The year ending…

This would appear to be the last contribution this year. We don’t do retrospectives here. That is left to the «newspapers» who are not offering anything other than lists.
No lists here.
Let’s start with the Orange Shit Gibbon and all his nonsensical pouting. You have seen the facial expression, with his mouth taking a weird shape, You can’t immitate it, can you? Between the mouth and the hair, it is difficult to see the true human being underneath. However, the guy is about 73 years old and his hair and face do not fit. I saw a comment by an American journalist and followed it up on the internet. Then, I fortuitously met an ex-colleague (now retired) with his wife. She was a plastic surgeon. I asked about the procedure. Bingo!!!
the reason for the hair is that the Shit Gibbon got a scalp reduction;
This is done for men who are losing their hair on top. The bald part is removed.
A rugby ball shaped part of the scalp is cut out on top of the head and the sides are sewn up so that the hair growing on each side is brought closer, thus reducing the bald area. This can be done up to three times per head. This has consequences a little similar to a face lift, but doesn’t pull from the same place.
The result is that the hair does not grow in the same direction as the original hair that grew in that geographical place initially. If uncontroled, the owner looks like he just stepped out of a wind tunnel. Or looks as if he is wearing a scrawney dead bird on his head.
Subsequently, it is difficult to force the hair to go in the «right» direction in the right places, i.e. in a direction that looks normal on a human head. The required severe control is enabled by huge quantities of rigidifying hair spray. That is why the Shit Gibbon’s hair is combed in the strangest of directions. The hair spray is of industrial strength and if sprayed on the male member would have an effect similar to viagra.
The other collateral effect of scalp reduction therapy is on the face. In a face lift, it is best to pull from the back. When pulled from the top, it is the mouth that is mainly unaffected. Imaging pulling the skin of your face from the back… your mouth gets wider and the wrinkles disappear. When the skin is pulled from above, the eyes and nose take the stretch. This leaves the Shit Gibbon with a high face with the hair line moved further back. He compensates by brushing the hair like a cantilever over his forehead. Now you know about the hair: it is real but in an unnatural position, and the mouth, all small and wrinkley.
Please tell me that you knew none of this. Apparently no American journalist will report on it. But now you all know the truth, the secret truth.

Brexit is going from being a theory to a terrifying reality and the Conservatives are engaged in a vicious feud amongst themselves. And they have all taken two weeks holiday for Christmas. I mean what could possibly be wrong with that?
Nothing! This is the plan all along: the hardest of hard Brexits. The thorn in their side is the international agreement they signed about no border in Ireland. If only they could get rid of that….
But they can’t, so fuck ‘em! (That’s a quote from Richard Nixon)
The thing to remember is that the hard Brexit proponents are the multi-millionaires who want no regulation on their monetary affairs. The more reasonable ones are those who want to avoid a hard brexit. Guess who is winning. And rumours that the sterile husband of the sterile Teresa May is an investment banker whose company stands to make milti-millions out of a hard brexit are completely true.
Why do you think that she is outrageously ignoring what the now majority of people are screaming? 60% want to stay.

And before you say anything… what the fuck do you think is any different in Catalunia?
As the Americans say…. «Follow the money»…. and you find out all the reasons.

Stamps! You would think we need fewer and fewer of those. Well, the British produce commemorative stamps quite a lot. This being a war anniversary year, they have come up with more war stamps. Unfortunately, the image of American troops landing in Normandy was quickly spotted as not being American troops landing in Normandy. It was American troops landing in Indonesia.
Of course, we would all be likely to confuse the coast of Normandy with the coast of Indonesia. Entirely understandable, right?
Anyway, I include the link because of the response of the public to getting it wrong. The alternative versions of the stamp down the article made me laugh.

