Birthday Joke

I happen to share my birthday with Gerry Adams, infamous person of note from Belfast.

When he was asked how many candles he was going to blow out today, he replied:

  • This was an absolute insult to the nationalist people of the Six Counties, and indeed, the whole of the island of Ireland.
  • He had never had any involvement at all in the blowing out of any candle.
  • However, he did have close contact with the IRA Army Council, to whom he would place a fervent request to cease such activities forthwith.

Have a totally innocent and uninvolved day, won’t you!

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The West Brits?

I’m sure this piece from the Belfast Telegraph will have you either shouting in fuuuuuuuuuuuurious anger or smirking with amusement.

I’m just waiting for Varadkar asking London if Eire can become part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland again.  Doubtless he will ride into Downing Street on Shergar with Elvis Presley providing the welcoming music.

Oh, and happy birthday to Gerry Adams, who happens to share the same birthday (today) as me.  I’m sure his birthday cake is not the only thing he’s ever been responsible for blowing up/out…

soft-iced-happy-birthday-cake-2000117_4

Have a united day, won’t you!

P45-Gate

Poor old Theresa May.  Here’s one assessment of her speech today, from Reaction, which is right-of-centre.   Worth sharing this article.

Reaction

Oh dear. That went well. After three months of painstakingly trying to shake off the “weak and wobbly” label, poor Theresa May had an absolute nightmare of a conference speech today. More or less everything that could go wrong did – coughing, protest, the set falling apart, aides walking onto the stage with glasses of water, the Chancellor popping up with a throat lozenge, a voice giving way – it was all there. What was intended to be a personal, powerful speech proving that she has what it takes to be Prime Minister became an excruciating display of fragility. 

Interestingly though, the public reception has so far been mixed. Although many will think that this will be the straw that broke the camel’s back, others may feel that she showed humanity, grit and determination in difficult circumstances. The jury is out, but Tory MPs and ministers are already talking about how she might be replaced rapidly. There seems to be a full-blown leadership crisis underway. For more on this, read Iain Martin’s article below. 

The row somewhat rescued Boris, who was having his own very Boris-esque crisis. At a fringe event yesterday, the gaffe-prone foreign secretary said that the Libyan city Sirte could be the new Dubai, adding, “all they have to do is clear the dead bodies away”.  

The comments sparked anger, with Labour (ironic, considering Corbyn’s IRA sympathies) calling them “crass, callous and cruel” and Conservative MPs Anna Soubry and Heidi Allen saying he should be sacked. Mr Johnson claimed his critics had “no knowledge or understanding of Libya” and accused them of playing politics. That’ll go down well with Soubry. 

In Trump-land, Rex Tillerson, United States Secretary of State, has quashed rumours that he is planning to resign. In a North Korea style press conference today, Tillerson said that he “has no plans to resign” and will stay in his position “as long as the president thinks I can be useful to achieving his objectives”. The row kicked off last weekend when the President publicly humiliated the Secretary of State on Twitter, saying that he was “wasting time trying to negotiate with Little Rocket Man”. When asked today whether Tillerson had called Trump a “moron” for his comments (as reported by NBC) the Secretary of State declined to answer, saying that he wouldn’t “get drawn in to that sort of pettiness”.

So that’s a yes then. 

Olivia Utley
News Editor
Reaction

 

Pads Brat Ways: Part 94

I’ve been off ill the past three days.  Bit of a cold/man flu.  Symptoms not important.  I think of how the pads brat/military family attitude varies from that of “bl00dy civvies.”

Had I been ill with these symptoms as a pads brat, what would my mum have said?  Probably:

You’re still bl00dy well going to school in the morning.  I’m not having you staying at home, coughing and spluttering, like you’re bl00dy well going to die, making the bl00dy place look untidy.

Maybe on a good day, i.e. when I was off my food and sweating like a menopausal woman sitting in a sauna after eating a vindaloo curry, she’d relent and even let me lie on the living room sofa and even, and even, let me watch Crown Court, with its Ohrwurm theme tune, on TV.

Mhairi, author of the excellent Diary of the Menopause blog, may hopefully one day tell us of the day her mother sent her to school, when Mhairi had mumps.  Yes, mumps, fellas!  Ouch!

Instead, the last three days, I’ve been watching Auf Wiedersehen Pet on DVD and a few documentary programmes about the fall of the GDR, Unsere Republik.  On my own.  In peace and quiet.

Today I got bored senseless and left my house to go shopping.

Have a healthy day, won’t you!

Ex-Pat Life

As a pad’s brat, I’ve been around the world, and also as an adult.  My first ever “proper” graduate job brought me to Bangkok, Thailand, for three months training back in 1995.

BKK is notorious for many things.  The bars.  Their “live entertainment” is somewhat more interesting than bingo, karoake and stand-up comics.  Watch Spalding Grey’s monologue, Swimming to Cambodia if you want to enjoy an analysis of Thailand, filled with dry, dark humour.

I spent my first Saturday in BKK with Brij, a new Indian colleague.  We were down one of the go-go bars of Soi Cowboy (“Soi” being Thai for “alley”).  Brij was by now getting rather “friendly” with one of the staff.

Ginge in Germany:

Er, Brij, I think that’s a lady boy.  They have a rather large Adam’s apple.

Brij, hand over “barmaid’s” chest:

No, don’t be silly.  She’s got a great pair here.

Ginge in Germany:

Yeah, but I think he’s also got a great pair down below…

Brij, hand sliding down somewhat lower:

Rubbish… she’s definitely a… ermmmm… er…

Now, to Brij I dedicate this fine Bee Gees hit.

