Thursday, 31 March 2011

Details More Pleasing to Describe than to Read

I'm currently entrenched in the sixteenth century, led by the best guide you can have for that period, C S. Lewis's English Literature in the Sixteenth Century Excluding Drama. O HELL, as Lewis called it (it was part of the Oxford History of English Literature and took him 15 years on and off to complete) is one of the best books of literary history ever written despite being saddled with one of the least exciting titles.

One of the books he obviously enjoyed dipping into is Richard Hakluyt's monumental Principal Navigations of these 1600 Years, in which the author cobbled together or commissioned various travelogues from a host of intrepid adventurers. Lewis singles out Walter Raleigh's contribution, The Discovery of Guiana, for special praise:

"[This book] combines almost every charm that a prose narrative could have – substantial truth, a quest for a fabulous city that might have come out of Rider Haggard, a sound prose, pathos, chivalry, a gift for description ... And he knows the secret; not to tell too much, even when it clamours to be told, for many details 'are more pleasing in describing than reading'."

Over in France at around the same time, Michel de Montaigne was beavering away in the tower of his chateau virtually inventing the essay form, blissfully unaware that he was set to become an influence on writers as diverse as Pascal, Emerson, Nietzsche and Clive James.

I think both Raleigh and Lewis would have approved of what he has to say about the misplaced confidence of mediocre writers (in this case, poets) in his essay "Of presumption":

"A man may play the fool in everything else, but not in poetry:

'Neither men, nor gods, nor the pillars on which the poets offer their writings, permit mediocrity in poets.' (Horace, The Art of Poetry, 372)

I would to God this sentence was written over the doors of all our printers, to forbid the entrance of so many rhymesters!

'The truth is, that nothing is more confident than a bad poet.' (Martial, Epigrams, Book VII, 63, 13."

Tuesday, 29 March 2011

Lily Chiang Case Forges Ahead

There was a sense of déjà vu about the opening exchanges of the trial of Lily Chiang Lai Lei, whose case, together with those of her two co-defendants, finally came to court last week.

What might have been expected to have been a swift and robust defence of the charges against her, given her husband’s confidence in her innocence, expressed in this very blog (see the first comment), has instead given way to a litany of delaying tactics worthy of the Great Delayer, Quintus Fabius Maximus Cunctator, himself.

Nearly three and a half years after her arrest by the ever so slightly kinky ICAC, Lily has been seeking either a jury trial or a mistrial or a permanent postponement of proceedings, going through a fair old number of legal representatives in the process, it would seem.

Proceedings in her share fraud trial kicked off last Thursday with sensational revelations of a shady man in a baseball cap passing over to one of her co-accused, Shah Tahir Hussain, what appeared to be police files on Lily's former personal assistant, Ms Yip Yuk Chun, stating that she had been arrested for possession of cocaine.

Hussain's counsel, Kevin Egan, said in court that he believed the documents to be genuine, a belief that he was forced to reconsider the following day, when the court was told that the documents designed to discredit Ms Yip had been forged. Egan accepted this devastating piece of news with remarkable sangfroid, agreeing that the documents were forgeries, or, as he rather charmingly reformulated it, if one may trust the South China Morning Post, a "hoax", which made me chuckle.

"We want to lay to rest any suggestion of a cover up," Saint Kev of Oz intoned.

Which was jolly good of him, since no one, as far as I am aware, was suggesting that anyone was trying to cover anything up, rather that someone was trying to use forged documents to discredit a key witness.

After all these shenanigans, it was inevitable that the second week of the trial would start in an altogether more low key way, as Lily denied instructing her former PA to sell shares so she could pocket HK$340,000. Testifying under immunity from prosecution, Ms Yip had suggested otherwise.

Whether the court will believe Lily or her Girl Friday is anybody’s guess, but history may not be on Lily’s side, if a case also involving Egan is anything to go by. In his own 2006 trial for attempting to leak the identity of a suspect in the ICAC’s witness protection programme, judge Barnabas Fung Wah put his faith in a witness testifying against the Aussie under immunity, erstwhile SCMP chief law reporter Magdalene Chow.

On the other hand, the former Government prosecutor turned “ICAC Killer" – does that make him a gamekeeper turned poacher or the other way round? – boasts a pretty decent record of acquittals in cases brought by his North Point nemeses.

