From "A Dictionary For Our Times"

slute (n): like a flute, except that instead of you blowing it, it blows you.

tromboner (n): a male slute

vulvuzela (n): a female wind instrument

и так далее

I am grateful to one of my more youthful contributors for alerting me to the following internet phenomenon, or "meme", as I believe it is called by those whose attention span does not extend to four syllables...

Edvard Khil's "Vocalise"

Incidentally, if you were also unaware of the phenomenon of "Rickrolling", now might be a good time to look it up.

"no room for modesty in travel any more"*

(*Quotation from Anita Allen, University of Pennsylvania Law School, at EPIC seminar on US full-body scanner deployment)

Proceeding downhill in an orderly manner

Police officers filmed using riot shields to sledge down a snowy hill while on duty have been reprimanded.

"I have spoken to the officers concerned and reminded them in no uncertain terms that tobogganing on duty, on police equipment and at taxpayers' expense is a very bad idea should they wish to progress under my command," said Supt Andrew Murray.

- BBC News website, Jan 2010

Cuirthe was fortunate enough to be able to take a statement from one of the delinquent officers concerned. This was his side of the story.

"Normally we don't go about equipped with riot shields as a matter of course - but as [Supt Andrew Murray] has pointed out, this weather does funny things to people. You never know what people are going to get up to when there's an inch or two of white powder involved.

Anyway, acting on information received, we proceeded to the top of said hill, the better to detect any misbehaviour and respond accordingly. Unfortunately, due to the tricky conditions underfoot, [PC Barker] lost his balance and inadvertently fell onto his riot shield.

Thinking quickly, I made to catch him and prevent him from sliding down the hill and doing himself a mischief in the line of duty. This may have created the illusion that I was pushing PC Barker down the slope - for which I can only apologise. Amateur video footage can often give a misleading impression that you have intentionally backhanded someone across the face with a leather gauntlet. That is regrettable, but I can assure you it was not the case in this instance.

Oy! Are you recording this? Turn that sodding thing off, you little [...]"

At this point the interview had to be interrupted while Cuirthe repaired to a safe distance.

I think we should be told...

Am I alone in noticing the quite uncanny chain of resemblance between serial bon viveur Rowley Birkin QC, buccaneering Bill Clinton, and swaggering Geoffrey (Capn' Barbossa) Rush?


Clinton


Rush


Birkin

























Birkin

Two spare tickets - barely used...

A US woman charged with offering sex for baseball World Series tickets has denied she did anything wrong.

"I'm not embarrassed about my actions. I'm embarrassed about how I was arrested," Susan Finkelstein, from Philadelphia, told AP news agency.

The 43-year-old was speaking a day after meeting an undercover policeman responding to her ad on Craigslist. She described herself as a "gorgeous, tall, buxom blonde diehard Phillies fan. I'm the creative type! Maybe we can help each other!" --- [BBC News site, Oct 29^th 2009]

-----------------------------------------------------

Raucous voices chanting “Four nil, four nil, four nil” could be heard receding down the lino-floored corridor, as a clump of drunken football supporters were bundled towards the custody suite by Constable Charmian Berg. To be fair, Det. Inspector Wetherby inferred the football supporters from the chanting; Berg's substantial rear aspect obscured all but their extremities from view. Wetherby shouldered open the door to his office and nodded briefly to Det. Constable Jarvis, who was unfolding his stooped and bony frame from a chair against the wall.

“I think we've got another one, sir” Jarvis said, flourishing a copy of the local paper. A hunted look in his eyes belied the would-be bravado of the gesture.

“Right-oh,” said Wetherby, “what have we got? Cup final? Test match?”

“It's... it's worse than that, sir. It's... darts”.

Wetherby gave an almost imperceptible shudder despite himself. What would they stoop to next, these desperate predators? He took the paper from Jarvis' pale hand and ran a rheumy eye down the small ads section. There, amid the motorised bath lifts and second-hand trouser presses (“buyer collects – no time-wasters”), was a paragraph circled in blue biro:

Wanted: tickets for darts final

Mature female darts fanatic -

must see Barneveld at the Lakeside.

I like big men... especially if they

can finish with a double top...

Genuine offers only – no Bull (geddit?)

Box 19-20-20

Wetherby sighed.

“Have we followed up on the ad.?”

“Yessir”, said Jarvis. He consulted a small notepad – “She'll be at the Foggy Duck, Frimley, at 19:00 hours, sir. She'll be wearing a... a... feather boa, sir.”

“All right, son”, said Wetherby gently. “Sit you down, sit you down. No-one said this was an easy beat, boy, did they? Right. You'd better get your punter's kit on and get down th...”

At that moment, the door lost a brief and uneven contest with Constable Berg.

“Awright?” Her light baritone bounced effortlessly off the walls, as she favoured Jarvis with a proprietorial leer... “Oy, Jarvis – I've got tickets later... for the snooker. You interested?”

Wetherby glared at her, putting a paternal arm round Jarvis' shoulders. Beneath the thin blue serge, he could feel the boy shiver.

“Steady there, lad... she's only having you on”, he muttered.

Respectfully dedicated to the memory of Alan Coren (27 June 1938 – 18 October 2007) - has it really been two years already?

Cruel to be kind?

With thanks to microwaved_bear
(click on the image to see it full size)