Failed Cunard Stewards

08/13/2005

There is nothing quite so satisfying to an old Tory reactionary than the sight of the lower orders making a complete bog of things. I certainly mean no disrespect to dear Robin Cook, but the performance of the hoi polloi at his funeral beggars’ belief. One does not stand up to President Blair and expect to be forgiven, even in death. However, the sight on the right front row of that ignorant, sacked Cunard steward, Two Jags and his drag queen partner, then on the left the chilling peroxide second spouse, bizarrely supported by Robin’s natural sons seems almost too much to bear. Nevertheless, there is more to come as Boring Brown delivers the slackest eulogy, followed by Mckridick’s denunciation of President Blair for snorkelling in the sun while all this tripe is going on. One yearns for the Conservative days when any old politico’s funeral would be attended by a few Windsors, with peace, correct dress sense and respect all round. No wonder that our cities are populated by dodgers of every order with zimmers, pushchairs and appalling diets, when their role models are such complete and utter prats. Dear Robin, if these were a cross section of your chums, you are well out of it. Of course, it’s the twelfth of August and every glen is alive to the fusillade of gunfire. Glen Trollaigh has not much to get excited about, but we manage a fair walk-up shoot. The Mauser slips its bag to dispatch a pair of dopy grey seals at the loch mouth, although technically protected, these Atlantic rats are predating my finest Salmon, and so are fair game as far as I am concerned. Wet weather will clear tomorrow, which is a Sunday when shots cannot be fired, however, hopefully Lachie will organise plenty of carnage for next week. Cheers, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.