Ah, so it seems that my literary input is somewhat deficient, not being a reader of Private Eye - I have picked up the odd discarded copy over they years and browsed it, but that is about it.
I will, of course, bow to your much superior knowledge in such matters.

For some reason the term ‘Betty and Bubble’ and their boy ‘Big ears’ seems to loiter in my mind.

Two newly learned domestic hints I should pass on.

If you don't want to carefully nuke a bowl of spinach to accompany a decent stew that turns out to be a decent curry then make sure you label what you put in the freezer.

If you wonder that the ball of one of one's newly installed ballcocks is held on to the arm of the device only by virtue of it never operating at an attitude where it would fall off (either held by floating or against the bottom of the cistern) then wonder no more. It can and does come detached and the resulting overwhelming of the overflow can all but bring down the dining-room ceiling.

(Not to mention the wet feet when paddling along for one of the night time pees).

It is said that these things go in threes. So I expect the next hour or so will bring about a spectacular defeat at chess - mine. That or perhaps a Red Arrow will turn rogue and bomb M'Lady's garden where I am invited this evening to watch them.

Heigh-ho! says Anthony Rowley.

why dont we check the ports on the north coast of France. I am sure Mr Varley might approve of that

The RN regard the RAF chaps as acting superior, being lazy buggers and crabs in general but everyone is an admirer of the Red Arrows. The Memsahib and myself will turn out to watch them in Bray on 24 July.

Q. What has the Republic of Ireland and Isle of Man got in common?

A. Neither of us pay a halfpenny into the coffers to fund the RAF and the Red Arrows.

The Common Purse does indeed pay for those services that the UK does or must provide on our behalf (defence, statutory responsibility for H&E regulation, consular and diplomatic representation etc.) as do VAT receipts (split 70/60000). There was a state fiddle until recently where the Island inflated its population figure (upon which the VAT split is based) by including exaggerated estimates of visitors. We were rumbled.

Presumably the Red Arrows come into that equation which is why we usually get a show over TT. I can only imagine that their touring of enemy occupied Hibernia is aerial reconnaissance.

They`d turn up at the opening of an envelope.

How do you know there`s a pilot in the room ?
Don`t worry, he`ll tell you.

Now, the BBMF, fine bunch of men.
And all (mostly) done with Merlins.

The M.P.DA. well worth a mention here...(master Port Drinkers association) of which our Mr Varley is a time served member. Dont try drinking him under the table or you will loose.

BBMF? Black Bush Mechanical Fraternity?

Battle of Britain Memorial Flight.

(The medics still seemed more concerned with my single uninhaled nightly havana than my single nightly bottle of port).

Lets head for Cherbourg. Have a day or three there before moving on to a Port worthy of our visit from my fine crew.

But I already have a port worthy of a visit. Just not quite as much as there was yesterday but still more than there will be before I start breakfast tomorrow. Where Cherbourg figures I know not, but anticipate some jolly good cheese.

I must confess that all this sh1t talk about cheese leaves me cold, a nice chunk of Montgomery Cheddar and a pickled onion can't be bettered. All one needs to know about jolly good cheese is that if it is round its Babyel and if it's triangular it's Dairylea. QED.

My recollection of the cheese department in the Cherbourg hypermarket was that the ‘Fromage’ sign was superfluous. One did not need eyes to find it.
I gather that said emporium had been rebuilt in more modern form but I have no doubt that the cheese counter will still be obvious, and the wines department will still be extensive to say the least.
Ah those were the days, and to think I was being paid to ‘go shopping’.

Bit of Camembert on a cracker is nice, but the Brie takes a bit of beating as would the Stilton.

:big_tongue:I only eat the holes found in Swiss cheese, non fattening, light and no lingering after taste. Mind you it's hard to get in on a stick with a bit of pickled onion but us injuneers have our methods. I could tell you but then ES would have to kill you.

My welding mate and his wife gave me a Christmas voucher for Paxton and Whitfield but, like posh plumbers' do and rest of London blow-out my knee rather than Covid was to blame for me not cashing it in. I hope it is still valid for 2023 now that I am a kneew man. I intend hitting the capital big time (as our cousins across the water - further that is than you two - might say) in mid March.

My all-time favourite is a Danish one called Amassador or Esrom - haven't been able to get it for years. Probably just as well for my weight uncontrol.

I understand Liz Truss is something of a cheese expert, was taught by the master cheesemaker himself Wallace ably assisted by Grommit. Until I discovered Smirnoff I thought Stinking Bishop was some kind of pervert.

ES dabbled in a bit of cheese making himself, it wasn't a success, even the injun room mice were throwing themselves onto the traps Kamikaze fashion. :jester:

Engineers.
 

well, I guess this says it all....

If the guy with the T-Shirt got a gallon of Teepol and a bag of rags and started wiping down I would applaud him. I'll send him a pair of dungareens to keep his vest clean.

May i suggest the innards of a Polo. Swap the pickled onion for a bit of thyme, jobs a good `un.
As above, divvunt tell t`others.

Stewards just taken a large lump of Cheddar down the machine flat to be drilled out. Squeak will do the drilling and he will eat the swarf too.

I don't know about the holesomeness of perforated mousetrap but KFC has opened up a few hundred yards down the road from McDonalds last night. This afternoon the first one of their empties appeared on my drive. Empty of what, I hate to think. I wonder if this could be termed Chicken Litter?

Cant beat a bit of competition, keeps everyone on their toes. I recomend KFC Peri-Peri Chicken.
Your post reminds me of the two youngfellows in Primary School and one says,"I found a condom on our Drive this morning" and the other one replies, "What's a Drive?"
Buy yourself a couple of pairs of Marigolds.

Ooooooohhhhh harsh :shock: I never knew Marigold had a twin, surely one woman is enough for David :huh:

I live near a hotel with a night club and frequently get beer bottles dumped on my lawn. :really_mad: last time that happened I happened to be outside and using my very best H&W vernacular I enquired if he would like said bottle inserted in his arse.

There is a lot to be said in being an angry old bar steward :yawn:

wow, back on line again. Fibre optic cable repaired. Had to get Mr Varley up the after mast to fix it..off down No4 hold now to get 2 cases of vintage port and a box of Havanas for him.

Nothing to the repair Sir W but I found the boatswain's chair a triffle uncomfortable not to mention the blindfold and the sound of my own vertiginous screaming. We'll have to see how well the chief's O-ring spares work in the wideband environment ('band'/ring ho-ho?). The damn thing had no safety loops so I add a couple of those too.

Better hold the Havanas until I am signed off for the knee. You've no idea how puritanical and militant they all are once they have you clamped down and paralysed from the waist.

A drive: A small and usually short road owned by and used by one or more residential properties for service and access. When in the vicinity of fast food outlets often with access restricted to very small vehicles turning left as some arsehole has extended the centreline barrier IWO McDonalds so that my particular specimen cannot be legally approached from the other direction.

Manx Petroleum have advised that they can now only deliver when the road is closed (I might just last on one tank until Grand Prix but certainly not from Grand Prix until TT. I might see if applying for a road closure for an oil delivery will move minds - can that happen with the mindless?. Fortunately the refuse collectors are presently content to trundle the wrong side of a keep left sign to enter 'normally'.

(The scantlings of said barrier suggest there were probably more than one arsehole required, not to mention some form of planning and executive arsehole)