Persnickety
I am pedantic, okay, but I am annoyed, genuinely, by the number of journalists who do not know the difference between principle and principal.
Shame
I saw a post on Facebook today by someone I have actually met, someone I like and respected. Why that past tense?
Because the post was a photo of a novel by a celeb that she had received but not read, accompanied by one deprecatory word.
Because the poster has a following the slur attracted, even inspired a flood of similar insults by a motley crew of losers, all of whom I have now blocked.
Please friend, don’t demean yourself. Take it down.
Prophecy or irony?
Out of interest, the neisman-bischoff motor home online marketing includes the phrase ‘Breaking all the rules.’ Could you make that up?
Candy
Now that Rishi has made it illegal to sell tobacco products to anyone born after 2009, without the population rising up en masse to protest against such despotic legislation, is there a case for applying the same principle to wacky baccy and Peruvian marching powder?
Take note, Sir Keir, when your time comes. You could even extend it to Marmite. Who knows, that might make you popular.
Imagine that
Am I the only guy in Europe who saw the PSG goalie give one of the officials, possibly the ref, a smile and a big hug in the tunnel before the game last night?
Sands of time
I might be more interested in Dune 2, but for the fact that I will need to rewatch Dune 1 to find out what it’s all about. But what guarantee is there that I won’t do what I did last time and fall asleep halfway through?
No, they can market it as hard as they like, but that obstacle, coupled with the fact that I don’t actually give one about the mythic journey of Paul Atreides and all those other bozos, will make me pass it by.
That said, I haven’t been sleeping too well lately so ……,
Open secret
Skinner 36 will be called ‘Secrets and Lies’, first format publication, November 7.
Skinner 37? Gimme a break.
‘The Cage’ paperback is due to escape from the warehouse on June 20x
New one
We have a title for the new Skinner, which is nearing completion. Watch this space.
Perpetual
Watching the Masters on telly I continue to be gobsmacked by the utter bullshit of the Rolex ad copy. It’s a watch, that’s all.
HM
This is a terrible thing for a monarchist to admit, but every time I hear someone on radio refer to ‘The King’, still I think of Elvis.
God forbid
‘On the Beach’ holiday travel TV ad. Would you want to be on the same package as that crew?
Why?
www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2024/mar/25/judges-resign-from-men-only-garrick-club
I recall a pub in Glasgow near my school where a notice at the entrance read: ‘No ladies supplied.’ Okay you can take that two ways, but what I don’t recall was a female picket line outside.
I can see why the Guardian, being woke and all that, is targeting the Garrick, but it’s ignoring a much bigger male bastion, namely the United Grand Lodge of England, Grand Master for the last 48 years HRH the Duke of Kent.
C? No, c at best.
Further to yesterday’s post, the Guardian is reporting that Richard Moore, the head of MI6 has resigned his membership of the Carrick Club because of internal criticism within his service. Seems to me that Mr Moore should be replaced at once. It’s alarming that the nation’s security is in the hands of a man who can’t even stand up to his own staff,
Seems to me also that if 60% and up of the Carrick membership were Guardian readers, the original story would have been spiked, along with its author, whose objectivity must be compromised by the very fact that she’s a woman.
SFW?
I’m liberal, (lower case l), broad minded and inclusive, as anyone who knows me would confirm, but I’m also a bloke. I’m not going to apologise for it, or compromise in any way. I’ve been in the Garrick Club. I have no wish to be a member and if I did, all those lawyers would probably put me off, but I will defend their right to choose to remain exclusively male.
Desolation
I’m kind of hooked on a BBC drama series from ten years ago, give or take. It’s called Hinterland, it was shot in both Welsh and English and set in west Wales, in and around Aberystwyth, I don’t know why I like it because all of the characters seem to be desperately unhappy. There are no smiles, only unremitting misery. I can only guess that’s what living there does to a person.
Woeful
I have never been much good at sport, other than squash, and I was no better than average at that. But as a young journalist I did cover football for my paper. There I learned very quickly that as a local reporter it was my job to be partisan, and also that my press box companions from the nationals were a motley, cynical crew of which I had no wish to be part.
Looking back on them now I feel a fondness for them that was lacking at the time because at least they appreciated both sides of the game they were watching, sometimes through bleary eyes. It’s even stronger today as I contemplate the ongoing coverage of the England cricket tour of India, a nation of a billion people that has not lost more than one match in a series since Buddha was a novice.
If there is one word built into auto suggest in an English cricket journalist’s laptop it is this: woeful. Received wisdom in football is that you are only as good as your last game. Among the sneering hacks who follow Stokes’s side, most of them ex players who never scaled great heights, you are only as good as your current innings.
I accept that these people have a role as critics as well as reporters of the facts, but criticism is invalid when it comes from people who are incapable of acknowledging and factoring in the possibility that the opposition might actually be very good, and on that day might have played out of their skins.
Scam alert
A couple of minutes ago I had a call from this number: 07778 173445.
The automated caller told me that she was from HMRC and that I would be prosecuted unless …
That was as far as she got. Be aware.
Proud to reblog this, by Eddie Pepperell
It has been a useful week since arriving home from Kenya. I was anticipating having a quiet, relaxing few days off, away from the clubs. But, after …
Nothing Lasts Forever
Quintin Jardine's blog 