Re: why do brits...




"Rowland McDonnell" <real-address-in-sig@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:1hz8y30.15sskrd49pp5yN%real-address-in-sig@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
used2be <used2be@xxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:

"Rowland McDonnell" <real-address-in-sig@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
used2be <used2be@xxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:

"humble life" <humble.life@xxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
used2be wrote:
[snip]

don't do it val!!! humble life is just trying to get you to lie
down
on
his couch.


i'm a witch too

can men be witches?

Of course, although once upon a time you'd've had to use the masculine
form of the word, and I'm damned if I know what that might have been.

i tho't it was warlock.

Nah, warlocks are fictional.

Witching is all about magic and cunning - the old dark stuff. Nothing
to say that anyone can't do it, if they put their mind to it.

I suspect that the issue here is that it was always generally easier
for
a man to pick up a big stick to get his own way than apply brainpower,
but the other way round for women. So more men fought than women, and
vice-versa with the other stuff.

But I've just been reading some old British[1] legends: British women
fought in battle, oh yes, it's just that sort of thing was mostly done
by men. The women who fought were the sort of people to run you
through
with a spear if you tried condescension on 'em, that sort of thing.

From what I've heard from the police recently, British women have got
the hang of that sort of behaviour again, although my mother was at it
back in the 1960s (not that she's ever been involved in drunking
fighting with the cops or anything - only ever cold sober `punching
people's lights out' when they have annoyed her).

Rowland.

[1] And for all that some modern Irish nationalists don't like to
admit
it, the island of Ireland is one of the British isles. That is a
geographical fact, orright? The politics is a separate matter and just
to make it clear I'm of the opinion that the UK and Ireland damned well
need to be politically separate, but politically closely linked as
well.
We're cousins, damnit! And we'll both do better if we do it that way.

Meanwhile, back in reality, there are complex issues to deal with as
per
usual; read the legends: the Irish have *always* done it the way we see
now, or at least the culture that gave us those tales always have done;
the previous cultures are little-known, the ones who were wiped out by
the invaders who are the ancestors of those runnning things now. The
English and Scots and Welsh aren't the only people to have really
fucked
over Ireland: the Irish have done that already.

Since the Gerry Adams/Ian Paisley love-in started, who knows? That
sort
of thing's in the myths too.

[Mind you, the Scots came from Ireland in the first place. It's all
very very complicated and I'm glad I'm an
English/Irish/Welsh/Scots/French mongrel, because that makes me a mix
of
`all the old enemies from this corner of the world' and artistically
neat, not to mention putting me in a position of `I can't object to
them, it'd be shooting myself in the foot'.]

huh?

The English hate the French on spec[1], and have to deal with being
hated by the Welsh, Irish, and Scots, hence a bit of argy-bargy in
return here and there.

My `solution' is to claim neutrality on the grounds of my heavily mixed
ancestry. Okay, I'm also inclined to claim that the fact that I'm a
mongrel from N.W. Europe makes me a member of the master race, but
that's to cue people into the fact that none of this stuff should be
taken seriously.

(Paisley/Adams? Oh god - if you don't know, probably simplest to keep
it that way. Irish politics. Always complicated.)

Rowland.

[1] No, no, not really - it's just traditional, sort of thing. And the
French are in fact annoyingly bloody French, and we are sure that they
only do it to wind us up[2], so a bit of minor bickering still goes on.

[2] There is one theory that states they only speak French to annoy
people, and when there are no foreigners around, the population of
France does in fact speak English like any normal sensible people would.

Yes of course God was an Englishman and the Garden of Eden was in the
Vale of Evesham. Erm... Oxfordshire, in the heart of the English
countryside. If you've been there at the right time of year, you'd
understand why someone could make that suggestion. There is no finer
place for breeding people than that part of the world from what I've
seen - Oxfordshire, Herefordshire, Worcestershire, all that Welsh border
country down there, staggering! Okay, I'm sure there will be some
objections from Yorkshire (which as every Yorkshireman knows is God's
Own Country, but they get into arguments with Aussies about that one
these days), but still...

The above is not meant to be taken fully seriously, but there's a point:
if you'd seen Herefordshire and the countryside down there at about this
time of year, you'd understand instantly about part of how come the
British empire got away with it. You look at the land, and think of the
impoverished land of India and whatnot, all those places where they live
on rice. Well, chuck a few thousand beef-eating red-faced (by the time
they got Indian heat on 'em) giants into the mix, and the Indians
generally thought `Hmm... Ah. But they've got some good offers for
us...' (other Indians said `Don't let 'em in! Don't trust 'em!
They're all nice and civilised and pleasant about it, but if you turn
your back on 'em they'll steal your country! Look at 'em! They've
nicked half of India already!'

`I know why the sun never sets on the British empire: God wouldn't trust
an Englishman in the dark' as someone once said.

Note: when the British in India met the Nepalese, both sides had a bit
of a shock because they couldn't just cut through their enemy like a hot
knife through butter as they had both been used to doing. So what did
the Brits do? Paid the Nepalese to fight in the British army, which
still has one Gurka regiment. That's how to do it - if the buggers can
in fact fight well, bribe 'em to join your side. Lesson for Iraq,
maybe?


i was poking fun at you with my "huh?"

not asking for a dissertation.

rowland, rowland...what *shall* we do with you?


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