While I'm on the subject of preposterous twerps who like to lecture us all with their sixth-form politics, in the course of my daily promenade about Norf London I've just caught sight of that arch-wazzock and Tantric tosser, Sting (Gordon to his mum) emerging from one of his 197 properites.
What is it with these goons and their love of daft monikers? Did he walk into the boozer one day and announce that Gordon wasn't 'edgy' enough, and from now on wants to be addressed as 'Sting'?
If so, instead of going along with this cobblers, the correct response would, of course, be to pour his shandy spritzer over his head, biff him about the bonce and force him to watch endless re-runs of Featherstone Rovers vs. Bradford Northern. Sadly, this almost certainly didn't happen and we've been listening to the demented ramblings of this 3k khunt ever since (he only escapes being a maximum 4k khunt because, unlike Bonehead, he does not possess any facial furniture).
Stink, as he is very fond of telling us, cares passionately about poverty in South America. Perhaps this is why he shoved so much of its produce up his giant hooter. He also worries about the inhabitants of the rain forest. I reckon he could fit most of them in his mansions.
Why do these pop bastards feel the need to parade their green credentials and nutty left-wing politics? I've recently become aware of another one called Thom Yorke, lead shirtlifter with the band Radiodickhead. He is clearly in need of 12 months in the second row for Whitehaven. Like all pop types, he is a raving lefty. Why is this?
I'll tell you. People are only left-wing on subjects they know nothing about. Most people start off left(ish) because they have little understanding of the way of the world, but the struggle to get on leaves little room for idealism and people become more realistic. Pop types, on the other hand, do not undertake this journey because they suffer from a severe case of arrested development. The adulation and riches they accumulate at a young age mean that they live in a bubble, and are immune to the trials and tribulations of everyday existence that the rest of us endure. They never grow up. Paul Weller is another example; a bastard I've fantasised about murdering for 25 years (since I was 6). With his tufty hair and handbag, he is another 3k jobby.
I yield to no-one in my loathing of pop music and its poofy practitioners. All pop groups should be permitted to call themselves by one name only; 'The Screaming Benders'.
Of course, if we were a truly civilised nation, it wouldn't matter, as nobody would want to listen to such a juvenile racket. Your local record shop would have a tiny section at the back for 'pop music', probably containing a few Carpenters cds. The rest of the shop would be full of Brahms, Bruckner, Bach, et al.
Sadly, we are a long way from that, and you, dear reader, are almost certainly a phucking moron who has never heard of Bruckner.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Friday, 23 January 2009
Bonehead
aka Bono, naka Paul Hewson, lead 'singer' with the bafflingly popular beat combo Youtoo (u2 in txt spk). Apparently, this tuneless gobshyte was present at the inauguration of Barrack Obarmy as the Leader of the Free World, although I didn't see it meself as I don't have a telly because I am convinced that cathode rays are harmful to the brain.
Why is this absurd poseur treated with such reverence? Who gives a flying witches' fart what a bejewelled and bewhiskered berk thinks about anything? If he is so worried about Africa why don't him and his ridiculous chums 'The Edge' 'Stingo' 'Bingo' and 'Bongo' buy the wretched gaff?
Of course Bonehead himself doesn't pay any tax, unlike the poor mugs who buy his dismal records. I'm sick of being preached at by a geezer in diamond earrings, a comedy hat and permanent sunglasses. Does he ever take them off? He looks like an identikit dickhead. I wonder if they all come off at the same time, like one of those grotesque masks with the nose attached to the glasses? Is his mrs. not embarrassed stepping out with such a popinjay? What does she call him? Paul? Nobo? Is she allowed to talk to him at all?
He is so far up his own posterior that he considers his ludicrous clobber to be 'iconic' (I'll wager he doesn't know what it means). He sued the silly cow who was hired as the group's 'image consultant' after she made off with his stetson, earrings, and a pair of his bins, on the grounds that they were 'icons of popular culture'. And he won! You couldn't make it up.
