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Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Long Live Basil Fawlty, I Mean John Cleese - and no sirree, we won't mention the war!

It must be something about brilliance, it's so often associated with eccentricity and so-called eccentrics, and occasionally also with (material) wealth...though here I think and speak not of a certain self-promoting 'trump-tastic' individual, but of two fellas, namely, Great Britain's own inimitable John Cleese - juxtaposed, in this instance, over against Aotearoa-New Zealand's own millionaire personality Sir Robert ('Bob') Jones. The only other connection, in this case, that caused me to place these two side-by-side is their, I mean John Cleese's, latest foray/s into politics or at least 'political' commentary (over the whole Brexit debate, and now its rather sordid and elongated, ongoing aftremath) alongside an incredibly insightful and adept, ever so perceptive question-and-answer 'profile' of left-wing political parties, offshoots etcetera  (and their adherents and/or fellow travellers) in his equally memorable, witty and discerning *Families And How To Survive Them; set over against an amazing amount of political commentary by Bob Jones, whether in simply publicly-aired pronouncements, articles in the mainstream press, or especially numerous volumes generally in years and decades gone by; particularly concerning various oddball (as well as more orthodox) kiwi politicoes. Never a dull word or idle comment in that regards from either Jones or Cleese - when(ever) they feel they need to speak; and invariably, more importantly, have something worthwhile to say.

But here I'll return to and stick with John Cleese. Though his pre-Brexit comments undoubtedly earned him favour with the longsuffering British (and especially Welsh) masses - though of course the 'Remain' commentariot and intelligensia barely reported then quickly ignored such disturbing dissonnance from the(ir) prevailing wisdom - and obviously less so with both the Scots and the Northern Irish, whose majorities of course voted 'Remain' in the latter instance, and 'Leave' in the former. Anyhow, Cleese's very latest remarks ('twitters', evidently) have really gotten the Scotch knickers in a knot, so to speak, and I say that not as someone who's presently, let alone ever, had it in for the Scots; indeed I find them - as a race, an ethnicity, a group of people - a fairly good and decent, open-minded and straightforward, unpolitically correct bunch, especially in these days of PCness gone riot. Yes, Scots are actually one of my preferred peoples/ethnicities, alongside the Welsh and Brits and Irish; as well as, incidentally, are Filipinos, Indians, Nepalese, 'Caribbeans', (especially black) Africans; and also Slavic and Middle Eastern peoples for that matter; Scandinavians; and even the Germans - but no, we won't mention the war.

Anyhow - as I was saying - though haling from the Scottish 'Edinburgh of the South', i.e. Dunedin, Aotearoa-New Zealand - I felt 'Good on ya, John', **after hearing about your latest twitter, for giving what I anyhow supposed to be a well-needed 'right royal serve' to those (?Celts/Scots/Scotch) - however presently admirably led by that ever so gutsy, no-nonsense, 'stick it to ya' - and with no knobs on! - First Minister Nicola Sturgeon. Yes, how dare those self-serving Scots seek to exit - post-Brexit - the United Kingdom, the re-newly 'Great' Britain. No, they need to be repositioned firmly, fairly and squarely 'in their place': once-and-for-all, over and out; el finito; kaput! 

 * A book he co-authored, alongside Life And How to Survive It, with psychiatrist Robyn Skinner.

**Upon RNZ National's afternoon 'Panel', in fact, where either resident comedian Jim Elliot or his fellow guest, the other day, 'excused' Cleese's 'latest outburst' (in their apparent estimation) as the dangers ever lurking in one's sending off, through over-tiredness or tendency to immediately 're-act' (as afflicts say ye average talkback show host to an inordinate degree) late night emails (or in this case commentary) which one - almost instantaneously - comes to regret...when one has - soon enough - 'thought better of it' and dearly wished one had kept one's powder dry (presumably for a later, inevitable, more important skirmish or battle royale).

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