"Here, John...hand this pie over to that Gilchrist bloke and don't tell him there's a bogie on it!"
Tuesday, November 19, 2002
Bowt time too! Thought I was never goin' t' get on the wireless tonight! Bloomin' internet poxy servers an' error 101's...why's everythin' that's supposed t' make life easier these days actually make it 'arder? Thank Gawd (crosses bosoms) my 'Enry isn't still alive. 'Ee'd turn in 'is grave if 'ee was.
Any'ow...I just wanted t' say that I've sent Mrs Fartdust some grapes what I 'ad left over owin' to the fact that Mrs Merryfield from number eighty-nine passed away last night followin' a 'uge bout of flatulence. It's traditional t' send those oo' is ill in 'ospital grapes. I 'opes the daft old Austrian bessom chokes on 'em. Bloomin' Austrians! Where were they in the war, eh? Hidin' behind the French, that's where, waving their 'ankerchiefs an' goin' "Ooh la la" and pocketing other people's money in their nuetered banks.
Speakin' of Mrs Fatpuss, our Darren went into a coma once. Great big place it was what sold hi-fi's and puters and stuff. Bought me a radio 'ee did, with a picture on the front. Very impressive if y' like that sort o' thing. But, try as I might, I couldn't pick up the Archers, so I threw it in the bin along with the fish 'eads and tripe I 'ad f'r me supper that night.
Any'ow...me 'ot water bottle needs attendin' and me 'emmeroids need a pumice. 'Opefully those grapes should reach the Maldives all right and not go sour on the boat across. I would have sent Mrs Faustus a card and all but I couldn't arsed, 'scuse my Lesbian. I'm two 'undred and nine y' know? I can't get round the shops like what I used to. And they've pulled the Co-op down. So 'ave your grapes and be grateful for 'em y' sour faced old kraut!
This might find a piquant resonance with many in Britain ... but probably not the salary bloated executives of British Telecom. Currently the only hurdle facing the Australian Government which desperately wants to flog "the people's" remaining stake in our phone company is the lobbying from "the bush" which is the constituency of the National Party, the Liberal Party's coalition partner in government. The promise is (for what it's worth!) that the remaining government owned part of Telstra will not be flogged off to the corporate vultures until Telstra is up to scratch with its services to rural areas. (About 90% of the country.)
How awkward it is to find that the CEO of Telstra who lives in the heart of Melbourne in Toorak, the Oz equivalent of Mayfair, has to attach an old wire coat hanger to his back fence so the poor bugger can get decent mobile (cell) phone reception so as to order his stockbroker to "Sell, sell, sell! And when you've done that, sell a shit load more."
Ha! Hoist on his own pet 'ard on.
Ziggy knows exactly how you feel.
Ziggy advises the minister for flogging off the phone company ...
"you can always move to Toorak."
FROM THE GALLERY by Mike Seccombe. November 19 2002.
Some people have to move house, it seems, to get decent service from Telstra. Telstra CEO Ziggy Switkowski for one.
So Richard Alston told the Senate yesterday - and he should know. Ziggy and Dick used to be neighbours in Kew, Melbourne.
But Ziggy, Alston said, had "moved away from Kew because of poor mobile reception".
Now, it might strike some people as funny that the CEO of Telstra - who's been trying desperately to convince a sceptical public that Telstra services are up to scratch - should have major service trouble himself.
But it gets funnier. After Ziggy moved out of Kew because of the poor mobile service, he bought a $3 million mansion in Toorak which had it all - pool, tennis court, the lot. Everything - except decent mobile service from Telstra.
"It looks," Alston told the Senate, "as though he has found somewhere even worse."
Alston was answering (very badly) a question from Labor's Robert Ray, which in turn was based on the Herald's report on Saturday that Ziggy had Telstra install a special "microcell" transmitter in his backyard to fix his problem. Ray wanted to know the cost of installing the microcell, and who paid.
Of, course, Alston did not answer. Instead he defended the right of Ziggy and, by extension, other rich folks to special treatment. "I do not see anything particularly wrong with a company wanting to ensure that its CEO is able to get good reception," he said.
"If there is any one person in Telstra who might be entitled to have good quality coverage, it is the CEO."
Ray then asked what message this sent to other Telstra customers with the same problem but lacking the resources and clout of Ziggy.
Well, said Dick, who is not at all elitist, "you cannot pretend that somehow Dr Switkowski, as CEO of pretty much the largest company in Australia, is just an ordinary citizen".
