COMMISSIONER USES STRONG LANGUAGE

Last night I was glitzing it up at trendy PR venue The Centre for the launch of Zoe's magnum opus, "My Boyfriend is a Tw@" - the book. It was quite a bash, with journos, celebrity bloggers, even a European Commissioner, which outranks real royalty in Belgium. The fragrant Margot Wallstrom (for it was she) actually announced the full title of the book without batting an eyelid, and then used the T-word again - twice, and correctly - when talking about certain visitors to her own blog. I do hope someone has briefed her that it's not a word you should go bandying around the Berlaymont willy-nilly. If Commissioner Mandelson heard her say such a thing he might have a fit of the vapours. Zoe has recently been asked if she would agree to the blog being studied for GCSE meedja studies or something. I can foresee some apoplectic parents when young Chardonnay comes home with her homework.


Anyway, Zoe was looking lovely in royal purple, as befits the Queen of Blog, the Tw@ himself looked spiffy in a suit and signed my copy of the book under the disclaimer "It's all lies". Rather postmodern canapes were passed around and inhaled in seconds, and it was all terribly well-behaved. The bloggers scrubbed up quite well, Spanish Goth was in his best opera cloak and I met some friendly Belgian blogging fans of Zoe and the Tw@, one of whom, Bibil, has posted a photo of the happy couple on her blog.

Apparently my new hairdo is knocking everyone sideways. Can't imagine why, I only popped in for a quick wash-and-blow-dry the other day and have apparently come out looking like Angelina Jolie. At the time I complained about having to pay 8 euros (5 quid!) for a dollop of hair conditioner ("a treatment" they call it), but judging by the amount of compliments I have received, I now think it was a wise investment.


Today is St Andrew's Day. In Poland, all chaps with the first name Andrew (Andrzej in Polish) are entitled to have an "Andrzejki" party. It's like having two birthdays, unless of course you were born on 30 November, which is just tough turkey. The only two saints who get to have a special party named after themselves are Andrew and Barbara, who are very important to the Poles for reasons too long to look up on Wikipedia right now. Saint Andrew was the brother of Saint Peter, and bits of him are buried in Patras, Greece. Babs' feast day is next week (4th December) and I shall be telling you all about her then.

So happy Andrzejki to all you Andrews, Drews and Andys, out there, and to all my admirers in bonny Scotland. St Andrew is also, as you all know, the patron saint of Scotland (as well as of Romania and Russia) and his feast is also the Scottish National Day. Sadly I couldn't find any pictures of a famous Scottish Andrew to post up, but here are some reminders, ladies, of why we love those rugged hairy sporrans north of the border (except when they come down south and move into 10 Downing Street) :

The Big Yin

The even bigger Yin. Does Sir Bond keep his moneypennies
in his shporran, I wonder?

Honorary Scotsman Liam Neeson, as the virile Rob Roy McGregor.
Also a Big Yin, if the stories are to be believed.

Yet another Big Yin, Robbie Coltrane. There wasn't
enough tartan in Scotland to make him a kilt

Hamish Clark (Duncan from Monarch of the Glen).
A wee yin, but beautifully put together.

Ewan McPhwoarr. Well, his head anyway.

Doctor McWho


Wee Jock and his co-star in "Hamish MacBeth"

Paolo McArroney Nutini


And my personal favourite:

JOHN (WE'LL SET ABOOT YA) SMEATON
The hero of Glasgow airport

Ye can set aboot me ony time, big man

SOMEWHERE OVER THE WAYNE-BOUGH

As you can see I've had the decorators in. I've been experimenting with various options on Blogger's templates tab. I fear I may need some help. Do Trinny and Susannah do blogs?

I just don't have a thing to wear. I needed to change the template to one with a wide banner heading, as the Tech Guru is going to do something clever with it one of these days. Of course now he's got a blog of his own, my needs have to come second while he addresses his public. I really don't think he needs to wear a toga to do it, but whatever. I feel a bit like James Mason to his Judy Garland. In more ways than one. Anyway, the old template didn't cut the mustard.

Mustard. Hmm.


However, the new wallpaper is perhaps a bit garish. Even for Christmas. I'm trying to find a combination that reflects the true me. Something that conveys my innate good taste, my essential finesse and understatement while at the same time hinting at my Celtic passion, and my tropical sense of rhythm. Not to mention my appreciation for the very occasional chocolate.


Chocolate, mmm.

