Copyleft Gerald Ack

I heard on the Radio that on the day the new-born Windsor was brought out of the hospital*, the BBC 24 news channel had a camera filming the hospital door for two hours, and that's what viewers saw on their screens for two hours. As I avoided all news programmes that day I cannot confirm the story, but, knowing the BBC, and its current off the scale sycophancy level, I'm prepared to believe it.

*£1,000 a night, courtesy of the British taxpayer.

There's an article in today's Guardian by someone from Hull attempting to dispel the "myths and half-myths" about our town. I won't link to it as I don't think much of it. The article is pushing for Hull's bid to become 'city of culture'. I pray that the bid fails (I'm sure it will) because the cost to the ordinary citizen will just add to our woes.
The comments to the article include a plug by a Hull blogger for his site. I took the bait and liked what I saw. So here it is.

For my cyberstalker. It'll give him an erection.

Kad Achouri, Liberté a poem of Paul Eluard -

" ... pour la première fois dans l'histoire du monde, proposé aux hommes ce qui est l'une des conditions essentielles du bonheur, la liberté."

I don't know who's responsible for this. I lifted it from Gerald Somers.

I wonder if John Inverdale's old man told him, "Listen son, you're not very intelligent and you'll never get a job where tact and diplomacy are required, but you did go to a public school. You'll have no trouble getting a job at the BBC"?

PARADISE
"I've been to Liverpool, and compared to Liverpool Hull is Paradise."

Hull boxer Tommy Coyle, in response to the badmouthing of our beloved city by Derry Matthews of Liverpool, who is Tommy's opponent this weekend. The fight is for the Commonwealth Lightweight title, and is on a bill topped by Hull's golden boy, Luke Campbell. This will be Luke's first professional fight.

Looking for my eyebrows.
They are disappearing. I was warned that the treatment I'm getting for the Bengal Lancer would cause me to lose my body hair, but not the hair on my scalp. Well, the underarm hair has gone; that on arms and legs has virtually disappeared; and the hair surrounding the family jewels is looking sparse. Still as long as I keep my clothes on I won't frighten the horses.
What the consultant, nurses, didn't mention was facial hair, but it appears to me that the brows are disappearing, lashes too may be getting thinner.
I'm no body fascist but I have to admit that men without eyebrows and eyelashes look rather sinister to me. Am I going to end up fearing to look in a mirror (never a morale boosting experience)? Add that worry to the misery of increased weight, and I feel entitled to a heavy bout of self-pity. Who knows, maybe depression is on the cards. It seems at the moment that the only way is down.
Last week I made it to 75 years, three-quarters of a century, but I didn't feel well enough for a good piss-up, just shared a few beers with my elder son who had a day off work. This weekend I'm going to cop for a bottle of eau-de-vie, turn on the music, and get rat-arsed.