I can only echo what I said before - I look forward immensely to the next round in this long-running saga.

Monday, 28 March 2011

Kissel Verdicts Blamed on Cultural Differences


What no one in Hong Kong is considering is the incredibly damaging effect making plans to kill your husband and then carrying them out can have on your psyche.

Friday, 25 March 2011

A Canterbury Tale

My journey through the films of Powell and Pressburger brings me to one of their quirkiest pieces, A Canterbury Tale. Like all their best work, this film, made in 1943 and released a year later, has a way of stealing up on you as you watch it. It happened with The Red Shoes, it happened with The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. Peeping Tom is a slightly different kettle of fish, as its shocks come immediately, while Black Narcissus suffers from a plot that is too thin and actors that seem to be enjoying themselves too much. (Golden rule for performers: if you are enjoying yourselves immensely, the audience are probably not.)

Much of A Canterbury Tale is shot on location in and around Canterbury, an area that the director, Michael Powell, knew well from his childhood. Indeed, the East Kent countryside – more Garden of Eden than Garden of England – shares top billing with the peerless Eric Portman (who dominates the film in much the same way that Anton Walbrook dominates The Red Shoes), newcomer Sheila Sim (now Lady Attenborough), Sergeant John Sweet, seconded from the US army, and Dennis Price, best known to later generations as Jeeves to Ian Carmichael’s Wooster.

The plot is bizarre and contrived, but that hardly matters. Indeed, it may be argued that it contributes to the immense power of the film, in which three troubled people come into the orbit of a Svengali-like figure – or is he an angel? – who seems to hold the key to making them whole.

"Life is full of disappointments," says the Portman character, even as he acts as the conduit through which other people's disappointments are transcended.

This is a remarkable film. As John Sweet, quoting Henry James, says in an interview shot on his return to Canterbury in 2004, "What you see is what you bring." Those who bring a rich experience of life and an open and wondering mind to this film are assured of their reward.

Thursday, 24 March 2011

Putting the "Oh" back into Danny Boy

It may be a week late for the feast of St Patrick, but, Hong Kong Welsh Male Voice Choir, eat your heart out!



And a nice Irish joke from a YouTube Commenter to round things off:

Paddy was walking home from the pub one night. It was cold and windy, so he decided to take a short cut through a field with cows grazing in it. The wind blew his Tam O'Shanter off, and he had to try on three different ones before he found one that fit.

Wednesday, 23 March 2011

Gros and Grocer

Forgive the title, but I'm in a particularly skittish mood after a morning dealing with people who seem incapable of communicating simple information. No doubt they were "multitasking" by trying out their latest iPhone apps while speaking to me on the blower or sending nonsensical emails.

I've come across two interesting blogs, which I thought merited a bit of a plug. First, from Chile, via Sydney, there's Fernando Gros, musician, photographer, theologian and philosopher.

Then, from somewhere else, there's Tom, of "Tom Eats and Jen Cooks" - he's clearly a philosopher after his own type as well.

Tom visits eateries, mainly posh so far as I can see, while the trouble-and-strife is presumably slaving away in their kitchen, and then writes rather good reviews. "I won't review anything I get for free" is his food reviewing philosophy, and good for him, I say. Those blurb reviews are enough to make you bring up what the writer is supposed to have been critiquing.

A man after my own heart, here is Tom running the rule over L' Atelier de Joel Robuchon, the annoying little brother of the ("Le" – wot zee ’ell) Jardin de J.R.

Tuesday, 22 March 2011

Hong Kong’s Jewel in the Crown: the Fire Lookout Post at 555 metres



Stream crossing Kap Lung Ancient Trail

With well established forests of introduced species including Swamp Mahogany, Brisbane Box, Taiwan Acacia and Horsetail Trees vying for space with local varieties such as Pond Spice, Hong Kong Gordonia, Chinese Banyan and China Fir, the part of Tai Lam Country Park that extends north of the Maclehose Trail from Tai Lam Chung Reservoir in the west to Route Twisk in the east to is a walkers' paradise.

Having spent three weekends recceing the area with my regular walking companion in order to find a route that would keep the Family Moanometer readings to a minimum, I devised an itinerary that would culminate in spectacular views from the fire lookout post that nestles at 555 metres just north of the Maclehose Trail. As it turned out, visibility was only about 80 metres up there, but, as I told my teenager, after I'd got her to turn her New Kids on the Block down, there is a beauty all its own of walking in the clouds.