I have also added a few toys, whilst reducing my output. I'm afraid pressures of rehearsals with the KNOB.*, mah-jong parties with the Woluwe branch of the W.I. and writing restaurant reviews for UpYours** (see new link in sidebar for online versions) not to mention having to keep up with East Enders, Heroes and Jonathan Ross, and get my full beauty sleep, mean that I really can't manage more than one post a week. Yes, I hear your roar of protest, but you'll have to settle for less quantity and more quality.

I've added a musical widget which requires a not inconsiderable investment of time, to keep you amused while you're waiting for my next pearls of wisdom. I've also updated the blogroll and added some interesting new links, such as Tom Joad, whose pieces on language and wordplay are most edifying, and I Love Belgians, a touching visual demonstration by our Flemish and Walloon friends that this country is not on the verge of a civil war, although it has now been a whopping 170 days without a federal government, about to overtake the all-time Belgian record of six months with no captain at the helm. As a way of getting Belgium into the Guinness Book of Records, there must be easier ways, like eating the most chips in under 10 minutes or something.


I was at a loss to find a colour scheme or a template that brings to mind a tea room in Cheam or a chintz chaise-longue, rather than the present ensemble which reminds me of the Ubongoland market lady who sold me the elephant's foot umbrella holder - carved from wood, not from a real elephant, of course - wherein sits my favourite gay umbrella, subject of my most popular post to date.



But of course! (Slaps forehead in realization of the obvious). By George I think I've got it. Take it away, Toto.



* Kurt Nachtnebel Oompah Band

** Tippler's freesheet for discerning expats

A BEAR SPEAKS

Hullo. Teddy here. The old girl's still catching up on her beauty sleep (God knows she needs it), so I thought I'd just tell you about what she did to me last night. I think you should be told.

I don't get to watch much television, as I'm usually gathering dust under Daphne's bed or shoved away in a suitcase en route to some godforsaken corner of the world. But exceptionally she let me - well, made me - stay up and watch BBC 'Children in Need' last night.

Well if that's the famous goggle box that you all talk about all the time, I can't see what all the fuss is about. I'd have had more fun rooting around in next door's bins. That tubby Irishman in charge got steadily drunker as the programme went on, with sporadic interruptions from a series of pasty-faced and talentless youngsters, egged on by an obviously drugged audience who grinned and clapped more and louder, the worse it got.



There were a few things I liked, such as that big lady doctor from Holby City who made a fair soul mama. She was bearable. Little Kylie, who reminds us bears of Goldilocks, was quite sweet, although she really needs to eat more honey. A bunch of five middle aged women - only one of them pleasantly plump - did some appalling karaoke, and a scraggy old blonde pranced about like a superannuated polar bear and then couldn't read the telephone number properly. Embarrassing really. Later it got even worse, with some very old men off the radio making fools of themselves playing air guitar. After that I fell asleep.

When we bears get old and doddery, we're taken off active duty and shot, which is a long overdue solution for that Wogan fellow. This was all in aid of charity. To help abused and deprived children. A worthy cause, second only to the renovation of elderly bears' feet (see photo above). But the broadcasting of programmes such as this almost constitutes abuse in itself.

I'm a very old bear. In fact I'm Daphne's age, having been with her since she was a wee tot. But frankly, I'm too young to watch drivel like that. Next year I'm going out clubbing with Barbie.

AND THE WINNER IS ...

A little detective work will win you first prize. Could these two chaps be related?

The winner of my deviously intriguing puzzle is the damn clever dicky Doctor Maroon !! who wins a box of lovely chocs. Belgian chocolates have to be eaten within three weeks of purchase, so hurry up and send me your address Doc, or I shall be forced to dispose of them in the time-honoured fashion. And for anyone who thinks Belgian chocolates are "sickly", you have never tasted these ones I have ready to send to the good doctor.

Followed by

2. Brian Roberts
3. Ché l'Ecossais
4. Dip-Dop-Crabtree
5. ExAfrica
6. MKWM
7. Mr Farty

I can't run to consolation prizes, but heartfelt congratulations to all the runners-up, and I salute your indefatigability. I will let the rest of you rack your brains a bit longer before I put you out of your misery. Unless you send me a large amount of money, and I'll tell you straight away.

I go to enormous efforts to keep my readers entertained. You will notice the addition of a musical box on the left where I have gone to great lengths to find songs appropriate to the subject of the current post to share with you. I don't know if some of you have even noticed it is there.

Pearls before swine. (Sigh)

THE WAR TO END ALL WARS ... (to be continued)