He also has a website that asks if we can 'make poverty history'. I've been making poverty history for ages, its not hard. Lets make Bonehead history instead. Not only is he a khunt, he's a khuntish khunty khunt khunt. And they are the worst kind. I must sign off now, as my keyboard is taking such a pounding that I fear it will break any minu
Why is this absurd poseur treated with such reverence? Who gives a flying witches' fart what a bejewelled and bewhiskered berk thinks about anything? If he is so worried about Africa why don't him and his ridiculous chums 'The Edge' 'Stingo' 'Bingo' and 'Bongo' buy the wretched gaff?
Of course Bonehead himself doesn't pay any tax, unlike the poor mugs who buy his dismal records. I'm sick of being preached at by a geezer in diamond earrings, a comedy hat and permanent sunglasses. Does he ever take them off? He looks like an identikit dickhead. I wonder if they all come off at the same time, like one of those grotesque masks with the nose attached to the glasses? Is his mrs. not embarrassed stepping out with such a popinjay? What does she call him? Paul? Nobo? Is she allowed to talk to him at all?
He is so far up his own posterior that he considers his ludicrous clobber to be 'iconic' (I'll wager he doesn't know what it means). He sued the silly cow who was hired as the group's 'image consultant' after she made off with his stetson, earrings, and a pair of his bins, on the grounds that they were 'icons of popular culture'. And he won! You couldn't make it up.
He also has a website that asks if we can 'make poverty history'. I've been making poverty history for ages, its not hard. Lets make Bonehead history instead. Not only is he a khunt, he's a khuntish khunty khunt khunt. And they are the worst kind. I must sign off now, as my keyboard is taking such a pounding that I fear it will break any minu
Friday, 7 November 2008
Agony
My last couple of posts seem to have have rubbed some of you up the wrong way, and my postbag is bulging with letters. Some of the respondents are mad, and some quite sad. I have selected one of each, for your delectation.
Please note; I do not enter into personal correspondence, and my trusty P.A. sifts all mail, to save me from anything too upsetting.
The first is from a Mr. D Redwards of the Marxist-Leninist Workers' Rights Co-operative Street Dance and Theatre Group (Highgate branch), and was hand-delivered by his chauffer. Mr. Redwards takes issue with my comments on left-wing dictatorships.
He writes; .... 'Cuba is a workers and peasants paradise, a bastion of socialism in a region terrorised by Yankee imperialist oppression, and anyone denigrating the living revolution is a dirty, lying, thieving, cheating, fascist, capitalist bloodsucking bull-boy who will meet a sticky end come the inevitable victory of socialism, as predicted by Lenin.
Capitalism will eat itself, and when the great day dawns, the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed and marginalised will wreak terrible vengeance upon the vermin that make up the boss class; City fat-cats, corporate big-wigs, traders in human misery, stockbrokers, and all the other leeches that have grown fat feasting on the blood of the workers. The grotesquely bloated, fat, smug, complacent middle class scum will be annihilated....... the seeds of destruction have been sown, the people will have their say and they are ready. Bring it on. I yearn for the day I can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with my pastry chef as an equal, and not a capitalist lickspittle....'
Mr. Redwards goes on in similar vein for eight pages (in green ink) but I think we've captured his drift.
The second is rather different, but equally odd. It is from a Mrs. Nobinson, of North London, and here it is, in full;
Dear whoever you are,
I am writing to you about my husband, in desperation, as I know he likes to read your ramblings, and sees himself as a kindred spirit. Like you he is obsessed by gambling, and spends all day, every day, trading on Betfair.
Anyway, seven days ago I left for work as normal but didn't make it to the petrol station and ran out of petrol after half a mile. I trudged back home to be greeted by the horrible sight of my husband, who I had left in bed only 15 minutes earlier, vigorously rogering the yummy-mummy from next door. She was bent double, with her head in a wheelie bin. He had a look of pure joy on his face that I hadn't seen before. This was accompanied by what can only be described as demonic cackling. I was in such a state of shock, I couldn't speak, but turned and ran all the way to my mothers house.
