just collapsed. No, not the beautiful banks of the River Tay upon which Ballathie sits. Instead, I refer to the financial leviathans that were the pension powerhouses for certain bankers.
I allude to those at the FAG end of society. (Okay, Frederick Anderson Goodwin.)
Such was the concern of our inveterate bankers, circumstances obviously weren’t bad enough for them to cancel their company day at Ballathie hosted by Ferrari and Maserati.
Looking back, I don’t know which was worse – my drooling over the cars, my salivating over lunch or my foaming at the mouth as I witnessed my overdraft heading into ‘overdrive’.
But that’s not my point.
“Have you booked, Sir?”
“Yes, Baruffati.”
The phonetics of Baruffati and Maserati are not too discordant.
For one day at least, I discovered how the other half live. And, believe me, they don’t half live.
I also discovered where our money goes.
If only they had been driving Toyotas.

Most extravagant costume. And the winner is.....

Sir Fred Goodwin.
Cost, u, me.
Billions.

Best make-up. And the winner is.....

Sir Fred Goodwin.
Could you make up a better story?

If there's one thing worse than being told you have OCD...

...then that's believing that you are a dyslexic fish.

"Suicide family did not face deportation"

Three asylum seeking members of a Russian family committed suicide by leaping from the 15th floor balcony of a tower block in Glasgow.
And as if all this wasn't tragic enough, it now transpires that, in more than one sense, they jumped to a conclusion.

Glasgow City Council Leader resigns because of 'a diction' problem

Applicashuns welcome. Call quoting Ref. geezajoab.

Has Fred the Shred been given a new identity?

He may be stinking rich but there has not been a sniff of Sir Fred Goodwin for months.
And yet there's not a plastic surgeon alive who could wipe the smile off his face.
There are, however, one or two RBS customers and shareholders who would like to give it a go.

At long last, David Cameron reveals his spending plans

"I'd like to spend more time with my family."

M.T. promises

I understand that Mark Thompson, Director-General of the BBC, signs off his memos with his initials.
Lots of empty promises there, I don't doubt.

Blackmale

Is this racial and gender profiling?

Steven Purcell. Former Leader of Glasgow City Council. Not able.

Enough space?

Steven Purcell. Notable Leader of Glasgow City Council.

I need more space.

Shucks and aah!

Gordon Brown's appearance at the Chilcot Inquiry in which he expressed his heartfelt sympathy for those who lost their lives in Iraq plumbed new depths - or should that be scaled new heights? - in cynicism. And as if to 'shock and awe' us still further, he now has the chutzpah to enunciate that when it came to the post-war planning, he "wasn't able to be more successful on pushing the Americans further on this issue".
Surely that makes him doubly guilty. To be party to prosecuting a war without having made provision for the consequences of your actions is inexcusable, especially when you are fully aware beforehand of the potential aftermath.
The only thing missing from his virtuoso performance was the plaintive sound of a violin playing in the background.
I'm convinced, however, I heard a lyre.

Rug pulled from under Lord Ashcroft's feet

Easy!
There was no tacks.
(Which was worse, the grammar or the pun?)

Gordon Brown or a front line soldier. Who is the more ill-equipped for his job?

Forget Twitter. Flutter.

Every picture tells a story, so don’t Twitter, Flutter.
Flutter a foto.
Instead of 140 characters, choose just one.
You.
Flutter your eyelashes. Frown. Smile. Scowl. Grimace. Gurn.
You choose.
Choose a clutter-free, flutter-for-free future.
It’s feature-friendly and fun.

Vote for the Stuff the Younger Generation Party

You've never had it.
So good!

The world is your oyster...and yours alone

According to the Catholic Church, Britain has become a shellfish society.
I guess that places us all in pearl.

Sometimes it's hard to be a woman

Yeah, life can be a 'drag'.

Sharonfreude

Fortunately, that feckless fashion of lovey-dovey couples displaying their names at the top of car windscreens has gone by the wayside.
The reason I mention it is that yesterday I was parked facing one such old banger. I refer to the car and not the female at the wheel whom I assumed was called “Sharon”. At least, that's what I read on the label above her frightening fizzog. I’d no idea where “Fred” was. Maybe he had blazed a trail for the car and had already been dumped.
It got me to thinking how appropriate it would be if their names had been “Jill” and “Ted”.
I smiled at the thought.
Sharon smiled back.
I’m not smiling now.

Lord Ashcroft. Non-Domocratic.

