Dr. Commuter Saves Your Precious Time

 Dr. Commuter writes  We all of us live hectic and pressured lives. The demands on our attention from news and social media - so readily available on our ever-present phones - are incessant. Any form of relief is welcome.

You may, perhaps, have seen this headline and thought "I am interested in football and would like a better understanding of the problems at Tottenham Hotspur FC. But do I really want to go to the Evening Standard website, go through an irritating log-in process and wade through intrusive pop-ups, to find out the simple reason Leeds won today 1-0?"

My friends, look no further. Here, in this very column, I can reveal the cause of the defeat and, as a bonus, what can be done to obtain more satisfactory results in future. It is simply this:- Tottenham failed to score enough goals. One would have sufficed for a draw. A second and all three points awarded to the winners would have been theirs. But Leeds scored once and there was no reply. 

The remedy? Tottenham must score more goals, ensuring that they at least match any that are scored against them and endeavouring to surpass that total in order to win. I offer this advice to my loyal readers, and also to the owners and directors of Spurs without charge. Indeed, unusually for this column, there are no Terms and Conditions. Consider this is a gesture of goodwill. Should my generosity and expertise incur a modest gift of gratitude - well, a day's entertainment in the directors' box at White Hart Lane would be, some might think, the minimum appropriate.

Mark Anthony Wins Stunning Victory at Philippi: Cassius "Nothing to do with me"

 From our correspondent still stuck in Rome

Reports have come into Rome that the armies of  the triumvirs M. Antonius and G. Octavius have resoundingly beaten the forces raised by Dictator G. Cassius and vice-Dictator M. J. Brutus. The battle, at Philippi in Thrace, resulted in the total rout of the Cassius forces and the surrender of many units hitherto regarded as invincible. 

The third member of the triumvirs, Sen. Lepidus, had a note from his mother saying he had a slight sniffle, should not be playing with the big boys and could he be excused. 

The victorious army is expected to reach Rome around January 6. Meanwhile many erstwhile supporters of Sen. Cassius have been unexpectedly called away to their estates and are unavailable for comment.

Speaking to a deserted Colosseum, Sen. Cassius was in defiant mood.

"Basically, we won this hands down. It wasn't my fault my troops were rubbish. If I had been there, we would have won even more. I would have personally slaughtered all their legions. The gods are totally behind me, I was personally told that by Jupiter, and I know that all the plebs of this great country sincerely want me and my friends to be rich, even if they can't afford to feed their families, that's how great I am. I've built myself a fabulous palace and every man shivering in a hovel in the most malaria- ridden part of Rome will be telling me to build another and make it bigger.And you know what? I will!"

Meanwhile in the Forum long-time ally Sen. Casca seemed to be distancing himself from the Dictator. Addressing  two men who were pushing a cart of building materials, the Senator declaimed 

"Some have called me envious. Well, they can go sit on a sword. Everything I do is for the common good. Now it is possible that Sen. Cassius has got a few things wrong, like declaring war on Parthia and losing it the moment our boys marched off without water into a sandstorm, and I just want you to know that that was nothing to do with me, I was praying devoutly with a couple of Vestal Virgins at the time and could not be disturbed, the first I heard about it was when that shipload of severed heads arrived back in Ostia. All I ask for my loyal service is a couple of provinces - Gaul and Hispania would be a good start. Is this envy? I don't think so, my friends. Erm, you over there, I'm orating to you, you might at least turn your heads"

 L.S.Cinna was not available but this column was able to obtain an interview with Cinna the Poet who wished to read an extract from his latest scroll.

On the Fickleness of Fate and Man's Destiny
by Cinna (the poet, not L.S. Cinna)
------------------

There was a young woman from Pisa
...

----------------------------------------

Editor's note. Our report breaks off at this point. Some garum stains on the manuscript from our correspondent suggest that perhaps he had other things to do at this point.

 

Some Whimsy Down Under

 

Source: The Guardian

 

That first line of the newspaper snippet has such a pleasing ring and metre to it, I had to celebrate it in verse.

