chateau life

Evening at the Chateau De Healy.

These are the salad days.

That is to say we are having salad for dinner every day.

I am browsing in an armchair.

Trying to sleep off the lettuce leaves.

South Park is on television.

A rare non offensive episode of that invariably offensive show.

It's the one where Fox Channel is going to show a picture of the prophet Muhammed on the Family Guy cartoon and Cartman and Kyle go to the Fox studios to persuade the network chiefs not to broadcast it as it's offensive to Muslims, only Cartman doesn't really care about Muslims, he just hates Family Guy, and when Kyle finds out that Cartman's motivation is selfish he decides the episode should be broadcast afterall in the interests of free speech, and Cartman gets a head start on him and is talking to the President of Fox when Kyle bursts in, and both boys plead with the President in dramatic portentous tones like from a nuclear war movie, saying things like "Jetison the episode Mr President," and "Do the right thing Mr President," and the President of Fox says "I don't know who to listen to," and Cartman produces a gun, and the President of Fox goes "Alright I'll listen to you," and Kyle says "Don't listen to him Mr President just because he is the one threatening violence," and the President of Fox says "But people could get hurt, especially me," and so on and so forth.

For such a normally objectionable show, this one is very mainstream.

Anyhoo.

I'm in an armchair.

The Mammy thrones on the couch.

Absently I speak.

"I'm going swimming tomorrow," quoth I.

"Why?" wonders the aged parent.

"Swimming is good for gout," sez me.

"You'll never do it," exposulateth she.

"I will yeah," sez me.

"Have you got swimming trunks?" enquireth she.

"No," answereth me.

"Then why are you talking through your hole?" challenges she delicately.

You know what folks.

I think perhaps we're going to have to cut down on our South Park.