March Newsletter 2017 – The Russian Edition

THE RUSSIAN EDITION:

Like the little Matryoshka dolls we will peel back the layers one by one…

Dolls?

I have to get this out now, before I end up on the Steppes along with the lemmings… How I wish I was Roadrunner, rather than Wile E Coyote.

It may be my last newsletter before some Mata Hari steps out of the shadows to smother me in KY and baby oil again, I have survived several previous attempts without putting up too much of a fight, nervous gas, moi?

So Donald is taking a pounding in the press, he may end up sitting at the table on his own with no one around to respond to his ravings. Cries for impeach ring out, from a professional point of view, Donald will look terrible in the colour, it will clash horribly with his foundation, but hey, it can’t get much worse, or can it!

I have also taken cast iron measures to ensure Donald cannot come back as me, much as he may try! Yes, there is a carefully planned list for when I finally decide to pass on my mantle, and it will be restricted to a 4 year term.

It is rumoured that ‘Vlad the Lad’ gave Donald a set of Oblique Strategy cards for Christmas, except rather than being the work of Brian Eno, Vlad has put his own spooky, little spin on them. Something of a curve ball, apparently it’s a baseball term, nothing to worry about.

Hand delivered by the gorgeous Svetlana, how could Donald resist, this won’t end happily, and when he finally realised it wasn’t Trivial Pursuit, he tried the Monopoly board, then he confused Twister for Twitter; give a me a consonant please Ms Vorderman. Rumours are that Ivanka has never been the same since Donald cheated using his red tie as an extra limb!

Putin appears to be laughing all the way past go, picking up considerably more than £200.

The Russian ministries are looking at all sorts of diversionary tactics, one of them aims to turn football hooliganism into a sport, my dear friend Tony ably supported by Andreas and Mark will ensure it kicks off nicely, none of that passing it back sedately to one of your defenders, the boot will be definitely laid into the opponents midfield. We’ve already seen the Zoltan (sic.) and young Mings practising, Vinnie Jones and the ‘Crazy Gang’ would love it.

The Florentines have been playing a game like this for centuries called ‘Calcio Storico’. It’s not quite as violent as the Russians would like, but it has possibilities.

The Italians have been playing another game for decades, it has not yet descended into violence, not on my account, however I have been sorely tempted over the years. It is played on a train and involves the seating arrangement.

Just the Ticket

In Italy you are required to reserve a seat when buying a train ticket, and on the three train journeys I have taken there this week I have found someone sitting in my seat, much like daddy bear. Now, is it because they are rebels and don’t believe in rules, do they for some strange reason prefer my seat, or are they generously keeping it warm?

As one or two of you know I speak Italian, reasonably well; well enough to understand and be understood. So it required gently asking the first two of them to move, in fact as far as to the seat opposite, although one was slightly affronted by my requested, huffing as he moved his newspaper. On the third occasion an ‘Oi’, as my polite request fell on deaf ears, my ‘rudeness’ prompted a change of carriage for the miscreant.

It could have descended into worse, a lady friend of mine who is not backward in coming forwards would have commented, ‘Hold me earrings I’m goin’ in!’

I must admit I would miss it, if it didn’t happen!

If only I were a Drone.

Copyright © 2017 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

 

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