mirror, mirror….

Dear diablog,

Smiles will hate this – just close your eyes!

There is a car in which I have an interest and I post this in the hope that some enthusiast out there will be able to help – it is unlikely to be one of our regular commentators.

It is fitted with a ‘particular’ wing mirror on the drivers side, but being left hand drive I need another for the right hand.

If anyone ever sees one like this ’60’s American style fitting, please let me know. Any reasonable price paid, but it must match, I think it to originally have been chromed with the chrome now missing. A wire brush will take care of it!




Yours, diablog, hoping



Druid on the offensive

Dear Reader,

Our beloved commentator, Invernessdruid, almost made me spill my Sancerre. In his comment to my Wagner post here, he said, and I quote:

…, nice to have a bit of class on the blog.

Excuse me? A bit? A BIT? What is classy, if not diablog?

Admitted, Glynskys dress code is horrible, at least for someone who claims to be half Italian. I blame his Welsh heritage for that, or color blindness, or something. But he does not write about that, does he?

Instead he writes about classy cars, tours, style (sic!), food, books, and what about the drinks?

Which brings me straight to the Sancerre I almost spilled. Todays drink is …

Continue reading “Druid on the offensive”

Welcome Erasmus

Dear Reader,

My apology to Erasmus for not welcoming him earlier. It has been quite busy down in the engine room. If I am not mistaken, the following should make up for it (watch your speakers):

the Ride of the Valkyries by that crazy Richard Wagner.

Some people might recognize it from the soundtrack of the excellent movie Apocalypse now


with the always brilliant Marlon Brando.

To past, present and future friends,

Engine Room


Soccer is coming home

Dear Reader,

As you know, I could not care less about this World Cup thing going on right now. And clearly, I like the protagonists of diablog too much, to comment on the ‘success’ of their team. Pardon my coughing.

Luckily, someone else did that for me:


I hope, that is settled then?!

Stay tuned.

Engine Room

PS: This post is in the category Sport. As it is not about Football, obviously.

scotland the grave…

Dear diablog,

Sometimes life plays you a bum hand – a free trip on the Titanic, a course in Turkish mining, hair like Arthur Scargill, a sense of smell when a dung beetle – or being born a Scot.

My views on the upcoming ‘Yes we want to be an insignificance/No, we don’t want to stop leeching off the rest of the UK’ vote are already well known. Heightened now by an excited email from a Scottish friend telling me that though he lived in France (see what I’d said about leaving the place!) and couldn’t vote, a German friend of his living in Glasgow (who, bizarrely can vote) had offered to vote ‘on his behalf’.

So there you go, they are skanks as well and appear to be pleased to adopt voting procedures common in Zimbabwe and Bosnia. Niiiice.

But then, from time to time, things perk up and you realise you weren’t born a Scot and you have just been royally entertained by someone – and that, even better, Glynsky and Pete may be on the verge of recruiting a new ‘part timer’ on a ‘Zero hours’ pay scale!

Apparently, wanting to be known in the future as Erasmus,


(for reasons only he knows) said geezer’s views are not only at worst parallel to mine, they on occasion go into orbit leaving me as mere cinders spilt on the carpet.

As an intro, here are some of his thoughts on ‘Scottish and Irish Questions’ :

The origin of all the problems was William lll of England who was a Dutch orange and kicked the shit out of James ll (or Vl if you are a Scot) banishing him to the ignominy he deserved as a) a Scot and b) a habitual paddler in deer blood. For the purposes of this story, a plonker.

As a confirmed protestant (not a good idea being a catholic in England at that time) he then looked around for those best suited to the next kicking and chose the Micks. This was a bit sad really as most of them are quite nice and friendly despite having been chosen later and for the same reason by Cromwell.

He needed a few more people to assist in this intention – and at the lowest possible cost (being Dutch). So he set about recruiting a large number of Scottish Presbyterian Neo Nazis doling out promises of packets of land with slave income to recompense them for the ‘liberation’ efforts they exercised over the north of Ireland.

Their willingness to assist was fuelled by the in bred desire of all Scots to escape their depressing and crap climate which had been forced on them by being caged in by the sun worshipping Romans who recognised the bipolar Picts for what they really were (bi and near the pole) and, as the NHS should do now, pinned them behind a wall to keep them from scaring the shit out of kids.

In later years the English, of course, were much cleverer and sold the world the notion of ‘The British Empire’ which was not in fact British but ‘Scottish’ as their pathological and lemming like desire to leave was exploited by those bright southerners to get someone (anyone!!) to go to stinking hot climates, meet people who they could regularly bomb or beat up (the continuing Scot desire for self aggrandisement) and to steal local stuff (which they had done for centuries to the Irish) and send it back to England for those who could appreciate it.

There is but one way to dispose of the problem – in keeping with the great American tradition of a 3 Point Plan.
• Charter P+O to supply sufficient ex Korean ferry boats to relocate all of Scot parentage back into the land of their fathers.
• Get the Queen Victoria to accompany any of Irish parentage from Glasgow back to Ireland.
• Relocate Celtic (and probably Liverpool) Football Club to Belfast.

So there you have it, History like she should be taught, ideas for a new series of reality TV shows, shades of Simon Sharma and, I hope, a possible future contributor to G+P.

Yours, diablog, toasting oranges

How’s Pete?

Dear Reader,

Our beloved commentator Casper


keeps asking me about Pete. With great pleasure I am able to provide what is believed to be a recent record of the missing protagonist of diablog:

He seems well and happy.

Stay tuned,

Engine Room