Oi, You! (Sorry, that sounded rude; I apologise)
So, I've been watching videos of Margaret Thatcher, which have veritably littered the BBC website, showing her in the house of commons, saying things in a strange voice.
Seeing as she had speech lessons (arranged by Olivier, no less), could they at least not have cured her of that AWFUL rhotacism (also, whomever put the 'r' in that word is an evil genius, much like the adder of 's' into 'lisp') ? Hearving (hearing) her talk is like a bavage (barrage) of cvassly (crassly) contvucted (constructed) words thvowing (throwing) themselves at my ears. My mother is a speech therapist, and tales of her profession make it impossible for me not to pick up on such speech impediments, and want to give them a hearty seeing-to (cheeky).
But that is NOT all.
Looking into parliament, it's like watching a group of schoolchildren! All of that bickering and moaning and interjecting and tutting (see previous blog post for my opinions on tutters) is reminiscent of a gaggle of old women! The room is always full of laughing, booing and cheering, much like a football match (and do NOT get me started on that), and not the way I want the country I live in to be run. These people decide on the lives of millions, and treat it like a game; this is a job, not a hobby, and politicians need to remember that.
Oh, and legalise gay marriage. Asking for a friend. Cheers.
M
P.S. I've recently discovered the BEST way to keep fit. Choreograph a dance to Bob the Builder's classic hit 'Big Fish, Little Fish' and practise it every day, sometimes even twice. It's fun and healthy, and everyone loves miming holding a cardboard box of an evening.
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