Local Anaesthetic

I’ve just returned from my daily fix. A three shot latte.
With my caffeine intake, I remain turbocharged all day.....sometimes all night. Although it was a brisk walk back, I never sweat. I merely percolate.
Coffee pours out every pore.
This morning, however, was different.
I had just settled down to my favourite coffee with my favourite paper when my favourite person to avoid walked in.
I know him as the local anaesthetic.
There isn’t enough coffee in Brazil to keep me awake when he gets in full flow.
And when he is in full flow, I also know him as our local authority.
There is scarcely a subject that exists (and I include existentialism) that he can’t teach you a thing or three about.
But as verbose as he is, he has no understanding of body language.
I’ve tried removing subtlety and even introduced subtitles, all to no avail.
In fact, it would not surprise me if he is still talking to the seat that I vacated twenty minutes ago.
To paraphrase Mark Antony: Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your years.

The Disturbing Truth or Disturbing The Truth?

So all records of UFO sightings are to be destroyed.
Either there is a conspiracy going on or, yet again, the Gods are conspiring against me.
I had long pinned my hopes on meeting some alien being.
A lass. No more.
Now I will need to focus my attention on recording another sighting of that other UFO.
Yes, that Useless F#!*&@* Oaf Sir Fred Goodwin.

“I don’t get angry. I’m just very passionate.”

Gordon: “Did the earth move for you Darling?”
Darling: “Move? It was a veritable landslide!”
Gordon: “Oooh! Don’t use that word. You know I lose all self-control.”
Darling: “Landslide! Landslide! Landslide!”
Gordon: “You certainly know which buttons to push Darling. Would you like the Defence job?”
Darling: “What, no more screwing?”
Gordon: “We are talking the ekonomy here, aren’t we….?”
Darling: “It’s the economy, stupid. I think we need another ‘spell’ in office."
Gordon: “You’re right. We need an election. I’ll write to Her Majesty.”
Darling: “Well just be careful how you spell it. But tell me, what do you need to write to Mandy for anyway?”

Mirror, mirror on the wall...hang on...is there anyone there?

I’ve just read an article about Lord Mandelson entitled “Reflections of a Life in Politics”.
Mandelson? Reflections?
Come on.

Bland Leaders

The name Google has been all over the news recently for reasons too boring to detail.
Surprisingly, for such an innovative and go-ahead company, their corporate line is no more aspirational than “Don’t be evil”.
And while Google have obviously gone for the blandishment, others prefer the bland.
Last week, the Labour Party announced their new slogan.
Surprisingly, for such a bunch of bully boy thugs, it is the perfectly anodyne “A future fair for all”.
We now await the Tory line.
Might I suggest: "Trust us to get it trite"?
Unsurprisingly, it seems to reflect exactly what they stand for.

GBH

Gordon Brown's Hairdryer.

I'm a Nat...or should that be Gnat?

Tory or Labour? They both have a bad smell.
I'm caught between two stools.

Bottoms up!

Researchers have found that men who admire a woman’s curvaceous figure can experience similar highs to those achieved through drink or drugs.
Oh really? (Surprise.) Oh really! (Disdain.)
So while some scientists are stuck in a lab with rats, others are in the pub doing what we all like to do - and all in the name of work.
You would think that they would at least try to justify their research by taking it a step further.
For example, what influences the receptacles from which we drink?
Why have those old-style dimpled beer mugs gone out of fashion?
Too remindful of cellulite....?
What is the real appeal of those beautifully shaped glasses, generous up top, nice and slim below?
Does the unhappily married man prefer to take his drink the way he would like to take his wife - by the neck?
These are all questions that need answers.
And does the phrase a bevy of beauties derive from the latter being contingent on the former?
In Dundee it does.
Or maybe I’ve just been drinking in the wrong pub.
The Last Chance Saloon.

Ordinary people, if you don't want to know the score.....

It would be hard to conceive of a crueller blow dealt by fate than when Beethoven lost his hearing.
Perhaps Narcissus never being able to see his own reflection....?
Such was the mind of Beethoven, however, I suspect that despite deafness, he was able to hear his music more clearly in his own head than I ever could in a concert hall.
And therein lies the massive chasm between lesser mortals like me and the genius that was Beethoven.
When I eventually shuffle off this mortal coil, it will be the difference between "my life's over" and "Beethoven's oeuvre".

The real value of pi (Peat Inn)

The Peat Inn is neither here nor there...but I refer only to its location in the middle of Fife.
For culinary excellence, it truly has arrived as its recent Michelin Star, Restaurant of the Year and Best Chef of the Year (Geoffrey Smeddle) awards confirm.
From nowhere to now here.
But then I already knew that.
The sad truth is, there are too few places in Scotland that reach these high standards.
Sadder still, few even try.
For the most part, the Scottish culinary experience is:
Expect the wurst. Hope for the breast.