Have a ladylike day, won’t you!

F-RAN-KK SIDEBOTTOM

Question: Frank Sidebottom: who was he?

Answer: a uniquely British character, in particular, a Northern character.

A man with:

  • a large head papier-mache fibre-glass head
  • a nasal voice
  • a Mancunian (Manchester accent)
  • a love of Altrincham FC football club (whose shirt he is wearing in this pic)
  • a love of singing about “Alty”

He also loved the words “fantastic” and “blimey.”

Here’s a clip from a typical evening’s entertainment with Frankie.

Recognise him now?

I’ve been a fan of his for over thirty years.  Yes, me with my postgraduate education, laughing at daft things like that.  Blimey!

Here are the fantastic lyrics to his Alty fan song, which I think is as good as You’ll Never Walk Alone…

“On Saturday at five to three
There’s only one place to be –
Down at the Moss Lane football ground
The team come out, the crowd all roar
We come, win, lose, or draw
The only team for me is Altrincham FC
Oh the Robins aren’t Bobbins, says me
The Alty!”

So, why the title, F-RAN-KK?  Well, it was a quiet Sunday afternoon today.  I was chatting to my old classmate, “The Roz,” about my recent visit to the naturist section at Unterbacher See.  The Roz is also a Frank Sidebottom fan, being from up the road from Frank’s home town.

Blimey, Ginge!  Well done, but I couldn’t bl00dy well do that.

Then we got talking about what would happen if Frank Sidebottom had come with me to  the naturist section, the FKK-Bereich.  The comedic elements just write themselves…

Imagine the scene…

Frank arrives in his Altrincham FC kit.  To quote the late, great man himself:

The shorts are black,

The shirts are red,

An ace combination, as I’ve said…

Our Frank strips out of his Alty strip.

He exclaims:

Blimey!  They’re all in the nip!

An overzealous parks official comes and tells Frankie S to remove his papier-mache fibre-glass head in order to be fully stripped off.

FranKK explains:

But this is my head.  It is part of me.

Little Frank joins in with protesting.

The official walks off.

Blöder Ausländer…

Frank turns to camera and says:

Oh no!  They’d better not tell me mum!

Frank decides a bit of music is needed to lighten the mood and entertain the hundreds of Germans in their birthday suits.  He gets his organ out.  (Phoar!)  That is, his Hammond electronic organ.  He starts to sing:

“On a Monday at five to three
There is only one place to be –
Down at the Unterbacher See
The clothes come off, we’re in the raw
We come here, and it isn’t a chore
The only place for me is Unterbacher See!
Oh, the Germans aren’t Bobbins, says me…
Altbier!”

Thank you!

Then cut away to Frank Sidebottom interviewing some very confused Germans in English.

Is it nice lying in the sun oh natural?  Back home in Timperley we never have enough sun to go sunbathing.

sidebottom

Have a frank day, won’t you!

FKK’ing Eck!

Nudity.

There!  That’s got your attention, especially if you are a stereotypically repressed, prudish Brit…

And for those who are into puns, let me explain the title of this post.

  • FKK: German word, Freikörperkultur – literally, “free body culture”, or naturist.
  • Eck: shortened form of “Ecke”, German word for “corner”.
    • My Dad was a regular customer of a German pub called “Danziger Eck”.
    • There is a flower shop in Düsseldorf called “Blumen Eck”, which must belong to an Anglophile, “Blumen” the German word for “flowers,” and the shop name being a pun on “Blooming heck” (much beloved of Coronation Street characters).

Soooo, back to the topic…

Today I finally went to Unterbacher See, a local open-air swimming area, typical of Germany: an artificial lake with a park, artificial beaches, changing rooms, toilets, play park, etc, etc.  I’d been meaning to go for the past five summers.  Today I got my swimming kit and a couple of books and headed off there.

It turns  out the Unterbacher See also has an FKK area, also known as a “textilfrei” area at the southern end of the area.  I decided to throw caution to the wind and my clothes to the ground.  I headed off to that section, five minutes stroll from the entrance.  My observations:

  • There were hundreds of people there, of all shapes and sizes.  Most people made me feel anorexic, and the average age was 40+.  I’m guessing that once you’ve hit 40, most people’s pride and vanity have already gone.
  • There were couples there, there were families there, there were single people there.
  • Pretty much everyone was reading a book.  Many were reading newspapers.  I guess the newspapers provided better cover against the intense sun.
  • Nobody seemed to bat an eyelid as the sunbathers strolled around in their birthday suits, heading into the lake for a dip.  Likewise, nobody seemed be looking anyone else up and down.  And even if they had, well, a 46-year-old naked big-bellied German (or Brit) is not exactly erotic.
  • Even the staff at at the nearby kiosk did not react at all to the queue of Germans in the buff.  Let me just state here and now: I ordered a Cornetto ice cream.  I could not bring myself to order a bratwurst.

Two hours and two chapters of Blogging for Creatives later, I showered, dressed and headed back to the city centre, a slightly redder shade of pink, including parts of my “whitey from Blighty” body that do not normally see sunshine.

Would I go again?  Well, put it this way, I won’t be booking two weeks in a naturist resort.  On the other hand, sunbathing among a bunch of salad-dodging middle-aged Germans is actually a pretty mundane experience.  Mostly I would stick to clothing-on areas, rather than head for the FKK area.  At least now I can say, “Been there, done it, not worn the t-shirt.”

fkksign

Have a textilfrei day, won’t you!