Lost and found

Well I may never blog again. With wall to wall Labour and Alice married off what’s left to rant about. You my right index finger can retire from the ardor of entertaining the extended O’Keefes clan er court and spend your doting years admiring your gold signet watch as we entertain the lads at the club one more time with tales of your exploits.

Perhaps one of you can offer something to continue with. As for me when I open my mouth all that comes out to a backdrop of the sun rising over a peaceful valley is the classic: “and they all lived happily ever after”. That’s all very well but we all know that it’s not the launch pad fuel of great literature / blogs. We blogers need conflict, deprivation, uncertainty, fear. I won’t go on, you know the stuff, you don’t want it but what about us.

I just paused to watch our new PM on Kerry O’Brien’s variety show and he’s so tight. I’m not going to find any material there or at least not for some time yet. Bernie Banton RIP bless his soul, was the other celebrity, posthumous of course. Not much on offer there either that Bernie hasn’t already covered pretty comprehensively. What I really need is a new war front or something. If only Israel would bomb Tehran, that would be good.

What madness. I’m sorry about all that. It’s amazing isn’t it the extremes to which one can be driven by harmony and friendship and happy ending stuff. I’m saved of course, Grumpy Old Men has saved me. I can rant again. About art and power poles and, and,and here’s The Bill. Oh yes! I’m back. Come here index, your not retiring yet, not by furlongs, this race is only beginning.

You know