tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-357077402011-04-21T22:52:33.402+01:00Jacob P. Murgatroid is widely regarded as the man most likely to figure in England's political future. He is a financial wizard, prospective Tory candidate, trout fisherman, and a gentleman. This is his diary.Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.comBlogger1351100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-22877570060803911402008-11-05T15:36:00.003Z2008-11-05T15:39:19.422Z

What Ho Proles!It’s been a time. Indeed, at the risk of sound too familiar, I’d say it’s been a ruddy long time since I struck you last behind your knees with my walking cane of political good sense. The world has changed considerably since I last dragged an unconscious man’s heels across your turf and buried him beneath your begonias. Lots of water under the bridge, pigs up the alley, and a good

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-34628547446839840812007-10-01T01:31:00.001+01:002007-10-01T01:31:39.747+01:00

What Ho ProlesI’m up here in Blackpool at the Tory conference, though I have to confess that things are not going well. I thought I should grab this chance to write to you in case I don’t get another. As I speak, My Man is fighting a rearguard battle to keep the hoards of proles from breaking down my boarding room door. Excuse my typing. I’m writing what might be might despatch from the living

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-21233616702897355572007-09-16T14:52:00.001+01:002007-09-16T14:52:28.480+01:00

What Ho Proles!My, how you’ve aged! You’re all looking a lot older since I last saw you. A bit pale too. Been enjoying this fine English summer? It’s not stopped raining here at C–– N––. I’ve been cooped up here in Murgatroid Central, suffering a prolish insurrection, of all things. We crushed it, of course, with some heavily artillery and some light skirmishes involving the Murgatroid Light

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-25259620577546252622007-04-18T16:01:00.000+01:002007-04-18T16:02:14.587+01:00

What Ho Proles!Okay, let’s the cut the pretence, shall we? You can all see that I’m suffering from writer’s block. It’s why I’m so quiet. I sit here, day after day, week after week, staring at the screen. I have so much to say but no way of saying it. Writer’s block. Writer’s block. Bally writer’s bally block…Sigh…I’ve never believed in it before. It’s something that I was told the prole writers

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-52043851430725460922007-04-09T15:36:00.000+01:002007-04-09T15:37:03.870+01:00

What Ho Proles!Bank Holiday Monday and I look back on a few weeks of bliss since I had my nervous breakdown in January.You might have been wondering what happened to me but I’ve spent two months away in the Caribbean, enjoying the cricket, and otherwise learning to live like a native. I tell you that I feel quite odd not having neither sand between my toes nor a mango within easy reach.When I’m

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-85943017000111397562007-03-22T13:04:00.000Z2007-03-22T13:05:34.060Z

What Ho Proles!Spring will soon be upon us, so it’s already that time of year when the poor start arriving at the Hall, asking if they can help till the fields. It’s a most pernicious nuisance, seeing the woe begotten types come trudging up the driveway. I don’t know how they manage to get over the electrified fence and keep the guard dogs at bay, and My Man’s time is completely taken up with

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-10012016485803311562007-03-21T20:44:00.001Z2007-03-21T20:44:57.928Z

What Ho Proles!This prolonged silence of mine is getting too much. There have even been rumours circulating in the press that I’ve taken up with a Polynesian sea nymph and was recently seen loitering around a bar in the West End known to be frequented by showgirls. They’re all lies, I tell you.The reason I’ve not put up any more chapters of my Memoirs is that I’ve been made aware of certain legal

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-31271132708218506572007-03-14T16:59:00.000Z2007-03-14T17:09:31.580Z

Damn these liberals. First they invent tofu and now they want to take away our nuclear deterrent. It’s ruddy double faced, if you ask me.Don’t they know that our Trident missiles are a reason why people still listen to the British? It sometimes beggars belief that people listen to the liberal types who’d have us left unarmed against the hoards. Do you really think these other countries care a jot

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-47431020551291738192007-03-12T13:11:00.000Z2007-03-12T13:12:52.475Z

What Ho Proles!Well, I knew that title had to catch your eye, simply because it's not something you see every day! Fun with Lib Dems is one of those oxymorons, like Compassionate Conservative, which even as a Tory, I can see makes no sense.I’m just checking in to this blog to make sure that you’re all doing well and that nobody’s been stealing the china. Not that I’m accusing you of anything, you

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-71290501529129065402007-03-02T15:28:00.000Z2007-03-02T15:29:01.321Z

What Ho Proles!I know you didn’t expect to hear from me today but in addition to being wealthy, debonair, charming, and possessing great wit and intelligence, I’m also a man who likes to spring many surprises. I like to disappear for a while but only so I can make a dramatic entrance at a later point. In a way, I’m a bit like bird flu. You just don’t know when I’m going to crop up next. I’ve

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-6611178095779014142007-03-01T15:05:00.000Z2007-03-01T15:06:35.536Z

What Ho Proles!Alas, you can see that I’m one of those men that makes resolutions he has no intention of keeping. But that’s the thing with we men of the aristorcacy. We’re not bound by the same rules of you people of the pork pie and Daily Mirror. We’re not bound by the same moods, either. It’s the weather, you see? These dark winter days bring with them a life that is dull and devoid of all

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-35638323208892571022007-02-27T13:35:00.000Z2007-02-27T13:45:06.081Z

‘Do any of you chaps know how to drive a bulldozer?’ I asked the gang verging on a rabble that had formed around the base of the wicker man.I’ll be quite honest and admit that even as I’d asked this, I hadn’t held out much hope of an answer even bordering on the affirmative, let alone actually one that had full run of affirmative’s lands. Amassed around the giant wooden toes, the men looked quite

