All twittering life is here tonight….the search for the bleedin’ obvious from scientific researchers, the hiding of the bleedin’ obvious from social researchers, the ignoring of the bleedin’ obvious by politicians, the obvious grasping greed of retiring politicians, and the incomprehensibly robotic naivety of Luvvies.
Now here’s a thing. The dinosaur species diplodocus had the smallest brain to body size relationship of any animal yet discovered…I once learned at school, although recent political events in the West have probably overtaken that finding.
Dipolodocus was probably nicknamed Dipstick by his reptilian mates, because he was a total idiot. He waddled about mainly in deep ponds, but couldn’t swim. So if at any time he fell over, it was curtains for Dippo.
But despite the reasonably certain scientific nature of that finding, researchers still haven’t made the brain/body leap. So we now find:
I love the way this is called “a discovery”. As opposed to the sort of concept diplodocus’s even dimmer brother Dipthickodus would’ve called “simples”.
Meanwhile, the well-meaning JRF is still hunting the cure for poverty…and in the furtherence of this quest, it needs a public affairs manager.
It’s not the sort of salary likely to recruit the best of the bunch, but as luck would have it, an unfeasibly rich already candidate has just come onto the market. A great believer in the leg-upped level playing field, I think he would be perfect in the rôle.
Although he apparently has a reputation sufficient to earn £50,000 an hour as opposed to £38,000 a year, I’m sure David Cameron would relish the opportunity to follow in the footsteps of his hero Tony Blair.
For Tony helped cause a disastrous Middle East War….and then became a consultant to those trying to sort out the resultant mayhem. So CallMeDave could carry on this fine public service tradition by helping JRF grasp that poverty isn’t just a random phenomenon: that, sometimes, it is exacerbated by the fuckwitted policies of, um, people just like Dave.
Let us hope that, on this occasion, the obvious philanthropy of the Clan Cameron will shine through.
Carey Mulligan is an actress. She is, quite justifiably, ashamed of her inability to read beyond the highly restrictive confines of her tribe. And so – flagellating herself in the manner of all Beleevers – she declares to the liberal media closed shop that she is “ashamed to be British”.
I too am ashamed to be British these days – which is a large part of why I emigrated. You see, I’m ashamed of people like Carey: those who ignore the long-standing reports from Calais by various expat UK bloggers in France. For these have – since last January – tried to penetrate ideologically muddled and TV-distracted woodentops with bona fide reports of orchestrated terror inflicted by gangs of faux-refugees in Northern France.
We have, predictably, been vilified as racists. But not one of the vilifiers has tried to investigate the motives behind those who have made the lives of Calais inhabitants and British truck drivers/holidaymakers hell.
Ms Mulligan, however, would rather obsess about ‘the 600 unaccompanied minors in Calais’. And this indeed was the main concern of leading Labour politician Yvette Cooper. I understand that, I really do: but nobody seems to ask the questions (1) what are they doing there in the first place or (2) why are they in such destructive company?
I’m still waiting for a single Labour politician to condemn the migrant violence in Calais. Why? Has narrow ideology made the British Labour Party determined to be on the wrong side of history? What has made these migrants so aggrieved at not being let in to Britain?