90th Birthday Celebrations

As it looks like I will be staycationing in London over the summer, you’ll be getting a few of these.

So, my apologies in advance for once again ploughing a political furrow, but as they are bolting the doors and drawing down the blinds for the recess, I thought I should get a kidney punch in before then, and it is such a rich vein, where there’s muck, there’s gold. (sic)

You also know when I get stuck on a theme I am like Count Orlok with Ellen.

Cameron, Davis or Johnson. The bendy men of politics, missed votes, broken promises and broken dreams, not a vertebrate between them, an empty sack of principles. However unlike the three little pigs their houses, were all built of cards.

But they have disappeared “The Men who never Were” (sic). A skillful game of bluff and double bluff. The body of the British economy washed up on a Spanish Beach, an attache case full of white paper at it’s side for Angela and Jean-Claude to examine, decipher and decode. Theresa is left to convince Michel that the contents of those papers are real and the game is afoot.

Across the ‘Pond’, well, I coulda’, shoulda’, woulda’.

Unfortunately, Vlad the Lad has eyes of Kaa. The snake from the Jungle Book, for the uninitiated amongst you.

It was as if I was Harry Palmer in The Ipcress Files; I was under his spell, I couldn’t help blurting the words out, I shouldn’t and normally I wouldn’t, but I did.

I kept hoping that he would tie me to a chair and set about me with a ‘soap on a rope’, preferably, Imperial Leather, but it was all a little too reminiscent of the Tsar and the Seventies, the Brut, he uses Hai Karate, be careful how you, use it!

Anyway, Vlad isn’t that old, just look at him, poor old Tariff could never work out if he was frowning or not.

La Quiff though, has taken a stand against the NFL players who in protest, take a knee during the National Anthem at the start of a game. He is threatening them with talk of fines and bans. Look T, have you seen the size of these guys. I suggest you reconsider or you may be taking a knee or two and be required to pucker up!

However, I am sure the leader of the free world has a long line of suitors, who if handsomely recompensed would take a knee in front of him whilst the Stars and Stripes played merrily in the background. Why you would want to, is an entirely different question, one I will drape a long, red tie and a very small non-disclosure over for the moment.

Two weeks ago, I was with my mother for her 90th birthday, she cooked for 21 guests who were nearly all over the age of 75 and the 80 stairs to her front door became like climbing the Scala Sancta in Rome, an act of homage, the final few stairs on their hands and knees. Luckily, I was on hand to administer revitalising alcoholic beverages, such are the friends of my mother.

Watching them all leave, once they had not been fed and watered, rather wined and dined for 4 hours was a rare sight! The journey down a might faster, allbeit with both hands on the handrail.

Happy Birthday Mother.

Daily Deal 30th July 2018

So we have some sample socks in our Sale, and they are making their first appearance on the Daily Deals.

Suitable only for shoe sizes 7(41) to 9 (43), a huge variety of designs and materials for every taste… Even a couple that have not been worn by Michael Jackson.

They are only available to personal shoppers, as you know we don’t do that online stuff!

Oh… they are just £5 a pair!

Socks making their first appearance as a daily deal…

Post Ibiza ramblings!

Es Vedra – Magnetic Centre of the Earth… as rumour has it!

Ooooooh let’s get this party started…

What a weekend, hotter than July. Oh, wait it is!

My mother is shortly to be 90 years old, yes come on, get your calculators out!

Her eyesight is failing, yet she still has the reactions of a Ninja, and possesses the right foot of Jean-Claude van Damme. She has promised to give it back to him!

Forty percent of the penalties in yesterday’s World Cup games did not find the back of the net… But let’s not let that stand in the way of any ‘desired’ result or hitting a barn door. Like Roy of the Rovers, Putin’s XI could go all the way. How a few million quid can transform the fortunes of this magnificent team?

Life is full of heroes…

Apparently, the half time entertainment for the final will be almost Gladiatorial. It will involve a bare-chested man wrestling a tiger in the centre circle. I draw no reference to people or events, past or present, fact or fiction; but I don’t fancy the tiger’s chances!

Govie, Govie, Govie, man enough to tear the skin off a rice pudding, powerful enough to crush a grape, he will be henceforth known as ‘The Shredder’, pass him a telephone directory. For the millennials amongst you that whooshing noise is the sound of this going over your head, not the sending of an email!

Stand aside BoJo, there’s no getting between this man and his Campari and Soda, he’ll leave you looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Govie and the Brexit Bulldog are tip-toeing through the tulips, walking our one, and only sniffer dog in search of contraband, now if only we could keep Bonio on the other side of the Irish border.

Meanwhile across Donald Duck’s pond, Tariff la Quiff is giving the Americans; ‘Space Force’. Major Don, take a protein pill and put your helmet on.

Next, he’ll be wheeling out Clint Eastwood, Tommy Lee-Jones, Donald Sutherland, and a hologram of James Garner astride gleaming Harley ‘Fatboys’ singing Fortunate Son… announcing these rootin’, tootin’ cowboys are the future of his nation.

Apparently “Team America” are a little put out by this. There will be consequences! Not least when it comes down the budget for Pringles and Oreos.