Not to mention, eating your Camembert and salami sarnies next to a fire lookout post built ten metres below the apex of the hill it supposedly sits atop, so that either the flames would have to be shooting really high or a plume of smoke rising stock still from the wooded foothills of Tai Mo Shan before the doughty Fire Lookout Officer would be able to raise the alarm. Alas, Hong Kong’s ugliest building is all boarded-up now, as if the Government’s Chief Fire Lookout Officer finally paid a visit to the installation and discovered the inutility of the place for himself.

Parking our car just off Kam Sheung Road in To Teung Uk village – served by KMB bus routes 64K and 251M – we made our way along the path conveniently located opposite the loos through cultivated farmland that boasted gladioli, carrots, lettuce, spinach, something that looked like beetroot but can’t be, can it? – I've never seen the locals eating the stuff – plus that fruit that looks like an orangey red hand grenade.



The loos at To Uk Tsuen


Starting point - opposite the loos at To Uk Tsuen

To get up to the catchwater road that runs west-east from Ho Pui Reservoir to Route Twisk, you need to climb some concrete steps – the ugliest part of the journey (apart from that hut).


The steps to Kap Lung

At the top, you turn left, soon reaching the Farm Milk Company. (You can't miss it – it's got an enormous Friesian painted rock at the entrance.) Here we supplemented out own supply of peach tea and water with half a litre of tasty milk from a Guangdong herd, as well as carbo-loading on some siu mai.

Suitably refreshed after our arduous 30-minute trek, we headed on for the severest test of the day, the Kap Lung Ancient Trail, which heads off to the right five minutes beyond the dairy. (The milk shop is actually opposite the southern start to the Kap Lung Forest Trail, which runs more or less parallel to the Ancient Trail.) The Ancient Trail (mainly paved with old stones) is pretty steep, and, after recent rain, rather slippery for those wearing sports shoes. Not the sort of path you'd want to go down, unless you’re a mountain biker with a death wish, two of who passed us at the last of the four streams you cross on your ascent.

Once you get to the top of the Ancient Trail, it's time to try the Kap Lung Forest Trail. Turning right onto this, we soon reached an Information post, whence on our return journey we would follow that trail back down to the dairy. But That Hut was calling us, so we headed on, following the main path around to the left. There's a steep downhill bit after a couple of minutes but after that it's pretty much plain sailing all the way to your destination. The only tricky bit comes after about 30-40 minutes walking, when you need to take an unmarked, but well-worn, path off to the left. This comes about 20 minutes after a marked path up off to the left, signed for Route Twisk.

A couple of minutes after taking that unmarked left turn, you come to a T-junction, where you do a left. A further quarter of an hour will take you to the tarmac road which doubles up as the Maclehose Trail. Hang a left and slog up the hill for 600 metres until you come to the track on the left marked "Fire Lookout". Five minutes along that, take another left which will bring you in no time to your destination – a spot with magnificent views, on a clear day, of Tai Mo Shan, Tai Lam Chung, Shek Kong and even Nina Tower in Tsuen Wan.



The Fire Lookout Post at 555 metres in Tai Lam Country Park

When you get back to the Maclehose Trail, head left towards Route Twisk and then take the path on your left marked Ho Pui Reservoir after 600 metres. This will take you back down to the trail you were on earlier. Turn right and retrace your steps. Soon you will reach the Information post, where you take the Kap Lung Forest Trail down to the catchwater and back to To Teung Uk village.

But not before stopping off at the dairy (open 9am – 6pm) for another carton of milk and a mango pudding to go. You may need it on what is a taxing, but not overly difficult 6-hour walk (including half an hour for lunch).

Saturday, 19 March 2011

Eagles in Hong Kong

Leaving the mausoleum that is Hall 5 of the Convention and Exhibition Centre at twenty past eleven last night having spent all of three hours bar a 15-minute interval taking a 40-year journey with Glenn Frey, Don Henley and company, one had the sense of a band not so much raging against the fading of the light as coming to terms with it.