Since that fateful day, nothing. Not a phone call to me, family, friends, work, no-one. I am beside myself. I know this semms weird, but I am lost. What would you advise?
Dear Mrs. Nobinson,
My advice to you is this;
Make sure you carry a can of petrol in the boot of the car.
Yours etc.
Sportstrader
Please note; I do not enter into personal correspondence, and my trusty P.A. sifts all mail, to save me from anything too upsetting.
The first is from a Mr. D Redwards of the Marxist-Leninist Workers' Rights Co-operative Street Dance and Theatre Group (Highgate branch), and was hand-delivered by his chauffer. Mr. Redwards takes issue with my comments on left-wing dictatorships.
He writes; .... 'Cuba is a workers and peasants paradise, a bastion of socialism in a region terrorised by Yankee imperialist oppression, and anyone denigrating the living revolution is a dirty, lying, thieving, cheating, fascist, capitalist bloodsucking bull-boy who will meet a sticky end come the inevitable victory of socialism, as predicted by Lenin.
Capitalism will eat itself, and when the great day dawns, the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed and marginalised will wreak terrible vengeance upon the vermin that make up the boss class; City fat-cats, corporate big-wigs, traders in human misery, stockbrokers, and all the other leeches that have grown fat feasting on the blood of the workers. The grotesquely bloated, fat, smug, complacent middle class scum will be annihilated....... the seeds of destruction have been sown, the people will have their say and they are ready. Bring it on. I yearn for the day I can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with my pastry chef as an equal, and not a capitalist lickspittle....'
Mr. Redwards goes on in similar vein for eight pages (in green ink) but I think we've captured his drift.
The second is rather different, but equally odd. It is from a Mrs. Nobinson, of North London, and here it is, in full;
Dear whoever you are,
I am writing to you about my husband, in desperation, as I know he likes to read your ramblings, and sees himself as a kindred spirit. Like you he is obsessed by gambling, and spends all day, every day, trading on Betfair.
Anyway, seven days ago I left for work as normal but didn't make it to the petrol station and ran out of petrol after half a mile. I trudged back home to be greeted by the horrible sight of my husband, who I had left in bed only 15 minutes earlier, vigorously rogering the yummy-mummy from next door. She was bent double, with her head in a wheelie bin. He had a look of pure joy on his face that I hadn't seen before. This was accompanied by what can only be described as demonic cackling. I was in such a state of shock, I couldn't speak, but turned and ran all the way to my mothers house.
Since that fateful day, nothing. Not a phone call to me, family, friends, work, no-one. I am beside myself. I know this semms weird, but I am lost. What would you advise?
Dear Mrs. Nobinson,
My advice to you is this;
Make sure you carry a can of petrol in the boot of the car.
Yours etc.
Sportstrader
Friday, 5 September 2008
Olympic hypocrisy
At the risk of upsetting some of my legion of readers by becoming 'political' (although if I was lampooning Americans would it be seen as such? I rather doubt it), I have been moved to say a bit after reading some prize herbert in the Independent gleefully announce he was cheering on all the Cuban Olympic athletes, but not the Americans. He is welcome to his prejudice, but Cuba is an interesting choice.
Now then, I well understand that it is everyone's right to dislike whoever they want(I have a few dislikes meself), but why do people who profess liberalism have such a love for totalitarianism, provided it is left wing? Remember the opprobrium heaped upon Pinochet? South Africa? Venture any criticism about Castro's Cuba and I can almost guarantee the response will be along the lines of : 'Cuba has more doctors and teachers per capita than anywhere else'. Really? Why is it that everything Castro says is taken at face value, and anything from the USA sneered at? Apparently, there have been 900+ assassination attempts on Castro. CIA must be losing their touch.