And he repeated it: "I do not accept the proposition that he is just another citizen."
Anyway, he pointed out, the cell, which has a range of about 200 metres, did not just benefit Ziggy. Why, ordinary citizens in nearby mansions would also get improved services.
"That microcell is obviously something that Telstra can install in other places ..." said Dick, causing an eruption of interjections from the Opposition. "Why haven't they?" and "What about the bush?" And so on.
Alston ignored them, except to invite them to move to Toorak to live among the telephonically privileged.
"All you have to do is buy a little piece of dirt, and we might be able to make some special arrangements for you."
Another gratuitous quote nicked from somewhere:- "I got a sweater for Christmas...I really wanted a screamer or a moaner. "
How awkward it is to find that the CEO of Telstra who lives in the heart of Melbourne in Toorak, the Oz equivalent of Mayfair, has to attach an old wire coat hanger to his back fence so the poor bugger can get decent mobile (cell) phone reception so as to order his stockbroker to "Sell, sell, sell! And when you've done that, sell a shit load more."
Ha! Hoist on his own pet 'ard on.
Poor mobile reception? |
Ziggy advises the minister for flogging off the phone company ...
"you can always move to Toorak."
FROM THE GALLERY by Mike Seccombe. November 19 2002.
Some people have to move house, it seems, to get decent service from Telstra. Telstra CEO Ziggy Switkowski for one.
So Richard Alston told the Senate yesterday - and he should know. Ziggy and Dick used to be neighbours in Kew, Melbourne.
But Ziggy, Alston said, had "moved away from Kew because of poor mobile reception".
Now, it might strike some people as funny that the CEO of Telstra - who's been trying desperately to convince a sceptical public that Telstra services are up to scratch - should have major service trouble himself.
But it gets funnier. After Ziggy moved out of Kew because of the poor mobile service, he bought a $3 million mansion in Toorak which had it all - pool, tennis court, the lot. Everything - except decent mobile service from Telstra.
"It looks," Alston told the Senate, "as though he has found somewhere even worse."
Alston was answering (very badly) a question from Labor's Robert Ray, which in turn was based on the Herald's report on Saturday that Ziggy had Telstra install a special "microcell" transmitter in his backyard to fix his problem. Ray wanted to know the cost of installing the microcell, and who paid.
Of, course, Alston did not answer. Instead he defended the right of Ziggy and, by extension, other rich folks to special treatment. "I do not see anything particularly wrong with a company wanting to ensure that its CEO is able to get good reception," he said.
"If there is any one person in Telstra who might be entitled to have good quality coverage, it is the CEO."
Ray then asked what message this sent to other Telstra customers with the same problem but lacking the resources and clout of Ziggy.
Well, said Dick, who is not at all elitist, "you cannot pretend that somehow Dr Switkowski, as CEO of pretty much the largest company in Australia, is just an ordinary citizen".
And he repeated it: "I do not accept the proposition that he is just another citizen."
Anyway, he pointed out, the cell, which has a range of about 200 metres, did not just benefit Ziggy. Why, ordinary citizens in nearby mansions would also get improved services.
"That microcell is obviously something that Telstra can install in other places ..." said Dick, causing an eruption of interjections from the Opposition. "Why haven't they?" and "What about the bush?" And so on.
Alston ignored them, except to invite them to move to Toorak to live among the telephonically privileged.
"All you have to do is buy a little piece of dirt, and we might be able to make some special arrangements for you."
Another gratuitous quote nicked from somewhere:- "I got a sweater for Christmas...I really wanted a screamer or a moaner. "
Monday, November 18, 2002
FRANCE LAYS CLAIM TO CRICKET. |
LONDON: A former president of the French cricket federation has revived claims that his country invented a sport widely regarded as the embodiment of Englishness.
Didier Marchois, who plays for Chauny, Northern France, told Britain's 'Sunday Express' newspaper that medieval documents referred to matches near the battlefields of Crecy and Agincourt during the Hundred Years War.
"They leave no room for doubt," Marchois said. "Cricket was born in the North of France and taken across the Channel by English soldiers who picked it up from us during truce periods in the Hundred Years War."
Lying batardes! We all know it was invented by Rolf Harris' great great grandfather, Jake the Peg at extra leg. Is there NO end to gallic arrogance?!
Mind you, the current team of deaf, dumb, blind and crippled dimwits that purport to be the English test team and who are being pasted within an inch of their googlies by the invincible Australian Cricket team might be improved by the injection of some gallic arrogance. (or monkey glands might do the trick) Normally I am a supporter of disabled sporting teams but really the English test team should be taken to Rolf's Animal Hospital and humanely (though I'm not fussed in this instance) put down.
