name is derived from the Anglo-Saxon
word “welle,” meaning a water spring,
and has nothing to do with the wool
industry. Luckily, parish clerk Jacqui
Hughes and chairman Keith Foggon
decided the matter did not merit
discussion at the next council meeting.
PETA said it was “disappointed.” No
sheep were harmed in the preparation
of this report.
Meanwhile, an off-licence in London hit
the headlines as Christmas shopping hit
its peak. Corner Express in Crouch End
was taken over by new owners who
renamed the shop “Alcoholic” on
November 21 and unveiled its logo: an
apparently drunk man dropping a bottle
of booze with three cartoon stars over
his head. Haringey Council immediately
insisted the “inappropriate” sign be
changed, because licensing regulations
forbid any promotion of alcohol that
glamorises drunkenness. One local
businessman said it was like a pharmacy
rebranding itself “Drug Addicts.”
PC Corner
Another bastion of Britishness has fallen
to the PC brigade. This time, it’s the
humble potato crisp (that’s potato chip
for those in the colonies) which has
fallen foul of the “Let’s Rewrite History”
movement. Four years ago, the Real
Crisps company launched a new line of
Welsh rarebit-flavoured crisps (Yummy!)
in a black packet with the face of a coal
dust covered miner from the Rhondda
Valley wearing a headlamp. The picture
was accompanied by a short story,
describing him as a “real” Welshman
who was born to swing a pick but who’d
rather pick this bag of crisps. Clever
wordplay, eh? In November, the PC
monitors suddenly woke up to the
situation, pointing out that there hasn’t
been a pit in the Rhondda Valley for
years and that the design was
“stereotyping” and even “racist.” Real
Crisps has now apologised
“wholeheartedly” and said it was
“delisting” the product, whatever that
means. Who was it who said that
nostalgia’s not what it used to be?
Before the Old Year was out, the PC
brigade had their final fling of 2018. The
Care Inspectorate, we learned, has
published new guidelines for teachers in
nursery schools under the title Gender
Equal Play which says that play and the
environment could have an effect on the
gender stereotyping of a child. So, no
more “Hello boys and girls,” but more,
“Hello everyone.” In fact, no reference
to “boy” or “girl” but more “them, they,
theirs,” while “the common man”
becomes “the average person,” and
“mankind” gives way to “human kind.”
Worst of all, innocent tales about the
adventures of Mr Squirrel should now
refer to the lead character simply as
“Squirrel.” (We were going make a
comment about him being left confused
about where to hide his nuts but the
Editor deleted it.)
Spare a thought for ...
... Martin Dorey, author of “No More
Plastic - What you can do to make a
difference,” in which he aims to help
reduce the use of single-use plastics. He
worked closely with publishers Penguin
to make his new book as
environmentally-friendly as possible,
but it has been distributed by an
American firm who decided to shrink-
wrap every single copy in ... er ... plastic.
... an unnamed builder in Manchester
who was hired to construct a fence
across the front of a house. It was only
after he had cemented posts into the
ground and filled the gaps in between
that he realised his van was behind the
fence and he was unable to drive it out.
He was forced to dismantle part of his
handiwork and squeeze the vehicle
between two posts, while all the time
unaware he was being filmed by a
neighbour across the road.
... listeners to radio stations which have
banned the classic winter song “Baby it’s
cold outside.” It was written by Frank
Loesser for him to perform at parties
with his wife and was first recorded for
the 1949 film Neptune’s Daughter. The
song won an Oscar the following year.
However, some broadcasting bosses have
decided the lyrics are “manipulative and
wrong” and that it promotes rape culture
in today’s #MeToo climate. For those too
young to remember, it’s a duet between a
man and a woman, in which he tries to
persuade her not to go home because,
“it’s cold outside” and there are “no cabs
to be had.” At one point she sings, “Say,
what’s in this drink?” which opponents
have interpreted as a blatant attempt to
get her drunk, while conveniently
ignoring that she that also sings the line,
“Well maybe just a half a drink more.”
So, to sum up, 21st century ghetto music
making light of date-rape, gun violence
or sexual objectification of women’s
bodies is perfectly acceptable but a 70-
year-old comedy duet is not. Just
checking ...
And finally
It’s an old joke, but one which never
disappoints. An event organised by
pupils at Irvine Royal Academy last
month had to be postponed after a local
tarot card reader pulled out. The school
tweeted, “Out clairvoyant night tonight
has had to be cancelled due to
unforeseen circumstances.”
28
Quotes
Every year since 1993, the Bad Sex in
Fiction Award has been handed to an
author who, in the view of the judges,
has produced the most “redundant
passage of sexual description in modern
fiction.” The 2018 winner announced on
November 30 is Christopher Bollen for a
paragraph in his novel The Destroyers.
However, if you want to read it you’ll
have to buy the book because it’s far too
naughty for the genteel readers of
Soltalk. (Or nip into Smiff’s and sneak a
look at a copy ... it’ll probably fall open
at the correct page.)
However, readers of the Daily Mail felt
sufficiently moved to submit their own
fictional bad sex literary quotations, the
most printable of which have been
subtly edited and are shown below.
We flew connected in pleasure over the
universe. I looked down into her dewy
eyes. “Are you done yet,” she said. “I’ve
got a bus to catch you know.”
With a sly grin on his face, he kisses her
neck and says softly, “How was that?”
She replies, "Sausage and mash OK for
dinner?"
I kissed her. She screamed. Taking the
cigarette out of my mouth, I kissed her
again.
He caressed her silky smooth side up
and down. The more he did this, the
warmer it felt. Thank God for Jack
Russells.
She gave him those “come to bed eyes”
as she ascended the stairs. He heard her
footsteps entering the bathroom and the
slam of the door. He knew he had at
least 45 minutes to prepare, so he caught
up on the football news and the
WhatsApps from the lads in work. An
hour later he made his move in the
darkness, sliding under the covers like a
cobra hunting its prey. “It's Friday
tomorrow,” she whispered. “Did you put
the bins out?”
“Beige. I’d like the ceiling beige,” she
mentioned whilst on her back yawning
in my ear.
And finally, our favourite which deserves
an award of its own:
His movement was slow and deliberate.
“Oh, that’s nice,” she said. “Why don’t
you come over here and do that to me?”
Grateful acknowledgement to the following
papers from which some of this material is
extracted: Daily Mail, Daily Mirror, Daily
Express, Independent on Sunday, Mail on Sunday,
The Sun, The Sunday Times, The Times and The
Telegraph. Seen something funny, bizarre or just
plain weird? Contributions for Jottings are welcome
by email to: [email protected].