A Promise Fulfilled

 I promised - nay, pledged - to find suitable accommodation for my long-time literary collaborator and amanuensis, the personage known to these columns only as "the Editor", when we upped sticks and left beautiful Ruislip for the rather more beautiful Warwickshire countryside. And here at Ramblings we stand by our pledges. I am delighted to reveal that, after considerable effort and painstaking research, a suitable property has been found.  

It is, perhaps, a little grander than I had first envisaged. Placed close to the river Alne¹ and with delightful views over the surrounding flood-plain, it comprises an entirely open-plan living space constructed of sustainable local materials. The property is fully air-conditioned using only natural sources of air and there's no irritating time-wasting required to clean the windows. Although not yet connected to the National Grid, there are ample supplies of bracken, gorse and bog-plants to permit an entirely self-sustaining lifestyle and fresh water is but a few steps away (in the winter it is freely available inside).

There is ample parking just two hundred metres away in the lane that comes fairly close to the bog that leads into the marsh in which the property is situated. Residents may enjoy a high degree of privacy given that nobody in the area comes anywhere near but local services may be readily found once one has put on heavy hiking boots and trudged a mere three miles to find them (Early closing day Monday, Closed Tues-Sun).

I have no hesitation in commending this site as being entirely fitting to the editorial contribution made to this blog over the past 19 years.

1. Or in it, any time it has rained heavily in the previous 24 hours

Implausability Corner

 The award for most unbelievable denial of the year goes to author Omid Scobie whose book Endgame has recently been published. It recounts the goings-on in the Royal Family with particular reference to the squabble between the Duke and Duchess of Sussex and the rest of them. A few years ago Prince Harry alleged that "senior royals" had made comments about the skin colour of their expected baby but did not name names. Endgame does not either - but somehow the version published in Dutch does. Or, rather no longer does, because every copy has been seized by the publishers and pulped.

Pic: Daily Telegraph

 

The British press are being coy about it but of course there are no such restraints on the internet. Photocopies of the relevant page have circulated, names have been named and social media is doing what it always does in such circumstances.

Whether the "what colour will it be" question is racist or not has exercised people ever since the revelation was first made on a popular US chat show. This columnist does not think it was, assuming it was a genuine question and asked in the same way that people always wonder about whose features a baby may inherit, and not followed up by a "hope it's not too much on the darkish side" which I guess is the implication the Sussexes meant us to understand. 

The fascination with the current imbroglio is that Mr Scobie has been at pains to deny it was he supplied the names that appeared in his manuscript. Apparently he had no intention of naming anyone and is utterly baffled that the names of a well-known reigning monarch and the wife of his heir were added to the text. It is being blamed on the translators who have pointed out that they all they do is translate. There is said to be a "full investigation" going on.

We at Ramblings have a well-placed source and can exclusively reveal how this investigation began.

Scene: Amsterdam. A publisher's office. Behind a desk piled high with manuscripts, moodily chewing on a raw herring and gulping the occasional schnappes, sits Sherlock van der Valk. Seated in front, the author.

Valk: Please be at ease Mr Scobie. We just need to clarify this matter.
Scobie: I've no idea how I can help but fire away.
Valk: You submitted the manuscript without including the names of the royals who so distressed the Sussexes?
Scobie: Of course. I haven't the faintest idea who they are. Nobody does. I couldn't possibly have included the names because nobody knows.
Valk: And they were inserted by someone else?
Scobie: Yes. Obviously. I wrote 'And so the names of the royals who were so cruel to Harry and Meghan must forever remain a mystery.' Someone must have sneaked in here at night, picked the lock of your door, found the right page in the heap, tippexed out what I wrote and typed over it 'are King Charles and the Princess of Wales'. The next day the manuscript went straight to the translator.
Valk: And who on earth would do such a thing?
Scobie: A sinister force, that's who. Someone very, very close to the truth who has the means and the motivation to ensure that the names came into the public domain. Someone - or maybe it is two people - with a huge grudge against the royal family, determined to keep this story alive and on the front page. Two people who have already made millions on chat shows using their unique position and who hope to make millions more. But I haven't the faintest idea who they might be, although there is a chance that they might be named, entirely by accident, by a ham-fisted typist doing the Czech translation of my new book.
Valk: New Book?
Scobie: Provisional title The Prince Strikes Back. But I haven't the slightest idea which prince that might be, of course and any speculation on my part would be utterly inappropriate.
Valk: Mr Scobie ... I am convinced you are correct. We shall never find this 'sinister force', as you name him, that is for sure. I think we must close the case. Let us instead turn to the question of who is to publish this new book of yours - I think I have a contract form to hand....

