100 days – Day 35: Day of the Living Dead
Poor Nick Clegg – he’s really getting it in the neck in today’s newspapers, following the very poor results his Party got in the Euro elections. It would appear that many Liberal Democrats want rid of him as leader of their Party. One headline (in the Telegraph) shouts:
Lib Dems call for Nick Clegg’s head
But – in the Guardian – there is this: “Facing calls to quit from some party activists and parliamentary candidates, Clegg claimed it had not “crossed his mind” to resign, adding that he would not hesitate if he thought it would help the Lib Dems in the long term. “If I thought any of our real dilemmas would be addressed by changing leadership, changing strategy, changing approaches, bailing out now, changing direction, then I wouldn’t hesitate advocating it,” he said in a carefully choreographed interview.” “Lib Dems call for Nick Clegg’s head”
Regicide, like suicide, is never easy
Another “Leader” who should fall on his sword also gets coverage in today’s news: this man…….
Once Captain Courageous: now Coach Clueless
Terry Butcher and Nick Clegg, are singing from the same hymn- sheet, “We will not, we will not be moved!” Can’t they see what damage they have done to their respective “teams” , Hibs FC relegated; Lib Dems condemned?
Mike Riley, chairman of the Hibernian Supporters’ Association, said: “…… we want Butcher and Maurice Malpas to resign…..
“We want a complete clearout at Easter Road and will announce plans about how we’re going to go about it. It will be an attack – we’re not sitting back.”
Tom English, writing on the BBC Scotland’s Football site, describes last Sunday’s game when Hamilton Accies beat the Hobos, thus relegating them.
“On a day of many memorable images, there was one that springs to mind. Minutes before the end of normal time, and with his side clinging to a 2-1 lead like a man hanging from a cliff-top, Butcher walked to the edge of his technical area and started flapping his arms madly, like a big old bird attempting to take flight. “Flap, flap went Butcher and flap, flap went Butcher’s players. Flap went his defenders as they hoofed the ball clear with the composure of men whose trousers were on fire. Flap went his midfielders and his strikers, devoid of confidence and any semblance of leadership. “This has been the way of it all season. Those panic-struck moments were the year – the era – microcosm. A flapathon.”
The logo of the Liberal Democrats is that of a bird
They sure are in a flap too – time for Nick to fly away? And, while you’re at it, Nick,please take your equally useless wee brother with you!
100 days – Day 29
More about tea!
Today will be a long one: up earlier than usual this morning, as, once more, I forgot to put the bin out. Back indoors – and on with the kettle. I’m now on my third cuppa of Whittard’s Russian Caravan, and there will be a few more gallons downed before noon.
And it has to be STRONG tea – none of the wishy-washy stuff that Morrissey drinks:
I found this quote about weak tea quite amusing:
“I thought there was a hair in my tea but it turned out there was a crack in the bottom of the cup.” ~anonymous~
It’s a morning of sermon preparation – and that usually means procrastination and pit stops (or should that be PG Tipstops?) ; it’s so easy, and sometimes necessary for a tea break!
This afternoon sees an important debate at the General Assembly. Hopefully, it will be conducted graciously and without rancour. Now, if the main protagonists could just sit down over a nice cup of tea, a “balm in Gilead”, who knows what a becalming influence it could be.
This evening, it’s Hamilton Accies v the Hobos in the first leg of the final play-offs for Premiership
Somehow, I don’t think that it will be tea that I’ll be drinking!
Painting by Mike Jeffries – Edinburgh Tram 1953
Playing less than a mile away: Hibs…….For the vermin support at Fester Road, it could be the “End of the Line”. Hobos 0 – Killie 1. Hibs in the play off zone . End of the line?
Yes, I know that the tram line goes as far as York Place, and will open at the end of May BUT originally it was to carry on down Leith Walk and end at Granton. The spur up the Bridges and on to the Royal Infirmary is never even mentioned these days.
if it does go to Leith, at least it won’t go down Fester Road – imagine the green and white mess that the tram company would have to wipe off the front of their shiny new vehicles – caused by disconsolate Hibees throwing themselves in front of the trams in despair?
On this day – 26 June -112 years ago, Hibernian FC (the Hobbos) last won the Scottish Cup. The Final was played on the 26th of April 1902 at Celtic Park in Glasgow and was the final of the 29th season of the Scottish Cup. The Final was due to be played at Ibrox on 12 April, but the first Ibrox disaster happened a week earlier during the annual Scotland v England fixture. This meant that the Final was delayed by two weeks and moved to Celtic Park, even though Celtic were one of the finalists. . Hibs won the match 1–0, thanks to a 75th minute goal from Andy McGeachan.
It was such a long time ago that Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show was still touring Britain!
Disheartened (sic) at being beaten yet again by their greatest rivals – Hearts – at Tynecastle, a Hibs fan, unable to see properly because of the tears in his eyes, walks into the path of a bus that is travelling along Gorgie Road.
He’s very badly injured with both legs smashed and shattered. After months of surgery and rehabilitation, he is still confined to a wheelchair and it looks as if he will never be ambulant again.
His mates pool some of their Giro money to raise funds to send him to Lourdes as a last resort (Ed: it is a resort, isn’t it? check!)
With considerable difficulty, he manages to travel there, and is helped into a “healing pool”. (Ed: is that why his friends pooled their money? check!)
Suddenly, the waters start to churn and swell and swirl, and a cloud descends over him. From the cloud – a voice – the voice of the Amighty himself, quiet but thunderous, “My son, what do you wish for? What miracle do you seek of me?”
Awestruck, our wee fan stutters, “Boss, can ye make me walk again?”
There is a pause, and then a further turbulence in the waters – and the Voice from the cloud speaks…….
…… “My son, your legs are too broken and crushed and beyond repair; you will never be able to use them again. But I could MOT your wheelchair if you wish… Or have you anything else in mind?”
“Boss, yes – oh yes, please…. can you make it that Hibs win the Cup next season?”
The Voice: “I think that I’d better have another look at your legs!”