The Grocer's Son is a whimsical French movie dans le mode de 'Les enfants du marais' which I rescued from an old op-shop yesterday after having been to the dentist in Ulladulla. I've watched it only twice so far, so there's hope for me yet.
There's not much hope left for Trump who's now getting unstuck with his own Monica Lewinsky, except her name is Stormy Daniels, and it's not so much that he couldn't control a certain part of his anatomy - which, as we know by now, is also the seat of his brain - but that his lawyer paid her off to stay quiet just before the election. Something about illegal use of campaign funds and all that.
Not that everything Trump does or says makes no sense. His refusal not sign up to the latest Free Trade Agreement, the TPP, should tell the rest of us that these agreements lead to anything but free trade - see here.
I heard on the news that Uber's self-driving car tests have been halted after a fatal Arizona crash, which reminds me of the "Locomotive Acts" passed in 1865 by the British Parliament which required a person to walk in front of a motor vehicle waving a red flag ... at all times. These days it's only required when my wife is driving.
I also heard that a certain inmate on remand at Silverwater dropped his soap in the shower. There's still some justice left in this world. As for the ball-tampering fuss in Cape Town, it must be obvious to all who've watched the video replay that Bancroft only tried to get De Kok out.