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-25547723074749276422007-02-19T15:50:00.000Z2007-02-19T15:51:55.788Z

Thinking that I might be a furlong or two short of wisdom’s finishing post should I decide to hang around the stables until Finch awoke, I left him to recover in the company of the young Falk who had continued to prove that she is of the highest order of good sorts by promising to delay that council cad for as long as possible.It did occur to me that her method of delaying the man might involve

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-3125369660785179392007-02-15T03:56:00.001Z2007-02-15T03:56:39.183Z

What Ho Proles!It’s the night after Valentines Day and I’m still stuck in London. To make matters worse, I have lost contact with My Man, which makes life rather difficult since only he knows where he’s parked the Bentley. Between you and me, I think he’s gone off with some of those ladies of easy virtues that are making such a name for themselves in the world of blogging. You know the sorts.

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-55646002595260121512007-02-12T22:07:00.001Z2007-02-09T00:06:06.964Z

What Ho Proles!I’m writing this from my hotel room in London where I’ve been stuck for the last week dealing with matters of family high finance. I know I made vows to keep posting but last week’s blizzard prevented me from returning home and my laptop was on the other side of the world. I could, of course, have found myself a ‘internet cafe’ but have you seen the sort of people who congregate

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-65985025307114822192007-02-08T23:45:00.000Z2007-02-08T10:08:32.147Z

What Ho Proles!After my stunning return to literary form yesterday, I thought it would worth a few minutes to tell you what I’ve really been up to during the lull in my posting. I’m encourage to make this confession by the brown parcel which arrived at the Hall this morning It signalling the moment when the pact was broken. Secrets can now be revealed. We can now speak about dark designs and my

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-55955601462805205862007-02-07T16:40:00.000Z2007-02-07T16:43:37.638Z

The stables of my neighbours the Falks were silent but for the noises that horses tend to make when left to enjoy their own company. They are faintly human sounds: snorts without our haughtiness or ill manners, whines which denote neither complaint nor pain, and the occasional stamp of a hoof that so resembles a certain Scottish housekeeper when you’ve insisted on adding a drop of whisky to her

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-80910523717974476812007-02-06T13:05:00.000Z2007-02-06T13:07:39.719Z

What Ho Proles!Oh, don’t even think to question me! I’ve had quite enough of that from My Man. I know I’ve been silent for too long but we men of intellect are prone to ‘adventures’ of the spirit as much as we are prone to those of the body. My spirit has travelled far this last week, searching for the solution to an seemingly impossible problem. How do I finish my memoirs?The whole thing has

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-22853862263808566882007-01-26T15:26:00.000Z2007-01-26T15:27:09.830Z

What Ho ProlesMy self-imposed exile from the world of blogging has been working wonders for my productivity. I’m churning out veritable tombs of moderately coherent ramblings which I’m trusting My Man to bash into chapter shape. He’s good enough as a butler, chauffeur, lackey, and trained assassin, but never better than when he’s given the chance to run with some material worthy of his pedantic

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-624997243404864972007-01-23T15:31:00.000Z2007-01-23T15:33:23.892Z

What Ho Proles!Don't they always say that buses arrive in pairs. Well, here's the second double decker to pass you way today. I'm back with a bounce, as they say, or if not a bounce, then as near to a perfect yorker as possible. Hot jiggedy damn, those gales were strong last week! We’ve had nothing but intermittent power to the Hall ever since, hence my short absence from the high realms of

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-57779990998742544532007-01-23T14:15:00.000Z2007-01-23T14:17:48.486Z

What Ho Proles!There was a brief fleeting moment as I watched the bulldozer advance, when I felt the Murgatroid genes bristle under the brush of historical precedent. Murgatroids through the ages have taken part in some of the great military charges. We have been at the receiving end of them too. In the days before holidays to Kenya came with every box of Cornflakes, ours was a family big in the

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-41699899688242279862007-01-19T01:32:00.000Z2007-01-19T01:35:03.412Z

What Ho Proles!The modern conservative is a big beast in a world of gadflies and other insignificant political insects. Trapped between the safety of the old night and the threat of a new morning, we move carefully forward through the vast political jungle but only at the risk of squashing our core Tory supporters under our rather large cumbersome feet. We Tories are meant for a sedentary

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-47975805295058733682007-01-16T15:19:00.000Z2007-01-16T15:22:14.705Z

What Ho Proles!‘Hello, hello!’ burbled Harry. ‘Did somebody mention a bulldozer?’Now, confess it: you’re impressed by the merry zip with which this member of the BBC’s crack team of journalists gave eyeball to the breaking news in the room. Rarely has the license fee been put to better use, or surely a better use than sending David Attenborough out to befriend pandas or the whatnot...I also

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-49799586831602746652007-01-16T01:16:00.000Z2007-01-16T01:18:36.354Z

What Ho Proles!My Man has hounded me this evening about posting something about something. I’ve told him I’m out on my feet, what with work intruding on my pleasures this week. However, to pacify the chap - he is prone to some terrible sulks - I’m going to say something about rum coves who demand that a chap scribble a few wise words when gone to the world. They are exactly the sort of fellows

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-91912586414377805882007-01-14T17:19:00.000Z2007-01-14T17:20:25.091Z

What Ho Proles!Two days! Two days! Two damnably devilish and downright despicable days!Forgive my outburst, dear readers, but I would just like you to guess how long it has taken me to sort out the latest disaster to befall the fair village of C--- N---. It is the reason for my regrettable silence of the last couple of days and why, on this Sunday morning so thick with strawberry jam, I have yet