There is no free press in Cuba, no radio, no TV, trade unions are illegal, as is homosexuality. There is no freedom of association (public gatherings are outlawed unless organised by the state). Elections are derided as 'bourgeois'. The only women anywhere near power are the nubile youngsters who form Fidel's personal bodyguard.
One profession they do not have large numbers of is lawyers, because under a socialist system there is no need of them, as nobody is ever put on trial. 'counter- revolutionary elements' and 'enemies of the people' are locked up for decades in stinking prisons. Foreign travel is impossible. How many times have you heard some knobhead say 'x% of Americans haven't got a passport'? At least they have the option. 0% of Cubans do. The penalty for trying to leave is often death. Speak to a Cuban exile, and the response is similar to that of people in the Soviet Union who despaired at the 'useful idiots'(Lenin's description of them) in the West whose intellectual dishonesty made it easier for the communists to keep them enslaved.
Why do they persist with this political contortionism and moral equivalence? Partly, I suspect, because in their arrogance they can not admit to being wrong, which might explain why socialists want to control every aspect of your life, including your thoughts. An example of this is the demented leftie who says things like: 'how can an intelligent person like so-and-so hold such beliefs'?(usually meaning being a Tory, not hating Thatcher, or being religious). They, of course, are immune to such contagion, presumably because they are superior beings.
Strangely enough, their critical faculties are not applied to religions other than Christianity. Complaints about China hosting the Olympics focused on the occupation of Tibet (only been going on for 50 years) and the exiled Dalai Llama, who is treated with reverence as the Tibetans' 'spiritual leader'. This geezer was supposedly re-incarnated as a child as the 13th direct re-incarnation of the previous 12 children. This is never questioned. It is far more bonkersly incredible than any Western religion (imagine the hoots of derision if the Archbishop of Canterbury was described as our 'spiritual leader'). Why does no-one give a wibbly wobbly about Chinese oppression until some fruitcake in a tie-dye orange bedsheet turns up with the joss sticks?
The Peoples (lol) Republic (lol) of China, a human and environmental catastrophe, has been imprisoning, torturing and executing people by the boatload ever since Mao and his chums murdered their way to power. Mao is without question the biggest mass-murderer in history (he also violated hundreds of under-age girls. Mao's doctor once suggested the famously smelly dictator might visit the bathroom more often. Mao replied: 'I wash my prick in young girls' cunts'. Truly a man of the people).
Hitler was a Quaker by comparison: the only one to approach the Great Helmsman's tally is dear old Uncle Joe.
Yet, there exists, in Islington (natch), a restaurant called 'Mao's diner', with pictures of the evil brute all over the gaff. I would like to open an eaterie called Himmler's kitchen, with pictures of him looking ultra-swish in his S.S. uniform but something tells me the hypocrites of The Peoples Republic of Islington wouldn't like it.
Its a rum old world.
Now then, I well understand that it is everyone's right to dislike whoever they want(I have a few dislikes meself), but why do people who profess liberalism have such a love for totalitarianism, provided it is left wing? Remember the opprobrium heaped upon Pinochet? South Africa? Venture any criticism about Castro's Cuba and I can almost guarantee the response will be along the lines of : 'Cuba has more doctors and teachers per capita than anywhere else'. Really? Why is it that everything Castro says is taken at face value, and anything from the USA sneered at? Apparently, there have been 900+ assassination attempts on Castro. CIA must be losing their touch.
There is no free press in Cuba, no radio, no TV, trade unions are illegal, as is homosexuality. There is no freedom of association (public gatherings are outlawed unless organised by the state). Elections are derided as 'bourgeois'. The only women anywhere near power are the nubile youngsters who form Fidel's personal bodyguard.
One profession they do not have large numbers of is lawyers, because under a socialist system there is no need of them, as nobody is ever put on trial. 'counter- revolutionary elements' and 'enemies of the people' are locked up for decades in stinking prisons. Foreign travel is impossible. How many times have you heard some knobhead say 'x% of Americans haven't got a passport'? At least they have the option. 0% of Cubans do. The penalty for trying to leave is often death. Speak to a Cuban exile, and the response is similar to that of people in the Soviet Union who despaired at the 'useful idiots'(Lenin's description of them) in the West whose intellectual dishonesty made it easier for the communists to keep them enslaved.
