Stuart was going mad today. Apparently, one of the staff has been spilling the beans about him to some of the investors, saying how racist he is. He said loads of his friends are wogs and dagoes — Secondo, Guido, Sol, Milos — and he calls them that to their faces when the occasion demands. In return they tell him he’s a fat white honky with an ugly head. He reckons these days everyone is excruciatingly outwardly polite about wogs, etc. in their absence, but they don’t actually have any wog friends, and that they’re all a bunch of hypocrites. I have to admit, he does have more wog friends than any other fat white honky with an ugly head I know.
Agnes and I were watching a British sitcom tonight, and the lady of the house announced she was tired of doing all the Hoovering. Yes, well I’m tired of doing all the Dysoning. What is it with Poms? Then they say they’re having ice-cream for pudding. It’s like saying they’re having apple pie for crème brulee. Can’t they differentiate between the general and the specific? I wanted to write down this clever thought before I forgot it, but I couldn’t find my biro.