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-83130733592748542952007-01-11T12:57:00.000Z2007-01-11T13:06:38.054Z

What Ho Proles!Mrs. Prendergast stands six feet and a single inch in her stockinged feet. I know this as a fact because the first thing she did when she came into the house was to kick off her shoes and throw them into the far corner of the room. She still stood an inch or two taller than My Man who, if I’m honest about it, appeared not a little afraid of the woman I'd ask him to bring up to

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-66511204912365275902007-01-10T17:24:00.000Z2007-01-10T17:28:05.166Z

What Ho Proles!Dashed exhausted but at least I’m here in once piece. Been out jogging. Oh, I know what you’re thinking and I can’t believe it myself. Never been one to go in for that organised fitness lark. I once walked in on Mrs. Priggs wearing her yellow lycra leotard and it put me off the business of keep fit ever since. Yet to say an ‘organised run’ might be a bit misleading. There was

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-59520214917539027072007-01-10T17:08:00.000Z2007-01-10T17:10:36.025Z

What Ho Proles!I can’t begin to express how important the reassurance of Harry’s normality was to me in those dark days of April, 2005. The man was alpha and omega of my schemes. Harry was the key to my election success. It would be Harry and his dulcet BBC tones that would explain my policies to the world.I left Harry to get settled in one of the guest bedrooms while I gathered the team together

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-60139932599509988912007-01-09T01:43:00.000Z2007-01-09T01:44:43.819Z

What Ho Proles!Harry Lamb’s fly was firmly fastened when he arrived at the Hall the next morning. It was the only caution he displayed, arriving at the Hall in a mobile scrapyard cunningly fashioned into the shape of a dull green Ford station wagon with a broken tail light. More worrying than the vehicle’s bobbing lurch produced by a bent front axle was the sticker pasted onto the back window

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-90035478038409239502007-01-08T17:16:00.001Z2007-01-08T17:22:24.875Z

What Ho Proles!I feel that my usual tank of good humour has finally drained, leading me to have what is commonly known as ‘a bad day’. I’m well used to having blank sheets of paper I doodle upon before casting them aside, but rarely do I have a day that fits the same purpose.It’s not that I’ve had a day of things being spectacularly bad, you understand; it’s more in the air than that. The sky has

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-77186632871179384662007-01-07T02:01:00.000Z2007-01-07T02:05:20.523Z

What Ho Proles!The last few days have I’ve been in something of a holding pattern with regard to life, My Memoirs, my political career, and yes, even this blog. I blame the rats of course, but I’m also suffering the malaise from Christmas. Next week, I hope to be more focussed and return to my normal habits. Updating a blog is difficult while a man’s concerned by rats the size of… Well, better

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-68426641872515810362007-01-06T02:01:00.000Z2007-01-06T02:09:31.068Z

What Ho Proles!I'm tired, miserable, not a little drunk, and I've had sonnets and rhymes up to my ears! So listen here when I say that we need to get one bally thing straight: this rat problem is not to be laughed off as one of my idle fancies! This is not a game. Nor is it trivial. We’re overrun by the beasts and some are as big as Irish wolfhounds. I know you scoff but we’ve had no milk today

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-79855246659891257172007-01-04T18:01:00.000Z2007-01-05T00:36:32.824Z

What Ho Proles!Once the idea was in my head, I had to act. Our dear Momentary Academic has set us all a challenge to write a sonnet in less than an hour. My Man ran teary eyed from the room when I suggested he join in. Alas, I didn't have an hour, but here is my attempt. I confess that the scansion is less honest than the sentiment.Sonnet On A RatScallop jawed wanderling of underwood,Knaw-faced

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-12757201754404827242007-01-04T17:07:00.000Z2007-01-04T17:08:43.477Z

What Ho Proles!New Year! And can the Good Love not save us from them?The Hall has been gloomy for much of today, or at least, ever since earlier this afternoon when My Man received a rejection letter for his latest literary output. He fancies that he has a gift for play writing and this latest disappointment is sure to make him more surely than ever. I tell him to keep up his chin and not let the

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-69953650829824751092007-01-01T00:37:00.000Z2007-01-01T00:40:37.676Z

Happy New Year, the whole bally lot of you!!!!We've got a bit of a do going on here at the Hall, so if you're in the neighbourhood, pop your dressing gown on and pop in. Help yourself to the champers! Hey now! I bright spark has got a conga line going. Better get in their unless I'll be at the back!I now declare that this year will be the year of the Murgatroid!!!

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-19807907941997130972006-12-28T16:17:00.000Z2006-12-28T16:18:46.024Z

What Ho Proles!I’ve been remiss over the last few days by failing to give you a proper update of the state of affairs here at Murgatroid Hall. What is J.P. Mugrgatroid up to? What adventures might he have had whilst under the influence of those complex organic compounds we hear so much about? How much wine has the man really drunk and can a liver stand such shabby treatment? Well these are all

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-61492574303751845182006-12-22T22:10:00.000Z2006-12-22T22:24:51.880Z

What Ho Proles!Well feel free to knock me down with a chicken drumstick. No seriously, come at me, why don’t you!? And I little care what animal you make your weapon of choice. I’m an easy target in my current much-weakened state brought about by the honest grape. You see, I’ve quaffed my fair share of liquid organic compounds these last few days and I’ve completely lost my land legs. Mrs. Priggs

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-76479006967670650172006-12-20T01:40:00.000Z2006-12-20T01:43:14.418Z