A Tomb With A View

 I was browsing hotels with an idea of going away for a few days. My technique is to pick an area and then do a search using either Google or a booking site, and home in on a few of the most interesting prospects. A great restaurant, comfortable rooms, splendid views, decent reviews - you probably look for similar recommendations yourselves. The Welsh borders and nearby areas appealed so I hit a few keys.

This was what Google served up.

I am not prepared to join the ranks of the undead, as part of a pleasant stay in Symonds Yat, but the Old Court Hotel does appear to be making this a condition. Not only was my contact lying peacefully in a nearby crypt, presumably waiting for the onset of darkness before levering the lid off his coffin, donning his cape and summoning a few bats to accompany his progress to Reception but he has a Special Offer for me. I have a nasty feeling that I know what this is, and as I have no desire to go to my eternal rest (or should that be unrest?) just yet, I may have to stock up on garlic, crucifixes and a few bottles of holy water before setting out for the beautiful, if haunted, valley of the river Wye.

 

 

Dr Commuter Answers Pop Stars' Questions

 Dr. Commuter writes: Many people find it hard to express their problems in direct, face to face communication with those that can help, and turn instead to the medium of popular song to express their fears and their uncertainties. This medium with its short, repetitive lyrics and undemanding vocal skills (frequently the ability to hit just two notes is sufficient), together with the possibility of significant financial advantage should one's recordings find favour with the public, has produced some of the most searching and important questions of our time. 

Here, then, are my answers to a selection of problems.

1. To Martha - No, I am not ready for a 'brand-new' beat and therefore have no interest in learning any more about what you may be getting up to out of doors. PS Do give my best wishes to the Vandellas.

2.  To Ringo Starr - You already sing out of tune, so asking me what would I do if you were to do so is pointless. I shall do what I always do when any of your songs are played - switch over to the cricket.

3.  To The Who. I am Dr. Commuter, that's who I am

4.  To Dionne Warwick. Turn on to the B439, left at the lights, take the A49 to junction 11 of the M17, proceed to Luton Airport, catch the first flight to Los Angeles then rent a car and ask at the desk for directions. Other routes are available. Don't forget to claim your duty-frees. 

5.  To Various 80's artists. Yes, round about the end of December each year they are aware that it is Christmas but since most of them do not observe it, it is irrelevant. 

6.  To Emile Ford. I was not making eyes at you or anyone else, I happened to be suffering from a mild infection that just makes them look a bit swollen and distorted. Pass on my kind regards to the Checkmates.

7.  To Rod Stewart. No. 

8. To Jackie Trent. I'm over here. Here, by the door, The bloke waving his arm. Put your distance glasses on. At last. OK, waiter, she made it, let's have some drinks.

9. To Simon & Garfunkel. No, not this year, you see the car's playing up, there are road works on the B348 and I'm a bit worried about the parrot. But you guys go, have a good time, don't worry about me, bring us back a stick of rock.

10.  To Dion. You're not in love. You are merely experiencing sexual desire and frustration because the object of your affections is not interested. It happens to all of us. Grow up and get over it. If you happen to see any of the Belmonts, one of them still owes me for a cup of tea.

11. To David Bowie. Probably not, unless you mean certain molecular structures able to survive in ice for thousands of years until a mild warming enables some chemical activity. But no little green men, that's right out.

12. To Peter Sarstedt. Being a busy consultant and advisor is not all work, you know. I sometimes go down the Red Pony, other times I may be found at Haringey Dog Track. I have been known to frequent Achmed's All-Nite Arcade & Fish Bar. It all depends. Anyway, I see no reason why I should account to you for my movements, you never tell me what you do.

