The Befouled Weakly News

21 December 2008


Molly, you will be pleased to know, is back to “normal” following her somewhat unusual behaviour early last week.  You will remember, I am sure, that she awoke in a befuddled and confused state one morning, went AWOL and seemed petrified and paranoid. The vet scratched his head, gave her some tranquilisers and recommended a watching brief, which we dutifully fulfilled. Well, after a few days of somewhat suspect behaviour, she seems to have calmed down and now seems back to her usual placid self. Perhaps Penny’s speculation that the cause could have been hormonal was sound. If she has a similar episode in six or seven months we’ll be able to affirm the diagnosis.

It’s all go this morning – we have a collection of friends, colleagues and acquaintances for dinner this evening. What had started off as a simple soiree for a few people we “owed” for dinner has turned into a convention – the dining table has been extended to its maximum length and every serviceable chair in the house has been employed to provide seats for everyone. Fortunately, it’s not raining (or snowing) as Penny has decided to follow Sandy’s example of barbequing all year round – I shall be standing in the pitch darkness this evening barbequing Sandy’s salmon with pesto for the main course. Thankfully, that’s not a dish which requires too long over the grill and, as long as the weather stays clement and not too cold, a sacrifice I am quite prepared to make.

Unfortunately, we are unable to provide our guests with a starter to compare with that being dished out to the poor of Milan:

Milan poor to get seized caviar
CaviarBeluga caviar seized by Italian customs officers is to be distributed to poor people in Milan as a Christmas gift.

About 40kg (88lb) of caviar was confiscated in November after two couriers travelling from Poland were stopped with the hidden cargo.

Newspaper Corriere Della Sera says the caviar had an estimated value of $550,000 (£370,000).

Tests showed the caviar to be edible, so it is to be given to canteens, hospices and shelters for the poor.

Beluga caviar is the most expensive variety of the delicacy.

Countries have tried to crack down on illegal trading of caviar after more than 600 tonnes of it were traded in the EU between 1998 and 2004.

However, last year the United Nations lifted a ban imposed in 2006 on beluga caviar exports after Caspian Sea states agreed to limit catches of the fish from which it is taken.

The ban was implemented because the sturgeon was fast disappearing from the Caspian, the source of about 90% of world caviar.

Tomorrow should be equally memorable as our Christmas entertainments continue. We are off to Stratford with Nick and Lucy as well as the Waltons and our good friends Sue and Stuart for what we hope will be an excellent meal followed by an evening at the theatre. We are off to see Don John which is described as:

England 1978
The Winter of Discontent
Cold hearts seek comfort and poor souls look for love.

A woman nurses her dying father; a cleaner greedily devours her Open University course in the fight for a better life; a career woman seeks the path that her life never took, and the loyal friend, always in the shadows, fears he will disappear one day and no-one will notice. We are in the lonely hearts column of life and ‘Save me’ is the silent call that drifts from their aching bodies.

But wait. Has someone heard their cry? Yes. He’s here! Dangerous, naughty and irresistible, Don John is here!

With a sensational score of specially commissioned music, the Kneehigh Ensemble bring their renowned brand of physical storytelling to this sexy tale inspired by Mozart’s Don Giovanni. After their sell-out production of Cymbeline delighted audiences during The Complete Works Festival, Kneehigh, whose Brief Encounter is currently playing in the West End, return to Stratford with a new production that promises to be an anarchic, intoxicating and profoundly visceral experience.

This production is a little saucy so don’t sit with your parents if you are easily embarrassed! [Oops! Too bad Nick and Lucy].

We’ll let you know how things go.

Love to you all,

Greg


This from Pam

A few minutes before the church services started , the congregation was sitting in their pews and talking.   Suddenly, Satan appeared at the front of the church.  Everyone started screaming and running for the front entrance, trampling each other in a frantic effort to get away from evil incarnate.

Soon the church was empty except for one elderly gentleman who sat calmly in his pew without moving, seemingly oblivious to the fact that God's ultimate enemy was in his presence.

So Satan walked up to the man and said, "Do you know  who I am?"

The man replied, "Yep, sure do."

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Satan asked.

"Nope, sure ain't," said the man.

"Don't you realize I can kill you with one word?"  asked Satan.

"Don't doubt it for a minute," returned the old man, in an even tone.

"Did you know that I can cause you profound, horrifying AGONY for all eternity?" persisted Satan.

"Yep," was the calm reply.

"And you are still not afraid?" asked Satan.

"Nope," said the old man.

More than a little perturbed, Satan asked, "Why aren't you afraid of me?"
the man calmly replied,

"Been married to your sister for 48 years."


The train was quite crowded, so a US Marine walked the entire length looking for a seat, but the only seat left was taken by a well dressed, middle-aged, French woman's poodle. The war-weary Marine asked,

'Ma'am, may I have that seat?' The French woman just sniffed and said to no one in particular, 'Americans are so rude. My little Fifi is using that seat.'

The Marine walked the entire train again, but the only seat left was under that dog. 'Please, ma'am. May I sit down? I'm very tired.' She snorted, 'Not only are you Americans rude, you are also arrogant!'

This time the Marine didn't say a word; he just picked up the dog, tossed it out the train window, and sat down. The woman shrieked, 'Someone must defend my honour! This American should be put in his place!'

An English gentleman sitting nearby spoke up, 'Sir, you Americans often seem to have a penchant for doing the wrong thing. You hold the fork in the wrong hand. You drive your cars on the wrong side of the road. And now, sir, you seem to have thrown the wrong bitch out the window.'


A wise old gentleman retired and purchased a modest home near a junior high school. He spent the first few weeks of his retirement in peace and contentment. Then a new school year began. The very next afternoon three young boys, full of youthful, after-school enthusiasm, came down his street, beating merrily on every trash can they encountered. The crashing percussion continued day after day, until finally the wise old man decided it was time to take some action.

The next afternoon, he walked out to meet the young percussionists as they banged their way down the street. Stopping them, he said, "You kids are a lot of fun. I like to see you express your exuberance like that. In fact, I used to do the same thing when I was your age. Will you do me a favour? I'll give you each a dollar if you'll promise to come around every day and do your thing."

The kids were elated and continued to do a bang-up job on the trashcans.

After a few days, the old-timer greeted the kids again, but this time he had a sad smile on his face. "This recession's really putting a big dent in my income," he told them. "From now on, I'll only be able to pay you 50 cents to beat on the cans."

The noisemakers were obviously displeased, but they accepted his offer and continued their afternoon ruckus. A few days later, the wily retiree approached them again as they drummed their way down the street.

"Look," he said, "I haven't received my Social Security check yet, so I'm not going to be able to give you more than 25 cents. Will that be okay?"

"A freakin' quarter?" the drum leader exclaimed. "If you think we're going to waste our time, beating these cans around for a quarter, you're nuts! No way, dude. We quit!" And the old man enjoyed peace and serenity for the rest of his days.


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