(Twisted Sister ... I rest my case about your lad's flirtation with the frog language. Cast him from your bosom now! A viper nestles there.)
Come you lazy heathen bastards, you aren't praying hard enough ... the old harridan has rallied. The hospital says that she is now semi-consciously and deleriously muttering incomprehensible stuff. In my book that's a full bloody recovery, but I am clinging to the vain hope that for once in my life I am wrong about something.
Re. Education (Take off your glasses and let your hair down) Secretary Chuck Clarke.
Twisted Sister, I do think you are being just the tiniest bit harsh. The poor hard working chap is only trying to do a spot of benign social engineering with the fortunes of the next generation of kiddies and of the Labour Party at the next 10 elections in mind. Deep in your heart you know it is all for your own good. It is ungrateful people like you who lack community spirit and who won't lay down their lives and their children's lives for a greater good and would as a consequence of their selfishness, have Britain shackled with a Conservative government for generations immemorial. And you know in your heart of hearts if that were to happen you would be so much worse off.
"he proved to be very, very bright. He was “diagnosed” as an exceptional visual spatial learner. People with his ability make exceptional pilots, surgeons, cosmologists etc."
That's all very well and good, but there's a limited market for these people. In Australia we have managed to address this problem by making the rewards and support for these occupations minimal so that people who have slipped through the education filter and been allowed to develop their natural talents catch the first tram to America or Europe. They tend to be exceptionally successful in their new environment and the Australian government can sit back and say to the World, "See, told you. Australia is a very clever country". Chimney sweeps, nightsoil collectors, bus conductors, spin doctors, Labour voters and faithful family retainers, that's where the growth market is. Well it is over here ... and of course there is a never ending demand for highly educated guards at refugee detention centers.
It worries me that the lad is good at french ... NO good can come of that at all at all. Take a word from the wise and have his cedillas and agraves surgically removed immediately.
Re. Education (Take off your glasses and let your hair down) Secretary Chuck Clarke.
Twisted Sister, I do think you are being just the tiniest bit harsh. The poor hard working chap is only trying to do a spot of benign social engineering with the fortunes of the next generation of kiddies and of the Labour Party at the next 10 elections in mind. Deep in your heart you know it is all for your own good. It is ungrateful people like you who lack community spirit and who won't lay down their lives and their children's lives for a greater good and would as a consequence of their selfishness, have Britain shackled with a Conservative government for generations immemorial. And you know in your heart of hearts if that were to happen you would be so much worse off.
"he proved to be very, very bright. He was “diagnosed” as an exceptional visual spatial learner. People with his ability make exceptional pilots, surgeons, cosmologists etc."
That's all very well and good, but there's a limited market for these people. In Australia we have managed to address this problem by making the rewards and support for these occupations minimal so that people who have slipped through the education filter and been allowed to develop their natural talents catch the first tram to America or Europe. They tend to be exceptionally successful in their new environment and the Australian government can sit back and say to the World, "See, told you. Australia is a very clever country". Chimney sweeps, nightsoil collectors, bus conductors, spin doctors, Labour voters and faithful family retainers, that's where the growth market is. Well it is over here ... and of course there is a never ending demand for highly educated guards at refugee detention centers.
It worries me that the lad is good at french ... NO good can come of that at all at all. Take a word from the wise and have his cedillas and agraves surgically removed immediately.
Education Secretary, Charles Clarke, would have us believe that “top-up” university fees would be no harder to come by than a family holiday or a car. The message here is that a university education is now a luxury rather than a hard earned right.
I don’t know how Mr. Clarke is fixed but my family car is an aging Rover Metro and family holidays come along once in a blue moon. This is what happens when you live within your means rather than going into eternal hock. My family and I live in a modest semi-detached bungalow in a rural area because the same type of property in a town is out of our price range. Our previous four bedroom semi was increasingly difficult for me to look after following an industrial accident that left me permanently disabled and it took everything we had to move somewhere I could cope with. My husband is paid far less than a fireman and I receive a pittance in benefits, the loss of my higher rate DLA made things worse thanks to some power-crazed clerk believing s/he knew better than my doctors so didn’t get any decent medical evidence to back up my claim and the officious git(s) ignored the specialists reports I sent them (an appeal is pending). And this was after they snatched tens of thousands of pounds of my compensation thanks to some parting legislation from Margaret Thatcher. Don’t you think it’s strange that when now I no longer fund my own benefits (the money will have run out since my last claim in 1999) my DLA mysteriously gets cancelled?