Anyways, back to Ibiza and Hedonism.

Cafe Caleta – look the recipe up!

Once again, I stared into the abyss, and she stared back, blinking at my luminescence. I could see she too yearned to come back as me. Good God, what was in that cocktail, tell me I didn’t swallow the umbrella…

Neil with his beloved Scratch

 

Neil my ‘friendly’ tattooist; one the kindest, and gentlest friends I have, has a new dog following the loss of his beloved Scratch at the end of last year.

He hasn’t decided what to call her yet, but she is showing signs of great promise. Perhaps, ‘Thug’, might be a good start and although her training is going well, she has to refine her shoplifting skills. Neil now has a bewildering array of bikinis stolen from the shop two doors away, none of which he is going to wear!

It’s a ‘Thuglife’

 Ibiza is creaking at the seams somewhat, but I still recommend people stay here:

http://www.royalplaza.es/

 and rent your boats from here:

https://boatsibiza.com/

Sunset Strip

This creaking included a taxi driver who delivered us to the wrong beach for dinner. It would have resulted in a 10km drive round so we all walked to Es Boldado! Nestling on the cliff edge in the distance. Thank goodness I could take my heels off!

The walk to Es Boldado

 Worth the view?

https://www.restauranteesboldadoibiza.es/es/

 Copyright © 2018 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

 

A Midsummer Night’s Newsletter

So, should I use my Trump card? Play my Joker?

You know his favourite song is going to be ‘The Gambler’, his favourite film ‘The Player’ and Melania just doesn’t care, it’s that strange mix of ignorance or apathy?

Life in the social media spotlight…

I know you said you missed me, but you should take better aim.

Let me begin with a thank you.

I would like to thank everyone for their patience whilst we tried out the new software.

One of the points you raised, happened to be; that the emails weren’t as personal as the normal dross I send out… well excuse me!!!

It is of course the standard fayre from most other people, so think yourselves lucky that I put some effort in.

It will be all you will get, once we go all Artificial Intelligence on you. Never forget I may not be the greatest dancer, but I do have algorithm!

Apparently, it’s all about dancing to save the planet. Please do not write to me, to tell me just how bad that joke is on so many levels!

At least I haven’t resorted to begging letters, telling you how much you will miss me when I have gone, how much I value your privacy, when I have scant regard for my own; my list of Miss Demeanors is long and varied!

And do you think I have the time whilst circumnavigating the globe to once again put pen to paper, just to pander to your whims.

I am not the Donald, like the dawn chorus, twittering every cough and spit, hovering like a seagull looking for a freshly washed car. He is only the leader of the free world, I have much loftier ambitions. I am more twilight barking, up all night howling at the moon.

Just how humiliated must M. Macron feel now, one moment, bosom buddies with ‘Tariff La Quiff’, holding hands, staring deep and lovingly into each other’s eyes; the next on bended knee and unable to find Donald’s G7-spot, he is cast aside, suddenly there is no penetrating this market without him extorting a heavy price.

Yes, I could have said something else, but people do read this to their children as a cautionary tale, in order to explain what can happen to you if you don’t eat your greens!

But it doesn’t end there, Donald is cuddling up to lil’Kim, apparently Melania’s kidneys are a perfect match for Kim’s, which is why she has been out of the spotlight for so long. Before long Donald will have fallen out with his new friend, taken back his toys, his wife and her kidney.

His huge missile will be aimed into space, ‘Ground Control to Major Don, you’re floating in a tin can, in most peculiar way…’

Luckily if I send this out in the middle of a game you’ll all ignore it and I can go back to my towel on the beach, and you won’t bother me with requests for this and that.

My next instalment will be from the beach in Ibiza, perhaps tonight I will go in search of the quiet life and marry a Kardashian.

 Copyright © 2018 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

A little fun with Shakespeare… and one other

Give me a few hours on a train to while away, and my creative juices start to flow. So my apologies, I have taken a few liberties, I dreamt a dream tonight…

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears.

How do all occasions form against me, and spur my dull revenge? Beware the ides of March. Full of vexation come I, with complaint.

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

What’s he then says I play the villain, blow wind and crack your cheeks.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me, and yet to be or not to be, takes arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing them? To die, to sleep; to sleep: perchance to dream and of that dream, for every trifle are they set upon me; and with all the infections the sun sucks up? My troublous dreams this night doth make me sad.

But a dream itself is just a shadow, and when I waked, I cried to dream again, as dreams are toys. Yet we are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with sleep.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Where sleeps Titania sometime of the night, lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight. Here will we sit and let the sounds of music creep in our ears, and music has the charms to calm my savage breast.

I am that merry wanderer of the night and sometime lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, a merrier hour was never wasted there! In that vessel, O thou invisible spirit of wine! If thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil, and virtue a fig!

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind?

She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed: she is woman, and therefore to be won. For where thou art, there is the world itself; and where thou art not, desolation.

I am one who loved not wisely, but too well, for my own part, I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine; yet, I bear a charmed life. Be all my sins remember’d.

Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death…

 

 Copyright © 2018 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.