Diana ditch

BBC: Diana death: New information assessed by Scotland Yard

The Metropolitan Police is assessing new information it has recently received about the deaths of Princess Diana and Dodi Al Fayed in 1997.

If I were a conspiracy theorist, I might point out how deeply suspicious it is that this story has broken just a couple of weeks before the premier of a brand new Princess Diana biopic.

Mind you, if I were a conspiracy theorist, I would no doubt also point out that Princess Diana was assassinated with a lethal MMR injection administered by MI6 agents working for Big Pharma, while Dodi Fayed was a lizard in human form who was abducted by aliens because Prince Philip didn't like the cut of his jib.

And have you noticed how ‘Princess Diana’ is an anagram of ‘rancid pansies’ (and ‘sardines panic’)? Well then!


It's official: I am a member of this great nation's Intelligentsia (with a capital 'I'). I have had a letter published in the London Review of Books (my butler doesn't read it):

Darwin's Flatulence

Steven Shapin writes that Darwin's uncontrollable retching and farting seriously limited his public life (LRB, 30 June). Some years ago, to my delight, I worked out that the great man's full name, Charles Robert Darwin, is an anagram of 'rectal winds abhorrer'. Unfortunately for my anagram, the meanings of words, like species, can evolve. On the rare occasions that Darwin mentioned his problems to friends, he always used the word 'flatulence'. Nowadays, we think of flatulence as being synonymous with farting, but in Darwin's day it meant (as it technically still does) an accumulation of gases in the alimentary canal. While I'm sure that Darwin must have vented his excess gas one way or the other, there's no reason to believe that his farts were uncontrollable.

Richard Carter
Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire

And, if that were not proof enough of the enormousness of my intellectual magnitude, my letter has also been reproduced in full by that other British bastion of clotted nonsense brain-fodder, Hooting Yard.

[Note how I cleverly avoided the common mistake of using the word enormity to signify something very enormous in that last sentence. As a member of the Intelligentsia, I would never commit such a faux pas. If you'll pardon my French.]

See also: Previous intellectual Gruts pieces about farts »


Note discovered in my new Moleskine™ this morning after a session on the ale with Fitz (the tosser) last night:

Did you know, if you rearrange the letters of the name 'Richard Carter', you can spell 'This anagram doesn't work'?

Other than that, we talked a load of bollocks for three and a half hours, if memory serves. Which it probably doesn't.