Deep Politics Forum

I have been accused, and found guilty without due process, by my two eldest of "technology denial," which apparently ranks somewhere between Holocaust revisionism and a terrible fashion sense. I have therefore resolved to become au fait with a modish communications medium; and have plumped for "Tweeting" due to my complete igorance of the alternatives. Plus it's supposed to involve less than 150-ish words.

Here, then, is my debut as a Tweeter:

Quote:On the way home from work this evening, I was nearly run over by a tanned, mature dwarf on a bicycle.

If this doesn't bring about a Green Revolution in Iran, I'll eat my hat. Now, where do I send this masterpiece? And can you concoct anything to beat my Tweet? A really first-rate Tweet must seemingly be vacuous, self-dramatising and bathetic. Do you have what it takes to achieve Tweet greatness?

It's not often I burst out laughing while reading in bed - ordinarily, only a bank statement produces anything like the effect - but re-reading an old favourite last night achieved just that. It also gave me today's tweet.

Quote:“This is Bezdomny, I’m a poet, and I’m tweeting from the lunatic asylum...

With apologies to Mikhail Bulgakov (trans. by Michael Glenny). The Master and the Margarita (London: Fontana, 1971 edition), p.79.

British judicial independence in action:

Quote:"Votes for industrial action 477,698, votes against 19, number of spoiled papers omitted, I therefore sentence you all to deportation."

British judicial prejudice in favour of big business in action you mean.

11 spoiled ballot papers (not advised to members, as dictated by the technicalities of the law), is sufficient to completely negate nearly 500,000 votes in favour of striking.

Ergo, unions can no longer strike no matter what the Board of Directors of the business in question may do to cause and inflame industrial action.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2010/...CMP=AFCYAH

David Guyatt Wrote:British judicial prejudice in favour of big business in action you mean.

11 spoiled ballot papers (not advised to members, as dictated by the technicalities of the law), is sufficient to completely negate nearly 500,000 votes in favour of striking.

Ergo, unions can no longer strike no matter what the Board of Directors of the business in question may do to cause and inflame industrial action.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2010/...CMP=AFCYAH

I believe the small print of the relevant legislation insists that all announcements pertaining to the outcomes of strike ballots must henceforth be made by a naked mermaid atop Nelson's column. I have made a bid for the TV rights, in cash, no questions asked.

Paul Rigby Wrote:

David Guyatt Wrote:British judicial prejudice in favour of big business in action you mean.

11 spoiled ballot papers (not advised to members, as dictated by the technicalities of the law), is sufficient to completely negate nearly 500,000 votes in favour of striking.

Ergo, unions can no longer strike no matter what the Board of Directors of the business in question may do to cause and inflame industrial action.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2010/...CMP=AFCYAH

I believe the small print of the relevant legislation insists that all announcements pertaining to the outcomes of strike ballots must henceforth be made by a naked mermaid atop Nelson's column. I have made a bid for the TV rights, in cash, no questions asked.

A bit too late methinks. She was there last night as I sat supping my 11th pint, singing a Robbie Williams tune and keeping the sleepy policeman at bay with donations to his favourite charity.

She was a bloody good dancer too.

What you might call a "pole dancer"...

I have always wondered what Nelson meant when asking hardy to kiss him? But I then heard that his actuals words were "kiss my hardy" and not "kiss me hardy". A request that kept up the ancient navel (sic) traditions of Her Majesty's most hardened Matelot's.

David Guyatt Wrote:I have always wondered what Nelson meant when asking hardy to kiss him? But I then heard that his actuals words were "kiss my hardy" and not "kiss me hardy". A request that kept up the ancient navel (sic) traditions of Her Majesty's most hardened Matelot's.

Rum, sodomy and the lash.

Unimprovable, as successive Conservative chief whips can attest.