Category Archives: Humour
Many political episodes resemble a soap-opera, and Mr Hollande’s is no different. One day they will make a film of this – pity Jacques Tati is no longer around. I have been mulling over some possible titles; first, it helps to know some French.
“un flan” is, surprisingly, a flannish sort of tart: wobbly, insubstantial, flabby, floppy, but somewhat fruity: however, nothing you would want to build anything on
“un flanby” is a brand of caramel custard
“flou” is fuzzy, woolly, unclear, indecisive and generally going round in circles
I have tried to feel sorry for Flanby, but have so far failed miserably. I suppose I must be old-fashioned, but a President of France describing marriage as “too bourgeois” is one surreality too far.
24 Heures Avec Un Flanby
A La Recherche Du Flanby Perdu
A Bird Round The Corner Is Worth One In The Palace
Beware of Scooterized Flanbys
Fixit with Superflou
Flamby Rides Again
Flanbied to a Crisp
Flanby Goes Too Far
Flanby Goes To Hospital (Eventually)
Flanby Loses Count
Flanby Overdoes It
Flanby Breaks His Pact
Flanby Through The Back Door
Flanby By Night
Flanby On Top
Flanby In Disguise
Flanby Goes Undercover
Flanby Does It With A Wheelie
Flanby Poules the other one
Flanby Loses His Helmet
Flanby Does It Round The Corner
Flanby Keeps It Up!
Flanby My Dear, I Don’t Give A Damn
Flanby The Hard Man
Flanby And The (Not So) Secret Service
Flanby Today, Goon Tomorrow
Flanby Reporting, Present and Incorrect
Flanby Reveals All (but not to us)
Flanby Strikes Again
Hell hath no fury Like A Woman Flanbied
How to Flanby For Dummies
Invasion of the Flanby
Je ne regrette pas mon Flanby
La Flambée du Flanby
Last Tango With Flanby
Last Tango in Paris With A Scooterized Flanby
Le Lys Dans L’Allée
Les Trois Victimes de Flouflanby
Mama! The Flanby is sagging!
Mon Manege a Trois
Mr Flou et Les Trois Flanbybabes
My Flanby in Shining Helmet
Never Trust a Flanby
Once Flanbied, twice shy
Once a Flanby, Always a Flanby
Only I Can Flanby
Pass Me The Suicide Pills; here Comes Flanby
Revenge of the Flanbied
Scooter Flanby, Roi du Flou
Showdown at the Palace
Six Jours Sans Flanby
SuperFlanby and the Last One Standing
SuperFlanby et les Trois Flanbieds
That’s Another Fine Flanby You’ve Got Me Into
The Flanby is undone!
The Flanby on Wheels
The Flanby Your Mother Warned You About
The Flanby Has A Pact with Irresponsibility
The Third Lady of Flanby
The Flanby Trio
The Three Flanbieds
There’s No Stopping A Flanby
There’s a Flanby in my bed!
Three Flou Into The Flanby’s Nest
Too much Flanby is Bad For Your Health
Two Down, One To Go
You can’t keep a Flanby Down
“But you said you’d bail us out …….”
“But who else will save us from our own folly if not the Germans?”
“Come on Angela – hand over the money; you know it makes sense.”
“We must stick together against those Anglo-Saxons; it’s all their fault.”
“I’ll raise you one Tobin tax and two Greek Gauleiters.”
“Look Angela; there IS no Europe without France …..”
“Angela my dear. Germany may be bigger than us, but size isn’t everything.”(Ed. well, he should know.)
“If we just stick together, we should be able to bully the rest into submission.”
“Look; everyone knows you’re a stroppy, nerdish dwarf – let’s move on.”
“No Sarko – you DIDN’T win the war …..”
“Do I understand this right? What’s yours is yours and what’s ours is yours, too?”
“You wag that at me just once more and I’ll bite it off.”
“We don’t really want to make enemies of the UK, do we? Oh, sorry – silly question.”
Oh Dear …… you’d think that someone as rich and powerful as DSK would be able to find himself a bit of compliant totty without having to grope a hotel serving wench …
Not having been filthy rich myself I find it so hard to fathom the way these people think. As Geoffrey Archer said, “The Rich are Different”. (or was that Gilly Cooper?)
But he is of course an exceptional person – stinking rich yet seeking to be the number 1 socialist in France and share out all his wealth, though – cynic that I am – I can’t help thinking that his real aim is to share out all MY wealth – using this word in its widest possible sense.
But fair’s fair – “innocent until proven guilty” and all that …. even if he is French ….. it really is a tremendous hoot …. I suspect a touch of the French CREEP – a secret squad of French Secret Service agents setting up a sting to ensure DSK can’t pose a threat to Sarko’s reelection ….. the wench is probably a secret agent employed by the French right … I’d like to see a pic of her in her “working” clothes! How short was her skirt? How tight was her blouse? Will it all come out in court?
