Diary of a Boring Blogger
First World Worm War
Went first thing to the art shop and bought a water-soluble pencil. The pencil isn’t water–soluble in itself, just the lead, although, of course, it’s not actually lead, that’s just a term carried forward from history like so many other terms where the meaning is no longer as accurate as it used to be or where the origin is obscure. Had a look at air-brushes which ranged in price from £20 to £150 where the main difference seemed to be the size of the nozzles; the more expensive the air-brush the finer and more diverse the sprays. I asked what the size of the sprays was and whether they employed the Venturi effect but this was information unavailable to the staff. For the compressed air, you can either buy cans, which is not particularly environmentally friendly, or a compressor, which is the more expensive alternative. The art shop didn’t sell compressors so I put the idea on hold for the time being.
On the way back to the car, I went past the ‘Pound Or Two’ shop, which used to be ‘ Mister Pound’. Inflation is obviously rampant in that part of Maidenhead. I went in to see what I could find and came away with a small white plastic cutlery tray, which my wife put in the bin after I got home and wasn’t looking. If it ends up in a landfill it might provide the means for social division in the worm community, if there is such a thing. I like to think there is. If the full hidden potential is realised there could eventually be chav worms, upper-class worms and royal worms in an orderly social hierarchy similar to that of the Habsberg empire in the nineteenth century.
Let’s hope that events don’t follow a similar course with the emergence of a Kaiser worm and the advent of the first world worm war (FWWW).
The rest of the day I spent painting something grey.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
It’s not every day you get to meet the King and as usual this isn’t one of them. I sometimes wonder if he may be thinking the same about me but then I remember that we’ve never met. Having said that I was close to his predecessor once at Ascot racecourse when, for reasons unknown to me, she was handing out Mars Bars to the local children, my two included. I can’t prove that the chocolate was laced with something illegal but the kids have behaved very strangely throughout the 25 years that have elapsed since. My wife says that this is more likely to do with aberrant genes while looking at me meaningfully through narrowed eyes.
These thoughts led me to ruminate on the nature of being the monarch, and brought to mind the sign and the signified and the relationship between them. People meeting the monarch are not really meeting the person because ‘the monarch’ does not signify a person but a role; a role that has been formed and defined over many centuries and which is contingent on this history for its effectiveness. And a recent contribution to this long, dramatic and often bloody and murderous history of role definition includes the more recent task of handing out Mars Bars to local children (genetically aberrant or otherwise).
Will the King become more involved in the world of chocolate in the future and will the House of Windsor be prepared to take chocolate-orientated sponsorship? Will they launch their own brand with the tagline “The King of Chocolates”?
Unfortunately, should a royal chocolate brand be launched, there would probably be comments about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Andrew might acquire the nickname ‘Willy Wonka’. For this reason alone I think a brand of extra-rich royal chocolate is unlikely to become a reality.
In the meantime many people living in this kingdom cannot afford to buy chocolate whilst the wheels of power keep turning, often unchallenged. Perhaps we need a people’s chocolate made of blood, sweat and tears, but the problem is no-one would buy it.
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