Why do they persist with this political contortionism and moral equivalence? Partly, I suspect, because in their arrogance they can not admit to being wrong, which might explain why socialists want to control every aspect of your life, including your thoughts. An example of this is the demented leftie who says things like: 'how can an intelligent person like so-and-so hold such beliefs'?(usually meaning being a Tory, not hating Thatcher, or being religious). They, of course, are immune to such contagion, presumably because they are superior beings.
Strangely enough, their critical faculties are not applied to religions other than Christianity. Complaints about China hosting the Olympics focused on the occupation of Tibet (only been going on for 50 years) and the exiled Dalai Llama, who is treated with reverence as the Tibetans' 'spiritual leader'. This geezer was supposedly re-incarnated as a child as the 13th direct re-incarnation of the previous 12 children. This is never questioned. It is far more bonkersly incredible than any Western religion (imagine the hoots of derision if the Archbishop of Canterbury was described as our 'spiritual leader'). Why does no-one give a wibbly wobbly about Chinese oppression until some fruitcake in a tie-dye orange bedsheet turns up with the joss sticks?
The Peoples (lol) Republic (lol) of China, a human and environmental catastrophe, has been imprisoning, torturing and executing people by the boatload ever since Mao and his chums murdered their way to power. Mao is without question the biggest mass-murderer in history (he also violated hundreds of under-age girls. Mao's doctor once suggested the famously smelly dictator might visit the bathroom more often. Mao replied: 'I wash my prick in young girls' cunts'. Truly a man of the people).
Hitler was a Quaker by comparison: the only one to approach the Great Helmsman's tally is dear old Uncle Joe.
Yet, there exists, in Islington (natch), a restaurant called 'Mao's diner', with pictures of the evil brute all over the gaff. I would like to open an eaterie called Himmler's kitchen, with pictures of him looking ultra-swish in his S.S. uniform but something tells me the hypocrites of The Peoples Republic of Islington wouldn't like it.
Its a rum old world.
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Olympics schlympics
Whilst I rejoice in the the success of our Olympians (with the exception of the sailors, equestrian types, and the synchronised wallies) I can not let the whole grotesque charade pass without comment. The Olympics have been grossly corrupted and inflated with the addition of daft non-sports, eg silly sailing events that only have 6 participants worldwide, beach volleyball(no peurile jokes please), and anything involving horses(one horse medallist geezer was 63. You stick Lester Pigott on a donkey and me on Shergar and I'll win. How can that be right)? You might as well include F1.
Also, anything involving judges is, by definition, subjective, and therefore should not be in there. How can medals be decided by someone sitting at the side saying 'Well, I think he is better than him, so I'll give him 9.98 and the other one 9.97'?
The proof that this is absurd is that never in Olympic history has anyone come from nowhere and caused a big shock in any event involving judging. The Eastern bloc used to award each other medals in their turn, now the Chinese have adopted the methods of brainwashing, child abuse, and drug taking perfected by the Soviets and East Germans(two of whom had to undergo a sex-change because they had been filled with testosterone in order to suspend puberty and promote muscle growth. Nice.)
Judging also invites corruption, which has been rife in the boxing for decades, with every African judge favouring the Cubans, which is why they introduced the new scoring system. The motto citius, altius, fortius (why Latin, not Greek?)should be used when consideration is given to whether something like gymnastics(more correctly 'acrobatics') is allowed in.
I do not doubt the skill, fitness, and dedication of its practitioners, but sport it ain't, nor is anything that makes it impossible for a casual observer to determine the winner. The Olympics should also be the pinnacle of any participants sporting career. Tennis? football? ...er, no.