13. To Patti Page. That one is £275, beautiful eyes eh, yes it's house-trained, lovely temperament. Too much? Well, I've got a gerbil in a box but he's getting on a bit, let you have him for a fiver, ok?

 

Dr. Commuter cannot enter into correspondence, unless in accord with the Terms & Conditions, details of which may be obtained by phoning at 8:00am and joining a queue, only to be told every two minutes that you could do it all online even though you can't, that you are number 83 in the queue and then being cut-off after 42 minutes.

 -&-&-&-&-&-&-&-

 

Editor's spoiler alert

If you really must know the source of the questions, scroll down to see the 'hot waxings' referred to: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1. Dancing in the Streets
2. With a Little Help from my Friends
3. Who Are You?
4. Do You Know The Way to San Jose?
5. Do They Know It's Christmas?
6. What Do You Want to Make Those Eyes at Me For?
7. Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?
8. Where Are You Now, My Love?
9. Scarborough Fair
10. (Why Must I Be)  A Teenager in Love?
11. Life on Mars?
12. Where Do You Go To, My Lovely?
13. How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?

 

Stringing Along a Scammer

I received a friend request on Facebook from my cousin in Florida. Unexceptional, you may think, but I am already friends on Facebook with her. Just to make sure I had not unfriended her by mistake, I checked the profile and there was nothing there, just two friends. And my cousin was also in my list of friends, same name and photo as what I now had confirmed was a scammer.
 

Naturally I accepted the request and waited to see what would happen. In the past my fishing attempts to reel in live scammers have failed but this time I struck gold ["Caught a fish" might be a better metaphor: Ed].  Here is the transcript of our conversation on Facebook Messenger, scammer is in red, my messages are in black and my comments are in italics

 

How are you doing today?
Great thanks. Hey, you still want that $300 back?
Yes     
His eyes must have lit up

It's ready to go. Just need your bank details.

Did you make use of cashApp   Sure sign of a scammer, wants to use a cashapp because transactions cannot be reversed or cancelled once the money is sent
No, we don't have them in UK, as I explained last time

Did you have any nearby store?
What for? I don't need any groceries


Did you have any nearby store like Saisburys and Tesco or pharmacy?
Yes

Which one did you have?
Asda

Go to the store now and get a STEAM GIFT CARD or APPLE GIFT CARD with the $300     
Standard scammer method if cashapp fails, gift cards are untraceable, he would ask me to scratch off the covering over the serial number and tell him what it was.
 

Now? There are road works all down the Blackpool road.

Get back to me immediately you get to the store did you get that? 

Real loss of control, seems to be using a line from the script where a "technician" claims to have removed viruses from the victim's computer.

 
That's a bit rude Paula. By the way, how is Aunt Margaret - I could get her a Get Well card while I am out  

Time to see how long it takes him to twig that I am on to him.

Okay go to the store now and get the card as well
Scammers always try to hustle their victims, they don't want them talking to anyone who might warn them they are being scammed

 
Or did I mean Aunt Mary? There are so many aunts. Remind me, which was one was Margaret?

Aunt Margaret?
Yes, your aunt. The one you used to spend summers with in Vermont. I think.

Aunt Margaret is doing great, go to the store now before they close did you understand me?
Actually I've had a brilliant idea. I have a hot tip, a real cert on a horse in the 3:30 at Chepstow. It's bound to win. I'll put your money on it and split the winnings. It's 30-1 right now but the odds will go down fast tomorrow. Sound good?  

I was getting tired and, as Messenger has such an unpleasant UI, I didn't want to prolong the chat much more.  I was waiting for him to invent something about dear old Aunty Margaret but he stayed elusive. So I resurrected a a scene from one of my favourite TV sitcoms, Bottom.

Okay
Did he fall for it or was he getting suspicious? 

Have to go, Roger is knocking on the door, he looks real* and he's holding his shotgun, you know what happened last time   *meant to include "mean"

I unfriended at this point; I like to think of him drumming his fingers, dreaming of that $300 and praying that this time Roger keeps the safety catch on.