Report: 'Modern couples don’t give marriage a chance.'

Jack Sprat could eat no fat
His wife could eat no lean.

So they filed for divorce on grounds of incompatibility.

Toyota president says recall-hit firm 'grew too fast'

That sounds about right.
Maybe he should consider a 'crash' course in PR....?

Alex Salmond. Role model or roly-poly model?

Never mind the costermonger or fishmonger.
Beware the scaremongers.
If we are to believe the latest Government warnings, Scotland is sitting on an obesity time bomb.
So rather than be fat and be merry, it now seems that there really is no mirth when it comes to girth.
The SNP are proposing legislation to enforce restaurants to serve smaller portions, but I think they are missing the point.
I’m not aware of too many restaurants serving bags of crisps, chocolate, pop corn, deep fried Mars Bars, sugary drinks and all the other junk foods that provide the foundation ‘stones’ for kids’ future diets.
To me, the best measure the SNP can take is around Alex Salmond’s waist.
It might help them locate the extra pounds (1700 of them that he claimed for food from the taxpayer in 2007/08 despite voting on only six days in the Commons).
With the present economic gloom, at least we will no longer need to tighten our belts.
Our waistlines will take up the slack.

'bulLYING'

Do you see the real issue?

How do you get black and blue from brown?

Get a job in Number 10.

Knucklehead or knuckleduster?

Either Brown knuckles down or knuckles under.
Vote Labour. It's a future free-for-all.

Gordon Brown's new fistal policy

Count to ten.

©rap

Hey Dudes, it's Tiger Woods,
he's dated many ravers.
He recognised quite early on
their value as stroke savers.

o.g.

Own Goal?
Gordon Brown cost the British taxpayer £5 billion by getting out of gold just when the clever money was moving in.

Olympic Gold?
Amy Williams wins a gold medal to double Britain's remaining gold reserves.

Oh Gordon?
The question mark says it all.

Out Going?
Not nearly soon enough.

Vote Labour - a future 'mare for all.

Worth Having You

Sometimes known as Worth Avenue.
(Palm Beach, Florida.)

The EastEnders whodunnit

Had the series been called WestEnders, we would have had a dénouement.

Three cheers for the Hip Hip-ocracy Party

As they say in politics – these are my principles and if you don’t like them, here’s another set.
I despair. At least I would if I wasn’t so inured against the hypocrisy that we have to face day in, day out.
And so an opportunity exists to set up a new political party that openly pretends to care about us, our environment, our future and all that other moonshine that we continually hear.
So instead of merely suspecting politicians of lying, at least we will know that they are.
The Hip Hip-ocracy Party.
No “can”, just cant.

New Government Car Scrappage Scheme

If you own a Toyota that is less than one year old and can recall where you ditched it, you can trade it in now for a free bus pass.

The company not upfront is Toyota.

Toyota remain 'spell' bound

Too much woe, not enough whoa!

Here lies Comrade Kzryaxinski

Some people’s names are impossible to pronounce…..until they are pronounced ‘dead’.

Any takers for Sol-vit?

Vitamin D in tablet form.
I’ll take one a day.

Spread? A little hippiness.

I'm confused.
Motorist organisations keep telling us about the importance of keeping your 'spare tyre' well inflated while Government Ministers exhort us to get rid of it altogether.
The baby boomer generation, it seems, is the new target for the Government's Change4Life campaign.
I'm doing my part. I recently bought a new piece of kit to combat middle-aged spread.
I call it my Waist Disposal Unit.

MP’s caught smoking in the Commons

Either they have been indulging in that foul habit or it’s another smoking gun.
We can never be too sure because 329 MP’s have put up a smokescreen to conceal their unpaid £138,000 drinks bill.
And all this on a day when it is proposed that alcoholic drinks should carry a health warning.
That’s obvious. At £419 each, these MP’s will surely be completely ‘plastered’ while our finances continue to haemorrhage.

A specious argument?

The Duchy of Cornwall, vegetable plot to the Prince of Wales, wants to bulldoze a wildlife haven that they insist is “species-poor”.
So let’s demolish Buckingham Palace.

Much ado about...

