The Gentlemen of the Press

It doesn’t seem ten minutes ago that I staggered out of bed, cursing and grumbling that it was Monday morning, but somehow I find it is Friday. There seems to have been a slight acceleration in the speed of time in my particular reality at the moment.

 

The week has been a busy one what with the various outings I’ve had with the festival and a few technical curved balls at work.

 

I had thought, my mettlesome yeomen, that I would find the time to resurrect a few synaptic tangents for a Friday poser to get the little grey thingies coursing and your scalp zinging to such a degree that dandruff charities would be picketing my keyboard. Only the synapses seem to have gone off their own devices today deciding instead to pose quarrelsome questions that I cannot answer.

 

 

For instance, this morning I was going to pay for my breakfast (See Note 1) and I pulled out a tatty £10 note from my wallet and my synapses immediately posed the question “What with all of this “Quantitative  Easing going on at the Bank of England, why is it I’m not seeing any new banknotes?”

 

To my shame, I couldn’t answer and was forced to skulk off to make myself a cup of tea.

 

Determined to shake up my synapses and herd them into a better shape, I decided to have a look at a few blogs to see if I could rustle up a few ideas that had some obscure connection to matters porcine (See Note 2).

 

The trouble was I came across this blog from Enemies of Reason. My blood pressure rose rendering 37.5% of my synapses inoperable and 42.5% were immediately fully occupied trying to remember where I’d left my soap box. (see Note 3).

 

My first step was to go and do some validation of the facts, so I clicked on the link to the story shown in the blog. For probably logical reasons, the story seems to be unavailable. However, somebody had posted a link to a cache of the story. OK, so there is still a (slight) risk that this is an elaborate technical hoax, but I’m afraid that I doubt it.

 

It is getting to the point that you can believe anything of our newspapers as they compete to see who can scrape the barrel the deepest.

 

 

Note 1 : Two lightly poached eggs on two slices of toast with a rasher of bacon, baked beans and mushrooms - just the way to kick start a Friday. I would like to point out that It is only a Friday that I don’t indulge my intestines like that every day, but Friday we hold a team breakfast at work to allow my team to bond with me and to gain the benefit of my wit and wisdom. I don’t think it is working too well though. Most of the time I seem to be eating alone.

Note 2 : I did begin to wonder if the eating a rather delicious rasher of bacon for breakfast (crisp at the rind, but succulent flesh, with the optimum caramelisation and the most fantastic aroma), had made the synapses rebel in protest.

Note 3 : The remaining 20% stubbornly refused to forget the memory of the breakfast and the particularly good rasher of bacon.