I’m nostalgic for a pre-nostalgic age.

It feels so difficult to be in the now, to be present. I think our corrupted world has been so influenced by the corrupters that it feels as if we are in a constant oscillation between perverted past paradigms and false futuristic frameworks. I know I view the world through a political prism, and that is one of my many failings, but it does give me some perspective even in these turbulent times.

I think it’s a given that  we all sometimes succumb to the thought that things were better in the old days and we were never healthier than when we had rationing, except if you contracted TB or polio and everyone smoked and life expectancy was lower. It’s just another example of cognitive dissonance with good old memory bias, we tend to remember the best bits better. I suffer from an alliterative ailment. Politically this is what fuels the grinning gargoyle and the ucrappers and played a significant part of drumf’s triumph; make America great again like it was sometime in an indeterminate past.

We Brits love our nostalgia; Rule Britannia, we’ll never be slaves but we’ll use slavery to make us rich and bring back grammar schools even though all the hard evidence is that they are worse for us and all the nostalgic TV crap wrapping us in a warm fuzziness, bring back jim’ll fix it eh?

And then the spinmeisters spin their hopeful messages for the future and all the time the present gets missed. Trouble is the present is so fleeting it doesn’t actually exist, just briefly look forward to the coming now and then in a flash it’s history. Oh to be mindfull.

And this current business lark I’m in, so hard for a sensitive twat like me. Phone up a shop owner in Bridport who was so enthusiastic about my unction she had it on her shelves within minutes of my arrival and she tells me sales have been very few, down I go. Then an email from a cancer support group, also Bridport based, asking little old me to give a talk about my unction, up I go.

Look into my mouth ‘cos there’s a painful bit, oh no another cancer, down I go. Look where it is says Kate, right where you’re teeth will bite the inside of my mouth, a few days later the swelling has gone, up I go.

And right now I’m a little discombobulated; the phone rings, a withheld number, a woman asks if I am Michael Smith, I say no, hello Michael how old are you. I don’t know say I, I have pre-senile dementia, are you 52 says she, why do want to know ask I, are you 78, 63 asks she not waiting for an answer, I butt in again asking why she wants to know, this is no conversation, she asks are you in your 80’s even in your 90’s, this is a little bizarre think I, you are very old, bugger off says she and the line goes dead. A very weird moment.

And we live in a post-truth world, so I’m listening to the radio and they are discussing this post-truth bollocks, the presenter finishes the discussion and then says now some truth with the news, it starts with what the new chancellor will present in his ‘autumn statement’, I laugh.

And I feel very nostalgic for Andy Murray’s win, I even defrosted a little towards Djokovic with his post match speech. And I remember when England won at cricket. And poor old moanrinho and babylon united, the unluckiest team in the league, I laugh again.

And just for Hector:


maybe it will be in his christmas stocking. Check out Gemma’s cartoon noms de plums in yesterday’s Observer magazine, really made me laugh.

Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.



3 thoughts on “I’m nostalgic for a pre-nostalgic age.

  1. I ghost wrote it for Gemma, but my paranormal service will resume as soon as possible.
    Maybe I could become a punographic director. ….introducing a bit of wordplay into the foreplay?……..

    Sting could be in my first movie : The Loneliness of the Long Distance Punner ( starring Pun star ‘Tantricky Dickie’………..

    Keep pun keeping on x


  2. Went to get my free Guardian in Waitrose today and stared at at least 5 piles of the mail, only 1 small pile of Grauniads, Expressed my incredulity and ineffable sadness at this state of affairs as man stood next to me said ‘spoilt for choice’, ‘hardly’ said I as he picked up a mail. And I will not be fooled by the joker.


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