"For Gods sake, this man cannot remain in power."

Yes, yes, bad timing, not a good moment to improvise.

But it is true isn't it?

And this is the thing about President Biden. By contrast every word our PM uses is either a lie, or on its way to a lie or on its way back from a lie. Johnson speaks to get something or get out of something. It's not a case of his heart being subject to his ego, they are one and the same thing. So it's refreshing to see a politician speak honestly and obviously from his heart.

For sure it sounded like a call for regime change, and his staffers can only do what they can with that one, cos no-one is going to think it anything else. Ad-lib, veiled or not so veiled threat, I don't think anyone lives in hope/fear of the Stars and Stripes flying over the Kremlin, but if some sane Russian can despatch Putin, the sighs of relief might be heard from here to Ulan Bator. Of course, safety is the issue. F*** knows what contingencies he has in place. I guess that if he's not completely off his nut and his children are in Switzerland, he's probably not aiming uber nukes at central Europe. But even assuming he cares whether his kids survive him, there are plenty of places he could damage, millions more people he could bring to harm all over the world. Given all this, how can Russia reassume normal relations with Putin in power? Are these points not merely evident?

Perhaps Macron's attempts to maintain some kind of communication might be helpful in this matter. From what I have read, Biden's words might be used as propaganda by Putin, but maybe not... If I was in his position, I wouldn't want phrases like 'regime change' reiterated too often among my people, especially if I was failing at war and economy together. There's a reason for that ridiculous table.

The nearest I see to a real blunder there is that Biden's words indicate he neither wants to negotiate with Putin, nor expects any such initiative to succeed, but that has been obvious for a while now. What matters is what happens next under the thunder, and god alone knows where it all leads. All I can hear every morning before dawn are planes, planes, planes. There was a different one today with a tone quite distinct from the others. My sleep is just rubbish right now.

Bro and the Urban Legend

Long text chat with the bro yesterday. Among the many subjects discussed, we naturally returned to Devizes, which is now described on Countryfile's webpage as:

'...a charming market town worth visiting for its ancient architecture, rich history, and fantastic shopping. Drop by on a Thursday for what remains of the old markets, and grab a bargain from the fruit and vegetable stalls. Other stalls include the charming Olives & Stuff, various arts, crafts and fabric stalls, plus a highly regarded butchers and fishmongers. When you’ve had your fill of food, Devizes has a modern high street, plus a range of independent businesses that specialise in gifts, arts and crafts. Hours can be lost wondering around the numerous boutiques and Shambles Market. If you aren’t the shopping kind, then Devizes still has plenty of attractions. The Wiltshire Heritage Museum is designated by the government as nationally important for its extensive and fascinating collection that documents the history of Wiltshire and of archaeology itself. The Kennet and Avon Canal is nearby, with a pleasant walk along its series of charming locks, where you can spot many an entertainingly decorated boat moored outside historical houses. If after all that you need a stiff drink, you can take a tour of the Wadworth Brewery. The active brewery still delivers draughts by Shire horse, and tasting tours are available from the visitors centre.'

How adorable. My brother and I recall it as being the strangest of small dull towns, though apparently it was not as dull as I thought.

This urban legend was very much a product of 70s England, where children were either traumatised by public information films ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vb00H6mCTM8) or living in a perpetual pre-school acid trip (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GF5SG7_zl2Q0 ). Under such circumstances it might be safe to say we were none of us the most reliable witnesses. Still, he claims it really happened.

Bro was introduced to this in 75 by a classmate, and apparently a whole bunch of them went to test it in the phone box outside the pie shop. There was a phone number you had to call often described as a series of 20s but my brother recalled as 'tap the receiver... two taps for two, and ten for zero'. He said, 'we crowded into the phone box, did that and we heard; "help me. Suzie's dying."' He said it was a clear voice and it just went on forever, like a recording.

He'd forgotten it until he read a letter in Fortean Times and it all came back to him. But what was it? I would guess a test signal come prank, especially as the call was free.

It's also a great basis for a horror story. As Countryfile reveals, the old town has polished up very nicely. But it does make me wonder if I should maybe return and explore in search of stories old and new. Ghost armies, asylums and medieval cemeteries, haunted phone boxes and castles with monks striding the battlements, every creepy trope under the sun, there's loads there, just waiting.

And yet, I can't quite shake off this vague reluctance. I feel like the heroine of a cautionary tale in which the moral is simply Not To Do The Thing. Don't stay overnight in the haunted house, don't answer the phone, don't go walking by yourself... But who can resist a creepy story?