Bob's Bulletin: Issue 2, December
Where's Pippa's Prince??
Bob’s Bulletin: 2nd. Issue, Dec
*Pippa Middleton. *Europe *The Strike
*Clarkson *Robots
Pip, or pip pip, unless it applies to the seed of a citrus fruit, (pitt in American English), is an uppah-clawse exclamation for the British. It is used as goodbye “Toodle-pip, old chap,”
Therefore, Pippa, normally a diminutive of Philippa, is a name for those of breeding in most cases…and few other girls would wish for a name so unattractive.
It is doubly difficult to bear this honorific if your name happens to be Pippa Middleton, the sister of Kate, the royal bride.
I saw Pippa at the ATP Tennis Finals at the o2 arena on Sunday, Nov 27. She had (of course) a front-row seat and her whole expression reflected the overweening responsibility and status of just being her! I mean, she has no suitor of note, never mind a prince. It was thought that Willy’s brother, Prince Harry, might have had a swing at her, and well he might during the wedding reception and the high jinks. But, despite her jutting derriere - or after a surfeit of it - Harry headed off with his mates and left Pippa somewhere back with the royal femmes carrying out her bridesmaid duties.
Since that day, her name has been mentioned as being coupled with several of London’s gay bachelors (gay as the word was originally intended), her obvious attributes are regularly touted in the society pages and most expect her to snare some man of note (read feelthy rich).
She is hardly of blue blood herself as her parents were airline personnel, although there are some famous faces in her lineage and she had a good education. She is 28, Kate is a couple of years older, so she has plenty of time. Her bonafides are impeccable now.
Her aforementioned face was taking on something of a rictus, or so it appeared at the O2 Stadium. She favored Fedderer over Tsonga and applauded every effort he made. But her mind was perhaps elsewhere; maybe with Harry as he caroused with his army mates and then the girls of the night in Annabelle’s; or mentally scanning the eligible bachelor’s list.
Poor old Pippa Middleton, her sister got the crown-jewels and will one day be queen of England; poor old Pippa, she was really pipped at the post; whomever she snares, he will be a bauble made of paste after her sister‘s glorious conquest.
Europe. What a week we are having here with our French and German cohorts. They are making it plain that things haven’t changed between us and they hate us with the ease they have always displayed (and vice versa). They are royally pissed because we, by accident, made the right choice in not joining the Euro. Regardless, the Franco/Deutsch strongmen (and woman) want us to pay to help bail out the Euro (read, the banks again). They are muttering about “nosey little neighbors who have more problems than they do telling them how to run their own affairs“). I could have told them the EEC would never work; it’s like putting about 15 dogs of mean dispositions in a cage and leaving them to their own devices. But now, like a mating dog, we have got in and we can’t pull out!
The “General” Strike. Our much anticipated strike came and went without much disturbance. The government is crying poormouth again (read it needs to save a few bucks to invade Iran), and the teachers are complaining because, as was forecast years ago, no one can pay for their high pensions and bennies. No one can get on its high horse better than a high school teacher, “We are seen but not of it!” Guys, this won’t get you there, you need to shoot a few kids and get noticed!
Jeremy Clarkson exhibited the same kind of sick humor when asked by the BBC to stimulate the viewing audience for his crummy show, “Top Gear” again, which he did by suggesting on prime time that the “strikers be taken outside and shot in front of their families.” The usually idiots who like to protest at buffoonery like this fired off a salvo of complaints and the unions are talking to their lawyers; meanwhile, Clarkson and his two stooges jetted off the Beijing to flog Aston Martins to the Chinks, and he issued a half-hearted, insincere apology. Job done, BBC.
Robots Haven’t Evolved Much. At least, not in Europe. I was watching their show on TV this morning. They can still only perform rudimentary tasks like taking a rubber ball from your hand or moving around to your facial expressions. Pah! When will they have one capable of bringing a bloke to climax? I could use a robot like that while I’m watching youporn.com The women have all the fun; shops full of devices for them. Perhaps they have them in China which is why they insisted in exterminating rhinoceroses in their search for powdered horn for their flaccid little dickies.
And I don’t care if Google adds ads or not, it’s only them who loose!