What Ho Proles!Ah, the Christmas holidays! What? You mean you haven’t started them. Well, bless your poor unfortunate souls. I forget that some people do not share the same amount of leisure time as we men of the country. I’m in the zone, as they say, nothing much happening and delighting in the very fact. I decided to start my holiday a couple of days ago and it’s taken me half a dozen bottles

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-41429244514690930892006-12-17T14:17:00.000Z2006-12-17T14:20:39.170Z

What Ho Proles!Sorry for the lack of an update yesterday. I forgot to mention on Friday that I was going up to the North East where I would be attending Arnold ‘Malky’ William’s bachelor party. Now I'm back, I admit that I wish I hadn't gone. He was always an odd sort but Malky has got even odder since he left Eton. He has pretensions to be an artist and is living in a converted loft studio in

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-74555255442531407702006-12-15T16:17:00.000Z2006-12-15T16:22:20.660Z

What Ho Proles!Well, as you can no doubt see, I’ve posted two chapters in as many days… And you tell me that my tuba lessons are interfering with my work? I laugh at such presumption and advise you all to get down to your local music shop and buy yourself this most inspiring of instruments.That’s not to say I’m not a little tired today. I was up in the night watching the cricket in the belief

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-80864913402323275402006-12-15T16:15:00.000Z2006-12-15T16:22:03.536Z

What Ho Proles!The car cut a corner at Piccadilly and a group of Chinese tourists somersaulted out of the way.‘Steady on there,’ I cried to My Man who had taken my instructions to get me to London as quickly possible too much to heart. He had not unduly stressed a few cyclists since we’d entered the Congestion Zone but it was the sudden souring of the Anglo-Sino relationship that I really didn’t

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-16723878339634754772006-12-14T15:20:00.000Z2006-12-14T15:33:25.936Z

What Ho Proles!I emerged from my bedroom three days later, a Neanderthal in all but dressing gown, aching in every joint, and with a headache pounding like some primitive tribal types doing overtime on their trampolines. Treading carefully so as to prevent my head from attempting any more back flips with double twists, I made my way to the bathroom where I hoped to improve what small compass of

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-34232880295018845512006-12-13T18:51:00.000Z2006-12-13T18:56:42.993Z

What Ho Proles!Well, the nation is hiding under its collective bedclothes tonight and I'm back on the warm stuff. What with a serial killer on the prowl and enough polonium going around to power a small sun, I can’t see the point in doing very much but hunkering down until the panic is over. I’ve instructed Mrs. My Man to release the hounds early tonight and to permit no visitors through the

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-61731692513502579192006-12-12T16:52:00.000Z2006-12-12T16:53:05.079Z

What Ho Proles!What a morning! I had to calm Mrs Priggs down after I found her weeping over her muesli. I’d voyaged ‘beneath stairs’ to find out what on earth was happening with my morning papers. They’d still not been brought to me to me by ten o’clock and the fireplace in the main room had yet to be made. Clearly something was amiss.It would appear that poor Mrs. Priggs had been the victim of

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-36726219322966970002006-12-11T17:00:00.000Z2006-12-11T17:03:40.687Z

What Ho Proles!My first tuba lesson with Dr. Fink, our local music teacher, went along without any fuss and much enjoyment was had by all. It does the lungs good to expel so much of the hot stuff and I think it’s reinvigorated my eagerness to get the Memoirs finished. As you can see, chapter 28 is now behind us and I’m going forward on a new sheet of paper. Chapter 29 lies ahead; an undiscovered

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-23185752429934832732006-12-11T16:29:00.000Z2006-12-11T17:03:30.583Z

What Ho Proles!T.H.U.M.P.Don’t let the fact that they sound like a criminal organisation mislead you into thinking that this gang of council pedants and lollipop ladies were anything but the SPECTRE of the British political landscape. Hiding a truth behind a falsehood is not the way of a truly shrewd mind. Hide the truth behind a truth and a falsehood behind a falsehood. This is the only way to

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-11527644450848213782006-12-10T14:13:00.000Z2006-12-10T14:14:19.105Z

What Ho Proles!Blast those bugles and let slip the dogs of whatnot! I can hear again! I can’t say what a relief it is to be fully operational in the hearing department after my days of silence, but as I set to cracking my eggs this morning I couldn’t help but put a little more elbow behind my spoon, just to hear the delightful whack of silver on shell.To be honest, I’ve had a bad few days and I

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-4166382949885552272006-12-09T14:28:00.000Z2006-12-09T14:33:16.144Z

What Ho Proles!Sorry for disappearing off the radar like that yesterday. The explosion of two days ago has left me deaf and with a throbbing headache. Yesterday, I spent in bed, as far away from the real world as possible. I did, however, read a short little novella, called ‘No One Writes to the Colonel’ by this Gabriel Garcia Marquez fellow, recommended to me by the Momentary Academic. It was a

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-46462855966406677422006-12-08T01:51:00.000Z2006-12-08T01:55:39.197Z

What Ho Proles!I said WHAT HO PROLES!I’m afraid I can’t hear you. I’m having a little trouble with my hearing on account of… Well, I suppose I should tell you the whole story. It’s not every day that a chap goes completely deaf in the space of two posts.This afternoon, just after I’d given you the low-down on my situation vis-à-vis the next chapter of memoir, the storms, and the situation with

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-72626718007886072572006-12-07T17:01:00.000Z2006-12-07T17:03:44.469Z

