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Pretty Green

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Today’s blog topic was inspired by this morning’s telephone conversation with my son Jonathon. Although he’s my offspring, the relationship between Jonny and I bears a  familiarity and candour of siblings. So much so I think of him as a younger brother.

As a consequence of this father/son bond our discussions ordinarily take place with an openness and trust I don’t normally apply to the majority of other individuals…… Well, apart from things I wish to remain concealed from the indiscrete blabbermouth!!

I was going to proffer I’d trust my son (younger brother by proxy) with my life. However, after my suffering of two unrelated life threatening illnesses earlier in the year, it’s perhaps not the most apt descriptive term to use when relaying the level of faith I hold in my boy’s certitude.

Positing I’d trust Jonathon with all I hold dear is probably not strictly true either. After all one of my most prized legacies (after my two children) are the 33 books I’ve self-published, which he’d have no qualms about utilising as barbecue fuel if he ran out of briquettes.

Anyhow, today’s inspiration for narrative topic came during today’s father/son natter when, after making a whimsical observation, through the erratic line sound quality I heard a sound akin to the filthy guffaw of late ‘Carry On…’ film actor Sid James’.

Attempting to make sense of the telephonic chuckling’s source, Jonathon and my discussion turned to one of non-sensical conspiracy theories. One of which the mooting that deceased ‘Carry On….’ stars maybe in cahoots with the American CIA, clandestinely eavesdropping on the proletariat’s conversations.

Seeking to identify the origin of the ‘Sid James’ laugh and it’s possible link to intelligence agencies, I enquired of my boy “Do you think the ‘Oooh Matron!’ I heard after using double entendre during our conversation last week could’ve been the ghost Kenneth Williams?”

After a brief silence on the phone line, during which I’m convinced I heard the spirit of Hattie Jacques break wind (or that may’ve been Jonathon), my younger brother by proxy responded “Don’t be so stupid, you chuffing idiot!”

Anyhow, despite despairing at my deliberate inanity, Jonny reckoned nonsensical conspiracy theories did have mileage as a blog topic. Adding that perhaps I could tie it into a mention for tomorrow’s 50th anniversary of the first Moon landing by Apollo 11.

Over the past few decades, the Apollo mission becoming the target of conspiracy theorists. Iconoclasts who claim the sight of a Wimpy Bar on the footage of Neil Armstrong’s inaugural moon walk shed doubt into the integrity of US astronauts landing on the natural satellite.

An argument they claim that’s backed further by Armstrong’s historical first words “One small step for man…… One small Wimpy burger and fries, please” during his history making inaugural steps on the moon surface.

Seriously, though, I tend not to overly worry about the existence of conspiracy theories. Rightly or wrongly, I opine they exist in all forms of life; I don’t know where or when but I’m sure even in the ‘free world’ the establishment has a great deal more control than is perhaps obvious to the proletariat.

Although not wishing to be overly servile, I’ve neither the energy or confidence in prevailing in the battle to become overly precious about the truth or otherwise of conspiracy theories.

When it comes to the power of the establishment, I concur with the following 1980’s socialist poetry in the refrain ‘Pretty Green’, written by singer/songwriter Paul Weller wrote about taking on the establishment with the prose:-

‘……And they didn’t teach me that in school
It’s something that I learnt on my own
That power is measured by the pound or the fist
It’s as clear as this oh……’

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