Totally out of the blue (at 19:58 this evening):
Carolyn: What's your favourite colour?Me: Depends whether I'm wearing it, decorating with it, or eating it. But I quite like green.Carolyn: Oh dear! What's your second favourite?
Lottery
BBC: Cardinal demands lottery boycott
Calls have been made by the leader of Scotland's Roman Catholics for a boycott of the National Lottery.
Cardinal Keith O'Brien is angry that £3.3m is handed to Brook Advisory Centres and the FPA—formerly the Family Planning Association.
The organisations support women who are having abortions.
So, the church that advocates the rhythm method of contraception wants people to boycott a lottery.
Who says God doesn't do irony?
Fanny Cradock
Hands up who remembers Fanny Cradock.
No, Fanny Cradock wasn't some unsavoury medical condition which ran rampant throughout Scotland until the advent of penicillin. For those young whippersnappers amongst you who don't remember her, Fanny Cradock was one of the first in a long and continuing line of British TV celebrity cooks.
When people of a certain age reminisce about Fanny Cradock, the words harridan, battleaxe and snob slide effortlessly into the conversation, like a hot knife sliding into a lump of pâté de fois gras.
Fanny Cradock was also a terrible bully. She was a bully to her long-suffering on-screen (and, in later years, real-life) husband, Johnnie; she was a bully to her terrified assistant, Sarah; she was even a bully to us, her audience—which is probably why we watched her.
Fanny Cradock was certainly no Delia (although neither, it would seem, is Delia these days).
Anyway, I'm not here to give you a potted meaty biography of Fanny Cradock. If you'd like an extra helping, there's one somebody prepared earlier over in the Wikipedia. No, I'm here to talk about Fanny Cradock's other career: as a writer of historical fiction.
Actually, no I'm not. To be honest, I had absolutely no idea Fanny Cradock wrote novels until I came across one last month in, rather appropriately, an excellent little Italian restaurant. The restaurant had a shelf of second-hand books on sale (all proceeds to local charities). And there it was:
The Lormes of Castle Rising
by Fanny Cradock
Intrigued, I read the bumf on the back cover:
The first in a remarkable saga charting the rise, decline and ultimate fall of a great family…
The Lormes of Castle Rising
A family of Norman origin who landed with the Conqueror, the Lormes were famed for their devoted allegiance to the crown. Despite the fluctuations and vicissitudes due largely to a persistent taint in the line, they weathered the centuries to reach their zenith during the Edwardian era.
The novel lovingly recaptures the serenity of the idyllic days when all was elegant above, and servile below, stairs.
Sunday Times
Delicious reading.
Daily Express
WINNER OF THE NATIONAL LISTENING LIBRARY AWARD
The Lormes of Castle Rising was 50p, but I simply had to have it.
But later, having bought the book, and having sobered up a bit, it occurred to me, no, why should I be the lucky owner of this undoubted masterpiece, when it is unlikely in the extreme that I shall ever read it? It just doesn't seem right. Far better that I give it away to a more discerning reader.
Which is where you come in—whoever you are.
You're reading Gruts. That makes you a discerning reader in anyone's book. How would you like a chance to win my personal copy of The Lormes of Castle Rising? Tempted? I can see you're salivating already.
Click the following link for details of how to enter this exciting competition:
Go on, you know you want it.
Eh-oop!
Pie and mushy peas for tea (not dinner) last night. Black pudding for breakfast this morning. Help! I'm turning into a northern stereotype!
Reet, am off te tek whippets furra walk on tops.
'appen.
Bobinogs Going
My VHS player has just gone all surreal on me. Whenever I press the fast-forward button on my remote control, the words BOBINOGS GOING appear for two seconds across the bottom of the screen.
A quick Google search reveals that Bobinogs are some BBC Wales kids' educational thing. But my telly can't get Children's BBC, and it can't get BBC Wales, and, besides, I'm not even watching the telly.
What the hell is going on?
…Hang on! It's nothing to do with my VHS. It happens every time the channel switches to BBC2!
I'm scared.
Postscript: Bobinogs Gone!
Dave Allen (1936—2005)
BBC: Comedian Dave Allen dies aged 68
Irish comedian Dave Allen, famed for his TV routines as he perched on a stool with drink and cigarette in hand, has died in his sleep aged 68.
He was most famous for his TV shows Tonight With Dave Allen and Dave Allen at Large, which featured his satires on topics including religion.
Damn!
I'll never forget Dave Allen's routine about cars that make noises like their names (my dad drove a Triumph-umph-uuummmpppphhh! at the time), nor the one about anagrams of famous people's names (Ronald Regan = Da Lon' Ranger, and Dave Allen = Anal Delve). Anagrams have held a puerile fascination for me ever since. And then, of course, there was his poking fun at the pope. Come to think of it, Dave Allen was a hell of an influence on me.
But I think the most fitting (in Alfie Noakes's sense of the word) tribute came on the BBC's website:
BBC: Dave Allen: Your tributes
…How fitting that we say goodbye to a funny, funny man on Red Nose Day. Thank you for making as [sic] laugh over so many years.
Alfie Noakes, North of England, UK
Listen, Alfie Noakes (if that is your real name), the word you're looking for isn't fitting, it's ironic… Dave Allen: funny; Red Nose Day: not funny. Got it?
Postscript: Check out the comments to find out who Alfie Noakes really was.
Beauty is in the eye of the beer-holder
BBC: Is beer less fattening than wine?
…The sight of burly, whiskery men propping up the bar with a pint in one hand and a gravity-affirming paunch may conjure many descriptions, but "beautiful" is probably not one of them.
Oh piss off, you Bacardi™-and-Coke™-sipping tosser!
And, besides, as everyone should know by now (see tip 10 in my public service article, A Warm Welcome), no serious connoisseur of real ale would be caught dead propping up the bar.
Barberism
MI Magazine: Sensei Brady and Aikido in the UK
…Public perception of martial arts is a major contributory factor in their credibility. Over the years, Hollywood films and the media in general have not done real martial arts any favors at all. The notion of one man taking on 100 armed men has done much to fill the coiffeurs of the movie men
David Sheppard (1929–2005)
Observer: Former bishop of Liverpool dies
David Sheppard, the former England cricket captain turned Bishop of Liverpool, died last night after a long struggle with cancer. Today would have been his 76th birthday.
I don't have much time for bishops, but David Sheppard was undoubtedly one of the better ones—and, unlike certain other churchmen I could mention, he did at least bother to reply to his correspondence.
The hidden message
BBC: Lib Dems unveil election slogan
The Liberal Democrats will present themselves as "the real alternative" in the forthcoming general election campaign, Charles Kennedy has said.
The real alternative isn't a slogan; it's a crossword clue!
As any cryptic cruciverbalist knows, when you see the word alternative, you should immediately look for an anagram of the word(s) preceding it. And what is an anagram of the words the real? That's right:
LEATHER!
I can see what you're up to, Charles, you old perv. Clever of you to go after the Tory vote like that.