My purpose today at the Moonshine Distillery is not to attempt fresh judgment on the general blogosphere, but - occasional lapses being accepted - to consider front-line morale of the individual blogger. When I was invited to judge the cyber contest, my first inclination was to decline. What do I know, I told myself, I’ve never been infected with the sacred madness. But then, as everyone knows, the simpleton of the family always goes into arbitration. It‘s the Solomon syndrome. Obviously I feel passionate on the subject.
I have also been extremely fortunate in having enjoyed the continuing patronage of the adorable Richard Madeley - the least jealous person I know. The natural wisdom and perspicacity of B.O. who goes by the simple name of Nige, clearly, too, is worth an entire army corps. And finding Ms Baroque in Hackney, of all places, was rather like finding John Milton in Paradise.
Other than that, I wish to thank Neil Forsyth, The Hitch, Chip Dale, Sandi Gold, Gopher Lemmings, Joey Athena etc., whose homage has been articulate - and even generous. I am worried about my lack of enthusiasm in idolizing Richard Havers, and do hope that Chip Dale will find the passion to resume his blogging. Mutley, and there is no kinder way to put it, is easily the most down-market intellectual you’d ever make love to. And Stephen Fry, in my own opinion, an extremely pathological jester. The good Elberry, despite having been deep-frozen for billions of years, should qualify as much for his poetry as his exquisitely flavoursome prose, and Stephen King for being a long-winded neurotic. Ian McEwan for having run out of meaningful things to say, and to all the rest of those Scrutons and Tutons who are not geniuses, and whose musings are most unlikely to change any lives, may I say: Congratulations - your Nemesis has arrived!
And here is my Six-Point itinerary:
1.) In its ad hoc lounge, Dreamy’s Moonshine Distillery takes pride in offering intimate massages, beauty treatments, hairstyling, micro-dermatological maintenance, Botox injections and a menu featuring a very fine any Château Morrisette 1978. You may start with shaved, raw English asparagus, celery and anchovy vinaigrette, and follow it up with fresh trout grilled over charcoal, plus coffee and amaretto - I assure you, well above Virgin Airlines’ norm.
2.) Personally, I feel very strongly that the worst feature of the abolition of slavery and the emancipation of slaves has been the creation of human rights. But as a gesture to multiculturalism it is my equally firm conviction that all blogs should be converted in
to soup-kitchens for asylum seekers, economic migrants and sex-slaves, serving Borscht, gazpacho, bouillabaisse, puy lentil soup, cream of pumpkin soup, Kartoffelsuppe, and takeaway chicken biryani - - washed down, needless to say, with the best of my moonshine.
3.) Anyone due for one of Dreamy’s Deluxe Manicures, will find it is by far the best deal online. No more slumming it, folks. First your hands are cleansed, exfoliated and enriched with a moisturizing mask and serum - adding a new dimension to your digital comfort - and then carefully eased, coated in emollients, into heated gloves, in order to allow the nourishment to penetrate...mmmhhaaa...!!!
4.) No U-Tube animation here. No Debbie does Dallas either. Anything to be done will be done by Miss Dreamy. Which is to say, that all videos are produced on the premises. But nothing unseemly, I assure you. Down boys, down - this is a clean, little whorehouse!
5.) No links on this blog, either. First of all, I don’t know how to do the darned things. Second, they are the last refuge of the lazy blogger. Anyone yearning for the comfort of Dreamy’s svelte thighs will find all they need on the premises. Links, in any case, always lead to Bryan Appleyard’s. I followed them once. All you do is go round in circles. Believe me, Bryan’s links always end up in his Y-fronts. Perhaps he’s got tapeworm. And while we are on that subject Bryan, don't post any more pictures with churches. I might get frantic and burn one down.
6.) Invariably, the show finishes at midnight with Auld Lang Syne, followed by a resounding Sieg Heil, the Samurai sword salute and God save the Queen...
A limousine will be waiting to take you home.
Thank you so much.
Dreamy
I have also been extremely fortunate in having enjoyed the continuing patronage of the adorable Richard Madeley - the least jealous person I know. The natural wisdom and perspicacity of B.O. who goes by the simple name of Nige, clearly, too, is worth an entire army corps. And finding Ms Baroque in Hackney, of all places, was rather like finding John Milton in Paradise.
Other than that, I wish to thank Neil Forsyth, The Hitch, Chip Dale, Sandi Gold, Gopher Lemmings, Joey Athena etc., whose homage has been articulate - and even generous. I am worried about my lack of enthusiasm in idolizing Richard Havers, and do hope that Chip Dale will find the passion to resume his blogging. Mutley, and there is no kinder way to put it, is easily the most down-market intellectual you’d ever make love to. And Stephen Fry, in my own opinion, an extremely pathological jester. The good Elberry, despite having been deep-frozen for billions of years, should qualify as much for his poetry as his exquisitely flavoursome prose, and Stephen King for being a long-winded neurotic. Ian McEwan for having run out of meaningful things to say, and to all the rest of those Scrutons and Tutons who are not geniuses, and whose musings are most unlikely to change any lives, may I say: Congratulations - your Nemesis has arrived!
And here is my Six-Point itinerary:
1.) In its ad hoc lounge, Dreamy’s Moonshine Distillery takes pride in offering intimate massages, beauty treatments, hairstyling, micro-dermatological maintenance, Botox injections and a menu featuring a very fine any Château Morrisette 1978. You may start with shaved, raw English asparagus, celery and anchovy vinaigrette, and follow it up with fresh trout grilled over charcoal, plus coffee and amaretto - I assure you, well above Virgin Airlines’ norm.
2.) Personally, I feel very strongly that the worst feature of the abolition of slavery and the emancipation of slaves has been the creation of human rights. But as a gesture to multiculturalism it is my equally firm conviction that all blogs should be converted in
to soup-kitchens for asylum seekers, economic migrants and sex-slaves, serving Borscht, gazpacho, bouillabaisse, puy lentil soup, cream of pumpkin soup, Kartoffelsuppe, and takeaway chicken biryani - - washed down, needless to say, with the best of my moonshine.3.) Anyone due for one of Dreamy’s Deluxe Manicures, will find it is by far the best deal online. No more slumming it, folks. First your hands are cleansed, exfoliated and enriched with a moisturizing mask and serum - adding a new dimension to your digital comfort - and then carefully eased, coated in emollients, into heated gloves, in order to allow the nourishment to penetrate...mmmhhaaa...!!!
4.) No U-Tube animation here. No Debbie does Dallas either. Anything to be done will be done by Miss Dreamy. Which is to say, that all videos are produced on the premises. But nothing unseemly, I assure you. Down boys, down - this is a clean, little whorehouse!
5.) No links on this blog, either. First of all, I don’t know how to do the darned things. Second, they are the last refuge of the lazy blogger. Anyone yearning for the comfort of Dreamy’s svelte thighs will find all they need on the premises. Links, in any case, always lead to Bryan Appleyard’s. I followed them once. All you do is go round in circles. Believe me, Bryan’s links always end up in his Y-fronts. Perhaps he’s got tapeworm. And while we are on that subject Bryan, don't post any more pictures with churches. I might get frantic and burn one down.
6.) Invariably, the show finishes at midnight with Auld Lang Syne, followed by a resounding Sieg Heil, the Samurai sword salute and God save the Queen...
A limousine will be waiting to take you home.
Thank you so much.
Dreamy