The shambolic state of our education system is a scandal. Both my husband and I received a good Grammar school education before the rot set in during the late seventies. In contrast, our son’s primary education was a complete disaster even though he was beginning to read before he started school.
His first six years consisted of bullying (which quickly ceased when I threatened to go public) and incompetence. To cut a long story short, by year five he could barely string a sentence together, his handwriting, despite all my efforts, was poor but at least he could read well. One teacher complained that my son, during maths lessons, only wrote down the answers (usually correct) but refused to do the workings out. He never asked why, only whined about it. I discovered that my son was short sighted and couldn’t see the blackboard. All those lessons that were taught with the board, save maths, his favourite subject, went completely over his head. I finally got my son to admit his problem and had his eyes tested the next day. He told me that he thought he problem was because he was “thick”. He was made to believe he was stupid by his stupid teachers!
A week after his eye test he was assessed by an educational psychologist (EP) at my own request. This was a result of his peculiar behaviour in school being seen as “disturbed” although he was just a normal kid at home. I knew my son was bright from a very early age but several teachers told me I was deluding myself. One teacher thought my son was suffering from Aspergers Syndrome, a type of autism. I researched this condition and satisfied myself that none of his so called “symptoms” where remotely symptomatic of Aspergers. What I did discover was a website dedicated to the problems gifted children suffer at school. I clicked on “Visual Spatial Learning” because at the time I hadn’t a clue what that meant. It listed various types of “odd” behaviour and special abilities that I instantly recognised. It could have been written about my boy.
I printed off the information and gave a copy to the headmaster and my son’s teacher. A few days later the EP assessed my son. I was invited to come along and discuss the results with the EP when he had finished his assessment. I was kept waiting for almost an hour. Why? Because the EP ran out of tests before my son ran out of ability to answer them! He scored the 99th percentile in all the tests placing him in the top 5% of able learners. He wasn’t another Stephen Hawking but he proved to be very, very bright. He was “diagnosed” as an exceptional visual spatial learner. People with his ability make exceptional pilots, surgeons, cosmologists etc. He had underachieved, not because he was incapable or autistic but because he couldn’t see the bloody board. Not one single teacher had ever asked him why and when I asked him he wouldn’t say because he thought I would believe him to be stupid too.
My son made up for six years of primary school neglect in three months when he attended weekly, one-to-one sessions with a private English tutor.
Another reason why the family moved to this area was because of the schools. The previous education authority wanted to compound their crime by dumping him in a no-hoper school despite the EP’s report. I wasn’t having any of that. Ideally he should be in a grammar school but there wasn’t one. We can’t afford a private education so he now attends a science and technology “college”.
My son excels at maths, science, IT, art and music. He is also very good at French and geography. His dream is to be a physicist or chemist and research alternative energy sources because he is horrified at the way the world is being polluted. If Bleugghh and Clarke get their way then my son, and children like him, are going to have a hard time attaining their goals. Despite being highly intelligent he is already handicapped as far as winning a place at a top university is concerned because he attends an ordinary school. In order to receive the education he desires either he or his father and I are going to have to beggar ourselves.
This country should be investing in the future, not short-changing it. Anyone would think that Bleugghh didn’t want an educated electorate!!! The sad fact is, if he had been born in Europe or America rather than "progressive" Britain, his education would have been of prime concern to the state
I don’t know how Mr. Clarke is fixed but my family car is an aging Rover Metro and family holidays come along once in a blue moon. This is what happens when you live within your means rather than going into eternal hock. My family and I live in a modest semi-detached bungalow in a rural area because the same type of property in a town is out of our price range. Our previous four bedroom semi was increasingly difficult for me to look after following an industrial accident that left me permanently disabled and it took everything we had to move somewhere I could cope with. My husband is paid far less than a fireman and I receive a pittance in benefits, the loss of my higher rate DLA made things worse thanks to some power-crazed clerk believing s/he knew better than my doctors so didn’t get any decent medical evidence to back up my claim and the officious git(s) ignored the specialists reports I sent them (an appeal is pending). And this was after they snatched tens of thousands of pounds of my compensation thanks to some parting legislation from Margaret Thatcher. Don’t you think it’s strange that when now I no longer fund my own benefits (the money will have run out since my last claim in 1999) my DLA mysteriously gets cancelled?
