Dogwash

I apologize for the paucity of high-quality bigotry, ineffable vileness and general downright unrighteous filth on this blog in recent weeks.  In part this reflects the simple fact that even us retired baby-boomers have to deal with the real, off-line world from time to time.  I mean, look, I've got this offensively large index-linked final-salary company pension and a duty to deploy it in support of the British economy through unbridled expenditure on, er, Chinese consumer durables sold by assorted effnick saleswallahs with an entertainingly unpredictable command of English, and with after-sales support provided by some geezer in Bangalore with an implausibly English forename and neither an understanding of the product nor useful access to the vendor's internal systems.

It's not as easy at it sounds, you know.  It takes it out of you, and the reinvigorating powers of Russian lager served by Lithuanian bar "associates" can only do so much.

The other reason I've been quiet is general gobsmackitude.  I really must stop reading CiF.  It's like those naughty psychotropic chemicals: you know you shouldn't but, well, just once more, eh?

Yesterday was a lulu.


we were told.  I have to admit I didn't read the article; just skimmed the title and the standfirst


and then plunged straight into the bear pit below the line.  I gather that we shouldn't worry about a massive influx of Romanian and Bulgarian immigrants after the rules change at the end of the year.  Only ten will come in total: a brain surgeon, three ATM-skimmers and six self-employed Big Issue vendors.

Not only that, we really should stop whingeing about the Poles.  Did you not know that Polish airmen won the second war on our behalf while the English sat around drinking tea?  (Funny, I thought it was the Indian infantry that won it for us, but there you go.)  And how did we repay the Poles for their selfless sacrifice?   By failing to prevent the postwar Soviet invasion of Eastern Europe, that's what.  So we owe the Poles bigtime.  Anything they want, really.

Makes you proud, innit.  A small island nation that, so we are repeatedly told, doesn't really exist, is responsible for all of the world's evil.  Such dogged, determined nastiness, the willingness to go out there, to overcome all adversity in order to ruthlessly fuck the entire world.  Now that, my friends, is an achievement to make a man puff out his chest in thoroughly deserved pride.

But it don't half leave yer gob feeling well and truly smacked.  I mean, Richard Rodney Bennett, innit?