Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts

20120113

Sunday December 26, 1976


1st after Christmas. It isn't Boxing Day today. I don't think so anyway. Boxing Day cannot fall on a Sunday. However, Yuletide or not I'm well aware of the excitement you undoubtedly share for the gripping adventures of the Hay clan. Now read on.

He [William de la Haye no less See Dec 21] was granted a charter [still intact and well preserved in the Erroll papers] of the feudal barony of Erroll in the Tay estuary, county Perth, most of the witnesses being also Anglo-Normans from Cotenin. He [William de la Haye that is] married a nice lass by the name of Eva a Celtic heiress, of Pitmilly, and possibly of other lands near the Tay estuary, and the old legend that the lands of Erroll were acquired by a Falcon's flight, in reward for an ancient victory over Viking invaders, may have been derived from the clan of which she was heiress....

Is this a Nut House? Surely only a loony could fill his diary with such rubbish? I wonder what Margaret Thatcher is putting in her diary at the moment? 'Lunched with Ted at his place before going over the ruddy devolution problem with Quintin [Lord Hailsham] at his place. Shirley [Williams] had a nice gown on today. She says she picked it up cheap in the C & A sales....' and so on.

20111213

Sunday December 12, 1976






3rd in Advent. Do bugger all day. Oh look! It's the third Sunday in Advent! How exciting! How thrilling! How fantastic! Piss off, the lot of you.

Reflections:

What has befallen Miss CB? What has befallen Miss Akroyd?, and Miss Fountain for that matter? Have I lost my sex appeal or something?

Poem:

Dr Kissinger, we sure will miss yer,
It'll hurt to see you go

Mr Carter must be a farter,
and when I see him I'll let him know.

Bum Bum.

Another poem.

President Ford I'll be so bored,
when you're gone and far away,
I'll cry and cry - Oh God, I'll die,
on Carter's inauguration day.

MLR, 1976 [c]

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Saturday May 5, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds Poor Diana Dors has run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. Aged 52, she has suffered from cancer. We laz...