It is absolutely bonkers that all these superfluous events are so colossally expensive, and over the next few years we are going to spend gazillions on them. Fortunately, our esteemed public servants in Parliament and Town Hall are renowned for their financial probity, and I am confident they will bring the whole shebang in on-time and under budget.
Also, anything involving judges is, by definition, subjective, and therefore should not be in there. How can medals be decided by someone sitting at the side saying 'Well, I think he is better than him, so I'll give him 9.98 and the other one 9.97'?
The proof that this is absurd is that never in Olympic history has anyone come from nowhere and caused a big shock in any event involving judging. The Eastern bloc used to award each other medals in their turn, now the Chinese have adopted the methods of brainwashing, child abuse, and drug taking perfected by the Soviets and East Germans(two of whom had to undergo a sex-change because they had been filled with testosterone in order to suspend puberty and promote muscle growth. Nice.)
Judging also invites corruption, which has been rife in the boxing for decades, with every African judge favouring the Cubans, which is why they introduced the new scoring system. The motto citius, altius, fortius (why Latin, not Greek?)should be used when consideration is given to whether something like gymnastics(more correctly 'acrobatics') is allowed in.
I do not doubt the skill, fitness, and dedication of its practitioners, but sport it ain't, nor is anything that makes it impossible for a casual observer to determine the winner. The Olympics should also be the pinnacle of any participants sporting career. Tennis? football? ...er, no.
It is absolutely bonkers that all these superfluous events are so colossally expensive, and over the next few years we are going to spend gazillions on them. Fortunately, our esteemed public servants in Parliament and Town Hall are renowned for their financial probity, and I am confident they will bring the whole shebang in on-time and under budget.
Thursday, 5 June 2008
Rendundant prepositions, tautologies, non sequiturs, and assorted conversational faux pas
Thought that would grab your attention. I do like a snappy heading. Sitting at my desk watching Italy-Spain at the festival of diving, whingeing, cheating, moaning and crying that is Euro 2008 and what should my thoughts turn to? Why the linguistic incompetence of my fellow citizens of course.
Following my last rant about football-speak, here are a few of the myriad examples of the drivel I have to endure daily (or 'on a daily basis', as one of you lot would no doubt say).
Just seen the umpteenth football-fairy fall over like a giant buttercup. Are they playing in plimsolls? Or is the pitch saturated with hair gel? Anyway, enough of these preening pansies.
If you find yourself coming out with any of the nonsense below, then you should consider following the example of the boxer-philosopher Richard Dunn, who, at the end of his boxing career, decided to take himself off to a hut in northern Norway, where he taught himself Norwegian so that he could read Ibsen in the original. Good for you Ricardo.
'Added bonus'. They all are. If there was such a thing as a reductive bonus, it would be called a penalty. What people are sometimes trying to say is 'another bonus'
'Main protagonist'. Often used by those who shouldn't know better to mean 'participant'. A protagonist is the 'main player' in a drama, so if he is not the main one, he can't be a protagonist.
'Bitter and twisted'. Usually uttered by the unthinking, understimulated ignoramus to mean 'embittered'. Widespread among the lower orders, along with verbiage such as 'he/she turned round and said'. Their empty heads must be spinning with all those twists and revolutions.
'Fraction'. As in 'fraction of the cost', intended to indicate something very small. My maths is rubbish, but I think nine-tenths is a fraction, and my abacus tells me it equates to 90%: quite a bit.
'Rape and pillage'. How many people who use this expression would say 'pillage' without prefacing it with 'rape'. If I were a betting man, I'd wager very few of them know what it means. 'Rape' is almost certainly superfluous(although I've always enjoyed it).
'Opening gambit'. Define 'gambit'. Thought not. When did this creep into the vocabulary(lol) of the linguistically limited? Are we a nation of clandestine chess-lovers? If so, it is the best-kept secret since the wit and wisdom of Leslie Dennis.
'General consensus'. Boringly over-used. Surely everyone knows a consensus is a general agreement? Don't they? Gawd elpus.
'Free gift'. I'll leave you to work that one out yourself.
