Alphabet frog soup (with Chet Baker)
So, as always, we’ve got
Afghanistan
Blair for (EU) president
China rampaging through Africa…
… in other words, the usual ABC of grief & bother, that I could, no doubt, in a few minutes or so, flesh out into a whole A to Z of horrible headlines…
… and there are always stories like this – which are funny in the way pointing at cauldrons filled with slowly boiling frogs and going HA-HA-HA is quite hilarious:
“Police and neighbourhood watch organisers in one area of Lancashire have produced official notices for nervous residents to place in their windows telling the festive singers not to call. The yellow postcard-sized signs, which are also being handed out at libraries and GPs’ surgeries, read: “Sorry no carol singers, I won’t open my door to you.” Organisers said that the cards were produced in response to demand from vulnerable residents who said that large groups of people left them feeling nervous. There have been a handful of cases elsewhere in the country in which burglars have posed as carol singers.”
Today though, I can’t be bothered. The world and its frog-boiling granny can all go off-their-trolley racing, for all I care.
I’m off to see the wizard – or off to listen to Chet Baker; which is very much the same thing.
You can come with me, if you want. For the rest of you: See you tomorrow; same time, same cyberspace.
Take us away, Master Chet:
1) Funny Valentine
2) Time after time &
3) Almost blue:
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