The vocals, with the exception of bassist Timothy B. Schmit, whose distinctive falsetto tones, like his flowing locks, seem to defy the passage of time, may have been creaky in places, but here were a band who clearly still enjoy playing together and entertaining appreciative audiences. And after gigs in Beijing and Shanghai characterised by the ceaseless chatter of local cadres who wouldn't know their Peaceful Easy Feeling from their Last Resort, it must have been a relief to be extracting the cash from the ageing wannabe rocker rebels of Hong Kong, even if the 55-minute first set proved too long for many to hold it in, as a constant stream felt possessed of the need to go and check the plumbing.

The Eagles were last in Hong Kong in 2004, when they played at the much more atmospheric and viewer-friendly Coliseum. That night things really took off at the start of the second half when Joe Walsh was unleashed on the punters and duly performed an impromptu rap that morphed into songs from the Hell Freezes Over album. This time round, he was kept on his lead until near the end of the 26-song concert (albeit he had earlier performed "In the City" and "Walk Away"), his "Life's Been Good" and "Funk #" 49 bookending one of Don Henley's seemingly endless list of protest songs, "Dirty Laundry", a rant against media intrusion and trashy journalism. I suppose it's either ranting or staying off the booze and the drugs, and the boys traded in the latter option way back in the decade they say you never lived through if you can remember it, or some such nonsense.

There were six songs from the band's most recent album, Long Road out of Eden, the best of which were "Waiting in the Weeds" and "No More Cloudy Days" (nice saxophone on this number – the eight or so backing musicians did a fine job), as well as the title track, all nine minutes of it, which had Don giving the full "Protest Twitch", complete with complimentary snarl. Sadly, it's no "Last Resort", but it does give Don the chance to dip into his favourite vocabulary – Utopia ... litter … wreckage … entitlement … road to Damascus … bingeing … road to Empire … dirty stupid waste – against a backdrop of an American businessman burning money in front of Old Glory intercut with images of a black peasant woman holding a tin mug.

Every time you hear the Eagles perform, you get the feeling that the key question for them is how and when to present their bastard step-child (the seed of the outcast Don Felder) to his adoring public. For the Hell Freezes Over tour, they wheeled "Hotel California" out first (in a very nice acoustic guitar arrangement). For their Asia tour, they decided to stick it at # 4 and disguise it with a trumpet intro that sounded as if it had been found on the cutting room floor of a spaghetti western.

Here's the full song list:

Seven Bridges Road
How Long?
I Don't Want to Hear Any More
Hotel Something or Other
Peaceful Easy Feeling
I Can't Tell You Why
Witchy Woman
Lyin' Eyes
The Boys of Summer
In the City
The Long Run
No More Walks in the Wood
Waiting in the Weeds
No More Cloudy Days
I Can't Tell You Why
Best of My Love
Take it to the Limit
Long Road out of Eden
Walk Away
One of These Nights
Life's Been Good
Dirty Laundry
Funk # 49
Heartache Tonight
Life in the Fast Lane
Take it Easy
Desperado

Friday, 18 March 2011

London Olympics Target Terrorists and Picnickers



The food ban would be music to my ears, Mandeville, if they hadn't banned that too.

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Messianic Mumbo Jumbo

I'm not very fond of clichés. Nor are management and self-help books at the top of my reading list.

As a teenager, I once had a summer job at a small publishing company which was in a perpetual state of disarray. There were two schools of thought as to how this situation had come about, depending on who you talked to.

The founding editor, whose desktop publishing tools included a Ouija board, and whose favourite word was "duberry", a word which, appropriately enough, means absolutely nothing, used to justify the chaos by reciting mantra-like the inane string of words "Constant change is here to stay", accompanied by a grin that rivalled his idiotic apophthegm for fatuity.

Everyone else, on the other hand, believed it was because he was totally disorganised, idle and useless.

I have to admit it was with trepidation that I entered this morning the office of the consultant who has been brought in to help with the drafting of this year's annual report. First signs weren't promising at all, as I had scarcely stepped over the threshold when Who Moved My Cheese? leaped out at me from her ill equipped bookshelf.

Drawn in like a latter-day Odysseus, I was powerless to resist the lure of this modern-day Circe, unable to turn my head knowledge – that witch-goddess had turned Odysseus' men into pigs after feeding them wine and, wait for it … cheese – into heart knowledge.

OH MY GOD! It was happening already. I was turning into a spouter of meaningless mumbo jumbo.