What Ho Proles!Terrible news about tornadoes hitting London. The English weather seems to be more cock-eyed than Old Barney, the village drunk.Down here, we’ve just had a bit of wind and rain, and the most stomach clenching smell coming up from the drains. Had a man here looking at them all morning and it would appear that Mrs. Prigg’s famous prune and bran sponge cake has finally taken its toll

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-38754849396832409672006-12-06T15:47:00.000Z2006-12-06T15:50:44.569Z

What Ho Proles!I’ve wrestled greased pigs that have given me less fight than the latest two chapters of my memoirs, the first of which I have posted below. Don’t take much notice of them, my dear resilient friends. The spirit flags in these dark months and I find it hard to function when sunlight breaks miserably on the horizon and comes to me as insipid rays devoid of heat or luminance.No

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-49625636683775925972006-12-06T15:18:00.000Z2006-12-06T15:50:30.941Z

What Ho Proles!As every blister eventually toughens your hand, I like to believe that the difficult things in life are eventually balanced by the good.For instance, an acre and a half of top quality manure has been spread about the Middle East arms race. Tyrants with ‘A’ bombs, huge armies with trigger fingers: all the things we should really be thinking about before nodding off to sleep at night

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-85896085242645792682006-12-05T12:47:00.000Z2006-12-05T12:49:01.680Z

What Ho Proles!I’ll speak softly, if you don’t mind. A hangover is a noble thing when suffered for a good cause. A pity, then, that my head owes its being to the drunken revels of financiers celebrating the weakened dollar. Still, I have my humility to act as a salve to my painfully troubled head. On this day, let it be said that Murgatroid was humbled...I believe I might have mentioned that I’d

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-75742601738041507852006-12-05T01:48:00.000Z2006-12-05T02:01:08.741Z

What Ho Proles!HALF PAST ONE AND ALL'S WELL!Or I think it is. Can't really tell. Bit tipsy this evening.What Ho Proles!Oh, done that bit already.Damn good bash tonight. Smashing grub. Plenty of plonk. Lovely ladies. Couldn’t give a damn about the chaps, though. Punched one over the cheese nibbles. Ruddy fellow wouldn’t leave them alone. Taught him a thing or two. Never put your fingers in another

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-31433121528098807542006-12-04T16:36:00.000Z2006-12-04T16:38:11.914Z

What Ho Proles!Worry no more, patient readers: the storms are at an end and all at Murgatroid Hall are safe and well. I know how restless you’ve all been, sleeping uneasily after you lost regular contact with those of us at the business end of this anti-cyclone but I can assure you that it was no picnic for us, either, so you can save me your back luck tales. Oh, there were a few moments when I

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-10313053781930541132006-12-03T16:58:00.000Z2006-12-03T17:14:30.908Z

What Ho Proles!With only two weeks and a couple of days left before the 2005 general election, the Bentley got caught up in traffic outside Smallchurch.There was a moment when I thought My Man had taken it rather well.And then the vein behind his left ear began to pulse...And then there was that strange gurgling sound coming from the back of his throat...And then he began to curse...I won’t deny

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-78930656648249592402006-12-01T17:14:00.000Z2006-12-01T17:16:18.865Z

What Ho Proles!Close friends have advised me to issue an apology for my manners of last night. I regret the whole alcohol-fuelled incident and I can only assure you that my liver suffered irreparable damage yesterday on account of the high quality Scottish whisky I expected that most ungrateful of organs to handle. Little did I expect it to scramble my logic after midnight and turn my tone

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-26259362405024005242006-12-01T00:02:00.000Z2006-12-01T00:22:11.518Z

What Ho Proles!The metal clacks and grinds of the old manual typewriter have not ceased cutting through my thoughts today. My Man and I are hard at work on the next few chapters of the ever expanding Murgatroid memoirs, though, even as I tell you this, a grim and deeply disturbing part of my conscious mind screams the word ‘LIE’.The ugly truth is that we’ve not been progressing that well. The

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-27088278408236209862006-11-30T13:43:00.000Z2006-11-30T16:05:51.443Z

What Ho Proles!My usual mediation with a glass of brandy was interrupted, last night, by a visit from the condiment magnate who owns one of the cottages down the lane from the Hall. The man is obsessed with European politics and spends half of his year buying up onion and gherkin crops throughout Eastern Europe. He arrived at my door stinking high to his swollen gills on raw pickle juice and

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-47265016813810909032006-11-29T15:43:00.000Z2006-11-29T15:52:20.025Z

What Ho Proles!Cyril Henderson stood before an A2 whiteboard with a large black marker pen in his hand. He looked, I imagine, much like General Montgomery would have looked had the British Army in North Africa shopped at Stationary Box.In front of him sat the rest of ‘the team’, as I’d taken to calling Cyril, Spoon, Cropper, Jenkins, Harris, My Man, and myself. We’d assembled in the nursery like

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-76962867787457340952006-11-28T14:08:00.000Z2006-11-28T14:11:27.317Z

What Ho Proles!I want to make it abundantly clear that I had nothing to do with the bugging of Jeremiah Finch’s Morris Minor. No matter what rumours you’ve heard or newspaper reports you’ve read, the simple truth remains that I was too busy stealing the man’s pipe when that decision was taken.I say this, of course, understanding that the oldest of all the political dark arts has always been the

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-24871349614437957682006-11-27T16:01:00.000Z2006-11-28T16:09:03.243Z

What Ho Proles!I awoke this morning to find a bright blue sky above the Hall and Larry Harris sleeping off a drunken stew at the foot of the stairs. As McDuff says: ‘Such welcome and unwelcome things at once ’Tis hard to reconcile’. Once we managed to wake him up, Larry was dropping large hints about it being so nice down here that he fancied staying for the week. I hadn’t the heart to tell him

