Sinister: Take Me Home Cecil Rhodes

Peter Miller pjmiller at xxx.es
Tue Oct 3 11:46:39 BST 2000


During the Spanish Civil War, a Messerschmitt BFW 109B/C was captured in
Teruel. I don't know whether it was shot down or they caught it in a huge
butterfly net or whether it was resting on a nearby hillside when a gigantic
catlike robot pounced on it. Anyway, it was inspected by French technicians
before being sent to the USSR, wherever that is. Who started all this
Messerschmitt nonsense anyway? I bet it was Rodd.

We had a picnic on Saturday, it was GRATE. We sat outside a bar with manky
toilets where we were entertained by an endless round of talentless street
musicians as we discussed matters such as Montgolfier Magic and the Piano
Brothers, played guess the listee's age (you can now play guess the listee
whose age we guessed), marvelled at the prospect of Trousers possibly coming
down and generally had a GRATE time. Then we went to look for Nazi
memorabilia at a market stall, but had to make do with Falange bric-a-brac.
Falange rhymes with orange. If you're sucking on a Polo mint. Then
Elenita999 went to the beach while the rest of us retired to one of the
finest restaurants in Barcelona. Once again, the toilets left a little to be
desired. I don't know about the others, but I had a bit of an upset tummy
later on. Then we had a quick whizz round the listening posts and Natascha
bought some clever books. Judging by what the rest of the people in the huge
check-out queue were carrying, it was the most intellectually satisfying
purchase of the day. But none of this is really any of your business,
because it was a Segundos de luz picnic, which are much better than Sinister
picnics. Sod off, B&S Primrose mafia!

On Sunday I took Struan's advice and went to church. It was a Catalan
Orthodox service, so I didn't understand much. At one point two women tried
to shake hands with me, but I was having none of it! There were no hymns,
and the vicar was wearing a green cassock. Some people look as if they
wished they'd got eyes in the back of their head, they don't miss a thing.

Adeu,

Peter

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