 

There's no human right to Vegemite

or  similar yeast-based spread.

When you're banged up in an Ozzie jail

You're not putting that on your bread.

 

 There's no human right to Vegemite

Why not try some sauce instead?

Enjoy some ketchup when you're in the lock-up

Get off your head on sandwich spread

 

 There's no human right to Vegemite

Or any of this branded stuff

There'll be none of this shite on the Australian Bight

And if you don't like it, tough. 

 

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Readers: Your chance to win, win win in our fantastic poetry competition

 We may be well on our way to our award-winning slim volume of verse but maybe you can join us. Send in your poems with a sort of branded-food theme that link, in some way, to the news. The best, in the Editor's opinion, will be published in Volume II and you will definitely receive a share of the royalties, promise.

Terms and conditions inevitably come with this one, we have to confess. A slim volume of them can be yours for a modest £25 (plus VAT, shipping, Straits of Hormuz charge and a fee to cover the possible cost of having to pulp Volume I ) but amongst the highlights are these

• By "win, win win" as printed above, we actually mean "win". You don't get to win more than once. Sorry about this, I don't make the rules
• Actually that was a lie, I do make the rules.
• Volume II will be published just as soon as Volume I has sold out, been acclaimed as Slim Volume of the Year and the film rights sold for an eye-watering sum
• Your share of the royalties may be a rather small percentage, rounded down.
• The Editor's decision is final but, you know, there's more than one assistant editor after his job so, if wants to keep it, he knows what to do.  

A Franchise is Born

 

Scene: The office of Sol Fleischenberg II, Hollywood film producer. Enter Sol and his top ideas man Nino Zachetti¹

Sol: So, whadda you got, Nino. Hit me.

Nino: You'll love this, SF. We got fourteen writers on this one. Gonna be some fantastic tie-ins.

Sol: I hear jabber jabber but no goods, Nino

Nino: Period stuff is huge, SF. Posh English accents, broads in long, silk dresses, guys with wigs and fancy waistcoats, Sir this and Lady that schmoozing over candlelight, carriages clattering up to huge country houses, glittering balls...

Sol: And what's the angle? Joe Schmoe in Poughkeepsie wants to see action. There ain't no car chases in them days, are there?

Nino: We give 'em a hero. A real tough guy, he fights for justice and goes his own way, but get this - he's an expert in manners. He digs high fashion. If a guy disses a dame, he flicks a lace handkerchief  and says something like "Sir, I see you are no gentleman".  If a dame begs him for help, he'll bow and say "Madam, I shall endeavour to give you satisfaction." When they ask how likes a meal, he'll go "I find it not displeasing". Sol, this is one classy gent."

Sol : Sounds a bit of a fairy to me. What's his monicker, Lord Limpwrist?"

Nino: Storm. Storm Austen. You get it?

Sol: I don't like it, Nino. Pause I LOVE it. 

Footnote

1. Okay, I used the name of a character in the film Double Indemnity. And why not?

Exclusive! Trump's Press Secretary tells all to this channel!

Source: New York Times

 

 This outlet is delighted to announce that we have obtained EXCLUSIVE rights to the forthcoming book by recently dismissed White House press secretary Katherine Zacharia. Starting today, and finishing today as well, we are proud to publish this no-holds-barred, insider's guide to what it is really like to work at the centre of power, at the right hand of the most wonderful human who has ever lived.  [Her words, not ours: Ed].

She may only have been in post five days but what a dramatic and awe-inspiring five days they were. Now, for the first time, we bring you the complete, unexpurgated, story:-

 Five Days That Shook The World

Day One

I woke in my apartment in a really fashionable part of Washington DC, no really it is, and I just knew something wonderful was going to happen. The phone rang. It was my analyst, postponing my next appointment. No, that wasn't the wonderful thing, I'm just setting the scene. Then it rang again. It was Susie Wiles, President Trump's chief of staff. 

