Splendid! And I would not want to censor a rhyme-word, so I wouldn’t. So there.
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I’ve only just listened to “The Night of the Long Sighs” episide from last night.
Did Roof more or less say “You could have told me … you know I can keep secrets” ?
So not “what were you thinking of ?” but “If I’d known we’d still have kept schtum but would have been better placed in what I said to people”.
So involving Dopey was never part of her thought process. Or the real impact of what has happened.
Way to go Prudoe. NZ beckons.
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I thought the same, Armitage. She didn’t say it, precisely. But my opinion of Ruth is low enough for me to think that she could well have kept even this secret if only Pip had told it to her, not to Toby. Anything to keep her special relationship with Pip.
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Excellent board this with a truly noble Mistress of the Web, fk a dk yes!
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While your enthusiasm and appreciativeness is a credit to you, it is incumbent on me to point out that interfering with waterfowl is liable to attract penalties as per the notices posted at convenient intervals along the towpath
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But they used to quack at the door and interfere with us. They had shocking bad manners.
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The ducks near us have been miscegenating - I see them with yellow bills and brown plumage, or normal greyish-white plumage but pale blue-green bills.
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Should I change my name to Shelob?
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You’re sure it isn’t the result of the water in that river, Hedgers? Someone who’d been doing autopsies on them said those ducks would really not be fit to eat.
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A miscegenating mallard - or is that a steam engine?
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All right, to clear up any misunderstanding I name you Mistress of the Golden Wood.
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There was a young scholar at John’s
Who tried to bugger the swans;
Then cried out the Porter,
‘No! Sir! Take my daughter!
Them swans is reserved fer the Dons!’
Doesn’t scan.
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Oh, and I think I might get peevish about this sexist talk…
“Attempted” in the version I knew.
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We don’t have a flagging action for “scansion”. Maybe we should.
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I’m sure you’re correct, Joe.
Let’s see, the porter was female as were the Dons or linguistic equivalent. Somerville, maybe. As to the young scholar, the Porter had an 1890s mind set and addressed all members of the University as “Sir”. Thus the attempt was doomed to failure. The ones who were really entitled to be peevish were the swans.
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Back to the subject of this thread. Kill her. Kill her with fire. And then kill Jill.
Not only did we have that pathetic apology for an actyor’s larynx doing gymnastics for what felt like half the episode, we are expected to believe that a woman of pushing 50 is so emotionally illiterate that she doesn’t know how to mend fences (sorry) and thus has to be preached at and patronised by her hooting, sticky-beaked, interfering old bitch of an ubiquitous mother-in-law who, in the real world, would have asking for a swift baling-twine garrotte. And an apple-cake pessary - ideally still hot from the oven and in the bloody tin.
Don’t even get me started on Ruth’s wish to forgive Peep and let thoughtless, careless, duplicitous little imbecile know that she is still proud of her commi’men to the farm…
And as for David… What a f***ing idiot. Even by his own doltish standards, this has to be a new low of stupidity.
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Phew! Thank you, Gus. I wanted to say something like that but you did it so much better and faster.
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and full of typos, ah well.
Seething, absolutely seething. Genuine desire to stamp on the radio until it is dead, much like Otto with Tony only better, immeasurably better. Why do I listen to this crap? More to the point, why don’t I put my earplugs where the pain is and stop?
Wake me up when Rob comes back or someone else starts abusing Helen as she so richly deserves, or Henwy is hauled away to the junior booby-hatch or approved school. Otherwise, I just do not care. Sod em.
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