A Shrove Tuesday Quiz

Alright it's Wednesday already... nobody will care.

Can you spot the ODD ONE OUT from the following list of people and say WHY?

1. Lord Stevenson - Former Chairman HBOS

2. Andy Hornby - Former Chief Executive - HBOS

3. Sir Fred Goodwin - Former Chief Executive- RBS

4. Sir Tom McKillop - Former Chairman - RBS

5. John McFall MP - Chairman Treasury Select Committee

6. Alistair Darling - Chancellor of the Exchequer

7. Sir Terry Wogan - Presenter Radio 2 Breakfast Programme

If you can't wait, just put your cursor over the word ANSWER below.

If you can wait just leave your answer in the comments box. (Next week it's the Post Office Management Quiz)

Born under a bad Sign

"What do you mean, I was raised in a family background of wealth and priviledge?", I asked Mrs R. the other day.


She knows very well my humble beginnings, raised in a lowly greasy-spoon cafe in one of the less salubrious seaside resorts on the East Coast. "Why did you imply that I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth?".

"No I didn't", she replied. "I said you were born in the Silver Spoon in Yarmouth".

Dog Training and other Oxymorons

Hello again viewers, it is the Ozmeister here. Drew has been a bit occupied being "entertaining" with visitors (*snigger*) so let me grab this opportunity to tell you about our so-called dog training lesson last week.

I knew things were going our way when the lesson started late because the lady trainer had "lost" a young labrador who had taken exception to the "recall" command. He was eventually caught about 2 miles away.

Lily had been hyper-excited and was running up and down with characteristic anxiety. "What am I going to do Monsieur Oz?", "'Ow can I remember all zese lessons?". I was able to take on the mantle of Fletcher to her Godber in the battle against Mr McKay, the lady teacher. Drew was the ineffectual Mr Barrowclough whilst Mrs Rine was playing a cameo of herself.

"You see Godber, I mean Lily, you've got to play them at their own game", I said beneath my breathe. "I did all this training stuff years ago. You have to be crafty to show them who is boss and who isn't. Just watch my lead and follow my example, OK?".

I proceeded to provide her with a Masterclass in Biped management.

The trick, you see, is to spend the whole hour doing exactly what they ask of you and be an attentive and willing scholar. I had taken a small notebook and pen with me and the trainer was quite taken aback when I sat with my tongue hanging out taking copious notes.

"Well he seems a well mannered and polite little chap", said the trainer after I'd run up and down to her call, followed her with a perfect heel walk and finally made polite conversation about in-breeding at Crufts with an elderly "stooge" dog introduced for the dreaded "meet and greet" practice. "Compared to my other pupils he's a real little star", she said as we made our way back to the car.

"But Monsieur Oz, why you be so cooperative?" asked my naive associate the Lilster. "Don't you see?", I snorted. "I've given her the satisfaction of thinking she's trained me, Drew and Mrs Rine think I'm brilliant and I can just carry on exactly as I have done before. I'm my own man! If I'd played difficult-to-handle we'd have been back here twice a week for months being forced to jump through hoops and stuff".

We did a sly high-three's in the back of the Doblo whilst Barrowclough drove us home.

The House at Poo Corner

There's been one or two excellent programmes on the telly recently including some wonderful old Folkie stuff on BBC4 such as Folk America. (On no account go near Folk America at the Barbican unless you have the technology to snip-out the atrocious Judy Collins and Bard of Barking and just be left with Roger McGuin's sublime acoustic version of "Eight Miles High" -10.05mins into programme).

If you haven't caught it yet there's a brilliant piece of can't-not-watch voyeurism on Channel 4 (no change there!) called "A Very British Storm Junkie" about an "unassuming" IT consultant (where IT stands for "idiotic tosser") who - in his alter ego of fanatical storm chaser - "travels thousands of miles across the globe to witness at first hand the awesome power of nature". He has somehow managed to acquire a quite nice looking and sensible wife who puts up with his weather fetishes but you will end up shouting at the Television "Leave him you daft cow!". Unless you are a more polite sort of person of course.

