Why Bother?

Somebody, somewhere has to be the world’s blandest famous singer. My money’s on Gary Barlow singing Barry Manilow. Gary/Barry; Barlow/Manilow. Maybe they were separated at birth.

“We are born so that we may die,” says the pseudo-intellectual. He thinks Death in Venice is an advert for Cornetto, and writes reviews in magazines which nobody reads.

Recondite, dilettante, and exegesis are words which give people problems, but only if they have to write them in the same sentence. This has been declared impossible.

“Climate change is not a science,” says Mr Paraquat, “therefore you cannot have a climate scientist.”

   “This is not so,” says the pseudo-intellectual, “for armchair is not a science and yet there are many armchair scientists. Most of them are studying the climate.”