The shambolic state of our education system is a scandal. Both my husband and I received a good Grammar school education before the rot set in during the late seventies. In contrast, our son’s primary education was a complete disaster even though he was beginning to read before he started school.
His first six years consisted of bullying (which quickly ceased when I threatened to go public) and incompetence. To cut a long story short, by year five he could barely string a sentence together, his handwriting, despite all my efforts, was poor but at least he could read well. One teacher complained that my son, during maths lessons, only wrote down the answers (usually correct) but refused to do the workings out. He never asked why, only whined about it. I discovered that my son was short sighted and couldn’t see the blackboard. All those lessons that were taught with the board, save maths, his favourite subject, went completely over his head. I finally got my son to admit his problem and had his eyes tested the next day. He told me that he thought he problem was because he was “thick”. He was made to believe he was stupid by his stupid teachers!
A week after his eye test he was assessed by an educational psychologist (EP) at my own request. This was a result of his peculiar behaviour in school being seen as “disturbed” although he was just a normal kid at home. I knew my son was bright from a very early age but several teachers told me I was deluding myself. One teacher thought my son was suffering from Aspergers Syndrome, a type of autism. I researched this condition and satisfied myself that none of his so called “symptoms” where remotely symptomatic of Aspergers. What I did discover was a website dedicated to the problems gifted children suffer at school. I clicked on “Visual Spatial Learning” because at the time I hadn’t a clue what that meant. It listed various types of “odd” behaviour and special abilities that I instantly recognised. It could have been written about my boy.
I printed off the information and gave a copy to the headmaster and my son’s teacher. A few days later the EP assessed my son. I was invited to come along and discuss the results with the EP when he had finished his assessment. I was kept waiting for almost an hour. Why? Because the EP ran out of tests before my son ran out of ability to answer them! He scored the 99th percentile in all the tests placing him in the top 5% of able learners. He wasn’t another Stephen Hawking but he proved to be very, very bright. He was “diagnosed” as an exceptional visual spatial learner. People with his ability make exceptional pilots, surgeons, cosmologists etc. He had underachieved, not because he was incapable or autistic but because he couldn’t see the bloody board. Not one single teacher had ever asked him why and when I asked him he wouldn’t say because he thought I would believe him to be stupid too.
My son made up for six years of primary school neglect in three months when he attended weekly, one-to-one sessions with a private English tutor.
Another reason why the family moved to this area was because of the schools. The previous education authority wanted to compound their crime by dumping him in a no-hoper school despite the EP’s report. I wasn’t having any of that. Ideally he should be in a grammar school but there wasn’t one. We can’t afford a private education so he now attends a science and technology “college”.
My son excels at maths, science, IT, art and music. He is also very good at French and geography. His dream is to be a physicist or chemist and research alternative energy sources because he is horrified at the way the world is being polluted. If Bleugghh and Clarke get their way then my son, and children like him, are going to have a hard time attaining their goals. Despite being highly intelligent he is already handicapped as far as winning a place at a top university is concerned because he attends an ordinary school. In order to receive the education he desires either he or his father and I are going to have to beggar ourselves.
This country should be investing in the future, not short-changing it. Anyone would think that Bleugghh didn’t want an educated electorate!!! The sad fact is, if he had been born in Europe or America rather than "progressive" Britain, his education would have been of prime concern to the state
I always enjoy seeing bearded Australian deity Rolf Harris' face filling my television screen. That simple laugh, those national health spectacles, his Sedgwickian chin. Even if he does classify the putting to sleep of animals as great television and family entertainment, his soul-sucking treatment of music and his lack of comprehension concerning cartoons is a sheer delight. Pure entertainment, unmatched for banality since his Jake the Peg routine went arse over tit following an incident with an unnoticed hole in the stage!
So, imagine how excited I was to accidentally stumble across "Rolf On Art" last week whilst channel hopping. Rolf's reproduction of La Trek, his modern-day version of the Moulin Rouge, was totally stunning. Exactly where the similarities between Harris and La Trek began and ended it was impossible to determine, La Trek's original posters bearing the simple graphic work of inspired genius and Harris' finished product bearing more resemblance to a school leaver's portfolio just before getting turned down for art college. But still...the mindless optimism and constant giggling at his own ineptness, all delivered with the firm conviction that he'd managed to encapsulate the essence of great art despite the obviousness, even to a layman, that he'd been closer when the canvas was blank, was a joy to behold.
"Can you see what it is yet?"
Yes Rolf...it's a big pile of shit.
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