Marmite

Last week, Hubby and I boldly went where the cannons are aimed (but regrettably not armed) out to sea. They’re England’s finest antique military hardware: a symbolic repulsion of the huddled (m)asses of fit, fighting-age impoverished males fleeing for their lives, at a cost of thousands of pounds each in sink-ready deflatables, away from a safe, wealthy, democratic terra firma.

Some time ago, I was diagnosed with a liver cyst  while being investigated for something else. No, not offensive Tweets but, given that Allison Pearson is a blonde, Lucy Connolly a brunette, and I (as of Friday) am a redhead, it’s plausible that someone will eventually try and present Two Tier Keir with my head (and hair) on a platter during one of his perverted fascist rituals. TTK, you see, has a fetish for threesomes. Indeed, TTK could easily stand for Three Times Kinky. His threesomes include: persecuted right-wing ladies, lost mayoral elections, U-turns, sovereignty sell-outs, and young Romanian males.

The debate that refuses to be extinguished: should game shooting be allowed or should it be banned? It’s another platform for impolite society’s handwringing, self-knot tying and moral grandstanding, while polite society couldn’t give a (s)hoot.

Why did I vote Reform? Well, I promise you it wasn’t to deliberately entice more ridiculousness from the left-leaning ‘maledicts’, who never fail to inspire juicy blog material, but it has turned out to be a fruitful unintended consequence. 

Whether I’m clad in jeans, over-sized shirt and no makeup while slugging wine at my neighbour’s kitchen table, or dressed to the nines to hob-nob among the elite, as Thénardier sang in Les Miz, I am queen of my own society. But the fact that I’m blogging about it is a sure sign that things recently went horribly wrong.

I sensed something different about Easter this year. I haven’t crunched any data or carried out a survey; rather, I’m flying by the seat of my pants, superglued to my broomstick.

If you haven’t been, go on, treat yourself. If you can’t afford to go, do something like we do: save up, play the lottery, ask rellies to give cash instead of tat at birthdays and Christmases, delay your house purchase, cancel your holidays, rob a bank.

To all the Trump-toasting tariff-trashers out there, like Stewart and Campbell (sounds like a re-run of the battle of Culloden) and their dumbbell devotees, here’s a simple home truth. No one knows what’s going to happen as a result of Trump’s Tariffs (TTs), because it all depends on how other nations respond. Retaliatory tariffs will have a very different outcome from a plethora of trade agreements, both including and excluding the USA. Nations also have the option of playing around with their exchange rates, interest rates and taxes. Or nuking New Jersey.

Book Review – Ipseity , by Charles Pither Published by köhlerbooks Available in paperback from Coles Books, Bicester ( https://coles-books.co.uk/ipseity-by-charles-pither-paperback ) Also available from Amazon in paperback, hardback and Kindle (  Amazon.co.uk : ipseity charles pither  )

I’ve previously blogged about my personal paradigm shift where I realised, after a lifetime of worshipping at the altar of logical, predictable, universal science, that science is, in truth, unpredictable and irrational. I explained, “For me to say this is like a Christian turning away from God, a Tory voting Labour, or a once-fun person becoming a vegan.”

I should really have gone out with Hubby the night before his birthday, but it clashed with a Free Speech Union event, so he had to just had to play second fiddle. He sulked, but it was worth it.

I saw a wonderful cartoon in my Facebook feed this morning that, with a bit of tweaking, perfectly illustrates The Guardian, or at least those who swallow it without chewing, and wash it down with a dollop of Private Eye and a squirt of Byline Times .

I can’t believe that Monday was only seven days ago. So much has gone on, gone off and gone down that my diary-cum-organiser – the hard-backed variety that partners with a pen (and Tipp-ex) – is curling at the edges. I’ve had weeks like this before, but what makes this one stand out is that it was so very diverse (I employed different coloured marker pens), productive, fulfilling and good-natured. Almost everything I touched turned to stardust, and everyone with whom I engaged deserves a hug – whether they want one or not. These are just the (different coloured) highlights.

Wow! What a week at the Whitehouse. Zelensky and his Zealots think he was bullied, Trump’s Trumpeters think he’s king, and J D Vance’s Devotees think he was dissed.  What do I think? In the context of just that one showdown-meeting, Vance behaved badly, Zelensky behaved badly, and Trump behaved badly. In the wider context of geo-politics Russia, Ukraine, the EU and America all behaved badly. The UK, under BoJo, did better as far as it went, but with hindsight (a wonderful thing that too many claim is insight and thus are shortsighted), he should have devised a longer-term strategy for Ukraine. Maybe he did and his ‘colleagues’, uncivil servants and the EU shouted him down. Who knows what goes on behind closed doors. And therein lies the rub for the supposed ambushing of the Ukraine President: what transpired before the press conference with Zelensky? Said ambush caught experts and armchair commentators alike by surprise. Furthermore it was clumsily enacted, and the consequences wer...

The Nazis effected countless unconscionable evils during their tenure. One might, therefore, evaluate book-burning as a comparatively minor odious pastime. While this is an accurate description in absolute terms – burning books does not physically harm humans – symbolically, it is a far more sinister and destructive act than the facile throwing of combustibles onto hot coals might suggest.

‘Trump’ can mean to outdo or outflank the opposition. It stands to reason that, to achieve this, an element of surprise is required. I think it’s fair to say that so far, on the question of relations with the EU and Russia (including Ukraine, to whichever evil empire it might succumb) Trump has trumped with a series of surprises.

Does the fact that I started this blog on Valentine’s Day require me to undergo a Freudian analysis? Probably, especially when after reading this you’ll be asking: 1) How many sinking feelings does it take to change a lightbulb? and 2) How many sinking feelings can dance on the head of a pin? Yup. Friday was one of those days that had my heart sink into my stomach, and my feet into the ground up to my knees, several times over, exacerbated by recurring memories – or should I say nightmares – of historic sinking feelings.

I’ve mentioned my gentleman friend, G, before (but not in earshot of Hubby). G’s inspired a few of my blogs, which is a bit strange, given that politically he’s to the left of me (as are most people). But sometimes he comes up with an issue that hasn’t been on my radar, or an argument that’s so clever and insightful, and civilly expressed, I just have to pursue it.

The deed is done, the doer (me) undone. The die is cast. I’ve only just gone an’ effin’ dun it, ’av’n I! Having believed so passionately in October 2023 that it was “ A PhuDder’s life for me ”, I’ve come to realise that, well, actually it isn’t. This week, I submitted a PhD-withdrawal request, which was processed quickly, unnervingly so. A bit like, ‘Get thee from our nunnery’.