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-1065458598727127412006-11-26T14:24:00.000Z2006-11-26T14:27:23.663Z

What Ho Proles!I'm feeling slightly ashamed of myself that my memoirs have taken such a back seat this weekend. I must force myself to return to the story tomorrow...Last night I got unfeasibly drunk with Larry Harris who had tootled up from London to persuade me to help the party prepare for the next election. If you’ve been following my memoirs, you’ll recognise Larry because he used to be my

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-77215832093339033922006-11-25T12:37:00.000Z2006-11-25T12:38:09.443Z

What Ho Proles!Bit of a brief update today, it being Saturday, the day of sport. I’m also a bit bleary eyed after staying up to watch the Ashes. I stayed awake until England started to get thrashed, which means I got my head down quite early and had my full nine hours.I also have to be quick because my mind is taken with up with this business with Russia spies and London sushi bars. Many of my

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-23827769831479397232006-11-24T16:36:00.000Z2006-11-24T16:38:50.831Z

What Ho Proles!A greatly chagrined Tory candidate sat in his study at three o’clock that afternoon. I’ve always been aware that more than fifty percent of the good citizens of this country of ours have moderate to strong opinions about the Murgatroid brand and are more likely to prod me in the kidneys with a rusted umbrella than shake me by the hand. What I hadn’t expected was that one hundred

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-7661865287231824332006-11-23T15:13:00.000Z2006-11-23T15:19:55.222Z

What Ho Proles![In addition to posting my Proles Corner piece, below, I'm also putting up a chunk of my memoir. I'd have My Man edit it down a bit but after nearly losing him the other day, I thought I'd go easy on the fellow.]Friday, 15th April, 2005. AKA: The Following Morning...I awoke early to welcome a pot of piping hot coffee into my room, followed pretty swiftly by the majority of a loaf (

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-85198578173889946242006-11-23T01:21:00.000Z2006-11-23T12:41:28.394Z

What Ho Proles!And I should say: Welcome to Proles Corner…In what short time my blog has been live, I’ve been sent a broad range of emails. Some have asked me to help save endangered animals, such as the Patagonian Rubber Eared Baboon (I said no). Some ask me to rehouse young female Russians aged between 17 and 21 (I said 'What Ho!'). Whilst others have simply wanted to borrow my bank account to

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-88981889184674705772006-11-22T14:55:00.000Z2006-11-22T14:58:19.258Z

What Ho Proles!Just as Larry ‘Bomber’ Harris promised, Larry ‘Bomber’ Harris delivered. The nation’s press came calling the next day; bandwagoned to their glassy eyeballs, hot with breaking news, and desperate to be bitten by sound. Proving himself a dab hand in his new role as media coordinator, Melvin Jenkins soon had the networks organised like a crescent of crisps around the edge of a very

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-32941076449242588802006-11-22T01:12:00.000Z2006-11-22T01:18:27.115Z

What Ho Proles!Well, I’ve done it. I’ve fired My Man. He’s down in the lodge right now, packing his bags and looking up bus timetables to heavens knows where.I know it all seems a bit sudden – rash you might even say – but it came to my attention late last night that the blighter had misnumbered all the chapters of my memoirs! When I came to look, there were two chapter 16s and three chapter 11s.

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-3874278853918279672006-11-21T14:06:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:49:20.972Z

What Ho Proles!Journeying home in the Bentley turned out to be a rather odd business. I put it down to the fact that one of the passengers insisted on riding on my lap and quacking every time we passed stretch of open water. I didn’t know what to do. The last time I’d experienced anything like it was during my time at Oxford when I’d agreed to go along with Rupert Katt’s plan to help Flakey

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-16517073798644545982006-11-21T13:14:00.000Z2006-11-21T13:18:24.072Z

What Ho Proles!So, Tony Blair is planning to hire eighty Super Nannies across England to cope with unruly children. As a man brought up by nothing but nannies, I feel I’m fully qualified to comment on this plan.It’s undiluted horse twaddle.And you can quote me on that. The man doesn’t know a nanny from a nanny goat. Not every nanny flies in looking like Julie Andrews about to turn a bit

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-90495334509136575172006-11-20T15:49:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:49:04.618Z

What Ho Proles!‘Sir?’ said the man, breathlessly leaning against the barrow like some weak-kneed greengrocer struggling to shift a particularly prosperous potato harvest. ‘Sir?’ he said again but this time his face darkened as his voice struggled to overcome the noise of the crowd. In a blink of an eye, the stoop to his shoulder disappeared and he seemed to stand a foot taller as he turned to

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-81442347409735587212006-11-20T13:09:00.000Z2006-11-20T14:22:55.479Z

What Ho Proles!Well it’s a new week and time to earn another pound or two. The Memoirs have come on apace over the weekend. After deciding to take a rest on Saturday, I still found myself chattering away into the tape recorder and My Man tells me this morning that another 4000 words have been added to the draft manuscript.I’ve decided to hold back from posting the next two chapters this morning

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-41218873147762287592006-11-19T17:04:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:48:53.593Z

What Ho Proles!I’d been given ten minutes to prepare for one of the most significant speeches of my political career!Now, let me ask you a question. Can you rush greatness? I think it takes only take a moment or two of considered reflection before you’d agree that the answer to this conundrum lies in the region of the negative, or, at least, not too far away from that enlightened place where one

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-15847477881243453542006-11-18T15:19:00.000Z2006-11-18T15:25:02.898Z

