Fetch and carrion


Image: Preston

Private Eye has a column which libelously confuses two things, at least one of which is often a human being. It is enormously tempting, isn’t it, when one thing puts one so in mind of another.

Milos Raonic

When occupied on his purpose he appears to demolish all before him with a mixture of robotic concentration and merciless glee. It is a fearful spectre that chills the heart.

And yet here we are with a Men’s Final in SW19 where this year’s victor demonstrates an unendingly graceful, infinitely civilized style. Federer’s reputation for fair play akin to Borg’s, his focus on victory as McEnroe’s, his low-key stardom as Fred Perry’s. Perhaps it’s the case that a longer life in a chosen field supervenes on something more than skill of making mincemeat of competitors; it is a generosity of spirit ventilates those intangibles of humanity that extends lethal efficiency.

When did he first win Wimbledon – 2003? Goodness.

Image                                                   On his way to an Eighth Wimbledon title


Are you struggling too? Struggling to work out why its taken the PM three months to articulate what was patently obvious from the outset.

When we suggested, a week before the Referendum, fastening seatbelts would be an idea, myopically we did not foresee how long it would take for the full implications to be grasped and accepted as a whole new reality. You are encouraged to wander back to the June pages of this site to see what we mean and/or massage our egregious egos.

But acting in haste is as a mangle to tears and it’s probably right the pace should be glacial – slow moving rather than chilly, you understand.

Undulations of language do, though, map contours of uncertainty: Brexit means Brexit being as persuasive as Because I say so, as informative as How Hi is a chinaman.