Suddenly, there I was, caught between the Scylla of Tuesdays with Morrie and the Charybdis of Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, and all resistance seemed futile. I was losing the will to resist and I knew it, but I simply couldn't turn that head knowledge into ... AAAAAGH!

And then it came, like a bolt from the blue, that jolt which would indirectly release me from my thralldom. Out of the corner of my eye, I was able to make out the following words on McKinsey Girl’s whiteboard:

"Change will take precisely as long as you think it will. The arrogance of absurdly high expectations can pay off in very short order if you've got the nerve to go for it and the deep-rooted (messianic) belief that ... 'There's utterly no reason why we can't do this in a month!' (Tom Peters, The Little Big Things: 163 Ways to Pursue Excellence)"

My salvation came from the unlikeliest source. For I was instantly transported to Scenario, the Hong Kong Council of Social Service's monthly magazine, in which Lam Woon Kwong, the Japan-loving former Secretary for Home Affairs, opined that leaders of genius should not be "bound by deadlines" but should "create flexibilities", AKA change things whenever their half-baked ideas failed, as inevitably all such enterprises must.

Inside each of us, it seems, there's a little Messiah waiting to jump out and nibble on Malcolm Gladwell's cheese.

Tuesday, 15 March 2011

How to Maximize your Eye-bull

My poor eyeballs were compelled to read the following guff this morning. Is it any wonder I find refuge in good old-fashioned English prose, such as provided by my current reading, The Essays of Michel de Montaigne?

"By leveraging print advertisements and customized television segments, the platform offers a 'Win-Win' situation for advertisers looking for a creative showcase offering synergy with other platforms. No other media buy makes it easier to satisfy brand managers' desire to maximize eyeball management while minimizing eyeball conflict."

Monday, 14 March 2011

Saturday, 12 March 2011

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp

First banned, then released in a shorter version, in which the central flashback structure was replaced by a linear story line, the challenges faced and ultimately surmounted by The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp stand as a metaphor for the struggle of Britain against the Nazis – a struggle the film was aimed to depict and to bolster.

Finally restored to the original version, as envisaged by the writer-director-producer team Michael Powell and Emeric Pressbuirger, in 1983, 40 years after its release, this film rises above mere propaganda picture to be lauded by one critic as "very possibly the finest film ever made in Britain."

It achieves this status despite occasional heavy-handed speechifying (three times we are reminded how the Hun sunk neutral shipping and bombed innocent civilians – Dresden and Hamburg loom uncomfortably on the horizon), inserted, one can only assume, to get past the censors – Churchill was one unhappy bunny about the making of the film and the army refused to help with equipment.

Colonel Blimp might be based on David Low's cartoon strip, which first appeared in a London evening newspaper in the 1930s and was a parody of the buffoon-like quality of many army top brass (General Melchett in Blackadder Goes Forth follows in this tradition), but the Blimp character in the film, Clive Candy, played by Roger Livesey, is neither called Blimp not particularly blimpish.

He does however provide the perfect foil for Anton Walbrook's portrayal of an anti-Nazi German army officer whose career is terminated shortly after the Great War, Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff. And, in a film also featuring 21-year-old Deborah Kerr in her first starring role, it is Walbrook (an Austrian émigré born Adolf Wohlbrück, who teamed up with Powell and Pressburger again for The Red Shoes) who steals the show.

Two scenes stand out. In the first, a long speech done in one take, according to Roger Ebert, who places this film in his list of 100 Great Movies, Kretschmar-Schuldorff explains to a Home Office official charged with considering his request for residency in Britain at the outbreak of war why he has chosen England over his homeland. In the second, set a year or two later, the Good German galvanises his friend of 40 years, now Major General Clive Wynne-Candy, with the following words, arguably as relevant today ('though not with reference to the Germans) as they were when spoken nearly 70 years ago:

"Because victory was yours, you failed to learn your lesson 20 years ago … Some of you will learn quicker than the others. Some will never learn it, because you've been educated to be a gentleman in peace and in war … But this is not a gentleman’s war. This time you're fighting for your very existence against the most devilish idea ever created by a human brain – Naziism*. And if you lose, there won't be a return match next year. Perhaps not for 100 years."

* I render the word thus to reflect Walbrook's pronunciation.

Friday, 11 March 2011

Dalai Lama Coy about His Own Reincarnation



To paraphrase another great leader, I may, or may not, be back.

