Wednesday, 6 August 2008

On Having Nothing To Say

Posted by at

25 comments:

  1. Nige6 August 2008 at 10:22

    Your best yet, Nige! Keep it up...

    ReplyDelete
  2. malty6 August 2008 at 10:33

    One upmanship, I have absolutely nothing to say.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Nige6 August 2008 at 10:38

    We are entering a new world of zen blogging, Malty...

    ReplyDelete
  4. malty6 August 2008 at 10:41

    Michael Grade has nothing to say this morning, busy looking for one point five billion, notice how today's losses are mostly in billions? funny that, just a few zero's more, nice balance sheet anyone?

    ReplyDelete
  5. malty6 August 2008 at 10:42

    Zen and the art of losing billions Nige.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Nige6 August 2008 at 10:54

    Yep everybody seemed to be saying nothing on the radio this morning, with the possible exception of Julie Burchill. There's a lot of it around. Maybe it's the time of year, and the weather...

    ReplyDelete
  7. Nige6 August 2008 at 10:55

    Gordon Brown's got nothing to say.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Mark6 August 2008 at 11:42

    :-P + ;-) = :-S

    ReplyDelete
  9. Selena Dreamy6 August 2008 at 11:52

    “Gordon Brown's got nothing to say.

    That can mean nothing - or everything:

    1.) Dr Brown has nothing with which to treat himself
    2.) There is nothing more to be done
    3.) There is nothing ambiguous about the policy of Brown
    4.) Brown is deprived of nothing but words
    5.) The passage of two weeks holidays has done nothing to increase his eloquence
    6.) A silence which nothing can justify
    7.) There is nothing to tell.

    ReplyDelete
  10. ken kurp6 August 2008 at 12:21

    NOTHING TO BE DONE, DONT BLAME YOUR UNDERWEAR FOR THE FAULTS OF YOUR ASSHOLE.

    ReplyDelete
  11. malty6 August 2008 at 13:05

    Quasimodo was a quiet sort of a chap, lost the art of conversation. He had a good hunch though.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Uncle Dick Madeley6 August 2008 at 13:30

    Wonderful, Nige. I was sitting here finding it difficult to write anything and then I see how you do it. I guess this means I will have to now find something to say about having nothing to say.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Nige6 August 2008 at 13:34

    It's clearly the way to go, Dick - haven't had so many comments in ages...

    ReplyDelete
  14. Nige6 August 2008 at 13:35

    Write down your thoughts on Tennyson and not a peep, not a nibble...

    ReplyDelete
  15. malty6 August 2008 at 14:27

    Mussolini never had much to say, after he started hanging around garages.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Anonymous6 August 2008 at 14:52

    .

    ReplyDelete
  17. Anonymous6 August 2008 at 15:33

    "Nothing will come of nothing".

    Well we can throw that one on the scrapheap then.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Anonymous6 August 2008 at 16:04

    "Nothing from nothing leaves nothing; you gotta have something, if you wanna be with me."

    who sang that? I can remember the song but not the singer

    ReplyDelete
  19. Nige6 August 2008 at 16:10

    Billy Preston?

    ReplyDelete
  20. malty6 August 2008 at 17:18

    Billie Holiday

    ReplyDelete
  21. malty6 August 2008 at 17:20

    Or the Eagles

    ReplyDelete
  22. Nige6 August 2008 at 17:27

    Billy Preston's debut album was called The Most Exciting Organ Ever. He also had one called The Wildest Organ In Town.

    ReplyDelete
  23. malty6 August 2008 at 17:48

    I just remember the barnet, borrowed from the Coldstream guards

    ReplyDelete
  24. ken kurp6 August 2008 at 21:05

    Nihil obstat

    ReplyDelete
  25. Judith Fitzgerald7 August 2008 at 22:22

    You nearly match Dylan Thomas when it comes to saying nothing eloquently, Nige, especially when Thomas speaks to the stunning language of telling silence in "A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London":

    Never until the mankind making
    Bird beast and flower
    Fathering and all humbling darkness
    Tells with silence the last light breaking
    And the still hour
    Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

    And I must enter again the round
    Zion of the water bead
    And the synagogue of the ear of corn
    Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
    Or sow my salt seed
    In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn

    The majesty and burning of the child's death.
    I shall not murder
    The mankind of her going with a grave truth
    Nor blaspheme down the stations of the
      breath
    With any further
    Elegy of innocence and youth.

    Deep with the first dead lies London's
      daughter,
    Robed in the long friends,
    The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her
      mother,
    Secret by the unmourning water
    Of the riding Thames.
    After the first death, there is no other.

    ^i^

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)