Will Wikileaks expose it all? Will Sarko be arrested? (Ooops – can’t arrest a serving French President – they are too important – see Jacques Chirac, history of) Will Carla flounce off calling him “a pathetic little nerdish git”? (not news to us of course)
And poor old Angela!! About to discuss the second Greek bailout and turning up at the airport with no DSK in sight!!
“Vot haz ‘appened to DSK?” she fumes. “Vere iz he?”
“Sorry, your Chancelloressship – he’s just been arrested for rape!”
“Vell …. if that’s how he is going to behave perhaps I can consider myself fortunate ….”
I can’t imagine why people bother with “Eastenders”; politics is MUCH more fun …..
9 November, 2010
The Catholic church-backed National Conference for the Family began in Milan yesterday – with one noticeable absence. Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, who had been due to open proceedings, was bumped from the schedule by officials who realised it would be like having Attila the Hun introducing a peace conference.
Alan Johnson has been appointed Labour Shadow Chancellor, in other words Finance Minster. This is – as Sir Humphrey would have said – a bold, even courageous decision, given that Mr Johnson has no expertise or experience in this field.
Still, as Labour have almost never had anyone in that category (having a clue about finance and economics) I suppose from their point of view AJ is as good as anyone.
The key requirement in a Labour Chancellor is of course:
A) to blather on endlessly and bore us all to death and especially build up a house-built-on-sand impression that you have the faintest idea what you are talking about.
B) to complicate the tax system so completely that it breaks down totally (see just ONE example of Inland Revenue shambles)
C) to completely separate what you do from what actually needs doing and to achieve the exact opposite of what you set out to (see Brown’s achievements on child poverty)
D) to give your supporters in the civil service and local councils (especially the top brass, not the plebs) enormous financial advantages and vast pensions at the expense of the country as a whole
E) to leave your post with the country in debt up to the eyeballs blaming it all on “the recession” that you have yourself done a lot to provoke by overspending
So, where Gordon Brown led no doubt AJ will follow. We can only hope that the choice of a Labour Shadow Chancellor will remain of unsurpassing irrelevance insofar as they will never get relected or at least until all Labour MPs in any way responsible for the last disgraceful government have been put out to – no doubt very expensive – grass.
They may be our neighbours, and they may have helped the Yanks to successfully revolt, but it is still difficult to understand what’s going on over there …..
Morning Perkins – I’ve got some news for you …
Oh Dear … that sounds ominous: you hardly ever have news for me …
Well, it’s good news, Perkins! What do you think of that? Makes a change, what?
Can I defer an answer till I’ve heard more, Sir!
Perkins, not to beat about the bush, I’ve recommended you for a think-tank.
A think-tank!! You know what that is, surely?
I think so, Sir. But who do we bung the dosh to?
Really Perkins! I’m ashamed of you! You surely mean: “To whom do we bung the dosh?”
But in any case, it’s not a political think-tank, but a civil-service one.
I didn’t know we did any thinking Sir. It’s not in my contract.
Aha, Perkins – we’re moving with the times.
I thought we were against change, Sir?
We used to be, Perkins, but the times they are a-changing.
I see, Sir. But what are we supposed to think about?
It’s very revolutionary, Perkins. You’ll have carte blanche.
I don’t think I’ve ever had that before, Sir. Why now?
Well, it’s been decided we need to look at ourselves; shake up our thinking; I believe they call it “thinking out of the box”.
“The box”, Sir?
Yes, Perkins. In one way or another we’re all trapped inside our little boxes, aren’t we? We need some lateral thinking.
I thought we’d have to move up rather than sideways to get out of the box, Sir. But why me?
Well, Perkins – and please don’t take this amiss – you’ve acquired a reputation for being somewhat, how shall I say, unconventional in your thinking.
You mean refreshingly honest and logical and unhindered by shibboleths and PC thinking, Sir.
No, Perkins. If I meant that I’d say it, wouldn’t I? No, you have somewhat contrary opinions. Come to that, ALL your opinions are contrary. And so naturally it was felt you might act as a sort of catalyst to bounce ideas off; run things past, that sort of thing ….
I see, Sir. And what are the chances of any of the conclusions of this think-tank actually being implemented, Sir?
Implemented? Oh no, Perkins. I think you’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Think-tanks don’t actually lead to anything concrete except perhaps a press release stating the bleedin’ obvious.
So what is the point, Sir?
Point? Point? Since when has everything to have a point, Perkins? No, think-tanks are fashionable and so we must have one.
Well, I’ll do my best, Sir. And what – if I may be so bold – is in it for me exactly?
Well, it’ll look very good on your CV, Perkins. And there’s the bonus.
Certainly! You don’t expect us to think without getting a bonus, surely?
I suppose so, Sir.
And where will all this thinking take place, Sir?
That hasn’t yet been decided. It’ll either be the Bahamas or Dubai ….
It’s this subprime fiasco, Sir.
You know, Perkins. I think you tend to overuse the word “fiasco” a bit ….
Well, how would you describe it, Sir?
I think “wobble”’ probably does it, Perkins. And we didn’t get where we are today without the occasional wobble, did we?
But shouldn’t we call things by their proper names, Sir?
