A MAN'S COLD.
Don't come too near!
Not even now!
I have had the father and mother of all colds.
It was a man's cold so it was a near death job.
It was definitely not a woman's cold which is just a get on with it job.
My Leader suggested I use paper handkerchiefs. They could,
I was informed, be shredded and flushed down the loo to eventually
reach the sewers where they would no doubt become a major
ingredient in the first ever cold cure for rats.
But I do not like paper handkerchiefs. They are never big enough,
Not even the mansize super-strength supersoft big-as-Texas ones.
They are too thin to be used singly, they become even more
offensively soggy than their cotton counterparts and they are
a sore nose certainty.
All right. So the cotton handkerchief will carry germs which
may be passed on.
But heck!
I did warn you!
Don't come too near!
STILL TRIPPING ON WORDS.
If you have heeded my occasional advice to follow their exploits
you will know that those two lovely young TrippingOnWords
women, Claire and Lara, are in Kenya where they are out
running at odd hours, teaching English to some clearly delightful
children and dispensing free footwear as a (more popular when
trendily new) sideline.
This pair are proof that America has more to offer than friendly
fire fatalities and the distinction of joining two world wars too
late then claiming to have won them. (Who wrote their history
books? Lewis Carroll?)
No, this pair are part of what is good in any country.
They are caring and no little determined to do something
worthwhile. They'll not always be popular with those they
seek to help or, for that matter, with some of their own
countrymen, but they will keep trying I'm sure.
And if, instead of being just an English pensioner, I had been
clever and ruthless enough to become a millionaire, I would
be sending them as many pairs of brand new trainers as
their Kenyan children could possibly use - and then some.
So come on, one of you footwear millionaires, do yourself
and Tumaini Children's Centre a favour. Send them a few
hundred trendy pairs of trainers, gratis.
Just e-mail Claire and Lara@trippingonwords.com
and offer your help.
You'll probably be able to knock the gift off your tax bill
and the publicity value when news of your generosity
reaches the rest of the world will be incalculable.
Why not give it a go?
A FINAL GOODBYE TO TONY? (THE SOPRANOS - CHANNEL 4)
It looks as though we are saying a final goodbye to the gloriously
overweight, overbearing, over-the-top Tony Soprano, played by
James Gandolfini.
He has a macabre charisma. A deceptive menace.
He has a family to die of rather than for, is surrounded
by a mob of arguably the worst hair styles, wigs and
hairpieces in the history of organized crime and has a
surprisingly human tendancy to collapse under stress.
He also has a psychiatrist with the best pair of legs in
the entire trick-cycling world.
He and his mad Mafia mates will be missed.
It is obvious they are going, though.
The Sopranos has been dispatched to an 'adult' time of
night, five past eleven, which is a clear indication
that the silly sods who call themselves schedulers -
or some such fancy description - have decided that
the public is no longer interested in the programme.
Soon it will be past midnight and then one in the
morning before you can view it.
You may programme your recorder to catch it but
the said schedulers will then make last minute
changes to the advertised times.
They did all those things when discarding NYPD Blue
(plus screening it on a seldom viewed Channel) so
they have already set a precedent.
I despair, I really do
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