WMD
Words of Mass Deception issued by the jackals in charge of the Land of the Misled. Slavishly adhered to by Bush's man in London and disbelieved by anyone with half a brain.
Words of Mass Deception issued by the jackals in charge of the Land of the Misled. Slavishly adhered to by Bush's man in London and disbelieved by anyone with half a brain.
A loop of leather, rope or even plastic used to secure a neckerchief in place.
The sort of word people should use more often.
The Women's Royal Volunteer Service and the Navy, Army and Air Force Institute. Both organisations that serve food to the forces.
Both feature in British war movies as the habitat of homely women who dispensed the original 'Tea and Sympathy'
Devastatingly handsome young pilot in crumpled blues sits, head in hands over a large mug and two slices.
A homely woman enters with a large teapot.
Homely Woman: Cheer up dear, it may never happen
Handsome Young Pilot: I'm afraid I lost all my crew over the Ruhr
HW: Oh well, dear. Worse things happen at sea.
HYP: ...and my fiancee's ship was just torpedoed off Rockall and has gone down with all hands.
HW: Well, we've got to keep a stiff upper lip, havent we?
HYP: I lost my lips when my crate caught fire over Dresden.
HW: Here you are dear, have a nice cup of tea.
A children's television programme of our youth based on the narcotically inspired assumption that Wimbledon Common was inhabited, not by crack dealers and cruising homosexualists but rather by a race of small furry creatures who cleared up litter and spoke with the voice of Bernard Cribbins.
I sometimes wonder how we survived. Those were our most formative years. If we belived half what we saw on the Magic Roundabout, Mr Ben and Rhubarb and Custard we'd all be floridly psychotic by now.
And it's not just that the programmes were weird either. They were also crap. When, around my 5th year of existence, the BBC actually deigned to show programmes during the day (it had been banned up to this point for fear that it would ditract the working classes from honest labour - how right they were) they kicked off with appallingly dubbed Eastern European black and white garbage. Belle and bloody Sebastian, The Aeronauts and the bastard Singing Ringing Tree. I was scarred for life.
A nun's headgear.
I had a Church of England education. As long as one avoided the attentions of the choirmaster and had an endless capacity for tea and cake it was moderately congenial. I found the lack of rigid dogma agreeable, particularly the fact that a belief in God was not actually necessary.
Religious observance usually took the form of stirring story about triumph over adversity in a benighted colony or an entirely random parable followed by the observation...
" ...and that's very much like our Lord Jesus, isn't it"?
Then a link so tenuous and arcane that the congregation of schoolboys was reduced to patholigical boredom and breath holding contests. Occasionally there was an uplifting hymn but always sung to some appalling new tune which went heavy on tambourines but avoided any unseemly taint of high church.
So my experience of nuns was, perforce, limited.
A truly strange organisation.
Founded, I think, in the 30s, by people who found the Scouting movement too paramilitary for their offspring.
Woodcraft Folk operate on pacifist and socialist principles. They eschew uniforms, badges and the other accoutrements, concentrating on creative play, co-operation and quiet contemplation.
What is most baffling is how the organisation has continued to function as admission of membership is tantamount to taking out an advert in the school magazine inviting people to flush your head down the lavatories in break.
As far as I am aware nobody has ever admitted to being a member in adulthood which gives this happy band of little elves a more effective omerta than the Mafia.
Personally, I suspect them of covert connections with P2, the Illuminati, the Bilderburg Group and the Vatican and, though obviously I have no documentary evidence for this, they may have faked JFK's landing on the moon.
Probably the finest film ever made. Two overeducated, alcoholic flaneurs attempt to flee London and its narcotic temptations for a short break in the country. As ever, when gentlemen leave the Metropolis, all is disaster.
Also involves food, wine, drugs, buggery and references to "A rebours".
A flattering deceiver
The sort of chap who ends up with kid gloves across the face and a card presented by another chap's seconds
Or a night of illicit rumpy-pumpy with no questions asked
Correct footwear for socialising on grass
Frequently coupled with white flannels and a blazer
Under no account to be associated with any kind of sport
Except perhaps relaxing in the shade, sipping Pimms No 1 cup and watching ladies in appropriately brief attire energetically perform lawn tennis
A radio station from the British Broadcasting Corporation in London
The World Service is transmitted in short wave and so can be picked up anywhere from darkest Peru to darkest Manhattan using only a short wave radio.
Invaluable when a chap is away in the colonies and he needs the shipping forecasts or the Test Match scores
NB. Originally the BBC broadcast three channels - The Home Service, The World Service and The Light Programme.
There's something comforting about that.
The act of lifting the front wheel of one's bicycle off the ground while continuing to peddle
Physically impossible, unless you could do it, which no gentleman ever could