Grubby Moats - Tue May 26

Sorry not been very chatty recently. A mixture of being out and about and doing stuff for my Birthday and beyond, and a general sense of horrible ambivalence bordering upon pessimism, brought about by various circumstances within various walks of my life. Plus what I can only describe as “horrible heavy sinus cold worse than Man Flu but not quite as bad as Swine Flu”.

So what’s with all the Haters all of a sudden? Why do people feel the need to slip on the black peaked cap and become Captain Bringdown? I’m just trying to live my life and love the world and sing the songs and walk in the Summer. You don’t even know me and my crew and how we be rolling. Keep your Bitterness and Bad Vibes outta my face, man. I feel sorry for you.

Anyway. Amorphous and oblique rant over. Back to work. Again. (sniffles mournfully into tissues).

Turns out the Golden Triceratops is part of the 20th anniversary of said dinosaur, I thought it’d be something like that. I did not know though that apparently popular beat combo Bon Jovi helped Bill Billings paint it!!!! (broad grin) What was that, like community service or something*?

I was going to try and cobble together some kind of coherent opinion on all these recent stories of MPs and the Expenses Claim scandal. But it’s just too stupid. Will it be a historical shift in how politics works, bringing down “The Politicians” to replaced by “The Common Man”? No, of course not. There’ll be some wholesale changes no doubt, but my hunch would be that the very act of becoming an MP is enough to turn most Common Men (or Women, before you start!) into Politicians, if you follow the signifiers of my capitalisation. Though perhaps it would take a lot of free dinners and hotel rooms to get me to the point where I thought “hmm… my moat’s looking a little grubby round the edges…”

So let’s end on an Internet funny instead. Cheers B-Dawg. Possibly NSFW if you’ve got your speakers on loud (or at all), but at least features no girls and cups.

* And while we’re here – 20 years? Really? REALLY? I could have sworn it was there in the mid Eighties when we used to drive past on the way to go swimming in the Bletchley pyramid of a Sunday lunchtime…