He's not the Messiah, he was a very naughty boy...

We all knew he was in the grip of a nasty dementia problem, but this news is so saddening.

I was so lucky to have been around when he first bounded onto the screen with Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Michael Palin and Eric Idle. I watched the first episodes with my dad, as we were addicts for the humour of recent predecessors like Tim Brooke-Taylor and Marty Feldman, and after a few pints in the local, it was that enigmatic drawl of the intro to Monty Python which made the week such a great place to be alive in!

I easily remember later showings in the late sixties,  laughing uncontrollably as we raced up the stairs outside the flat in Chelsea, trying to get to the Finborough Arms before closing time, and giggling with an Aussie flatmate for ages - all because of really funny men like Terry Jones!

Thanks Terry, you can now start all over again, up there, and it'll be a much funnier place, that's after you've had to make them let you in, especially after your rendition of one of the best-loved lines in any comedy show!

Bong, bong, bong...

What I can't understand, is the problem with Big Ben's bongs.

I know the dear old tower is under wraps for renovation, and that it's an expensive job as well as a technically challenging project to make it all safe and secure for the next few years, but why can't we hear any bongs?

Just because a few political pricks kick up a fuss about some weird idea in their fuzzy collection of frayed brain cells, it wouldn't take Scroblene Inc. long to suggest a replacement while the clock and it's chimes are being renovated.

I've only been to a few open air concerts for music (all Genesis, with Elder Daught), and the expertise of the sound engineers at places like Knebworth and Twickenham was second to none, (although the first song at Knebworth in 1993 - 'Land of confusion', was a bit suspect for the first few bars, then rapidly repaired).

I'd have thought that there were enough good sound engineers, display professionals and general good guys and gals to fix up a recording of the famous bongs for all to hear at the appropriate time, preferably built into the scaffolding structure to remind everyone that the old place still exists, despite the shenanigans of the blokes and wokes who infest the interior on occasions! Even if it wasn't possible to make the thing as loud as it used to be, at least the general public close by, could listen to a great piece of British history!

But of course, it probably won't happen, as it's too easy to think about...

Upbuggerment of communication devices - again...

Yesterday morning, around 6:00am, when the doors are still bolted, cars are few and dawn manages to struggle up to an already grey horizon, Scrobs' PC packed up forwever.

In fact it's Mrs Scrobs' PC, as it really is hers, but I use it all the time during the early hours, as it is never turned off, and ready for perusal of the news, messages etc as soon as the Yorkshire Gold hits the spot!

And so, after about eight years, the old thing called in the replacement therapist and Scrobs went back to the old (but younger, as I bought it when I was gainfully employed, if you see what I mean) laptop, to find out where to go today and purchase a replacement.

I thought January was going to be a fruitful month, with first, the good news about the GE still sinking in, the turmoil in all the other parties, the car off the cinder blocks (too much US literature), and generally an easing into a fabulous New Year. But No...

The car is due for major surgery next week instead of last November, the electricity account is totally arse about face, we need even more solid fuel, and several other matters have reared their ugly heads. All this was on the cards before yesterday 6:00am, and now this...

Hey-Ho, Hey-Ho, it's off to Currys we go, and hopefully a new electronic communication machine will be installed by the end of the day!

I usually backed up most stuff, (preferring 'The Cloud' for nearly all my files these days, as my MS Office package is from 2000, so looks a bit bleak), and hopefully I can get the rest of the stuff out of the old machine by taking out the hard disk and using some invaluable software which I bought for this sort of issue years ago, to retrieve the files, but, around 11:30pm last night, I realised that I'd have lost all my internet 'favourites', which really is a bind, as it had the best playlist for Youtube anyone could wish for!

Bugger...

The Loser of the Liebore party...

(prospective leaders queue up to be formatted)

While I have decided not to throw my 'Glencroft Countrywear' hat into the ring, again, in fact for the fifth time, I have decided to help everyone here to make their minds up about who will be the next Looser!

As a betting man, who last won a significant amount of money when 'Red Alligator'  and  'Different Class' romped home as first and third in the Grand National back in the sixties, causing several pints for me and all my chums and little change left from £4, I feel justified in looking at the odds Here.

It looks as though the marmalade millionaire will crack it, (it's quite a delicious drink too, Kir, so I hear), and the rest will have to go back to their day-'jobs', especially Ms Old-Bailey, so I need some odds from chums here, y'know, as mates like, er...fer old time's sake an' that...

What actually causes me the biggest worry, is that a contender (believed to be the little guy about seven from the end in the above pic) is a certain Miss Joan Birckow, at 979/1, quite a long way down the page on the right, where only one bookie took the bet...

Now that's what I call a long-shot!

(This post has been re-edited several times to reflect the gravity of the situation, the amount of money being poured into wagers on the race, and an almost universal disinterest from just about everyone in the UK, except the BBC and The Grauniad)!