And talking of an unbearable pain in the arse, have you noticed your televisual enjoyment interupted by this uneccessary piece of make-up-an-ailment-and-fix-it marketing involving some hideous women discussing how hard their stools are:

It's enough to ruin your enjoyment of a motion picture. The question is this, however. If they have a hard stool why don't they just buy a cushion for it?

(This one was made by Dave. An example to anyone with hard stools)

Terms of Endeerment

The other day we were walking in the snowy woods near Thetford when we saw a small deer gallop across the path in front of us. I wasn't quick enough to raise the camera so I've had to simulate the picture using Photoshop.





A few milliseconds later when my camera was primed, an exuberant spaniel burst out of the undergrowth in hot pursuit of the deer.





The Springer shot across the track, ears akimbo and disappeared stage right immediately after the deer.





Thank goodness our two canine charges are on leads - people let their dogs get up to all sorts of mischief I thought to myself, looking back to notice that there was only a single PBGV on the lead behind us. There was no sign of the Tibetan Terrier who had previously been grumpily padding along behind us with all the enthusiasm of an HBOS Director entering a Select Committee hearing.

But lo! What is this flying furball shooting from the left at an altitude of 4 feet?





Yes..it's the Terrierist alright, in hot pursuit.

Within a couple of minutes Spaniel and Terrierist returned to the track and we walked on as if nothing had happened.

Dewdrop Inn

Don't you find some of these modern Pub Names annoying?

The "Frog and Blackberry", Pseudo Irish Pubs like "O'Reilly's Retreat" and anything with the word "Firkin" in it? Also those "All Bar One" type designer bars dreamt up by young bar stewards in the advertising agency.

There's nothing wrong with the old pub names but they could probably do with a 21st Century makeover in their signage. I hope you may be able to add some additional suggestions (and I know it was Countrylife and not Anchor - it didn't scan as well!).

What Kanye Say?

There's been a debate raging in Private Eye recently concerning the fact that the anonymous book reviewer had published - wait for it - a positive review of a book! There amid the regular fortnightly demolishing of months and years of lovingly crafted literature was a glowing tribute to that most dreaded of oevres the Celebrity Autobiography.

The work which stood out above the Daves and Jades and Hamsters and Ramsays was - Paul O'Grady's "At My Mother's Knee - and other low joints".

The sad fact of human nature is that hatchet jobs are normally far more entertaining to read than peans of praise, probably because reading a stinker of a review imparts a false sense of superiority and has more opportunity for wit. For example, Christopher Isherwood's Play "I am a Camera" drew the memorable critical riposte "Me no Leica" which has stuck around much longer than any recollection of the play.

There was a great article in last month's WORD Magazine by Rob Fitzpatrick in which he discussed the opposite tendency in Music reviews to follow the flock and five star ratings rather than stand out and declare the Emperor's tackle to be completely visible. He cites the reception to the latest Kanye West Album "808s & Heartbreak" which drew ecstatic maximum star reviews from every Magazine from Metro to Mojo via the Financial Times and Daily Mirror.

Although declaring himself a massive fan of Kanye West, he then goes on to stand his ground and declare "don't buy this record, it is dreadful". He notes that "There are keyboards that Richard Clayderman's finicky, interior designer uncle would dismiss as 'way too f*ing syrupy' ".

It made more entertaining reading than a page full of hyperbole anyway.

A quiet Sunday in the Country

Yesterday we broke a tradition of keeping ourselves to ourselves and went for a walk with friends in the flatlands to the South and East of King's Lynn. They live here:

Well not exactly, their actual residence is here:

We got completely lost and had to crawl under barbed wire fences:

..and cross ditches:

....and walk past dodgy looking 4 legged creatures:

To find the secret carpets of Snowdrops:
On the return leg Baz, the oldest member of the party, was 1/4mile behind us as she walked past the bull and stopped to wave to the farmer. The young bull, who had already been wound up by Oz walking past, charged straight through the electric fence, pushed her to the ground and trampled over her chest twice before the farmer reached her. She was badly shaken, as was her previous vetinary theories about how to deal with bulls, but got a lift back to the house with some helpful ramblers.