In a move that has made the French, Belgians and Dutch laugh out loud, the ministry for Transport in the UK have been making new plans for Brexit. You remember the Brexit, right? Get rid of Europe and let’s do things ourselves. Well, to ease the inevitable problems at the port of Dover, they have had to prepare other ports. But to go with the use of other ports, they need ships. They don’t have any more ships. So they have spent more than £100 million (that’s one hundred million pounds) to rent ships for a Britain that is independent of Europe.
The ministry has signed contracts with the French firm Brittany Ferries (£46 million), the Danish company DFDS (£47 million) and the UK’s Seaborne Freight (a mere £18 million)
It would be impossible to make this shit up.
But it is just like the passports. They, the Conservatives and the foaming-at-the-mouth anti-Europe brexit fans, didn’t want the burgundy coloured European passport any more, they wanted their old colour of dark blue. In their blind ignorance, they could have had that anyway in Europe as there is no rule at all as to the colour of passports. So, they have contracted a company to produce the new not-European dark blue passports for Great Britain. Of course the company in question is French, based in France, and the British government will pay in Euros.
And the minister in question still has his job. I suppose that calamity doesn’t discriminate when it comes to making mistakes and you have to ask if the minister in question had simply won a competition to be a minister.
Incompetence meters exploding everywhere.
Why so bad?
British universities can offer an explanation. They are all suffering from grade inflation, and have been accused of doing it by officials. When I was at university studying for a degree, only about 3% got first class honours. They were exceptions. At the same time it was fairly similar in the UK. I couldn’t find any stastics for Spain. However, now that people have to pay a lot for their university studies in the UK, all the universities have to fight for more students to increase income. And how do you entice more students to come to your university? Yes, you guessed it. In 2000, the number of firsts was typically 10%, a serious rise on the past. In 2011 it was 16%. Last year it was at 26%. Are they are all fucking geniuses in the UK.  Hilariously, employers are strongly complaining that graduates (including the «best») do not have «any ability to do basic maths» and only have «a vague notion of English grammar». They find that foreign graduates know more of both.

About 30 years ago I went loking for a key ring of the Spanish Republic in Madrid. The girl I was with at the time there was horrified and when I went to ask a street vendor at the entrance to the metro, she ran away thinking that I would be beaten up or murdered. The stand was full of images of Franco and the Falange. The vendor, of course, just opened a drawer and sold me the key ring.
Now the Doctor cum Fraude and his sidekick with the big villa and the stupid hair want to remove the body of Franco to somewhere, anywhere else. They are missing out on a sales opportunity. Look at what is happening in Italy.
For 10€ you can go to most places and buy Mussolini calendars, key rings, framed pictures.
You can find the calendar images on the internet fairly easily and I looked. A flick through from January to December reveals various images of the fat bastard addressing a crowd bare-chested; punching the air in triumph after signing Italy’s 1939 pact with Germany and striding through Rome in military garb. You can buy them on Amazon. I had one of those quizzical looks on my face as I read this.
Then I remembered Putin. He does it too.
For the Spanish state to gain money, they should also be selling calendars of Franco, bare chested on a horse, sitting in the bath, walking along the beach, winking at the camera from behind a tree. Make up your own poses. Who wouldn’t want to buy one?

While I was on Amazon, I couldn’t help but notice some new useful gadgets. The most impressive one that will save me in my old age when I forget some things is the alarm that goes off if I don’t zip up my trousers. Finished will be the days when old men walk out of the public toilets with their manhood lolling down in front of them. Now they will also have an alarm to warn everyone.

Who are the tourists in Spain?
A few years ago (2012?) some pious woman went at a faded image of the Christ in the Santuario de Misericordia near Borja in the Sierra de Moncayo up in the north east and «restored» it to the amusement of the whole world. The final image resembled more a simian than a human. You all remember this, don’t you?
You can get bottles with the image on the label, thimbles, bookmarks, teddy bears, pens, mugs, T-shirts, mousepads, badges, fridge magnets and keyrings all with this work of art. (see the mayor’s website)
Anyway, since the ridiculous effort of the old woman went viral, the number of tourists to the place has multiplied by 4.
Who are these people and why don’t they have a life? Are there no interesting places in Spain to visit?

And speaking of life… or a version of it, I see that some bishop has been to the press to talk about his visits to Michael Schumacher. Oh how the family are doing all they can to ensure that he has no intrusion and only complete tranquility, he said. The truth of the matter is not quite in his words. Poor Michael is a vegetable and will remain so until someone unplugs him. The 5 million euro machine is kept running until the whole inheritance is fully in the hands of his associates and family members long enough so that they don’t have to pay any taxes whatsoever. That date is soon and I expect that Michael will be unplugged sometime in 2020. And yes, I know some of the hospital staff in the general hospital in Grenoble where he was (not treated, only) kept alive for several months. They all signed confidentiality agreements to not divulge any information whatsoever on his vegetative state.
Just follow the money, and he had a lot of it… several hundred million.

So, no lists or retrospectives of the year…. just a strange form of reality. But I will make one prediction: the return of hats. I mean the 1940s and 1950s style. No man will be seen outside without a hat. It will be the «must have» fashion item of 2019.
I want one.

What do you all want?

I am stopping here as the whole trawl through the papers this week was cold and uninviting and well… miserable. I can only reflect that.

Will a hot whiskey cheer me up, I wonder.
I’ll try.

Blessings of the season on you all and may the next weeks bring me something funny to recount!

And as you can see, I survived the football.

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