Seven days of boneheads, old soldiers, new cars and… change, Richard Lutz finds.
I’ll start with the end of this week as I destroy another keyboard: the date for the British in-or-out EU referendum has been announced (23rd June to no one’s surprise).
And, also as we speak, that bonehead of all boneheads former bankrupt Donald Trump will find out if he takes the primary in South Carolina, a part of the US where loads of good old boys still want the Confederate flag to fly over their state Senate as they dream of their beloved South rising again.
Trump, of course, is akin to one of those foulmouthed nasties you see on South Park – an out of control narcissistic motormouth with no brains and vomit continually spewing from his orifices. Luckily, for him, his Republican opponents are all walking zombies.
The GOP primary vote is open right now until 7pm SC time and midnight UK time. Our correspondent in South Carolina, Steve from the town of Lexington, confides to us:
“Trump is in the process of trying to blow himself up here in Columbia. We all wish him well with that. Cruze is a Canadian so should probably run for Prime Minister of GB. Besides, he looks too much like Herman Munster to win. Jeb is in critical care and Dr. Carson is moribund.
“The only realistic way forward for the Republicans is Rubio. Although he’s been on both sides of the same issue as the situation required, no one will hold that against him because, well, because, he’s a politician, you know.
“Bernie is the leader of the ‘Children’s Army’ – a nice man perhaps but prone to building sandcastles in the sky. Probably should be playing bingo at Still Hopes old folks home. Hillary will win the democratic primary and, if she doesn’t get indicted, will be a formidable opponent in the general election.
“Recently, Trump has attacked the Pope, called for a boycott of Apple, and labelled Cruze and Bush as liars – but still leads in the polls. Personally I don’t see how he, Cruze, Clinton or Saunders can possible win. We may not have a president until 2020.”
Thanks Steve, and now to other news:
Earlier in the week, I stated driving my ‘new’ second car.
Eleven years old, 150k on the clock and so many dents and scrapes it looks as if this Ford Mondeo had done patrol duty in downtown Syria. It is an automatic and since I have driven manual for the past four decades, it’s tough to see and feel my left leg just …well…sit there and do nothing rather than hitting the clutch to downshift.
Automatics are simply too easy. I fell asleep twice on my way to shopping. I will have to install an alarm clock to ensure I wake up when I reach my next driving experience destination. Also, I find, with a banger, other posh cars avoid you in a public parking space. I can spot the Mondeo – it is usually forlorn and alone as the Audis, the VWs, the huge SUVs, the Beemers slot themselves billions of miles away.
Another change: I have finally buckled under and will alter my migraine prescription. I have used my beloved green pills for close to twenty years now and they are 98 per cent successful once I get an attack. But things have recently gone haywire upstairs with a two month migraine episode.The doc says it’s time to use a preventive drug.
You hate changing horses when you’re swimming so well across the river. But when the doctor says he has no idea what is happening and the migraine specialist says herself that I might as well try anything that might work…you gotta jump ship (or is that horses?).
All this gives me a headache so I head for the movies. It is Dad’s Army. Now, a lesson for our non-EU friends (well, until 23rd June, anyway). This is the title of a classic UK TV series from the seventies about a bunch of doddards on home patrol during the war to defend the island against the Nazi machine. They are so decrepit they can’t even tie their own shoes or remember their names at times. But somehow they muddle on, confounding the fascist horde with their doddardiness. Classic material: a dream series where we all love our own incompetent combatants as they fight the good fight.
It is great television. Still after 40 years. But a movie?
It is difficult when the cinema goes dark to watch something you want to link with a tv series. The actors are different, the usual easy default jokes are no longer there and you have to wade through a 90 minute plot that barely unfurls. But the cast is solid: Bill Nighy, Michael Gambon, Tom Courtenay as the oldies and, woo-woo, Catherine Zeta-Jones as the mystery woman (read, spy) who will hopefully charm an American or two to part with some hard earned cash for a ticket.
I liked the film, though few others have. You have to change your perspective. It is not the TV series I record every week. Times have moved on since, not only WW2, but also the 1970’s TV-watching mindset. But the actors pull it off, not an easy thing when your movie audience may really want something similar to what they get when they drift off to sleep on the couch in front of the box with a cup of cocoa in their hands.
So..back to reality: Trump, Southern crackers, and steeling oneself for a four month mind-numbing debate about the EU.
Back to the trenches, I say.