1789 days ago
My sister N is funny, kind, intelligent and thoroughly laudable. Except that like the rest of my family, with the honourable exception of step sister F, she is on matters political utterly deluded. She works for the State, reads the Guardian and her husband, who works for the State, goes on stop Brexit marches, well he did up until recently. I guess after “the people’s vote” on December 12 he might now accept that we smelly thick plebs get to have our way after all. A few years ago, N gave him membership of the Labour party for Christmas. You get my drift…
2895 days ago
In this podcast I revisit the vexed subject of Xtract Resources (XTR) which begs the question of when exactly I should sack Gary Newman and Steve Moore. Having seen a Christmas Carol last night I am inspired by my hero Scrooge, that is to say before he got all soppy, Guardian reading and pathetic in his old age. I also comment on Management Consulting (MMC) before returning at length to Cloudtag (CTAG). This time I play the ghost of Christmases yet to come with a warning for hapless Nomad Cairn. I also comment on Sula (SULA) with whom I met up yesterday.
3985 days ago
48 hours ago, the chairman of the BBC met the ghost of Christmas Past. If you missed that you can read it HERE
In the second part of the Chris Patten’s Christmas Carol last night, the chairman of the BBC met the ghost of Christmas Present. If you missed that you can read it HERE
The story continues…
After his twice interrupted night the good Lord Christopher Patten, chairman of the BBC, was awakened by a gentle kiss on one of his many chins. Then came another and another. “Lavender” he mumbled but awoke to find that the good Lady Patten was still snoring gently beside him.
Instead Chow Mein’s now near senile successor, named - for some reason - by his staff in Hong Kong as Dim Sum, had managed to clamber onto the four poster bed to wish his master a Merry Christmas. Lord Patten took the hint and, after putting on his ermine dressing gown wandered downstairs, eagerly awaiting the delights of Christmas Day, starting with breakfast. Quoting to himself the old Chinese motto “a man who has a solid breakfast is built to grow”, Patten rubbed his tummies and thought hard about the first meal of the day.
Breakfast would, as always, be prepared by his faithful eighty year old manservant Cawkwell. For the good Lord was a man of habit. For him merely a “healthy man sized” portion or two of freshly prepared kedgeree made with line-caught haddock and Tuscan organic eggs from the Toynbee estate, followed by locally produced bread lightly toasted ( as only Cawkwell knew how) covered with Honey flown in from Argentina with a healthy bowl of porridge to finish off.
But Cawkwell, or for that matter his breakfast, was nowhere to be seen and so feeling rather peckish the chairman of the BBC wandered into his study where he had a hidden stash of mince pies. These had been craftily concealed from both Dim Sum and Lady Lavender under a stash of printed emails marked “Saville –URGENT action needed now 2009” which he was planning to start reading after Christmas.
Lord Patten looked at the 14 foot tree, decorated last night by Cawkwell while the family watched carols from Kings but something was not right. Rummaging at the foot of the pine
3986 days ago
In the second part of the Chris Patten’s Christmas Carol, the chairman of the BBC meets the ghost of Christmas Present.
Last night he met the ghost of Christmas Past. If you missed that you can read it HERE
The story continues…
It was not the sound of Lady Lavender Patten’s refined and gentle snoring nor another panic attack about what happened to Chow Mein that awoke the good Lord Christopher Patten. But a loud noise from his study downstairs had the BBC chairman sprinting down the stairs, faster than BBC Middle East Correspondent Jeremy Bowen can say “the peace loving freedom martyrs of Hamas fired rockets on an Israeli school to protect themselves from the Genocidal imperialist warmongers.”
Sitting behind Patten’s leather bound desk with gold inlay, marked “A present from 400 million the grateful people of Europe for your Herculean labours as a European Commissioner” was another grey figure. Once again he was not smiling.
“Oh no not another of you consultant Johnnies” said Patten. The grey figure beckoned and gripped Patten’s hand. Through the air they flew.
After just a few minutes, Patten found himself gazing down on a Christmas day party.
