Friday 21 September 2012

Drug Peerage Wars of the Worlds on the Patio


One hears a Venezuelan drug Baron has been caught. Is a drug Tzar more heinous than a drug Baron?

London (ex)gangster Charlie Richardson has just died. These old London gangsters are becoming increasingly rare now; long gone are the days of gangsters nailing their opponents to the floor as a jolly jape, extracting their teeth with pliers or using bolt cutters to lop off a few fingers as a joke. Surely it's about time that the government put some money into protecting these cheeky, jovial, colourful, cockney icons before they go totally extinct. They should be declared National Treasures.

The new crime families in Manchester just don't have the same panache or style of the old London mob; they wear tracksuits, lob grenades around indiscriminately, kill policewomen, associate with scum, have no code of honour and are simply chavs. I wouldn't give them 5 seconds against a Kray, a Billy Hill, a Jack Spot or a Mad Frankie Fraser. I mean, how many of these drug-dealing arseholes can say they are friends with the stars (footballers don't count as stars - they're termed 'customers')?

Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds is to be revamped. Well, what a load of pretentious rot that was - there's only one decent track on the whole damned album - Forever Autumn - and that was down to Justin Hayward's voice. 'Eve of the War' sounds like the track to a Latin number from Strictly Come Dancing, if you ask me, what with its Latino-disco backbeat. You can just imagine some lithe, sequinned couple writhing sinuously to it.

Having said that, for some inexplicable reason I do like this version of Eve of the War - can't for the life of me think why though. Anyone get a similar feeling or think they know why that may be?



We have got to the patio stage with the house. Patio - a Spanish word denoting a paved area outside a house. We don't have an indigenous word for this concept. Obviously the Saxons and Celts didn't bother with them. They probably didn't have much truck with conservatories or spiral staircases either, come to think of it.


I found out yesterday that this stuff, which is meant to be limestone (but feels more like a sandstone), came all the way from India, along with a consignment of non-native insects which will probably devastate our local ecology. Didn't ask too many questions when we bought it from the local builders' supply - wish we had now. Looks fantastic though.

All these papers and magazines that are piling into the Duchess of Cambridge issue - just shows which magazines not to bother buying if all their readers want to see is a pair of pixelated breasts. The words gutter and press come to mind - journalism it ain't. Bit of an object lesson though for royals in not taking their kit off unless indoors - and even then they need to frisk their mates for hidden cameras.


1 comment:

Steve Borthwick said...

Call me a traditionalist but I always frisk my mate before we get naked.