What Ho Proles!I’m taking a break from the memoirs today. My Man has had to dash up north to sort out some family problems and the blighter's taken the Bentley with him. I don’t like to ask too many questions for fear that he might tell me a few too many details. All I know is he also took the shotgun with him and whipped Mrs. Prigg’s best nylon hosiery from the washing line. If I wasn’t sure

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-49322244013586084292006-11-17T15:50:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:48:34.976Z

What Ho Proles!Every town has a history, and if you’ll permit me a few moment of your time, I’d like to give you the potted chronicle of Smallchurch, a small town that lies to the North East of the village of C---- N---- and the destination for the Murgatroid political bandwagon that Wednesday morning in April, the Year of Our Lord, 2005.The county of C---- N---- may have taken its name from the

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-69185046423456310152006-11-16T15:29:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:48:24.233Z

What Ho Proles!It was my father who taught me that a man should get messy business out of the way should he find that he’s wearing the right trousers for the task. That was in 1974, he’d just come back from shooting grouse, and we still had a Bolshevik cook working at the Hall who insisted of putting boiled cabbage with every meal. You might say what you want about Father’s methods and his

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-18317290239117446132006-11-15T16:12:00.000Z2006-11-15T16:17:09.398Z

What Ho Proles!‘Two updates in a day? What’s Murgatroid been drinking?’Oh, yes. I can hear the tinkle of jaws bouncing off toes. I just wanted to explain that My Man’s been playing up of late. He’s been ‘looking over the site in the last few days and working his magic to make it look a little more respectable’. Those are his words, I should add, not mine. I told him: you can’t get much more

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-35006054869061840302006-11-15T13:36:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:48:09.215Z

What Ho Proles!I’ve always lived by the aphorism that you should never judge a book by its cover. So long as it is backed in quality leather with gilt lettering, there really should be no problem... Luckily, I’ve also lived by another rule, which is to damn a man by his suit.All had gone well for that wonderfully hesitant moment when the door opened and a foot appeared. I always say you can’t go

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-15629843206726241842006-11-14T13:42:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:47:58.180Z

What Ho Proles!With the low sun cutting obliquely through a copse of alder, beach, and oak, dappled with the first green flush of spring buds, driving into C---- N---- felt like arriving at one of those places you tend to run across in a corner of France where you hope to stay forever after you’ve been there for only two bobs of a housemaid’s tail.My Man and I drove through the village in time

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-63636990416341244622006-11-13T13:55:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:47:47.155Z

What Ho Proles!I want there to be no doubt, though doubts have indeed been raised, that I climbed out from under yon table not as a hero but as an English patriot ready to stare danger in its bifocals, throw caution to the light north easterly, and let slip the hounds of Murgatroid. Health and Safety might well have a few words to say about such a wanton display of responsibility but the boys at

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-86481095175933020022006-11-12T23:48:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:47:36.448Z

What Ho Proles!At three o’clock, I heeled my best Party loafers across the lawn to where a dozen tables were undergoing a rigorous cross examination by a few of the larger animals in the Tory kingdom, down from London for free grub and as much plonk as you can drink while toeing a fairly straight party line. I must say, the sight cooled my hopes of ever seeing the potato snacks alive again. I’ve

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-40866964960807673452006-11-12T01:43:00.000Z2006-11-12T01:50:35.536Z

What Ho Proles!Storm force gales here in C---- N---- and I’ve had to oversee some of the local chaps I sent up onto the barn roof to keep it tied down. It was a damn close call but we managed to save the old place. And at a cost of only three labourers too. Damn slackers went and got themselves blown off the job. I suppose they thought it would be easier work. I have no sympathy for them and it

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-86517737992995478272006-11-11T00:23:00.000Z2006-11-22T00:47:17.742Z

What Ho Proles!Sunday. I can see why the religious types love it so. It can be the most uplifting day of the week when things have worked out right for a chap on a Saturday night. As I wrested the pillow from under my head and stretched myself out more than six feet in a horizontal direction, I couldn’t even complain about the hangover playing darts on the back of my eyeballs. Five large portions

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-87638897144048007562006-11-10T18:44:00.000Z2006-11-10T18:48:48.563Z

What Ho ProlesForgive me if I sound distracted. In the background, I can hear nothing but My Man complaining that his fingers. Too much typing, or so he claims. I’ve already told him they’d ache even more if I had the bounder dragged to the dungeon where a few of my ancestors left their favourite thumbscrews and the rest…Anyhow: another chapter of my Memoirs are currently going to press, though I

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-53733907070480842062006-11-09T18:56:00.000Z2006-11-09T18:58:41.998Z

What Ho Proles!Eight hazy hours later, a more agreeable sort of man lay on his bed, admiring the ceiling in a way that demonstrates the life-affirming quality of well laid wallpaper when viewed through the veil of moderate inebriation. Finley Hall wore silence with a similar elegance, undiminished by the snoring of forty two conservatives resting on as many plump feather pillows. No doubt the

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-1155179763458820302006-11-09T12:49:00.000Z2006-11-09T12:56:12.711Z

What Ho Proles!America! Land of the free! Home of the brave! Etc. etc. etc.And what a beastly place it sounds.I can’t say I’ve been following the recent election with very much enthusiasm. Nor, indeed, would I claim my interest has guided me to read up on the dratted subject. I have the old radio on in the background as I work on my memoirs and I listen to the occasional report coming out of the

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-55096740153162629622006-11-08T15:28:00.000Z2006-11-08T15:36:13.800Z

