Tippler's Still Dazed

And finally, Monday.

It is often heard that Monday was named after the moon, that little satellite orbiting the Earth. It's utter codswallop, of course, but an easy mistake to make.

It was named after a certain moon, but not the one that's allegedly made of cheese.

The moon we need involved a bunch of girlies being rude to the King back in the days of the Suffragettes. So pissed off were they at chaining themselves to railings and throwing themselves in front of horses at the Grand National to earn the right to vote, that they thought 'fuck this', stomped off to Buckingham Palace, dropped their knickerbockers and mooned the monarch.

Well, that's what you do when you're getting a bum deal. Over to you, ladies...

Other notable Mondays include:

Manic Mondays - you're 400 words short of a dissertation and have to finish it on the Tube while keeping your eye out for suspect packages that don't involve some stranger's sandwiches. Alternatively, you've had three whole weeks to fill in a job application and now have to hand-deliver the fucking thing before the office opens in Peterborough. And you live in Falmouth.

Happy Mondays - don't believe a word. There is no such thing. Ever.

The Moonies - quasi-religious nutters who will try and brainwash you into believing that there is, in fact, such a thing as a Happy Monday. While they're emptying your bank account. Or is that the Mormons?

Tippler's Monday will consist of trying to work out precisely why he's not immune this week, even though Big Blogger had earlier said that he was, and preparing his farewell speech to be delivered, probably tomorrow, in the Diary Room.

Tippler's not too fussed, however. Once he's out, it's back to Belgium. Where there's better beer, cheap fags and low-cost trains that actually run on time.

So there.

Comments

[penfold]

I think it was the Moomins. Never trusted those little Finnish woodland freaks...

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Magnificent idea and it is duly

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