As the party included other dogs, all of whom were of the female persuasion, Oz was in his element. There was also of course the Lilster....

...there was Cally the feisty young lurcher:

and two lovely lady labradors:

Oz thought he was Jim Corr and was showing off like crazy, taking a particular fancy to Cally and one of the black labs. Here he is chasing her across a deep ditch in flying Tibetan mode:

This what he looked like really:

Saturday's Omnibus Edition

Insensitive Bastard

Well it seems not a week goes by without another out-of-touch member of the establishment crassly using a word which is highly offensive to millions of people and then standing there, bemused, shrugging their shoulders and wondering what all the fuss is about.

Why won't some of these people realise the nature of some particular words is totally out of keeping with our 21st Century society?

Yes Stephen Hester Chief Executive of Royal Bank of Scotland has used the disgusting and demeaning word "bonus" in public and in doing so has offended the sensitivities of every tax paying member of the British Public.

Apparently, the thinking goes, "Some bonuses among the 20,000 bankers are regarded as unavoidable either because of guarantees given in the past or to retain individuals who have generated significant profits in their areas. Without big bonuses, they could defect."

Well, I suppose these defecators would comprise the management who assisted in driving the Bank to the point of collapse with their greed and short-termism, requiring billions of pounds of taxpayers receipts to be pumped in to keep them afloat?

As far as I'm concerned they can "defect off" as far and as fast as possible. Thank you guv- that'll be £17.50, my meter's not working properly.

Digital Footprints

Somebody sent me a link from the Daily Smellygraph in which they rant on about a new card trick by Dave which is "Sweeping the internet". They go on to breathlessly report that "Stunned web users have flocked to web forums to try to discover how the game manages to be successful time after time. "

Well woopy doo.

I won't bother to let them know that Mr Murph came up with the same piss poor trick in August 2007.

But that made me remember even further back.

Last Century, before blogs and Chris Moyles were invented, a few early adopters had their own web sites. I was most surprised to find that mine is still there from about 1997 (I couldn't delete it as it is about 6 ISP's ago)and contains far too much information for my liking including a certain Mrs Poll doing the very same trick that Dave has finally discovered.

I was even more surprised to remember what it was called.

Oz World Mostly

Yes viewers, it is I, Oz. The Tibetan Terrierist.



I know, I know, I didn't really want to get involved with this blogging nonsense and was quite happy to let old Drew P. make a fool of himself whilst I relax on my new comfy basket near the radiator. I'm about as interested as Exeter's team were in the Mastermind quarter finals.


I was quite happy, that is, until an astonishing document came into my paws today that I feel I must share with the blogging World. It has earth shattering repercussions and I will have to organize a campaign of canine disobedience in protest. Here it is:

Yes, if you can't read it clearly let me fill you in with the key words in this document. They are "Oz" and "dog training" and "meet and greet techniques". !!!!!! Far Kennel!!!!

The dozy French bint curled up on my left side as we speak can't read it and will probably go along with anything involving food but as for myself I think this is the biggest cheek since Tony Blair was appointed Middle East Peace Envoy.

I'm blinking 10 years old for goodness sake and if they think I'm going to let some horsey woman in corduroy teach me how to "meet and greet" other dogs they've got another think coming! What will they expect me to do, shake paws? Discuss the weather over a gin & tonic?

I thought you should be kept up to speed with this dramatic turn of events - I'll be back to give you an update on my secret plans to subvert this piece of nonsense. "Meet & Greet" - huh!!!

Bye for now ... the Ozmeister.