A nurse I met asked me what my blog was all about. Her tone suggested it was a pointed question.
“It’s about A & E” I said. “Maybe you could publicise it on your hospital’s notice board....?”
It wouldn’t be a bad place to go viral.
What I didn’t explain is that my blog is about Anything and Everything.
Much of which amounts to nothing.

Myth or Mythter?

The myth about the women of southern Europe sporting moustaches has gone on for far too long.
With the exponential growth in our own coffee culture, we all ought to be aware of the problem a cappuccino poses in leaving a chocolate-coloured splodge of milk on the upper lip.
Hence the ‘moustache’.
But how do you account for the hairy armpits of southern Europe’s women?
Next time you are there on holiday, just observe the manner in which they clean their teaspoons.
Mythtery tholved.

Give them all the boot

On a recent visit to Florida, I was amused to learn that members of the local Council in Palm Beach attended meetings with flip-flops and no socks.
Nobody believed me when I told them that our elected representatives in Westminster included many ‘flip’ flops.

Atishoo of lies....? Put me down for role ‘X’.

First of all, let me make myself perfectly clear. I have the utmost sympathy for all that Gordon Brown has suffered in his private life. Nonetheless, the cynic in me suggests that he is exploiting his own personal grief for political purposes.
Alright, so he shed a tear on national television and who wouldn’t when answering such difficult questions? However, we all know that politicians are the consummate professionals when it comes to not answering the questions they don’t want to and he should have placed these firmly in that category.
Except for one thing. There’s an election looming and Gordon Brown has displayed a sense of timing up there with the very best of Swiss watches.
Perhaps he is looking beyond election defeat and is hoping for a position on the board of Rolex.
Maybe Kleenex would be more appropriate. Not to wipe away the tears but to clean up the tissue of lies that he and Blair have perpetrated since coming to power in 1997.
But whether it’s Rolex or Kleenex, ‘ex’ is beginning to adopt a rather familiar tone.

Fishes' feet, snakes' wings, bats' i’s, bulls' ding-a-lings

It’s not a very good spell, I know. But neither was the spelling of “Chiie” on that country’s (Chile!) 50 peso coins which resulted in their General Manager being short changed. Or rather, changed shortly afterwards.
But it wasn’t the only misspelling this weekend.
Dignity is not something you would normally associate with Parliament. So I was very surprised to learn that the Palace of Westminster will now allow commoners to marry within their precincts on the grounds that the venue “will support the dignity of marriage”.
Surely that should be Dignitas?
If anyone knows otherwise, please ask your spouse before you spout your opinion here.

The Blogosfear

I have this feeling that I’m about to go viral. I got a chill on the flight home last night and am now incontentinental.
Could end up on the blog all day.

Contentinental

To get to the States without getting in a state, fly Contentinental.

Oops!

The above heading could well be an acronym for ‘Out of place, sorry!’
Not that you would ever need to use it in Palm Beach, Florida.
I tried but just could not find a piece of litter, a bit of chewing gum stuck to the sidewalk or, for that matter, a single blade of grass pointing in the wrong direction.
The only thing out of place is my nose.
Well, whose wouldn’t be if you were just about to leave on the next plane for Scotland?

Beware! A Government Wealth Warning.

The Intercoastal which flows past Palm Beach is not unlike the canals in Venice. And just like the Venetian canals, this one also smells. In fact, it stinks of money.
This is where Bernard Madoff did a lot of ‘fishing’. But rather than invest, I decided to investigate.
Just south of Palm Beach is Delray Beach. It was there that I boarded the pleasure cruiser Lady Atlantic for a trip down the Intercoastal to Boca Raton. Not even the best navigation systems on the market could prepare me for what lay ahead.
Boca Raton is home to the rich and famous or, to be more precise, the second home to the rich and famous. One wonders what their permanent residences are like.
With ocean-going cruisers berthed at the foot of every garden, this was The Ideal Home Show and The International Boat Show rolled into one.
As the pleasure trip progressed, I felt increasingly like the alligators I had seen in the Everglades the day before. My jaw was permanently locked open.
But now I’m really stuck.
I don’t know if I need a Tetanus injection or a reality check.

Withdrawal symptoms

All good things come to an end and holidays are no different. Although I still have two days left, I’m already suffering from withdrawal symptoms.
I’ve withdrawn too much money from my account.

If nothing is forever...

...what's the point of being an eternal optimist?

One highly polished performance after another

The difference between the Service Industry in the UK and in the States is that in the latter it does what it says on the tin.
If you pay top dollar you get top service.
I should know, I’m busy polishing shoes.
Well, I need to work my passage home somehow.
It just wasn’t my idea of all that ‘cherry blossom’ I was promised before I came out here.

