I was never a chid but I was a child and Mister Miles’ name was Bernard not Berenard though Berenard does sound quite romantic, rather like Abelard but with a Ber instead of an Ab. These were the typos in the last Blog. From Douglas I received implicated destructions, as Mrs Malaprop might have said, as to how to make corrections but failed lamentably in the attempt. He said he would put matters right. The simplest instructions can leave me impatiently baffled. As far as I am concerned this machine that can do no wrong (it’s always the human’s fault, the fault of my stubby fingers accidentally hitting the wrong key because I go too fast)) is nothing more than an extremely versatile typewriter that makes writing a lot easier than even a golf ball with limited editing such as I previously used. In fact I do believe we’ve still got it together with a couple of other ancient relics, gawd knows why. Don’t things ever get chucked out in this house when passed their use by date? How on earth did Messrs Dickens, Thackeray, Scott, Dumas et all write all those enormous volumes with pen and ink, quill and ink? Talking of Dumas I meant to say that the film I watched the other evening starring Mr Grant and all those character bags was really “The Three Musketeers” transferred to England and the musketeers themselves metamorphosed into Highwaymen. Is metamorphosed the right word? Doesn’t matter, its’ a very juicy word to use though maybe I should have said transmogrified, that’s even juicier. Transmogrification, there’s a juicy word to role around the tongue, almost Greek or German in its length.
So today is the big big day in the good ole US of A when pea-brains among others send their choice to the Whitehouse. That’s the only problem with democracy and universal franchise, it takes no note of pea-brains who vote for the likes of George W Bush to watch over them and just look at the results. I think I mentioned before the American penchant for choosing the worst candidate but then the Brits aren’t any better. Ten years of New Labour and the country is practically down the tubes. I wonder I wonder if he who looks like an ancient dry as a bone resuscitated corpse and moose lady will make it this time.
I really do hope it’s Obama. Think of it, a black (well half black) president of the United States is half way to next time having a black woman president. Wouldn’t that really be something? My vote goes to Femi.
PS: What on earth does Tony Blair have to say of any importance that he can charge a six figure sum for a ninety minute speech? He and the Clintons are also passed their sell-by date. Relegate them to the annals of history.