Feeling uncharacteristically sorry for Dopey David

and wondering why he hasn’t clawed his own ears out yet. Think about it.
Ruth with her mil’n an’ guil’y and all the rest of it, not to mention the breathy concerned and ickle girl voices she assumes, last thing at night and first thing in the morning and at intervals throughout the day.
Jill’s increasingly insane, randomly emphasised and loud hooting at intervals throughout the day and no doubt constantly throughout the evening
Pip’s unpleasing light baritone, the wandering accent, the yodel audiboo across fiyoods of cattoo, the glo’al stops - or sometimes noTT - all at unpredictaboo intervoos.
Poor sod.

That is the kind of thing that could drive a fellow to drink.

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Maybe he has stopped talking with his mouth full because it would be the last straw to have to listen to that as well as all the rest.

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That is a good point. Or maybe he now stuffs food in his ears instead.

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Grated cheese would be good for that.

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All of the above, plus he’s the least to blame for the IBR in the first place, Ruth has always considered herself in charge of the dairy herd and the Anguses catching it is very much down to Pip.

Having said that, wouldn’t you think someone other than Pip would have noticed the ruddy fence was broken or Josh since he broke it in the first place have felt some responsibility for at least checking Pip had mended it as promised? But team spirit has always been lacking at Bridge Farm. They form mini-alliances and plot behind the other’s back. Sometimes it’s Ruth and Pip, sometimes David and Pip, sometimes David and Jill … factions, splinter groups, they’ve got them all!

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Splinter groups are inevitable when the entire family is as wooden-headed as the Dopeys, aren’t they?

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Sorry Gus, useless Dave has been the author of his own misfortune. He was handed a thriving business (he’s not the farmer his father was) and tottered from drama to drama and never taken control of the direction of the business.

He has allowed Ruth to bully him and encouraged Pip to believe she’s the Queen of Brookfield, despite her failure to demonstrate she can act responsibly in terms of managing stock or her life. He’s effectively MD of a multi-million pound business but doesn’t manage it at all.

He should know the state of his fences, particularly boundary fences, and double checked with Ruth the health status of any new stock. There’s no line management and no ownership of individual responsibility - unless forced, as Ruth has been.

Gus, are you quite well? I’m sure you can overcome this disturbing aberration and revert to Gus As Usual very soon. Remember, David is Dopey and always will be.

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Sweet of you to be concerned, Marjorie dere, but all I said was that the poor so & so is surround by ghastly-sounding, as well as innately unpleasant, womenfolk; I didn’t remotely suggest that ‘he mustn’t blame himself’ for the other stuff.

You could argue that marrying Ruth (and then not smothering Pip or at least not beating her frequently and severely) are his own fault too, I suppose.

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Re food in ears I recall in the RAF it was said members of the RAF Regiment did that if left unsupervised. They generally ate the crayons they were given to fill in reports.

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Is it fair to lambast the crabs when they are not here to defend themselves?

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Crabs are RAF in general, serving or retired, including me. Regt are Rock Apes. They call tradesmen Penguins. Aircrew are Stick Jockeys, Stick Monkeys or Wingèd Ones. Officers in general are Zobs. Rock Ape officers are Ruperts…con, p94. I was a Penguin and then a Zob, both in air traffic control.

Fair? To Rock Apes? Don’t be silly. A couple of crates of beer is what they like.

Don’t you mean ‘laminate’, as in Laminar Flo, the Airman’s Friend?

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From the outside, Crabs’re all much the same, you know. Actually, are you sure the nomenclature remains constant? It may have changed a little during this century…

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I post on three current websites. Bang up ter the minute, Ma’am.

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I tried a couple of late eighties bits of army-speak on the daughter who joined up this century, and none of it made any sense any more, apparently.

Crabs we have always with us, because the event it’s referring to hasn’t been superseded.

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In the name of sweetness and light I shall refrain from comment…

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‘Crab’ comes from no limitation on the number of sideways paces in a now superseded version of the RAF Drill Manual. There is also ‘crab***’, which started in the Navy and is offensive, but we don’t want to get into that kind of talk at our time of life, do we?

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There’s the RAF way of explaining it, and the other way, you mean? (grin)

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Of course. Don’t forget the naval saying, “Where the Army goes…” Don’t force me to mention “green*****” That may be new but “p****” is old but current.

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