Well That Was Fun - Part Two

 

That's right, we climbed off the train at EDI (Edinburgh) and bundled into a cab. "Where to, sir?" Good question, "Royal Scots Club, cabbie," and off we went to the RSC. What a great little club. Back in the day it was very much regimental, and it holds that ethos today, which I like. And here's the thing, the RSC's relaxing, civilized, congenial, and altogether worth joining unless you're a Lib, in which case you'd hate it.

After several hearty meet-ups with the President of the Ghost Club, an old friend, we reluctantly left the RSC to Waverly and thence to the halcyon market town idyl that is Ludlow. Watch out, kids, navigate that change at Crewe, and ride the rails into town. And what a town.

Beautiful, medieval, half-timbered gorgeousness. And oh, let's not forget the bakeries, butchers and market, where you can buy all this real food. Real food, far out, right? Back in the day Ludlow had a wall, with gates, portcullis style. Maybe it will again, let the reader understand.

Caveat in mind, we boarded the train to London several days later. It was easy and involved sandwiches, many sandwiches, which you can order from the buffet car. Tasty as you like and then some, but stop. Do you remember dining cars? You know, with white table cloths, waiters and all of that. All gone, apparently, in our progressively awful new world order.

Devolution of Western Civ aside, we rolled into Euston with the North's great unwashed, no bad thing, mind your wallet. From there? "Reform Club, please, cabbie." Quick as a flash, "Yes, sir," and off we went. And thus began the third evolution of this remarkable adventure. Stay tuned for part three of this foray into the beating heart of the Rainbow Caliphate.

Best,

LSP

Well That Was Fun - Part One

 

It's been a busy couple of weeks and it started like this. You climb onto a plane at DFW, marvel at the lack of people on the flight, and fly to London. Get out at London Heathrow's curiously cramped Terminal 3 and head downtown via train, then set up in Whitehall. Great result, you've made it.

Go exploring for the next couple of days and meet up with old friends on Pall Mall and Soho, notably the famous Coach and Horses on Greek Street. It's a tradition and a good one, if noisy, and you can end the evening with strong covefe at Bar Italia, another tradition. Next evolution?

Go full-on patriot and join Unite The Kingdom, a massive march protesting open borders great replacement immigration, censorship and the iniquity of the UK's Rainbow Caliphate orthodoxy. Seriously, it was a big march, maybe a million strong, which the smug, mendacious, passive aggressive BBC deceitfully undercounted by around 900,000 people.

Well, we navved into the midst of it after an informal lunch in the courtyard of the In & Out (Naval & Military Club) and were struck by the good humor, patriotism and sense of the crowd, many of whom were shocked by Charlie Kirk's assassination and, curiously, were eager to share their faith. Quite a thing, and well worthy of a separate post. More on this later.

Marching for freedom against the wickedness of Globalist Puppet Two-Tier Kier done, we fell back to Trafalgar Square where the boys were starting to get a bit rowdy, and from there to the Harp for a pint and from there to clubland, which meant negronis in the Waterloo Room of the East India, nice. From there?

A delicious dinner at Cafe Zedel, which is an art deco bistro restaurant off Piccadilly Circus. I think it used to be the restaurant of a hotel my Mother stayed in during her purgatorial time at General Synod. Whatever, it's been fixed up and offers good French style food at a very reasonable price. Check it out, but be warned, it can be very full and very noisy; the latter compounded by live jazz 1930s style from a side stage. Hey, living the dream.

Saying goodbye to friends at Piccadilly Circus, we headed down Shaftsbury Avenue in the rain to Soho and the French House. I love the French House, it has magic, and the magic wasn't absent that night. We fell in with a couple of young Gurkha officers (logistics) who'd been at the club that afternoon. 

One was an ADC and I told him, "ADCs always frightened me," which they did, and he told me he wasn't especially frightening, which he didn't seem to be. "But perhaps you can be," I offered by way of social compromise. And so the evening spun on, but not uncontrollably so, and we found ourselves, safe and sound, back at the civilized, relaxing, congenial, attentive, polite, Reform Club. Result.

The next day was all about Mass at the Brompton Oratory, beautiful, lunch at the East India Club which, I tell you, punches high when it comes to salmon and roast beef, not kidding, and from there an easy night. All good, and the next step? Edinburgh and the Royal Scots.

That, dear readers, all five of you, is the next stop on this exciting and adventurous excursion into Kier Starmer's Great Britain, aka Rainbow Caliphate. Stay tuned.

Your Pal,

LSP

Reform Club

 

Reform Club. There is no need to leave. So I guess the Club Shootout's settled, more on this anon. In the meanwhile, let's see what tomorrow brings.

