Tuesday 29 March 2011

Leather goods, perfumery



50? 50? Yeah, right....

Monday 28 March 2011

Waiting

It appears my mention in despatches for the sterling and dangerous work I did on Saturday containing hordes of violent and angry anarcho-types in shops up and down Oxford Street has been lost in the post.

Sometimes I just despair.

Wednesday 23 March 2011

Monday 21 March 2011

Hugger-mugger

Don't be fooled by that wry smile.

Club Derrig just won't be the same when we are without the services of Noz "Ain't You Lot Got No Bleedin' Homes To Go To?" Security.

How else other than by the miracle of clocks would we know the time to shut?

How else would we know quite how quickly to consume our final beverage of the evening?

How else would we be able to find the way out?

A right asset, indeed.

Thursday 17 March 2011

Begob

Happy birthday, St.Patricia.

Monday 14 March 2011

It's like waiting for a bus

Round here it's all birthdays at the moment.

Happy birthday esteemed authoress Lady Jojojojojojojojojojojo of Wheeeeeeeeelan.

This classic book is available from all good shops and Amazin.

May your next book be a little less icky.

50 not out

Yes, Joe Dolan of footballing fame, has reached his half-way point.

Fair play to him, the little laydeez-man.

Friday 11 March 2011

A date for your diary

Men in trunks, waiting.


Beattie rushed in from his stint at Club Derrig last night all breathless and overcome a lot.

I removed my pipe and with the moist end indicated he should sit.

"Recover yourself, old chap," I said, replacing my pipe and puffing away. "Now, unburden yourself, but be quick about it - Corrie's on in a moment and I have toasted muffins to smear with preserves."

"Sir Colin," he began (always the one for etiquette, that lad) "I bring great news from the webbernet."

"Go on," I said, intrigued, and raised an eyebrow to show such.

"We have achieved equality with laydeez," he announced.

I rose from my chair and staggered across to him, and we embraced as brothers in a very manly fashion.

"You don't mean....." I said quietly.

"Yes," he said, ruffling my quiff. "We've got International Men's Day! We can celebrate on 19th November every year from now on. It's been a hard-fought battle, but I knew we'd get it in the end!"

I brushed a tear from my eye. The tide is turning.

Wednesday 9 March 2011

Statuetting

Front row Oscar winners: L-R - Jools (Best camerawork); Talya (Best actor); Kate (Best make-Up).
Back row: Yours truly (Best noisiest person in a room); The Genius Amanuensis (Best Director).
Last night I was humbled to have been recognised finally by a jury of my pears. About time.

Tuesday 8 March 2011

As good as my word at last


Despite all the misery brought to me by laydeez, and all the unalloyed joy I smear on them, I have bowed to public pressure and put my hand in my pocket.

Let the gannets descend.

International Laydeez Day



Yes, it's International Laydeez Day once again and I am playing my part by getting the cakes in for the non-chap members of Team Derrig.

I know some people will see this as a cheapskate way of killing two birds with a rock - buying cakes that serve as both a celebration for my birthday last week and also for this very important date.

However, now I've thought it all up, I'm inclined to make it an annual money-saving tradition. Hooray for me.

Monday 7 March 2011

My favourite eaterie


I am frequently asked about my dining habits. Questions like 'How can you possibly eat THAT and remain quite so svelte?' and similar interrogatory matters of that kind.

But today I wanted to share with you my favourite dining position, and it is, of course, Alf Resco.

And there's nowhere better to enjoy a big plate of the finest Italian pasta than at my restaurant of choice, La Porchetta in Leyton.

Lovely grub, if a trifle on the cool side occasionally.

Star Spot


I am delighted up to my waist to announce to you lot the world premiere for the first time of my new film "My Big Day" starring me.

With some modesty and trepidation I await the call from Mr. Oscar.

Friday 4 March 2011

Breach of promise

Look, just because I guaranteed cakes for all this afternoon, that's not a binding legal contract.

Have a biscuit or something, can't you, laydees? It's not difficult.

Just get over it.

The Big 4 - 7


Every year on this day I set forth my expectations of your faithful desire to handover a decent present to me as a tribute to me for having made it through another bloody year.

And every year it is the same old tat (or excuses in some cases) what I get.

It is simply not good enough, and I will not put up with it any more at all, at all.

It is not only disrespecting me big time a lot, it is also undignifying in extremity my position of lording it over you.

This year you better sort yourselves out as I'm not even going to bother to beg.

