That is not my dog

Sigh. Here we go again.

After another all-too brief weekend, enjoying some much-needed warmer weather, it's time to work out if - or more likely (as I hate working from home) how - I'm going to get to the office during yet another strike by those greedy bastards in the Tube drivers' union!

Meanwhile, a celebration...

The Goon Show, The Ladykillers, I'm Alright Jack, The Millionairess, "Balham - Gateway to the South", Two-Way Stretch, Dr. Strangelove, After the Fox, What’s New Pussycat, Being There, Murder by Death... Many and varied were the roles played (in some of my all-time favourite films and productions) by one of this country's funniest ever actors, Mr Peter Sellers, whose centenary is is today.

However, it's for one classic role for which he is undoubtely best known - "Inspector Clouseau" in the Pink Panther films, from the best of which came these two brilliant scenes:

Does your dog bite? [The Pink Panther Strikes Again]

The Pavlova of the Parallels [The Pink Panther Strikes Again]

Yes, he was completely mad. Yes, he made life difficult for a number of people he worked with (and lived with). However, anyone who can make me laugh until the tears run down my face and my ribs hurt is OK in my book!

I haven't forgotten it's a Tacky Music Monday, either, dear reader - what more appropriate number could fit that slot today but this?

Peter Sellers and Sophia Loren - Goodness Gracious Me

Boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom,
Well, goodness gracious me!

Indeed

All hail, Peter Sellers (born Richard Henry Sellers, 8th September 1925 – 24th July 1980)

[NB Remarkably, he shared his birthday with fellow "Goon" Harry Secombe, as well as another odd assortment of "names" including Asha Bhosle, Antonín Dvořák, Patsy Cline, Siegfried Sassoon, Martin Freeman, Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, Sid Caesar, Pink, Judith Hann, Bernie Sanders, Lady Margaret Hodge, Avicii and Richard the Lionheart!]

Have a good week, folks.

This is no Basil Brush

According to ancient Dogon mythology in Mali:

He is the Pale Fox, known locally as the Jackal, a creature despised by all. There are many foxy trickster deities, but none of them are quite so mouthwateringly awful.

Ogo’s conception and birth is a horrific tale of attempted rape inside an egg. The story includes sacrifice, stolen semen, fellatio, biting the end off a very private part, circumcision, mutilation and practices so unsavoury it would be enough to put a cannibal off his food.

Needless to say, his upbringing left much to be desired and the tortured twisted creature became the embodiment of Chaos. Seeking the power of speech, he tried an incestuous union with moist Mother Earth which brought impurity and barrenness to the world.

...and we are currently under siege from our very own version of Ogo, as I awoke today to find one of the "twisted creatures" had laid waste to a swathe of one of our beds, completely destroying a large clump of yellow Coreopsis (chewed right through) and red Monarda (Bergamot), and there was mud everywhere from its digging efforts.

This means war!

I have already purchased some rather medieval-looking prickle strips for the tops of the fences, more "Dig-Stopper" roll, and some deterrent spray. But by far the most imaginative solution was one that Madam Arcati stumbled upon in an online forum - a load of that nasty plastic picnic cutlery from Poundland, embedded, spiky sides upwards, in the ground where the beast has been trying to create its den...

Time will tell.

Otherwise I am going to buy that shotgun!

Here's an appropriate tune to suit the mood:

Hollies feat Peter Sellers - After the Fox

Boom boody-boom

“Nothing makes a woman more beautiful than the belief that she is beautiful.”



“After all these years, I am still involved in the process of self-discovery. It's better to explore life and make mistakes than to play it safe."

The stunning Sophia Loren blows out 82 candles on her cake today! To celebrate, here's one of her most memorable musical moments, in the company of the much-missed Peter Sellers...

Peter Sellers and Sophia Loren - Goodness Gracious Me

Her: Oh doctor, I'm in trouble.
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.
Her: For every time a certain man
Is standing next to me.
Him: Mmm?
Her: A flush comes to my face
And my pulse begins to race,
It goes boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Him: Oh!
Her: Boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.