'Meet with'. Try meeting without.
'Decimate'. Usually used to mean 'destroyed' or 'annihilated'. There is a clue in the word itself. One in ten. Not too bad a 'result'. lol.
There are lots of other examples. I might return to them at a later date. At the moment I am distracted by Samantha eating a large ice cream. She says she loves licking the nuts off a large Neapolitan.
Following my last rant about football-speak, here are a few of the myriad examples of the drivel I have to endure daily (or 'on a daily basis', as one of you lot would no doubt say).
Just seen the umpteenth football-fairy fall over like a giant buttercup. Are they playing in plimsolls? Or is the pitch saturated with hair gel? Anyway, enough of these preening pansies.
If you find yourself coming out with any of the nonsense below, then you should consider following the example of the boxer-philosopher Richard Dunn, who, at the end of his boxing career, decided to take himself off to a hut in northern Norway, where he taught himself Norwegian so that he could read Ibsen in the original. Good for you Ricardo.
'Added bonus'. They all are. If there was such a thing as a reductive bonus, it would be called a penalty. What people are sometimes trying to say is 'another bonus'
'Main protagonist'. Often used by those who shouldn't know better to mean 'participant'. A protagonist is the 'main player' in a drama, so if he is not the main one, he can't be a protagonist.
'Bitter and twisted'. Usually uttered by the unthinking, understimulated ignoramus to mean 'embittered'. Widespread among the lower orders, along with verbiage such as 'he/she turned round and said'. Their empty heads must be spinning with all those twists and revolutions.
'Fraction'. As in 'fraction of the cost', intended to indicate something very small. My maths is rubbish, but I think nine-tenths is a fraction, and my abacus tells me it equates to 90%: quite a bit.
'Rape and pillage'. How many people who use this expression would say 'pillage' without prefacing it with 'rape'. If I were a betting man, I'd wager very few of them know what it means. 'Rape' is almost certainly superfluous(although I've always enjoyed it).
'Opening gambit'. Define 'gambit'. Thought not. When did this creep into the vocabulary(lol) of the linguistically limited? Are we a nation of clandestine chess-lovers? If so, it is the best-kept secret since the wit and wisdom of Leslie Dennis.
'General consensus'. Boringly over-used. Surely everyone knows a consensus is a general agreement? Don't they? Gawd elpus.
'Free gift'. I'll leave you to work that one out yourself.
'Meet with'. Try meeting without.
'Decimate'. Usually used to mean 'destroyed' or 'annihilated'. There is a clue in the word itself. One in ten. Not too bad a 'result'. lol.
There are lots of other examples. I might return to them at a later date. At the moment I am distracted by Samantha eating a large ice cream. She says she loves licking the nuts off a large Neapolitan.
Thursday, 29 May 2008
Unspeakable
One of the few downsides to sitting here gambling like a loony day and night is the necessity of watching and listening to the gormless twerps and illiterate goons that populate the racing channels. I was intending to launch into a deconstruction of horse-racing speak, but my gay friends assure me that most people aren't interested. Hard to accept, but instead I've selected a few choice examples of football-speak that always appear when a group of bores get together.
'He always gives you 110%'(some supermen give a startling 120%). No wonder I didn't make it as a professional footballer. Lazy bugger that I am, I steadfastly refused to give any more than a miserly 100%. If only I hadn't held that little bit back then who knows what might have happened. I could have been the first Wayne Rooney(certainly ugly enough).
'Back of the net'. Where's that then? Where's the front of the thing? How about 'goal', something you hear remarkably rarely considering it is the object of the exercise.
'Finish'. Never shooting, or scoring or missing, but 'a nice/poor finish'. When did this become common, and why does every one of the bastards have to say it?
The only people entitled to talk about a 'nice finish' are plasterers or masseurs.
'For fun'. A centre-forward that scores a few goals is always described as 'scoring goals for fun'. Really? If that is what the moron does to amuse himself, then why doesn't he do it more often? Of course, what he really does for fun is to count his money and manipulate his furry parts at the same time.
