Going for Gold

It is thought that for reasons entirely unconnected with Lammergeiers, Vladimir Putin has decided that he will not be attending the Olympic Games, this summer.

I cannot say I blame him. Some of our competitors have been described as being either fat or ugly and to a man of his delicate sensibilities, I fear that it would be too much for him.

We now learn that the price of a beer in the stadiums, will be £7.23, a simple cup of tea, presumably in a plastic cup, will set you back £2.. Furthermore; If you try to circumvent these exorbitant charges by bringing your own drinks, then they will have the impertinence to confiscate your property.

Most of the Russians that I meet nowadays are billionaires, who wouldn't notice what to them would be trifling sums. But I fancy that like Vladimir, they will not be coming. They would rather spend their money on football teams and yachts.

Vladimir, is rich and powerful enough to organise his own games, with prisoners from the gulags, at his secret palace on the shores of the Black Sea. It might be quite fun to watch dissident writers and artists puffing their way round the 4 X 400 metre relay race. So if I hear of any more gloom and despondency about Boris's festival of games, then I shall take up his invitation.

Baldness and cancer

Poor Will.i.am Hague and Ian Duncan Smith. Not only do they have to cope with the ever present danger of a Lammergeier mistaking their bald head for rocks and dropping a tortoise on them, but now a new threat has emerged to worry them.

Researchers at the University of Toronto, have discovered that men who have gone bald early, can be up to twice as likely to get prostrate cancer, than other more hirsute males.

They could try having their bald heads tattooed with a drawing of a full head of hair, like the bass guitarist in the rock band Split Enz, is amusingly alleged to have done after shaving his head in the 1970's. It may work and if they are desperate, may consider giving it a go.

It may fool the researchers, but it won't fool the Lammergeiers for a moment.

Pasty faced

Poor Ed Milliband. Just when he thought that he could celebrate a minor victory and have a pasty/ party, the taste has turned to ashes in his mouth. One of his posh chums, has rather spoilt the pasty/ party for him. Speaking for the opposition, in the House of Lords, in an urgent debate on the matter that has gripped the nation, Lord Peston gave the game away.

Lord Peston proudly and brazenly asserted that he had never in all his life, consumed a Cornish pasty. But, he rather fancied that it might taste like Boeuf en Croute, something he seemed to enjoy very much. Honestly; these people are so out of touch with the common people. Sometimes I truly despair of the modern Labour Party. Whatever would Michael Foot have thought of them, as he marched all the way from the valleys to Aldermaston, with nothing but a piece of coal and a leek to sustain him on his journey.

Getting Pasty Joke

There was good news yesterday for Ed Milliband, when the government announced another U turn. They seem to be performing so many these days, that to the casual observer like myself, they seem to be going round in circles. So he must have been delighted at the climb-down on the proposed Vat changes, the so called pasty tax. 

Recently introduced to the gourmet delights of traditional Cornish pasties, by his posh chums, Ed Balls and Rachel Reeves, both of whom were educated at Oxford university. Doubtless, his delight is shared by another old chum, Baron Prescott of Kingston upon Hull. I do hope that this new found love of Cornish delicacies, does not wane if he encounters Stargazy pie at another photo opportunity. He would do well to remember the  faux pas allegedly committed by Lord Mandleson, when he was out electioneering with the lower orders. It is claimed that when he entered a working class fish and chip shop and placed an order, he asked for some of that guacamole to go it.

Yet another climbdown, this time over Vat increases on static caravans must have been good news too, for Margarett Beckett, well known for her love of caravanning holidays. A move that must have made a double celebration for Baron Prescott, as most of them are made in his part of the country. An area once described by Chaucer, as "a mersshy contree, called holdernesse." 

Flying to Moscow

Our dashing Foreign Secretary, Will.i.am. Hague, has flown to Russia to rap with his counterpart, Sergei Lavrov about the continuing crisis in Syria. The news doesn't tell me if he wing walked like his father does, when he gets into a plane. It would have certainly impressed macho hard man, Vladimir Putin. We might finally get something done then about this appalling regime and the barbarous massacre of innocent civilians in the town of Houla.

Rich Pickings

Was shocked this morning, to discover that David Cameron is worth a paltry £4 million. How the Prime Minister of our nation is expected to rub along on such a paltry sum, heaven only knows. I think I might take up a collection on his behalf. The big surprise for me was that the Deputy Prime Minister, Nick Clegg is worth an eye watering £2 million. Clearly I have been adressing my begging letters to the wrong person.

I nearly entered politics myself at the last election, but decided that the game wasn't worth a candle, when I found out just how miserly the parliamentary expenses allowances are. I abandoned the idea when I realised that I couldn't claim back the employments costs of my 2nd pastry chef. If a fellow can't have a biscuit when he wants to, there is no point in bothering with public service. No wonder Baroness Warsi has got herself into such a mess. She should have claimed that her main residence was her sisters back bedroom, like Jacqui Smith did.

Welcome to my world

Welcome to the first post, from my mountain retreat. The Lammergeiers have feasted and are resting before they swoop down on an eclectic mix of news that either did or didn't make the headlines. There are no hard and fast rules.

My blog is a fantasy and any resemblance to reality, may or may not be a coincidence.