Happiness is relative

Whereas I used to be a one-pinter, now I’m an ein–steiner.
So relatively, I’m happier.

It’s an eye popping, pill popping life in Palm Beach

From our sumptuous surroundings on South Ocean Boulevard in Palm Beach, we ventured past the Royal Palms and into Worth Avenue.
If there is a more exclusive place on this planet, then I’m sure it is uninhabited, having excluded absolutely everyone.
I will not even attempt to describe most of what I saw. You truly have to see it to believe it and, believe me, I struggled to believe half of what I did see.
That was certainly the case with the creature that pulled up alongside me in a limo that I can only describe as ego-friendly.
That ‘creature’, who I took a 50/50 punt on being of female origin, tried to smile at me but plastic surgery denied me that special moment. Either something would have snapped or her navel would have appeared above her plimsoll line.
Nonetheless, I was smitten.
She might have been as wrinkled as a prune, but she looked as though she had enough smooth greenbacks to lure a poor little toy boy like me.
I’ll need to keep taking the pills.

Always look on the bright side

It eclipses everything else.

Another slice of life

When Christine Cuddihy attempted to buy a slice of quiche in her local Tesco, she was both taken aback and sore affronted when asked for proof of age.
One hesitates to think about what mischief you could possibly get up to with a quiche. Terrorising steak lovers is about as far as I will ‘take it’.
Personally, I suspect that it was a simple case of bad spelling emanating from Tesco’s QH (Headquarters).
A quiche could quite easily be misconstrued as a ‘quickie’.
That reminds me, have you tried their tarts yet?

Double up for a double first

SAT exams recently? If you mean Slap And Tickle, yes.
Karl Woodgett, the former registrar at the University of Bath, was given a nine months prison sentence for issuing bogus degrees to women who participated in his pain management study.
To them, PMS. To us, spanking sessions.
Now I’m not suggesting that his name is good but it’s not a bad name for someone caught with his pants down.
Karl Woodgett whatever he wants, especially now that the old slapper is in the slammer.

Harm ‘em globetrotters

If they can’t get you, they’ll get your luggage.
Should you have ever wondered what makes the States such a great basketball playing nation, you’ve obviously never watched the baggage handlers at JFK .
They’ll lob, throw, toss, chuck, punt and pitch your luggage. And even when the easier option would be to place a bag, they’ll find it a flight path.
JFK. It’s where the globetrotters meet Harlem.

The Jelly Belly Man

It was lunch, if I can risk describing it thus on a plane 40,000 feet above the Atlantic.
Having quite enjoyed my chicken and asparagus, I looked across the aisle where a fellow passenger was about to tuck in to what seemed like a world record attempt at a jelly.
“I’ll have one of those” I said to the hostess.
Discreetly, she pointed out that my vision of what I thought was a truly irresistible blancmange, was actually the gentlemen’s gut wedged up against and sprawling all over his fold-out table.
Amused, not a little put out and most certainly put off, I ordered a few grapes.
Preferably just like his gut.
Well pressed.

Today Dundee. Tomorrow a ‘Dun deel’.

Tickets in hand, I’m off to Palm Beach, Florida.
And just in case you are thinking that I’ve had an attack of insouciance with regards to my carbon footprint, let me assure you, I am losing a lot of sleep over it.
But don’t worry, I intend to offset it against jet lag.
What’s more, as with most eco-warriors, I’ll make a lot of petty gestures that purport to save the planet while also making me feel good about myself.
First of all, I don’t intend to worry about the flight. No worries, no wind. But if things do go awry, I’ll do my best to hold back until Florida. Then I can find somewhere quiet to release all that trapped wind and, believe me, it will not be quiet for long. (In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if nervous transatlantic passengers are the reason for the hurricane season. Please note, I resisted saying "the reason ’behind’ the hurricane season".)
Secondly, I’ll be on the lookout for any shenanigans such as fellow passengers trying to set fire to their underpants. That can't be good for the environment. Let’s hope that they are as badly ‘briefed’ as the last one.
Finally, if he or she (no profiling from me) isn’t badly briefed, I intend to have a proper eco-friendly burial.
With my undying (not the best word to choose) love of the environment, cremation is the last thing I need.
Of course it is.

Toyota. The good news and the bad news.

First the bad news. That lovely new Toyota that you have just bought might have a faulty accelerator that is prone to jamming open.
And the good news? If you want Toyota to do something about it, you won't need to put your foot down.

The car in front - away out in front - is a Toyota.