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

The Best of Buster Keaton

For many critics and fans, Buster Keaton ranks ahead of Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd as the greatest silent comedian of them all. He achieves this despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that Keaton’s character with the pork pie hat is arguably the least sympathetic, the most remote and the most melancholic, possessed of what one critic called a "universal stillness".

A number of critics have observed that Keaton comes across like a creature from another world, with little interest in the audience or concern about whether they like him. What does interest him is the way the world works and how he can work things round when it isn't working.

This means not only that the laughs were often secondary, but that they often worked at a deeper level when they came. Although 1920s' audiences progressively turned away from his films (two of the features most loved by today's audiences, The General (1926) and Steamboat Bill Jr. (1928), bombed at the box office), because he wouldn’t concede to audience taste by being a hero to root for, Keaton’s Everyman persona with the deadpan expression (Mr. Bean meets James Stewart?) stands the test of time remarkably well. His best pictures (Steamboat Bill Jr. and The Navigator in my book) have a timeless quality to them.

Star, director and writer, Buster Keaton was also stuntman extraordinaire, whether running on top of a train, dangling over a waterfall or riding on the handlebars of a motorbike. (His films feature lots of water and lots of trains.)

Here's his most famous stunt from Steamboat Bill, Jr., where the front of a two-storey wooden house falls on him during a gale. Or does it? (Roger Ebert says Keaton decided not to rehearse the stunt because he trusted his set-up and didn't want to waste a wall, but I say he couldn't have done a second take after a 2-ton object had hit him on the head even if he had wanted to.)



And for all of you who have ever had trouble opening a tin of corned beef with one of those key things, enjoy 90 seconds of mayhem from The Navigator (starting at 6:10):

Tuesday, 8 March 2011

Monday, 7 March 2011

Walking the Gauntlet of the Bikers

Dave asks if I'm turning into a political cartoonist. Well, the answer is no, even if I managed to push my collection of bottles of Dow vintage port into double figures before the Sunday Morning Post finally closed their caption competition more than ten years ago.

My current problem may be expressed in two words, annual report. This year the Group in its infinite wisdom (did I mention before that the chairman of the board is 93 years old) decided to bring a consultant from McKinsey on board to "enhance the drafting process".

Well, she's certainly enhanced the amount of time everyone is spending on the thing, as well as the proportion of clichés and the sheer verbiage.

To get away from all this, I decided to go walking at the weekend with my old walking companion in Hong Kong's forgotten country park – even though it's the second largest – the Tai Lam Country Park. (More on routes to take in the park and hopefully some photos another time.)

Having safely negotiated hordes of leather-clad motorcyclists on Route Twisk trying to set records for breaking the most traffic laws in one journey (overtaking downhill across double white lines was a favourite), we duly set out from Kam Sheung Road and enjoyed a meander that took us along the Kap Lung Forest Trail up to the fire lookout point at 461 metres above Ho Pui Reservoir before heading back to our car.

At around the halfway point, we sat down to have our cheese and pickle sandwiches and a refreshing bottle of peach tea on a bench conveniently situated at an information point. Four mountain bikers who we had played leapfrog with – they had passed us and then we had passed them as they took a water break by the side of the trail – arrived after a few minutes. One of them – from a Spanish-speaking country, though the others appeared to be Brits – swivelled on his saddle and asked me with an air of some concern:

"Are you all right?"

"Fine," I replied. “Just enjoying my lunch."

"Oh, I thought something might be wrong, as you were sitting down."

What did the Spic expect me to be doing? Standing up propped against a tree eating tapas and sipping a Sol from a bottle with a lemon wedged in the top?

Friday, 4 March 2011

Major Parachutes into Barnsley with Promises



I pledge more money for the armed forces, the National Health Service and schools through higher taxes for soldiers, nurses and teachers.

Thursday, 3 March 2011

Tsang Defends Government U-turn



Some people say we don't have a … don't have a …

"Clue", Chief Executive.

Wednesday, 2 March 2011

Kennedy in Whorehouse Shock



I hear you had a knocking shop over there in Chile, Senator.

Sorry, son, I already passed the lease on to Clinton.

Tuesday, 1 March 2011

Ashley Cole Shoots Member of Chelsea Staff



Ees not trifling matter, bringing gun to club training ground, Ashley.

I know. It's more like a rifling matter, innit, Carlos.