This phrase was first heard by myself when at school many years ago, and it was used by a boy called Thomas, that was his surname, can’t remember his first name. He would deploy this phrase after any long argument to illustrate that he had ‘won’ the argument. To say it was maddening was something of an understatement. He probably became a politician. It’s the old equivalent of the word used by young people today: “whatever:”.
Try using this word at the end of a discussion and see the reaction, it’s probably the same as mine was to that original phrase.
For anyone reading whose first language is not English, then please use either of these tactics sparingly.
This was from a few years ago when I had an exhibition of drawings inspired by “Pont”, and early Punch cartoonist who specialised in drawing the foibles of the British. This was in the late 30s when the concept of men cooking out doors would have been foreign to him, as it is to me now.
What is it with these things that men cook enough protein to feed a small army in one fell swoop? I hear that we are in for some hot weather which means that men will be digging out barbecue sets from the back of a shed and looking where they can buy meat in bulk. There will have to be social distancing of course, not a problem from my point of view, I’ll be keeping well clear.
This is a profile drawing I did on the day after Orangeman was elected President, and sort to sums up what I felt then. It could have been used dozens of times since. Could have been used when we idiotically voted to leave Europe. Could have been used when posh school prat was voted in, which one? Or it could perhaps sum up what I feel about how they have handled the pandemic. It’s like a universal tool.
I shall try and be a bit more positive in the future, but fully expect to be able to use this again very soon.
My friend Robin and I have been working on an idea where we could say thank you to Coronavirus Heroes who have kept life as near normal as possible for us. The drivers, pickers, posties, small shopkeepers, delivery people and the bin men ( or should one say waste operatives in this politically sensitive time, perhaps we should but I dislike the word operative, so perhaps waste workers would cover it )
We’d like to buy them all a drink but that being impractical we thought perhaps we might just design a mug for them. So we did. We got it printed here in Cheltenham by the Star Centre who care for children with disabilities. They did a fine job.
We bought the boxes for them to go in and had our ‘seed corn’ of 50 mugs. Since then we’ve been looking out for anyone who can perhaps run with the idea, including the Star Centre. They must have their hands full at present, so we’ve decided to put them out to the people we appreciate.
So if you have been given one of these mugs by us, then please know that you have one of a very limited print run of 50. We are still on the look out for anyone who might be able to run with us on this idea. I started giving my own personal collection out today. One of the waste workers said he was ‘intrigued’ as it was still boxed. I hope they like them.
We haven’t bought them a drink but we have a least got them something to have the drinks in. It’s been a very well worth exercise.
I used to dread getting this on my allotment, it was a beast to get rid of. Some call it mare’s tail and others call it horse’s tail, so lets settle on horse’s and then it’s not being sexist in any way. Anyone knows that pulling a horse’s tail can produce an interesting result and in some cases the kick might make your eyes water for some time.
This eye watering view is part of my return to walking after a short lay off, this being the longest I’ve done for a while and this one in the company of Sir Robin Burton of Churchdown. Asked by Lady Burton what we could possibly talk about on our walks he gave the truthful reply that we discussed the basic formula for the lifting a cow pat before hurling aforesaid any sort of distance without risk of fall out. Wind direction is also key. I suspect she was underwhelmed, misunderstanding that it really was the beginnings of the frisbee and if we’d all been a mite sharper might have made us a small fortune, no shit.
My brother and I used to have the formula when we were around 7 years old, but it was not without incident. The winning formula is still with me but like Colonel Sanders chicken recipe it has to remain secret.
The pre-chuck pose is generally known as the stancombe, if in the area of a stancombe it’s best witnessed at a considerable distance
I make no excuses for re-visiting this subject. Many people have heard of Yorkshire tea, but not many people know where it’s from. The T fields of Barnsley are awash with product. Rotherham has one or two cultivated areas of tea production. It’s about the only cultivated thing in Rotherham. Although they do make the most excellent greenhouses there, I know I have one, so you would expect cultivation to be rife, but the tea grows better in Barnsley.
People should know that Yorkshire tea is harvested almost entirely at night by ex miners watched over by their ‘norahbatties’ which is the local name for supervisors. It is done almost entirely at night in the small hours, look out for it if you visit the area. Approaching the pickers or their ‘batties’ is not recommended, however a short greeting of ‘ Nahten’ might elicit a response.
Missing the Summer Fete season with lockdown, not many of these have been going on, so where are all those ladies what bake. I love a Vicky Sponge, I even have a liking for the industrial manufactured versions with their wafer thin covering of ‘jam’ and eight of an inch of ‘buttercream”.