What Ho Proles!Having signed off on young Finley’s plans for his rearmament, I was feeling a little like the Minister for Defence. It was not a good feeling, by any stretch of the old ministerial imagination. Those chaps who sold bits of the Super Gun to Iraq probably felt far superior about themselves; which is why I spent an uncomfortable afternoon going from one seminar to another, never

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-77460513694877437342006-11-07T17:17:00.000Z2006-11-07T17:19:57.583Z

What Ho Proles!I don’t mind admitting that the Honourable Frederick Finley turned out to be a bit of genius when matters turned strategic. I’ve never seen a mind quite like it: as bright as whatnot and twice as dark. There must be some example from history where a lesser general has had the beating of a master tactician. Caesar’s defeat at the Battle of Gergovia during the Gallic War springs to

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-50668313369036667022006-11-07T00:43:00.000Z2006-11-07T00:51:31.085Z

What Ho Proles!Taking a break from the memoirs, I noticed in the papers that the old Tory pile at Smith Square has still not gone to the lowest bidder. I’d have a mind to take a chance on it myself, if only I had a spare thirty mill going spare. The place has seen some fine times and I for one never agreed to the party moving from the site of so many famous victories. The old Central Office was

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-83218887966086377342006-11-06T13:25:00.000Z2006-11-06T13:49:00.656Z

What Ho Proles![My Man has gone to town typing up the latest chapter of my Memoirs of the 2005 General Election. I told him to edit it down to an easy 900 words, but I came downstairs this morning to find the damn blighter's left me with the full 2000 words to post. Well, I'm just too busy today to do anything with it, so it is with many apologies that I present it to you in its unadulterated

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-18689491439446919682006-11-05T14:01:00.001Z2006-11-05T14:03:44.307Z

What Ho Proles!The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices make instruments to plague us.The old Bard certainly cracked the nail on its bulbous end a few times. At least, he had it right in that life does idle along somewhere in the neutral until we do something that provokes some equal and opposite response, which, I might add, usually involves a chap ruining a perfectly good pair of trousers.

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-26489214264646466732006-11-04T14:48:00.000Z2006-11-04T14:50:49.743Z

What Ho Proles!This weekend, I’m taking a break from scribbling up the first draft of my political memoirs in order to spend the day chasing foxes across the county. Of course, we’re not hunting foxes as such, but a few of the local proles have agreed to get scented up in exchange for a few coins at the end of the day. Can’t say I think the blighters will put up much of a good chase. The only

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-37533681603612994552006-11-03T14:34:00.000Z2006-11-03T14:43:11.224Z

What Ho Proles!The following weekend, My Man smoked the Bentley up to Market Snodsbury, a small village to the North of Chipple Heath, where Lord Finley was hosting the top secret Tory training camp for new parliamentary candidates.The Conservative Party holds these weekends across the country for anybody new to the blue rosette and who have yet to learn the dark arts of political campaigning.

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-80485720069722198782006-11-02T16:34:00.000Z2006-11-02T16:42:20.202Z

What Ho Proles!It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, the tightest headlock I’ve ever experienced, but it was, by quite a stretch of the Murgatroid neck, one of the most painful. It was also a quite novel means of torture since, in the midst of so much pain, I found myself admiring a pair of attractive knees covered in a warming shade of purple silk stocking. I don’t know how to explain

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-56177184072397536882006-11-01T16:42:00.000Z2006-11-01T17:03:33.107Z

What Ho Proles!A man can always be judged by his underwear. I don’t know who first made this observation but it’s a truth I’ve always found to be as verifiable as it is profound. Take the case of your average analytical legal types. If you’ll excuse the pun, they tend to prefer tight legal briefs. On the other hand, your artistic bods take to looser underwear with plenty of room to keep their

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-83108281691782410732006-10-31T17:11:00.000Z2006-10-31T17:17:03.031Z

What Ho Proles!As soon as Tony Blair gave us the off that fine day in April 2005, I knew I had to gather around me some of the finest political brains that the country had to offer. I say ‘offer’, of course, meaning ‘inflict on a constituency for the period of six hellish weeks of fierce electoral campaigning’. There would be no place for proleish incompetence in my campaign team. No room for

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-52231847307405853902006-10-31T00:37:00.000Z2006-10-31T12:49:18.607Z

What Ho Proles!Having taken advice as to how to begin this little narrative of mine, I’ve decided to dismiss the whole business of beginning in medias res, as the classical chaps call it, in favour of the more Christian virtue of having a good old fashioned beginning. Consider it a blessing, since what could you really gain by setting out on a journey with, let us say, a man with his arm down a

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-81249077550945840122006-10-29T23:59:00.000Z2006-10-30T00:03:16.921Z

What Ho Proles!My, my… This blog is over now three weeks old and I’m still driven to fill it with something of the same gusto that once saw my Great Uncle Seymour fill the wine cellar with milk maids. To be honest, I think I’m doing rather well given I made my resolution to blog when my alcohol content was higher than that of some Australian wines I’ve knocked back in anger. I’m certainly

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35707740.post-91562471925452758302006-10-28T14:12:00.000+01:002006-10-28T14:13:02.267+01:00

What Ho Proles!Sorry for the lack of an update yesterday. I was in the city all day and came home late. I was then caught up in a rummy scheme I’ve discovered for making easy money!As you know, I occasionally suffer from a bit of insomnia, when even an extra brandy with my supper fails to bring the dreams descending. My Man tells me that there’s talk in the village that when the lights are on

Jacob P. Murgatroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13306934549725508047noreply@blogger.com1