Thursday 3 March 2011

Bunga Bunga

L'imperatore di Abissinia "e la sua suite
Da sinistra a destra: Virginia Stephen (Virginia Woolf),
Duncan Grant, Orazio Cole, Anthony Buxton (seduto),
Adrian Stephen, Guy Ridley
Il mio corrispondente italiano scrive:

Il 7 Febbraio 1910 il principe di Abissinia e il suo entourage sono stati ricevuti con pieno fasto cerimoniale sul ponte della HMS Dreadnought, nave da guerra più potente della Marina britannica. Anche se il Comandante in Capo della Dreadnought aveva ricevuto solo un avvertimento all'ultimo minuto di arrivo del principe, aveva i marinai in piedi sull'attenti quando il Principe è arrivato. Il partito abissino riconosciuto il saluto con gli archi in quanto mescolate sulla nave, vestiti nei loro lunghi abiti che scorre, e per i prossimi quaranta minuti il comandante ha dato loro una visita guidata della nave. Gli abissini si fermò ad ogni nuova meraviglia mentre mormorava la frase di apprezzamento "Bunga, Bunga!" nella loro lingua nativa. Infine i visitatori reale partì come "Dio salvi il Re!" in sottofondo.

Il giorno dopo, la Marina è stato mortificato di sapere che il partito che avevano scortato in giro per la nave da guerra non era stata dignitari abissino a tutti. Invece era stato un gruppo di giovani, burloni classe superiore che avevano annerito il viso, indossò elaborati costumi teatrali, e quindi forgiato un telegramma ufficiale, al fine di ottenere l'accesso alla nave. Il loro capo era un uomo di nome Horace de Vere Cole, ma l'entourage comprendeva anche una giovane donna di nome Virginia Stephen, che in seguito sarebbe stato meglio noto come scrittore di Virginia Woolf.
Dal 12 febbraio i giornali britannici erano pieni di storia della bravata. "Bungle Bunga!" la Western Daily Mercury strombazzato. Per alcuni giorni la Marina è stata lo zimbello della Gran Bretagna. I marinai sono stati accolti con grida di "Bunga, Bunga" ovunque andassero. Un giornale ha suggerito che la Dreadnought cambiare il suo nome alla abissino.

Umiliato e furioso, la Marina ha inviato la nave da guerra in mare fino a quando l'episodio saltato sopra. E voleva sporgere denuncia formale contro il burloni, ma abbandonato l'idea per il timore che esso possa semplicemente attirare più pubblicità al caso. Infine si stabilì su una punizione più informale. Nello stile della British collegi, i partecipanti (anche se non Virginia Stephen) sono stati simbolicamente ogni sfruttato i glutei con un bastone. Nessuno dei partecipanti ha continuato a perpetrare le truffe più ad eccezione di Cole, che era conosciuto in tutta la sua vita come un burlone incallito.

HMS Dreadnought

Wednesday 2 March 2011

Logistically speaking

A director at breakfast, earlier

Today I am out and about, misterminding the production of a secret film in my kitchen.

It will be a real blockburster, featuring an actress of some sort, my sink, table and chairs, floor, two unbreakable plates and a lot of my kitchen implements and so on.

It is all very on the "QT" (as we say in Cinemaland) at the moment, but no doubt I will soon have it beaming into you where you are wherever you are watching it regardless. There is no escapology for you.

The Oscars are beckoning, I'm a-reckoning.

Tuesday 1 March 2011

O momentousnessness


With a tear in my rheumy eye I hereby do publish unto the ether of the airwaves the final ever bar rota at Club Derrig.

You will note I do my fair share, which is the only sane way of keeping me in funds and topped up with fruity beers via the (generously if resentfully) subsidisation of me through the medium of drinks purchased for my consumption as serving Barsteward. A system of my own devising very carefully thought out.

I do now pay unto him tribute that Beattie: sterling work. He might be a bit of a louche, devil-may-care rogue, but I loves the very bones off him for tending to my club so well over all the many years of whatever and ever. Amen.

Reunioning

Mad Dickie Evans (Bass); yours truliest on Vocals (Basso); Beattie (Bassey);
Tallulah (Bass Squealing); Braisers (Lyircs and Double Bsas).

I am well over the top in delightment at the official creation for the first time of a musical front for Club Derrig. Yes, I have put together my first band, who you can see above reunioning in order of loftiness after the first rehearsal.

Called 'Chemical Fruitness' (after a drink of similar taste) at my personal insistence and shouting at the others, we look forward to recording our first 45 sometime soon. Look out for it on the Fantasy label.