A Times journalist just described Tory party members as 'lizards'. Apparently we talk too much about broken Britain, and crime, when what we should be doing is celebrating the swimming results from the Olympics (apparently it's not possible to do both). He ends his piece by telling us The lizards may get their new government. Fellow lizardsactivists: dismiss from your minds the horror of your thoughts about that boy who fell from a Hackney towerblock, as he tried to climb away from those unbroken Britons who were chasing him. Of course there was a gap between losing his grip and hitting the ground, when he knew what was happening to him. Of course thinking about that gap makes you feel sick. Of course this death isn't even the latest gang-related murder in Britain - Ahmed Benyermak died last Wednesday, after all. But come come. Move along please. Nothing broken here. (I can't help but remember those others with concerns that lizards might take over the government.)
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One thing I’ve loved about this summer’s weather has been its utter predictability. No, really. You don’t need to pause for thought when a friend asks you round for a barbecue. You know it’s going to be cold and you’ll need a raincoat. Saves a lot of fussing. We went to the Innocent Summer Fete in Regent’s Park the day after Alex Deane wrote about it on CentreRight. After an hour of being soaked to the skin, and only fleeing from under the (non) protection of a tree when lightning threatened to strike, we gave up and squelched home. Pah. You can stick yer fruit-pulp-based health refreshments where the sun don’t shine (i.e. Britain).
So I have that un-British characteristic of being made gloomy by rain. It gets me down, man. The summer’s weather has left me, well, under the weather. I wonder if that’s a particularly British idiom? The only other language I’m halfway good at is Italian but I can’t translate phrases: I doubt that sotto il tempo is correct – under the time? I must ask Lisa. [Time passes]. I asked her: no, there isn’t a direct Italian equivalent, which cheers me up, somehow. She offers mi sento a terra (I feel down on the ground), which makes sense if you live in the sun-kissed foothills of the Alps, or, even more appropriately for an Italian, I think, mi sento le ruote sgonfie: I’ve got flat tyres.
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