This sallied flesh

Today didn't start too badly. But that should have been the first warning. Days that start well have a nasty habit of going downhill, quickly.

A quick glance at the news signalled that the AG was being fined - nothing unusual in that, you might say as government law officers in general have a long and dishonourable tradition of becoming mired, brief-deep, in the mucky stuff. But this was slightly different It seems as though someone was trying to send a message. Lady Scotland (there’s a title that sets the mind wondering) was the only private individual to be clobbered by the iron fist of the UK border agency - the rest have been firms - so you’re tempted to think perhaps there was motive behind this. The motive, of course, can’t have been to topple the government. They’re doing that quite well on their own, thank you very much, and don’t need any help from the likes of Cameron, Clegg or that far more lethal, intellectual and potentially dangerous Vince Cable. In fact, it’s surprising GB hasn’t created a Minster in charge of collapse. No - to ensure the Labour party face ignominious defeat at the next election, all Cameron has to do is to avoid being caught in a compromising position with an under-age, disabled school boy. Although, given Gordon’s stellar performance at the moment, even that might not swing it.

But the news aside, we soldier on, as each successive bulletin brings more rumours of cuts, slashes and eliminations. Never really understood economics, at least on a global scale, and one wonders why the people that seemed to be responsible for the current situation are finding their world difficulties limited to replacing the parlour maid or swapping their current 160 foot motor launch for some thing a little more modest - say, 130 foot, but the latest model of course.

Couldn’t get the mind round writing, so decided to tidy the study. Whilst engaged on that gargantuan task, noticed the DNS in the router had become mangled, which accounted for the current sluggish performance of the email, so much so, in fact, that it was becoming faster to nip round and shout at people.

Finished shovelling the dust, debris and muck out the window then went upstairs to prepare lunch. While there, the sherry bottle mysteriously caught the eye (not literally, of course) and the process slowed to a crawl. Watched a mega movers programme, about some colonial cousins moving entire hotels on the backs of lorries, when the youngest - a very bright engineer - informed us that the second shower room was now underwater, ironically, since he’s a fluid dynamics specialist. He’d run the tap in the sink while taking a shower but had neglected to ensure the plug was out.

Anyone for tennis?