Skip to main content

Self-regard for fun and profit

Now it is of zero interest to me personally if Chris Huhne decides he wants to trade hid wife in for a younger model. Sunrise, sunset. However, his peremptorily bald twitter announcement did pique my interest slightly; for those unaware it read, simply: "I am in a serious relationship with Carina Trimingham and I am separating from my wife."

Bully for you Chris. However it strikes me that it would be a touch more seemly to have included a smidgeon of contrition, no? I'm reminded of the magnificent performance of Beatrice Straight in the stupendous Network, who, confronting her cheating husband delivers the following speech

Get out, go anywhere you want, go to a hotel, go live with her, and don't come back. Because, after 25 years of building a home and raising a family and all the senseless pain that we have inflicted on each other, I'm damned if I'm going to stand here and have you tell me you're in love with somebody else. Because this isn't a convention weekend with your secretary, is it? Or - or some broad that you picked up after three belts of booze. This is your great winter romance, isn't it? Your last roar of passion before you settle into your emeritus years. Is that what's left for me? Is that my share? She gets the winter passion, and I get the dotage? What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to sit at home knitting and purling while you slink back like some penitent drunk? I'm your wife, damn it. And, if you can't work up a winter passion for me, the least I require is respect and allegiance. I hurt. Don't you understand that? I hurt badly.

Respect and allegiance Chris, give it some fucking thought.

BREAKING ORMSKIRK NEWS:

There are unconfirmed sightings of a black panther having a wander around Skelmersdale, whether this is a big cat or a sixties political activist is, at present, unclear.

FURTHER BREAKING ORMSKIRK NEWS:

Those of you aware of my deep love for the shonkier end on non-league football will doubtless join me in raising a glass to the creation of an actual, honest to goodness Ormskirk town FC. Shortly to be ripping up the Ormskirk Sunday league, division 2. We shall watch their progress with interest.

BREAKING POETRY NEWS:

Coastalblog hermano Michael Egan has set up an intriguing project here, all work is pseudonymous and is required to commit to a number of constraints, so obviously I couldn't resist. Your humble correspondent is up there, but obviously I'm not saying as who.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Inedible

"He says it's inedible" said my front of house manager, as she laid the half-eaten fish and chips in front of me, and instantly I relaxed.  Clearly, I observed, it was edible to some degree. I comped it, because I can't be arsed arguing the toss, and I want to make my front of house's lives as simple as possible. The haddock had been delivered that morning. The fryers had been cleaned that morning. The batter had been made that morning (and it's very good batter, ask me nicely and I'll give you the recipe some time). The fish and chips was identical to the other 27 portions I'd sent out on that lunch service, all of which had come back more or less hoovered up, we have have a (justified, if I do say so myself) very good reputation for our chips. But it was, apparently, "inedible". When it comes to complaints, less is more. If you use a hyperbolic word like that, I'll switch off, you've marked yourself as a rube, a chump, I'm not g...

To all intents and purposes, a bloody great weed.

I absolutely love trees, and I get quite irate when they get cut down. One of the aspects of life with which I most often find myself most at odds with my fellow man is that I'm not really a fan of the tidy garden. I like to see a bit of biodiversity knocking about the gaff, and to that end I welcome the somewhat overgrown hedge, am pro the bit of lawn left to run riot, and, most of all, very anti cutting down trees. I love the things, habitat, provider of shade, easy on the eye, home to the songbirds that delight the ear at dawn, the best alarm clock of all. To me, cutting a naturally growing tree down is an act of errant vandalism, as well as monumental entitlement, it's been around longer than you. So, this being the case, let me say this. The public outcry over the felling of the tree at Sycamore Gap is sentimental, overblown nonsense, and the fact that the two men found guilty of it have been given a custodial sentence is completely insane. Prison? For cutting down a Sycam...

What is happening?

An unpleasant, but in the grand scheme of things quite minor, incident occurred at a local school yesterday. Two lads entered the premises looking for another kid they wanted to assault. The school followed protocols and was locked down until the situation was resolved. Grim enough in and of itself, but not exactly a massive piece of news. Except, of course, on local Facebook pages, where a cast of many hang around visibly thirsting for events like this. This isn't a post about them, however. There is something desperately sad about a million posts on the same subject, everyone breathlessly recycling the same story without checking whether it might have already been covered. It speaks to an unfulfilled existence. Nor is this a post about Facebook and it's local pages, though they are a weird and interesting ecosystem. Were it not for running the pub, my Meta presence would be minimal, I need to be on there for work, and stuff like this is a necessary accoutrement. No, what depr...