I’m not sure if the word “should” is all that useful in politics, Perkins.
But this subprime business is appalling, Sir!
But why on earth are you so het up, Perkins? Have you been reading the “Daily Mail” again?
Look Sir, correct me if I’m wrong, but these loans were made to people who could only have afforded to pay them back if a whole raft of conditions had all come to pass. They’d have had to increase their incomes to pay the loans back, inflation would have had to stay low, the house market would have had to remain buoyant and so on. In fact, NONE of those things applied or were likely to and those who marketed these loans must have KNOWN they were built on sand!
Well, you may be partly ….
So why were they called “subprime”? Surely that means any kind of loans apart from “prime” loans?
Whereas in fact, they are almost all absolutely useless rather than merely “subprime”. Why in fact didn’t they call them “Absolutely Worthless Shite Loans sold by Greedy, Overpaid Fat Cat Bankers Overseen by Totally Incompetent and Complicit Wankers in the Federal Reserve Bank”?
Well, that wouldn’t have fitted on the contracts for a start!
But it’s such lies, Sir!
Now Perkins, there is a difference between Lies and Good Marketing. For goodness sake! How could anyone have sold any of those loans with a name like yours?
At least it would have been honest, Sir.
Ah Perkins! Sometimes you remind me of my long-distant youth …..
It’s over 200 years since Lord Nelson’s famous naval victory over the French and Spanish in the Battle of Trafalgar. To kick-start the anniversary celebrations, an actor dressed as Nelson posed for pictures on the River Thames at Greenwich. But before he was allowed on board an RNLI Lifeboat, safety officials made him wear a lifejacket over his 19th century admiral’s uniform. How would Nelson have fared if he had been subject to modern health and safety regulations.
“Order the signal to be sent, Hardy.”
“Aye, aye sir.”
“Hold on, that’s not what I dictated to the signal officer. What’s the meaning of this?”
“England expects every person to do his duty, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, religious persuasion or disability. What gobbledegook is this?”
“Admiralty policy, I’m afraid, sir. We’re an equal opportunities employer now. We had the devil’s own job getting ‘England’ past the censors, lest it be considered racist.”
“Gadzooks, Hardy. Hand me my pipe and tobacco.”
“Sorry sir. All naval vessels have been designated smoke-free working environments.”
“In that case, break open the rum ration. Let us splice the main brace to steel the men before battle.”
“The rum ration has been abolished, Admiral. It’s part of the Government’s policy on binge drinking.”
“Good heavens, Hardy. I suppose we’d better get on with it. Full speed ahead.”
“I think you’ll find that there’s a 4 knot speed limit in this stretch of water.”
“Damn it man! We are on the eve of the greatest sea battle in history. We must advance with all dispatch. Report from the crow’s nest, please.”
“That won’t be possible, sir.”
“Health and safety have closed the crow’s nest, sir. No harness. And they said that rope ladder doesn’t meet regulations. They won’t let anyone up there until a proper scaffolding can be erected.”
“Then get me the ship’s carpenter without delay, Hardy.”
“He’s busy knocking up a wheelchair access to the fo’c’sle Admiral.”
“Wheelchair access? I’ve never heard anything so absurd.”
“Health and safety again, sir. We have to provide a barrier-free environment for the differently abled.”
“Differently abled? I’ve only one arm and one eye and I refuse even to hear mention of the word. I didn’t rise to the rank of admiral by playing the disability card”
“Actually, sir, you did. The Royal Navy is under-represented in the areas of visual impairment and limb deficiency.”
“Whatever next? Give me full sail. The salt spray beckons.”
“A couple of problems there too, sir. Health and safety won’t let the crew up the rigging without crash helmets. And they don’t want anyone breathing in too much salt – haven’t you seen the adverts?”
“I’ve never heard such infamy. Break out the cannon and tell the men to stand by to engage the enemy.”
“The men are a bit worried about shooting at anyone, Admiral.”
“What? This is mutiny.”
“It’s not that, sir. It’s just that they’re afraid of being charged with murder if they actually kill anyone. There’s a couple of legal aid lawyers on board, watching everyone like hawks.”
“Then how are we to sink the Frenchies and the Spanish?”
“Actually, sir, we’re not.”
“No, sir. The Frenchies and the Spanish are our European partners now. According to the Common Fisheries Policy, we shouldn’t even be in this stretch of water. We could get hit with a claim for compensation.”
“But you must hate a Frenchman as you hate the devil.”
“I wouldn’t let the ship’s diversity coordinator hear you saying that sir. You’ll be up on disciplinary.”
“You must consider every man an enemy who speaks ill of your King.”
“Not any more, sir. We must be inclusive in this multicultural age. Now put on your Kevlar vest; it’s the rules.”
“Don’t tell me – health and safety. Whatever happened to rum, sodomy and the lash?”
“As I explained, sir, rum is off the menu. And now there’s a ban on corporal punishment.”
“What about sodomy?”
“I believe it’s to be encouraged, sir.”
“In that case …kiss me, Hardy.”