The perfect Christmas gift for the elderly celebrity in your life. Forget the reindeers and Santa Christmas jumper this year for Grandpa. Buy him the latest shawl collared fleece jumper at Macy’s, with a handy pocket on the sleeve to display a 2.8 inch OLED screen that can show 10 solid hours of video of his lawyer emerging from the steps of the police station to categorically deny the latest ‘Savile’ allegations. No more embarrassing questions down at the golf club; no need to repeat yourself at the old age pensioner’s Christmas lunch. Continuous loop replay – ‘I did’na do it; I never met the girl; I was’na there’. Best order early, they’ll sell out at this rate.
Ms Raccoon lives in the Monbazillac area of South West France, renowned for its fine wines and gourmet food, so she frequently finds better things to do than sit in front of a computer all morning. She is liable to take off traveling at a moment's notice. Consequently this blog only gets updated these days when it is raining - and it doesn't rain very often round here...
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“It wasn’t me” by Shaggy (< heh heh)
“Young Girl” – Gary Puckett and the Union Gap ?
Is this The Rock Island Line? Or the Slow Train to St. Fernando?
Marys’ Boy Child !
“Last night a DJ changed my life.”
hahahahahaha!
Here’s a tip for the Seniors out there..
Having problems with forgetting your password?
Just change it to ” Incorrect”
When you get it wrong you will get a timely reminder…
Your password is …incorrect
I changed mine to eight asterisks.
Gives new meaning to ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve’ ?
10 CC, Good Morning Judge.
Well good morning Judge, how are you today
I’m in trouble, please put me away
A pretty thing took a shine to me
I couldn’t stop her, so I let it be
I couldn’t stop her, so I let it be
I couldn’t stop her, so I let it be
I couldn’t stop her, so I let it be
He didn’t do it, he wasn’t there
He didn’t want it, he wouldn’t dare
“But she told me she was 18″
I think that Britain has finally gone collectively Mad. I saw this coming more than twenty years ago, which is one of the reasons for why I got out. I didn’t want to be there to watch my lovely Country go down the pan.
At the moment my Siege Store Cupboard is looking good while I wait for various dependents to descend on me. All of mine are more than capable of getting themselves across La Manche in some boat or another, when they finally realise that all is lost.
These are the last days of The Decline of The British Empire. History repeating itself in Britain rather than Rome.
And anyway, I can always eat this stuff myself if I am wrong. It certainly won’t get any cheaper.
It’s odd. Follow the main media, and the country is going down the pan. But when you talk to ordinary people just going about normal life, the opinions are completely different and usually very rational. There is definitely something in the theory that politicians, media and BBC exist in a different reality to the rest of us.
That seems to be the real problem. It helps to view it from this side of The Channel, where we could all be laughing ourselves silly, if it was even remotely funny.
As it is, I need to sleep easy in my bed, which I was no where near doing when I left UK twenty years ago. In fact, I slept here with the lights on for six months before I became comfortable. This is such a terrible thing to do to elderly and aging people who are part of The Rest of Us.
It is those that wield unfounded power over the lives of others, even if a handed down version from up high, that are not merely ‘off the wall’ as far as the ordinary man (or woman) in the street is concerned but pose a real threat to human life. No one in this country can any more work out whether an alternative could ever be a reality, whereby jobsworths are stripped of all personal powers and re-clothed warmly in open public accountability- that includes the MSM.
Time to jump the sinking ship before we all drown in the base stupidity enveloping us. Then we’ll all freeze to death- boy is it cold out here.
Quite so, Engineer
The problem with all of these aged slebrities is they don’t understand punctuation.
They can’t tell the difference between “Don’t Stop!” and “Don’t, Stop!”
Words, Lovely, and the use of. This is what smart arses do. You just have to sort out what they aren’t saying. Have you ever watched Politician bandying words? They never actually say anything, not even the good ones. Presuming that there is any such an animal.
Regarding politicians and words, Mr Holmes on Sky News put it very succinctly:
http://kebabtime.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/balls-does-talk-balls.html
Gotta admire the man…
Some hobbies stand the test of time. I first started playing cheekies with little girls when I was seven years old.
Oh God, it wasn’t me, was it? Down Chevening Road Park in 1950. If so, I have to tell you that you weren’t frightfully good at it. But then most men aren’t, so don’t develop a complex about it at this late stage.
PS. Do you want to have another go at it?
Ellie?
Stewie? Could you have a bath? If so, see you down The Park. Same Bush. Some things never change.
Does this mean the engagement is off?
Frankie? You wanna marry me? Stay right there, I’ll come and get you. That’ll sort The Winter Fuel Allowance.
They come early in the morning, to the big posh house, with snow on the roof, in more ways than one. They remove lots of ‘stuff’.
Then someone lets the gladsome news out to the MSM. That’s the bit I always wonder at!. Perhaps there are lots of ‘stake outs’ first thing am. Or someone is running a book on the next ‘snowy roof ‘ to be lifted and peer inside. We are a funny lot in England these days. It must be very scary if you are an old celeb with snow on the roof, trying to recall if you ‘goosed ‘ a bird 30/40/50 years ago.
I can’t help wondering why, when investigating a complaint of ‘inappropriate behaviour’ alleged to have taken place around FORTY YEARS ago, Plod deems it necessary to remove bin liners full of whatever-it-is from the investigated’s residence. Surely, if someone HAD jiggled a groupie’s boobs back in the heady days of 1972, there would not be bin liners full of reminders, reminiscences or souvenirs.
I don’t suppose it could be grandstanding for the MSM and the great unwashed, could it?
One particular arrest would probably have seemed to Inspector Knacker to present a whole range of fringe benefits in terms of “evidence-gathering”….
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