Him: How often does this happen?
When did the trouble start?
You see, my stethoscope is bobbing
To the throbbing of your heart.
Her: What kind of man is he
To create this allergy?
It goes boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Him: Oh!
Her: Boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.

Him: From New Delhi to Darjeeling
I have done my share of healing,
And I've never yet been beaten or outboxed,
I remember that with one jab
Of my needle in the Punjab
How I cleared up beriberi
And the dreaded dysentery,
But your complaint has got me really foxed.
Her: Oh.

Her: Oh doctor, touch my fingers.
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.
Her: You may be very clever
But however, can't you see,
My heart beats much too much
At a certain tender touch,
It goes boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Him: I like it!
Her: Boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.

Him: Can I see your tongue?
Her: Aaah.
Him: Nothing the matter with it, put it away please.
Her: Maybe it's my back.
Him: Maybe it is.
Her: Shall I lie down?
Him: Yes.
Her: Ahhh...

Him: My initial diagnosis
Rules out measles and thrombosis,
Sleeping sickness and, as far as I can tell,
Influenza, inflammation,
Whooping cough and night starvation,
And you'll be so glad to hear
That both your eyeballs are so clear
That I can positively swear that you are well,
Ja-ja, ja-ja-ja-ja.

Her: Put two and two together,
Him: Four,
Her: If you have eyes to see,
The face that makes my pulses race
Is right in front of me.
Him: Oh, there is nothing I can do
For my heart is jumping too.
Both: Oh, we go boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Her: Goodness gracious,
Him: How audacious!
Her: Goodness gracious,
Him: How flirtatious!
Her: Goodness gracious,
Him: It is me.
Her: It is you?
Him: Ah, I'm sorry, it is us.
Both: Ahhh!

Many happy returns, Signorina Sofia Villani Scicolone, aka Sophia Loren (born 20th September 1934)

The last Princess

"I'm no angel, but I'm no Bo-Peep either." - Princess Margaret

Ten years ago today, Great Britain lost its last true Princess...

Margaret Rose was not born of the modern school of royalty: all sporty like Anne, environmentally conscious like Charles, or - heaven forfend - a be-jumpered bicyclist like the Dutch or Scandinavians. Hers was a more glittering, ultra-regal world of balls, parties, society functions and lots and lots of tours of duty (opening things, awarding things, attending things).

Her education was mainly supervised by her mother, who in the words of Randolph Churchill "never aimed at bringing her daughters up to be more than nicely behaved young ladies". Margaret took to fashion in a way her sister, as Monarch, could not, and as a consequence she was noted as one of the most glamorous, well-dressed women in the world. She obviously adored her role as Princess, and in the eyes of the media she was everything they could have hoped for - seemingly permanently in diamonds, and always photographed in the most enchanting company at all the best clubs and parties.

Unfortunately her prominent profile and constitutional role meant she was not permitted to be so free and easy in her choice of suitors (in public at least). Famously the pillars of the establishment prevented her from marrying her choice of man, the handsome but divorced Captain Peter Townsend, a decision she was upset by for the rest of her life.



Her eventual approved relationship, with spouse Lord Snowdon, was a rocky one. The couple argued frequently (and occasionally in public). Eventually, inevitably, it all fizzled to a halt with the first Royal divorce of the 20th century in 1978. However, Margaret's many close male "friends" were readily talked about even during her marriage - Mick Jagger, David Niven, cricketer Keith Miller, wine producer Anthony Barton, the notoriously well-hung gangster John Bindon, and of course Roddy Llewellyn.

As she grew older, the Princess's partying became more "jet-set" than dutiful - a large proportion of this magnificently dissolute life taking place on her beloved island of Mustique, where she resided much of the year on an estate gifted to her by Colin Tennant, later Lord Glenconner (nephew of the decadent "Bright Young Thing" and favourite of the Queen Mother Stephen Tennant). Until her later illness (that led to her untimely death) this was where she preferred to be, and where she would always say she had her happiest times.

One of her close male "friends" Peter Sellers even involved the Princess in one of his famous video projects...

Peter Sellers featuring Princess Margaret, Lord Snowdon and Britt Ekland - I say I say I say

We miss her!