Marmite

I’ll get the really topical one out of the way first: the FIFA World Cup and memories of Maradona’s infamous cheating that put England out of the 1986 competition. Not only did he cheat, he blamed it on God. No wonder he suffered in mid-life and died prematurely. Let’s hope his hands can handle all those hot coals he’ll be stoking.

I can’t put off blogging about Plato any longer. Why? In a nutshell, Plato was all about morality, and everyone these days is obsessed with Jeffrey Epstein, who was all about living a most immoral life, as was Peter Mandelson, the aptly dubbed Prince of Darkness. Once UK Deputy PM, UK Ambassador to the US and (still) a peer of the realm, Mandelson was successively promoted and protected by Blair, Brown and Starmer, who are tainted by association. Yet Boris ate cake, and I can’t find many Boris-critics venting the same level of rage against the Labour hierarchy as they vested on him. For eating cake. I ask you. Get a grip. This madness even stretched in my direction when I voiced support for the blond bombshell for pragmatic, proportionate purposes. On the other hand, for partisan, prejudiced purposes, Private Eye and other red media are still trying to deflect flack, or at least dilute it, away from the lewd Left and towards Nigel Farage, the left’s (and remoaners’) post-Boris nemesis...

I could have said, ‘Tommy Robinson has won this one’, but that might have been too much for those who a) accidentally stumble on my right-so-far pearls of wisdom and are gibbering wrecks for the rest of the day or b) are compelled by their inner demons to keep revisiting my blogspot, akin to a junkie taking another shot of heroin. Here, I could have said, ‘akin to Thunberg sailing back to Israel for another bout of starvation, torture and humiliation’.

Tax. Immigration. EU. Sewage (or should that be the sewage that is the EU). Climate change. Kate or Meghan. Fish cutlery. Marmite. I’m prepared for disagreements with friends (and not-so-friends) on most things, but not what hit me between the eyes last Tuesday evening.

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.

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.

Gee, I wonder who I might be referring to (to whom I might be referring). One could say that my PhuDding is getting in the way of my blogging. This is bad news for those seeking commonsensical, factual, logical, nonsense-busting insights, but good news if you prefer a truth-denying, IQ-quashing, Guardian-fuelled, free-speech-subjugating echo chamber.

I recently remembered that a blog-fan had suggested I write something about a well-known passage from the Old Testament. What prompted my Total Recall was attending Sunday morning Chapel at my old college, with a thumping hangover and an unwelcome surprise. The surprise was that instead of a sermon, the chaplain announced that we would have a group discussion about the two readings (from Acts and Luke). Given that there were only four of us in the congregation, any silence from me would be well-noticed. I usually have an opinion about everything, even the Bible, but that morning I didn’t feel too bright, or brave. As it happens, I managed to hone in on the language as being too negative for the message and would either confuse or demotivate devotees. That thought seemed to floor everyone, which means it was either an excellent point or a really daft one.