We have learnt two interesting things about the God of Love in the last few days:
He says you cannot give assistance to a disabled person if you are standing on the wrong side of a bit of plastic wire.
He says you can walk into a room and shoot fifty people because you do not like them kissing each other.
That’s real love.
Apparently there is an error in a program that GPs use to see if a patient should be taking statins. The government announced that “only a limited number of patients are potentially affected.”
So, we assume, an unlimited number of patients patients are actually affected
Michael Foot was a legend in his lifetime.
When Pinochet got back from visiting Britain he said to his wife: “Honey, I kidded the shrinks”
Gaddafi’s life in a nutshell: he was a colonel.
Some weeks ago I received a letter from a company call Martin and Co, a Camden firm of estate agents. It was made to look rather official and marked “Private and Confidential”. Of course, it was nothing of the sort, just a sales puff. I find it very irritating when people misuse the P & C convention in order to get one to open their letter.
So I emailed them and said what they were doing amounted to lying, showing them to be a totally untrustworthy company that lied from the very first contact. And asked to be taken off their mailing list.
Now I have received another one of their tawdry envelopes. Ugh.
I received a letter this morning with an envelope announcing “I am 100% recyclable”. It’s like buses announcing “I am not in service”.
It doesn’t feel right but there will be more and more of this as computers and robots become more articulate. We seem to need a new first-person pronoun that can be used by non-humans. Any suggestions?
When I got up this morning I suddenly realised what a lot of up I must have accumulated over the years.
It’s not just in the mornings. At every meal I get some more of the stuff from the table. (Though children are lucky: they get down from tables, which sounds much cosier.) And during most days I get quite a lot from my desk.
I’m worried that some day I shall open a cupboard door and it will all pour out.
I’ve had a bus pass for nearly twenty years and I seem to have got frailer and frailer every year since I got it. And I’ve noticed this happening to many of my friends. These passes are clearly dangerous and don’t even carry a health warning. Moreover, they’re addictive: I can’t go anywhere without mine.