"We want to line them all up against a wall."
Ah, the delightful conversation one hears whilst perambulating through the charming streets of London of a summer's eve. Except of course, this being cockeyville it sounded more like:
"We wanna lahn 'em aw ap agensta warw."
The orator in this intellectual debate was one of a pair of newspaper sellers outside Charing Cross station. Unfortunately, as I was scurrying to catch my train I didn't have time to loiter and tune in to whatever urgent issue was up for discussion. Nor did I get to the bottom of why the only solution to the problem was the wholesale 'erasing' of certain obviously undesirable elements.
So I was left wondering who the mysterious 'them' were and what they had done to arouse the ire of the typical chirpy cockney population. Gawd bless 'em. But after a few moments fruitless pondering I thought "ah bollocks to it", since it could have been anyone.
Then I thought again. Perhaps these newspaper men were actors employed by the Mayor of London to recite 'cockney dialogue' within the earshot of passing tourists to impart an authentic olde worlde ambience to the capital's streets.
With the result that the tourists (we'll assume they're American for simplicity's sake) return home and tell all their friends just how 'swell' little ole London is and how the people there speak exactly like they do on the films and "you and Bobby really oughta go next year Mary-Lou, I'm telling ya."
So, assuming our glorious mayor is mad enough to give the green light to such a scheme (and yes, I honestly believe he is), what other phrases and sayings could our thespian newspaper men (or taxi drivers, tramps, street sweepers and fruit and veg sellers) be asked to recite to help make the streets of London sing with their native tongue?
"Eeza doyomand. Absolute doyomand." (Trans. "He's a diamond. An absolute diamond." ie. a jolly good chap.)
"Gidar davvit!" (Trans. "Get out of it!" ie. Shoo! Be along with you now. OR No, I don't believe what you're saying.)
"Eee 'ain't dahn naffink." (Trans. "He hasn't done anything." Usually followed by the word "officer".)
Hmm, this is hard. Maybe our Mayor isn't this stupid after all.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Oh dear. Another tale of dog-owning woe. One minute you're enjoying a healthy walk with man's best pavement-fouling friend, the next minute said 'friend' is 'spooked' by another hound and promptly legs it never to return.
But, what exactly does 'spooked' mean?
The only dog I've ever seen being 'spooked' by another dog is when Scooby Doo is walking around some supposedly haunted amusement arcade situated in the middle of a swamp that Shaggy has already observed to Fred, Daphne and Thelma, "... sure gives me the creeps" when his nephew Scrappy Doo (irritating and pointless) comes up behind Scooby and taps him lightly on the shoulder. Thus causing Scoob to spin round in terror and leap into Shaggy's arms.
But somehow I doubt this is what happened to 'Pip'.
What then? Surely, surely, shurely, shirley... she wasn't spooked just because she SAW ANOTHER DOG?????? Don't tell me our Pip is that stupid. After all, she isn't exactly a spring chicken in dog years, she's eight. (She isn't a spring chicken at all of course, she's a dog.) The point is, she's not young and naive.
So she MUST HAVE SEEN OTHER DOGS BEFORE. But what went wrong this time? Did she have some sort of flashback to an unpleasant incident in her puppy-hood that the sight of this other dog returned to her in appalling detail? Perhaps a memory of abuse by a strict father? Or the recollection of what happened the first time she shat on the living-room carpet?
Whatever it was must have hurt like hell on the inside and, in the manner of a Vietnam vet nursing serious mental scars from his time at Khe Sanh, dear old Pip cracked and ran off, barking.
And the only personal item on her is a green tarten (sic) collar. So not much to go on.
There is however a cash or '£cash' reward. Not sure how much '£' amounts to, might be better to put an exact number so at least potential rescuers can gauge the relative desperateness of the situation.
Of course all this conjecture may be academic since, as you can see from the date on the poster, Pip went missing a few months ago. So it's quite likely she's been found safe and well by now.
Unless of course she hasn't.
In which case, RIP PIP.
Monday, July 02, 2007
I suppose there are two types of readers who may be interested in buying, or at least glancing at, this book:
A keen student of the Middle East who wishes to discover more about the country bordered by Syria to the north, Iraq to the northeast, Saudi Arabia to the east and south, and Israel to the west. Created after the break-up of the Ottoman Empire in the aftermath of the First World War, largely out of the British Mandate of Palestine and originally known as 'Transjordan'. (Note: this was empatically not a homeland for an ancient race of transexuals.)
A keen student of female anatomy and particularly the breast region. This reader will be more than well aware that 'Jordan' is the alter ego of UK 'glamour' model Katie Price who is not averse to flaunting her surgically enhanced 'assets' in popular newspapers and a wide variety of men's magazines.
Alas for reader 2, 'Jordan Revealed' is set to leave them somewhat short-changed.
Although there is a strangely attractive camel on page 78.
Great pair of humps.