That Bridge too far

I know there are very disturbing headlines one could focus on right now, in places very near and dear to me. And mind you, just now I thought of having a look at the doom and gloom on Sky News, and of course there was nothing on apart from sports, followed by some sports, and then some more sports.

Sometimes I think this could well happen at some point on any of the local commercial media outlets here:  “Just in from Harmageddon, the Four Horsemen have been identified and are steaming ahead at full pelt. But first we turn to important matters, so it’s live to Brookvale for the latest on the Sea Eagles – Eels match. Take it away, Bazza!”

As you can imagine, I would have a lot to say about those distressing news items lurking about. But I don’t feel like pontificating. I feel more like a snail that can’t wait to crawl back from Gosford to the Coast, slide into its stronghold, draw up the drawbridge and go to sleep for a hundred years in its caravanserai shell.

I just watched a lovely tribute to Clive James on the ABC – yes, credit where credit’s due – so am feeling more wistful than militant. One of the many high profile pundits said of him that he believed one should never trust anyone who didn’t  have a sense of humour. ‘In fact, he said, they shouldn’t be trusted with anything. Not even posting a letter. Because someone without a sense of humour also doesn’t have common sense.’

Just found this in a list of quotes:

“Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing.”
― Clive James

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