It’s all going a bit pear-shaped

Well, what a day, and no mistake. I was so fed up with myself and my lack of productivity yesterday that I determined there would be no repeat and I would not leave my chair until I had done what I set out to do – i.e. complete Chapter 5. I did – and also did my blip and various other emails that I needed to send. Felt curiously satisfying. Then off I went into the great wide world to send/post/research at the local café (which, for the curious amongst you is called Hardy’s.
 
That was my big mistake. Not that Hardy’s is a bad place, far from it. They are friendly and the owner/server knows my order, and there is no hassle about hogging their Internet in return for a single café con leche. No, the mistake was my not leaving the second I saw what they had put the television on. For not only did they have the UK budget coming out of the screen (normally reserved for Britney Spears, Christine Aguilera and, in moments of madness, Justin Timberlake), which enabled me, every time I looked up, to see half of Priti Patel’s face and half of that bumbling ball-buster Johnson’s face as well, hiding as they were behind the cockwomble Chancellor who was spending hundreds of billions of pounds to try and stimulate the economy, buy off the other countries in the union, and pretend to be a green party ALL AFTER HAVING PUT THE COUNTRY THROUGH 10 YEARS OF AUSTERITY BECAUSE APPARENTLY ‘YOU CAN’T SPEND YOUR WAY OUT OF A RECESSION’ (sorry for the caps, inexcusable), it also presented me with the starkest reminder yet of why I hate so many English people (I’m allowed, I’m English, well, half English). It is the rank hypocrisy. They just get on my frigging tits. Can I say that on this site? Well, I just have.
 
Of course, some of my best friends are English.
 
Can I also just say that half of Priti Patel’s is just as irritating as her full face, and half of Boris Johnson’s face is perhaps twice as slappable as his full face? I am most definitely in one of those moods. When people decide to vote for these onanists, what is it they vote for? I have never, never ever had a conversation with anyone who admits voting for these blind-side flankers. Somebody must – unless the UK is as corrupt as Florida – so who is it? Answers on a post card to: Jim’ll Fix It, c/o Fiona Bruce, Question Time, BBC Television Centre, London W12 8QT.
 
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, all going pear-shaped. So, having decided not to go to London to see the concert I have been looking forward to since the moment it was announced, I started having a conversation with Mrs. Ottawacker who very astutely pointed out what I was beginning to realize myself. That is, given the rapidity with which the Covid19 figures are surging in Spain, it would probably not be a good idea to get caught in a closed country. It’s not that I have a problem with Spanish health care or even being stuck in Spain for a prolonged period of time, it’s just that (a) I don’t speak the language particularly well (i.e. at all), (b) supermarkets in Madrid have closed because they had sold out of all their produce (the contents of my cupboard are three tins of tuna, one tin of mackerel, one packet of Jacob’s crackers, one quarter of a stale baguette, two tomatoes (one of which is mouldy), two eggs and some salt), (c) not having Internet is fine, except I will feasibly need to work before the end of the next millennium and being reliant on the Internet for the safe transit of contracts, I risk running out of money.
 
I am sure I would have got to this point by myself. First Raheny_Eye, then Mrs. Ottawacker, then my friends in London chipped in too, just for good measure. Thank God I have surrounded myself in my life with people who are not afraid to voice an opinion. Going back to Canada, if it is doable, is almost certainly the right thing to do. I am going to have to spend 2 weeks in the basement – thankfully our basement is finished and self-contained – in what is laughingly known as self-isolation. There, I will get to examine the insides of my eyelids for a while, stare blankly at the ceiling, feed on any of the scraps Mrs. Ottawacker deigns to throw down the stairs – perhaps fighting off one or both of the cats for a choice bit of tuna –, fondly remember what it was like to be able to walk for more than 100m without pain, remember the warmth and the sun and the… STOP. Just for good measure, though, the blip for today is of the view from my window as the sun sets.
 
What I need is a good pick me up… time to go and watch Liverpool play Atletico in the Champions League – that will help… won’t it? Please tell me it will help.
 
It didn’t.
 
The only thing that can save me now is a good Scottish joke. Please say this to yourself in your broadest Glaswegian accent.
 
Q: What’s the difference between Gene Kelly and the man who invented Donald Duck?
A: Gene likes tae dance, but Walt disnae.
 
Thank you, I am here all week. Actually, I am probably not, but am available for weddings, christenings, funerals and the occasional bar mitzvah.