COLUMN: The Ely Grumpster’s weekly ramblings

The Ely Grumpster

The Ely Grumpster - Credit: Archant

• It is fair to say that I have the attention span of a gnat with ADHC (if such a creature exists).

Work this week has been unusually dull, so concentration on the task at hand has been impossible (generating a deck for our merry band of management consultants, who are clearly too ignorant or lazy to produce it themselves).

• Crafting Powerpoint documents is about as exciting as pulling up nettles at the allotment (though at least the latter has a purpose and is marginally less painful), so my mind tends to wander.

• Anyway, I digress. What has pre-occupied me is the subject of dreams. Oft repeated nightmare is where I stride into the boss’ office, put across the most articulate case for a pay rise, only to realise at the moment of closing that I am as naked as the day I was born.

• Dreams [or wishes] coming true intrigue me. If that old lamp of mine in the shed should happen to contain a genie who is happy to grant the Grumpster 3 reasonable wishes (no money, fame or good look requests granted as this is an economy genie), then I would ask for the following:

• Crime - The slack-jaw with delusions of artistic talent who has decorated half of Ely with his feeble scribbles, wins a holiday to Cuba.

On arrival at Havana airport, he checks his paperwork and finds he has a 10 year stay at the Hotel Guantanamo Bay.

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• Sport – Southgate drop the overrated, overpaid “freeze in car headlights” regulars and picks Harry Kane plus 10 kids, who have set the world alight at junior level.

These fearless warriors play out of their skins, culminating with a 7-0 Final win against Argentina. Cue shots of Maradonna booing his eyes out.

• Politics - Gove, Johnson, Davis, Fox, Duncan-Smith and Rees-Mogg engage the services of a hot-air balloon company and embark on a tour of Britain to promote their vision of Brexit.

Johnson takes control, the balloon careers off into the Atlantic and is never seen again.

• To end, a joke I heard on Sunday. A firm of builders is renovating a house in County Cork. They rip down a partition wall and to their horror, discover a skeleton, with a medal around its bony neck.

“What does it say Seamus?” Seamus brushes away the dust and dirt. “Irish hide and seek champion, 1962”. I thank you.