BY GOLLY, IT’S ONLY A DOLLY

So Carol Thatcher thinks some dago tennis player looks like a gollywog, so what? That is nothing compared to some of the things I have been called in my time, in all parts of the planet from Siberia to the Caribbean, and none of it has ever done me any harm or caused more than momentary irritation. But I am now irritated, cock quivering mad if the truth be told.

Two luminaries of the BBC have taken it on themselves to be outraged, and no-one doe’s outrage quite like BBC types taking offence on behalf of others. Of the two outragees, one is amongst the most famous names on the tele, which is probably why I can not remember what it is, there is no-one more forgettable than some self satisfied celebrity, after all, they are each and every one of them dead as mutton from the neck up. The other celeb is Jo Brand. I have heard of Miss Brand, I have also heard her effing and blinding on the box. Miss Brand is described as a comedienne, why this should be so God alone knows, the woman has the physique of Nellie the Elephant, is pug ugly and is so unfunny she should hire herself out for funeral dirges, her talent is as small as the gussets in her knickers are large, and that’s only if the old trollop wears any. These were the self-righteous carcasses who took umbrage at Carol’s remarks, frankly, I would rather be called a Nizrani than have my corner fought for me by this unlovely duo.

What sticks in my craw more than anything in this matter is the intolerance of those who seek to impose their views on others. Only the other day, Jeremy Clarkson was forced to apologise for calling Gordon Brown fat, Scottish, and stupid, no arguments there, but still Jeremy had to say sorry. It has come to a pretty pass when stating the bleeding obvious has become a hanging offence.

Who are these nebulous beings who decree what the rest of us can say and not say? Who gave them this power? I have never voted for anyone to curb my freedom of speech, nor to my certain knowledge has anyone else. So, from whence came this overwhelming power to crush descent? Who awarded it? Questions questions questions, and answeres are there none. All these PC plods should have Voltaire’s dictum drummed into them ‘I disagree entirely with what you say but I will fight to the death for your right to say it’ naturally they have no knowledge of either Voltaire or his dictum, such a level of education could be construed as elitist.

It is only a matter of time before these Torquemadas of political correctness take things to their ultimate conclusion and they who commit heresy will not just be fired from their jobs but burnt at the stake in Spitalfields. I will sign off on the subject of dear Gordon, the last Scots idiot to make such a balls up of ruling England had his head chopped off.

THIS COULD GIVE YOU THE RUNS

You wouldn’t Adam and Eve it, talk about the Almighty regarding life as a dump in the ante room to the hereafter, which regarding the fact that this tale takes place in Zimbabwe isn’t so bad a simile. Doubtless you have all heard the saying “Taking the piss”, well, what I have to tell you takes the concept a whole load further. A friend of mine has just returned from Zimbabwe, you know, that place in Africa where some geezer called Mugabe, has single handedly stuffed the economy, and blamed the Roman Empire for the resultant chaos. One can just imagine the old fraud fumbling about in the bathroom, trying to locate the whereabouts of his glass eye while muttering to himself “That Julius Caesar, it’s ‘is fault. It’s ‘im wot done it”. While the old fool is doddering about the family homestead, which he half inched from it’s previous owner, his missus, ‘Amazing Face’ is waltzing around the World knocking seven bells out of reporters in posh hotels. After that little diatribe, you will know the place I am referring to. But, I digress, I do apologise, even though I do not mean it.

This will come as no surprise to the more marginally astute amongst my readership, but my friend, while on holiday, was subject to the normal biological processes, id est, what goes in as digestion must eventually come out as excretion. To cut a long story short, my friend was taken short, it happens to all of us from time to time. Fred, as we’ll call him to save his blushes, feeling the imperative of nature, toddled off to the municipal eartha for a Tom Tit.

It was not the shock of having to go which so unsettled Fred, after all, such an eventuality is to be expected during the course of life, even in Zimbabwe, where constipation is regarded as a measure of the availability of grub in the local supermarkets. It was the cost of the exercise which moved him, 200,000,000,000,. That was not a mistake, no typos here folks, it was two hundred billion Zimbabwe Dollars for a crap. Poor Fred, the experience moved him like nothing else in his life, it fair gave him the shits.