Your Friend,

LSP

Cars & Clubs

 

You see, on the one hand there's cars. V6 racing suspension and all of that. Some love it, even here at the Compound. Then, on the other hand, there's Clubs. Have a look:

Are these two things opposed? Hardly, go together like guns and guitars. At least that's what I think and I'm sticking to it.

Your Ancient Pal,

LSP

PS. Let's see DNI theater turn to hands behind bars, please, not that anyone's holding their breath.

Queen Of Diamonds

 

Can you, dear friends, call the Queen of Diamonds by the way she shines? Go on I challenge you, carry on and good luck. If, in the unlikely event that you'll win this challenge, you get a free weekend at REFORM, or, ahem, Farmers.

Your Best Pal,

LSP

Ahem - CHUD

 

CHUD. Sgt. LSP tells me the above is an "interior self-portrait." I'm inclined to reply, "Dam your impudence." That is all, apart from some pop music. Oh, here's REFORM:

Typical LSP hangout

Your Best Pal,

LSP

GONE

The reaction to Justin Trudeau announcing that he will resign as Prime Minister pic.twitter.com/XdvYoZwVMY

— NautPoso memes 🇮🇪☘️ (@NautPoso) January 6, 2025

 

Justin Trudeau's resigned as leaderene of Canada's hated Liberal party and, effectively, as Prime Minister. About dam time. What were Justine's achievements? Gleefully going on Pride parades, COVID totalitarianism, remember the truckers?, Greenscam skulduggery, ongoing massive taxation and inflation, and turning Canada's once proud Armed Forces into a woke joke. Now he's gone. Good. 45-47 had this to say:

I know at least several people in Alberta who'd welcome this. In other news, Two-Tier Kier, the UK's massively unpopular Prime Minister, has accused people who criticize Pakistani rape gangs of being "far right." Interesting. Since when did being against child rape become Nazi/Fascist? 

Since Labour started importing votes, obviously, and let's not forget Two-Tier's role as a Prosecutor. No complicity there, no, none at all. In fairness, the utterly rubbish Conservatives didn't do anything about it either, perhaps because they were too busy importing, ahem, refugees when not attending Pride parades and eviscerating the UK's military. 

Regardless, it's estimated that some 250,000 children have been raped by Great Britain's beloved diversity, making this cover up by UK Pols and their lackey Sate Agitprop MSM one of, maybe the most, heinous crimes committed in post-war Britain.

America should liberate the people of Britain from their tyrannical government

— Elon Musk (@elonmusk) January 6, 2025

Per social media, Elon Musk has called for Britain to be "liberated," leading to howls of leftist outrage. How dare he! runs the chorus of suddenly patriotic Cultural Marxists, and the head of London's Metropolitan Police even went so far as to warn Americans about posting thought crime on the internet. We'll "come after you," he threatened. 

Uh Huh, Now We're Really Scared

Like, with what? All your hi-viz vests, finger guns and massive Navy? No, we're coming after you, to liberate the Sceptered Isle. Maybe Command HQ will be at the Reform Club. Unspoiled Georgian interior, fittingly. 

Reform

In the meanwhile, the venerable if shrinking Church of England is ominously silent about hundreds of thousands of children being raped by Moslem Pakistanis. Well, something better change, eh?

Blessed Epiphany to you all, 

LSP

REFERENDUM & REFORM

 

Really, you're really gonna do it? The world holds it's bated breath. In the meanwhile, Hollywood celebs who, notoriously, aren't on Epstein's or P Diddy's degenerate sex list are threatening to leave the country. My, what a surprise. Deportations, panda eyes and pizzagate anyone? Don't say sick pedos.

I told you so

Whatev, that appears to be kinda self-policing. In the meanwhile, the greatest Russian agent in the history of Kremlinocracy prepares to take power and slice through our bloated government like the sick fish it is. Power to him and to RFK, Tulsi and the team. Well done, stay the course.

Pompey Redivus

Speaking of which, UK correspondents are saying, "We're really scared, were p*ssing our pants!" Why? Because 47's gonna not be socialist? Oh, what a terrible tragedy. Because he'll punish Two-Tier Kier with tariffs and make that neo-commie fool pay? Maybe because he'll back Farage and Reform.

Protect Your Kids, No Fkn Fooling

Reform, my dear friends, is a fine club on Pall Mall with an unreconstructed Georgian interior. But let's return to the point. America has, evidently, voted to kick out its celebrities to Canada and the UK. And there you have it.

Ahem, Membership Please

Sicut Erat,

LSP