Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Thrill seeking donkeys and Lord Poshos top hat


Hello Reeking Lums of the World.

I have to reek something about the outreekgeous outrage shown this week at the Russian para-sailing donkey.

First confusion, I thought for a moment that it was a live action version of Shrek, "You might have seen a housefly, maybe even a superfly, but I bet you ain't never seen a donkey fly. Ha, ha".
Then I thought it was maybe the Kazakhstani Rapid Reaction Force on manoeuvres, but, no, it wasn't.

I read the story, and have to say, it could have been written by someone that witnessed my one and only para-sailing episode.

Anyone that was there that day in Limassol in April, 2006, would have heard some disconcerting noises drifting down from the heavens, some may even say baying, and I also landed atrociously and was dragged out the sea apparently half dead. At least the donkey didn't crap all over the sunbathers on the beach. No, I didn't either, but the thought of it made me chuckle, oh, and I paid for the experience.

Normally a donkey has to get stuck in quick sand or wander down some impossible gully before the RAF come and sling it under a Chinook before it gets a once in a life time experience like that for free.

In truth of course, it was a bit of a liberty by a couple of Russian wide boys, but lets all keep our hair on here. There not chucking concrete slabs off motorway bridges or getting together in gangs and battering charity walkers, two more stories I read in the paper today.

Most of the idle outraged will turn a deefy, as we say in Glasgow, to rabbits getting shampoo sprayed in their eyes or dogs being made to drink brandy, smoke cigarettes and play poker in dingy basements. Oh, how i despair, in two years time we'll be eating donkeys probably.

I see Lord Snooty has been over kissing Americas arse and all that bending and puckering is, I dare say, why he left his top hat and monocle at home. A wise move, and also to avoid mentioning the shares his family are still probably holding in the Royal African Company, look it up, it has a noble and distinguished history. Is it just me, or does Cameron leap just a little too readily, and indeed higher than is dignified, when America says jump.

He looks the part, I'll give him that, and he's easier on the eye than Gordon Brown, who I hear is even having trouble getting a commemorative Toby jug made that doesn't turn beer sour. But Cameron's all fur coat and no knickers, I suspect hes a moral husk of a man, there is just nothing there of substance, but whatever strings and levers are making him work, they are well hidden for now.

Still, maybe that's better than a man of evil, dark substance. I guess we'll all find out soon enough. Do you think he will visit the soup kitchens like George VI visited the bombed out east end, or will he just venture on to the doorstep of No10, express his gratitude at the sacrifices made by Britain's working classes, to help redistribute the nations wealth into the hands of those that it rightfully belongs too, Lord Posho and all his other pals who's great great grandpapas made a fortune out of tobacco, ivory and shafting every lesser born creature encountered.

Lang may yer lum reek


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