Nothing whatsoever to do with Val.

These are indeed strange times. Each day I reflect on the title of this journal and realise just how apposite it is.

On Sunday evening, Independent Television continued their series which they have called “Agatha Christie’s Marple” – as opposed to Stephen King’s Marple, or Wayne Rooney’s Marple. And not a Miss any longer, you will note. This follows the trend which I had supposed to be entirely American up to this point of advertising Romeo and Juliet as “William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet”. This avoids disappointment, you understand, to those expecting to see the latest work of Mr Schwarzenegger. Anyway, back at Marple, someone chose to cast Ken Russell as an English country vicar. I have no complaints about this; again, I am just drawing it to the attention of my readers (Vicus Scurra’s AMToNW).

Today, over at the BBC news site, I was greeted by the headline “Murray thrashes Fish”. I was more than a little disappointed to learn that this was not a euphemism relating to post mortem onanistic activities by a former Trade Union leader. That would have been mildly interesting, provided that we were spared the details. Alas, it referred to a tennis match (why are these things ever considered newsworthy?) and the Fish in question is a gentleman bearing the name “Mardy Fish”. Where I come from, mardy means miserable or moody, in a whiny sort of way. A highly appropriate name for a tennis player, then.

Also a warm welcome to the many visitors from Sheryl’s site, who have found their way here by means of her mystery link. I can only apologise for the sense of disappointment you might be feeling. (Don’t be mardy). I can only think she was displaying her superiority by directing her friends to this hotbed of the dire and ordinary.