'Result'. As in 'getting a result'. If you get beat 10-0, that is a result.
'Down to the wire'. This one drives me crackers. Why has everyone adopted this expression, used in North American horse racing?(I'm sure you knew that). If it didn't go down to the wire, it would never end. Others I can't abide are 'rookie', 'left field', and 'the whole nine yards'.
'Left foot'. As in 'lovely left foot'. Are left feet naturally more beautiful than right ones?
Strangely, football drones never talk about a 'level playing field' or 'moving the goalposts'. It seems these expressions are too embarrassing, even for them.
There are myriad other examples. Why does this happen? I'll tell you. People hear it from a semi-literate talking head on the box and this lends a sort of legitimisation along the lines of 'well, A. Pundit must be an authority on this subject because he's on the telly, so I'll copy what he says'.
Mr. Pundit, of course doesn't know where he got it from either, so the whole country ends up adopting the speech patterns of unoriginal, unintellegent non-thinkers. It wouldn't be so bad if the pundit was someone like Brian Sewell or Richard Dawkins, but that is depressingly unlikely.
If you find yourself coming out with any this brainless blather, lock yourself away with a copy of Apologia Pro Vita Sua, and don't come out until you can recite the whole thing.
Samantha has just cast her lovely eye over the above, and echoes my exasperation at the intellectual supineness of the average Briton. She has popped in with an antique she is restoring. She is gently dusting it while the world's worst punter scrapes varnish and wax off next to her. He is incorrigible.
'He always gives you 110%'(some supermen give a startling 120%). No wonder I didn't make it as a professional footballer. Lazy bugger that I am, I steadfastly refused to give any more than a miserly 100%. If only I hadn't held that little bit back then who knows what might have happened. I could have been the first Wayne Rooney(certainly ugly enough).
'Back of the net'. Where's that then? Where's the front of the thing? How about 'goal', something you hear remarkably rarely considering it is the object of the exercise.
'Finish'. Never shooting, or scoring or missing, but 'a nice/poor finish'. When did this become common, and why does every one of the bastards have to say it?
The only people entitled to talk about a 'nice finish' are plasterers or masseurs.
'For fun'. A centre-forward that scores a few goals is always described as 'scoring goals for fun'. Really? If that is what the moron does to amuse himself, then why doesn't he do it more often? Of course, what he really does for fun is to count his money and manipulate his furry parts at the same time.
'Result'. As in 'getting a result'. If you get beat 10-0, that is a result.
'Down to the wire'. This one drives me crackers. Why has everyone adopted this expression, used in North American horse racing?(I'm sure you knew that). If it didn't go down to the wire, it would never end. Others I can't abide are 'rookie', 'left field', and 'the whole nine yards'.
'Left foot'. As in 'lovely left foot'. Are left feet naturally more beautiful than right ones?
Strangely, football drones never talk about a 'level playing field' or 'moving the goalposts'. It seems these expressions are too embarrassing, even for them.
There are myriad other examples. Why does this happen? I'll tell you. People hear it from a semi-literate talking head on the box and this lends a sort of legitimisation along the lines of 'well, A. Pundit must be an authority on this subject because he's on the telly, so I'll copy what he says'.
Mr. Pundit, of course doesn't know where he got it from either, so the whole country ends up adopting the speech patterns of unoriginal, unintellegent non-thinkers. It wouldn't be so bad if the pundit was someone like Brian Sewell or Richard Dawkins, but that is depressingly unlikely.
If you find yourself coming out with any this brainless blather, lock yourself away with a copy of Apologia Pro Vita Sua, and don't come out until you can recite the whole thing.
Samantha has just cast her lovely eye over the above, and echoes my exasperation at the intellectual supineness of the average Briton. She has popped in with an antique she is restoring. She is gently dusting it while the world's worst punter scrapes varnish and wax off next to her. He is incorrigible.
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