Don't Drive My Piles

I've been on my tod this week as B has been away visiting friends oop Narth. Picture the scene last Sunday:

Arise from pit about 9:45am, breakfast fry-up....11am to about 2pm England vs Australia one day cricket international on the laptop, followed by a quick burst of e-flurrying. 2pm - 4pm Le Tour on the TV. Then dinner - a reheated portion of previously cooked crushed spangle curry (ask Phill) accompanied by very loud music of the "right bloody racket" variety. 7pm - 9:45pm the final of Euro 2012 with a beer or three, supplemented by crisps and Crunchies. Molly watched it all with me, or rather slept on me for the duration. After that lot the lounge had a nostalgic aura that transported me back to the 1980s. All that was missing was the prevalent aroma of jazz cigarettes. Marvellous!
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Apparently that British institution of musical mediocrity Status Quo, whose name simply could not be more appropriate, are to make an action movie! Francis Rossi reckons "The one thing Quo fans know is to expect the unexpected", which shows that either he of the vanishing hairline has an incredibly well developed sense of irony, or..........the "or" doesn't bear thinking about. Down down, deeper and down indeed!

Keeping in mind the Quo's timeless quest for musical adventure, methinks they should call the impending biopic "In Search Of The Thirteenth Bar".
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A friend and moi have been ruminating on a cunning plan to become rich beyond our imaginings (not beyond Diamond Bob's imaginings, but even Roman Ambramovich fails on that score) by jumping on the current prog nostalgia charabanc by forming a Genesis tribute band. Nothing new there, but the fortune cookie is that the usual Peter Gabriel clone will be replaced by two lesbian porn stars. We'll call it Labia Of The Pool, and it will be not leave a dry seat in the house, as 1500 lust-crazed upmarket car dealers go ape! Sounds just the ticket after a round of golf methinks. No ocelots were harmed during this burst of surreality.
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That king Del Boy amongst shysters, the cunningly named Bob Diamond, who by rights with a name like that should be a gameshow host, made his inevitably obfuscating appearance before a Parliamentary Committee earlier this week drawing the attention of these two satirists outside the venue...

Knobs impersonating wankers

The populist political group 38 Degrees put this pic up on their FB page with the caption "A couple of "bankers" making their point outside parliament as Bob Diamond arrives for questioning. The champagne is vintage Bollinger, naturally...." Note the inverted commas. Unfortunately well over 75% of the earlier commenters actually thought this was for real. Here are some of the more priceless:

I bet they love old Bonus Bob.............. 

Bankers? was that a deliberate typo? 

makes me want to puke

it should be legal to punch some people

Complete tossers, but unfortunately there are so many of them...

Even after over 150 comments, most of the latter part of which were screaming "IT'S SATIRE YOU FOOLS" or similar at the earlier posters there were still some idiots posting comments like "We love our Sugar Daddy!". There is no hope, we are all doomed...

Is it any wonder that those cunts (let not mince words, eh) who have plummeted the world into recession by stealing all the loot yet still expect us to pay for it, all the while continuing a lifestyle that makes that of yer average Premier League footballer look impoverished, are probably guffawing all the way to their tax haven villas when there are folk like these who are so fuckwitted they can't appreciate satire when they see it? How easy are they going to be to rip off some more? Some people deserve what they get...not the bankers obviously.

Those two noobs even got their grinning fizzogs on the 6 O'Clock News too. You just had to chuckle.
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