Well, as the Jewish momma said, "Seems like a nice boy." And Rusty wanted a History Boy. Not that one, but we all have to make sacrifices.
Anyway, back to less controversial stuff. Finally got around to watching "Wallace and Gromit." Great fun, but I would say that ‘cos I’m from Lancashire and we’re an under-represented county in the national meeja (Okay, we did get "Corrie" and "Blackpool.")
If you’re American, think Canada. And vice versa. Now you’ve some hope of understanding the next joke.
Gromit finds himself staring soulfully out of the window across to an alternate universe from which he is forever barred. It’s called Yorkshire.
If Nick Park had really been channelling Doctor Who Xmas Specials he would have had to chuck the little poodle over there and in the final frame we’d have a close-up of Gromit with tears streaming down his doggy face. But we had to make to with a couple of subtler tributes:
Obviously, though probably coincidentally, a balloon saves the day.
And with a little help from a deceptively fragile but ultimately fiesty blonde in a yellow pick-up truck.
My kids say I’m just obsessed with DW. But I know better. The parallel universe clinched it for me.
I am, however, concerned by the creeping Americanization of W&G. Mailboxes in a Lancashire town? Shame on you, Mr Park!