No Good Boyo has developed a noticeable tendency to use variations on the phrase "agenbite of inwit".
I hereby propose the in the unlikely event of his ennoblement, he should take the title "Lord Agenbite of Llantwit".
People of exquisite taste and discernment
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13 comments:
Well... I'm an angelic dimwit...
If that's of any help...?
Sx
Word veri:peatic
..and word veri is telling me that I'm a pea brained flea...
... and now I have inerdo... it's been insulting me all morning...
Scarlet - that's always of help; though I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling that you play up to the role rather than being it.
As Boris Johnson once said "Underneath the carefully crafted facade of blithering idiot, there often lurks a blithering idiot."
It's known as managing expectations, and is a far smarter and wiser thing to do than pretending to be a clever-clogs like what I do...
:o)
Sx
I already have a title, thanks. Since 1990 I have been the official Baboon Lord - lord of the baboons. My responsibilities in involve getting my hairy chums to pose for fake passports, so that they can travel around Europe delivering Baboon-0-grams. Not as easy as it sounds.
Wordver: bablermi. How true
See The Crown vs Boyo, 1992; now often cited in legal textbooks for its unsuccessful plea of "I was just getting the baboon to pose for a passport photo, your honour".
Some of the photos are still available on specialist websites, I believe.
Dance, dance, where ever you may be, for I am the Lord o''t'Baboons said me...
So it was Boyo in the "Baboon In A Lemonade Bottle" case was it? An afternoon wasted in the study of consumer case law back in the eighties.
Not guilty, Kev. The "lemonade bottle in the ballerina" case was me, though.
carsi: posh Peshawari toilet.
Hurrah - Gyppo's recognized Boris for the latter-day Oscar Wilde that he really is. He's far too good to have a piddly job like Mayor of London. He should be Vice-Chancellor of Oxbridge University, or Governor-General of the Bahamas, or something of that ilk.
I am having lunch with Boris next weekend, and not for the first time. I will take all your good wishes to him, rammed into my reticule.
OFF TOPIC - Gyppo, it was your neighbour Bill's last day at the helm of the Oxfam bookshop today. He and his merry band of incompetents were all aglow with mulled wine and mince pies laced with Glenfiddich. A game old ex-Army type gave me a styrofoam cup full of a Ribena-ish brew which I knocked back in one. Big mistake. Your neighbour Bill obviously knows how to mix a drink. I stood in the Large Print Local Interest section and demanded another.
Jesus Christ! My word vert. is ateries!! Ateries!
Where is Mr Gyppo? I have a hangover.
Sx
Boris is an Oxford contemporary of mine, though I doubt he has any memories of me, as I was in those days a decidedly unflamboyant grey blur in the crowd. And still am now, actually.
I have clear memories of him, especially his first-year run for the presidency of OUSU (the dull, jumper-wearing spartist NUS affiliate). He ran on an 'Anti-National Union of Students' ticket, merrily plastering Oxford with posters declaring "ANUS is behind you!"
I have ardently admired his politics ever since.
Bill has left Oxfam under something of a cloud, having had a row with the regional manager, who is apparently an oik of the first water, judging from the purity of one side of the story. I'm not surprised you were offered drink. Every time I drop round to see them they have a bottle of something on the go and cheerfully offer me a generous glassful. I'm starting to run out of excuses to go round, although Bill's wife is soon to become a grandmother so I can offer second-hand baby things...
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