"Katie, darling " she gushed "The P and I just adore your work. Can you start as press secretary right away?"

 "Oh my" I gushed back "That is just so fabulous. Just one question. Who is this 'P'?"

"It's what we insiders call the President, dear" she informed me "Now get over here"

"Sure thing, ma'am " I replied, still a bit gushy "But you know my shorthand isn't that great"

"You don't need it, you are the Press Secretary (she said that in capitals to emphasise her point), not a secretary"

Well, that was a relief. I changed into a power suit with big, padded shoulders and headed out to the White House.

Once I got there, I checked my make-up and hair, then found Susie in her office. She said she didn't have much time, but my office was over in the Executive Office Building and she would introduce me to the President soon.

I found my office, rather small and furnished with just one desk and one chair, but there was a lovely view of the junior clerks' car park. I knew everything was going to be just great.

Day Two

I brought some flowers to my office and arranged them in a vase. I popped into the restroom and gave my make-up a workover. After that, I practised saying "Hi, I'm the press secretary" and "Hi, I'm the Press Secretary" the way Susie did.

Day Three

I was in my office doing my nails when Susie phoned to say I was to come over to meet the President. I raced over to the White House. Susie took me into the Oval Office and there he was! He was so kind and gracious. He told me I had a gorgeous body, and he really appreciated that in a woman and maybe he and I could get together some time, there was a nice little golf course he owned with a really discreet hut on the fourteenth green and nobody needed to know. Susie had a sort of coughing fit and he broke off, looked puzzled for a moment, then told me to give the fake-news media hell. Then he sort of looked into the distance and he closed his eyes, and Susie led me out. She told me I would do my first press conference the next day. I was so excited I nearly forgot to check my make-up.

Day Four

At eleven in the morning I faced the world's press for the first time! I was very excited. I had on my biggest power suit and just knew my hair was perfect because I was two hours in the hairdresser on 12th Street before getting into work at ten minutes to eleven. I strode out to the podium, blinked a little at the camera flashes (OMG, did my mascara run?) and said in a really clear and loud voice "Hi, I'm the PRESS SECRETARY". I hadn't meant to do it all in capitals like that, it just slipped out, but boy were they impressed.

The first question was "Are you really qualified to be a Press Secretary?"

I said "Yes, Yes I am, I'm a hotshot lawyer from Harvard and I have the President's full confidence"

The next question was "You don't appear to have any qualifications and the President has never spent any time with you, so what the hell do you mean?"

I said that was not fair, and I had an office with flowers in, and why didn't they ask something people really wanted to know and not fake news questions?

The next question was something about Iran and sanctions and the streets of Whoremooz, wherever that is, and I must admit I lost it a little and said if they couldn't ask something nice, like where I bought my shoes, then they could all go swivel, and I stormed out with great dignity, knowing I had made sure that the views of the Administration had been clearly expressed to the Great American public.

Day Five

I had only just got into my office when Susie phoned, said the P (and I knew what she meant, this time) thought maybe I wasn't up to the job, and I should really think about it, and it was entirely up to me and my decision and he would be totally happy if I wished to continue, but if my desk wasn't cleared by ten o' clock, the secret service would throw me out into the street.

I took my flowers, and a box of brand new calling cards that said 'Katherine Zacharia, Press Secretary" and went home. I didn't bother checking my make-up though. 

 

The End

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Readers! Would you like your very own copy of Five Days That Shook The World, bound in genuine faux-leather Morocco with tassels and everything, for the low, low price of just £75 plus shipping, delivery, courier charge and damage insurance of only £29? Apply now to the usual address enclosing money and a sworn statement that you really are in possession of all your faculties and competent to make transactions over the Internet, and by return we will rush you a letter that acknowledges your order. It's as easy as that! Delivery of the book is guaranteed just as soon as we get some.

Terms and Conditions, sadly, do apply and amongst them, in very small print, there is one that says that you understand that it may be a long time before we do get any copies. A long time. A very long time. At least.