Agreed.

We. Want. More!

- Lots more praise for the Boyer stuff in overnight mixed in with the usual ChensSnark. But I'm inclined to think that this time round Boyer wins out. So good work Chens. KEEP IT UP.

When I briefly met him he certainly didn’t look as if he had thrown his clothes on. He was dressed in a tweed suit and everything about  him was perfect, immaculate to the extent that I didn’t want to shake his hand too vigorously in case I disturbed his personage. He was very, very stylish and either he had put considerable thought into his outfit, or he had an extensive wardrobe of clothing of such impeccable taste that it all automatically looked good together.

Oh, and one aspect of Boyerism I do heartily approve of is the way it pushes away - or even fails to acknowledge - any aspect of yoof culture: including, probably, the wilder shores of 'Modernism' as exemplified not only by some in and around Soho but also the ponce guyed by Frishberg and Dorough, who would have ditched Bird for Dylan at a moment's notice. 
Weller dwellers take note.  Bruce has his beady eye on you and your Christmas jumpers.

'Woof's Big Day Out in New York' - only problem is it would be more of a trailer than a feature length film as Woof was rapidly given the Bum's Rush by Team America. The grey flannelled slaphead (Boyer not Woof) was off in a flash, then Chinny Chens got all skittish and sprinted off down Fifth Avenue in his Polo coat and pipe, leaving Woof scratching his head Stan Laurel style. Woof was there in Peacemaker mode to forge a new Transatlantic Entente Cordiale in the wake of the Chens-Frosty tensions that were threatening to shatter the Ivy Peace. Back at Heathrow Woof descended the steps of his Virgin Atlantic Jumbo waving his Brooks Brothers receipts in the air "I have here a signed agreement from Chens and Bruce that we will have Ivy Peace in Our Time". But when he read the signatures closely he saw Chens had actually used his Montblanc Meisterstuck to scrawl 'Eat Shit Limey'. The Ivy Wars were back on...

My wife is already full of doom and gloom about the approaching winter (I kid you not), putting me in mind of Mrs. Auberon Waugh who, according to Bron, would sometimes embark on an economy drive, cutting down on four-packs of baked beans and jars of Marmite.

That’s an excellent illustration of the Chens encounter 2RS!

But I think with sufficient thought and artistic licence the plot could be expanded into a full length blockbuster. The audience would really need to understand the background to the UK/US schism. Opening sequences could include 2RS (Paul McGann) fresh in from the ‘pewl’, reclining in BD Baggies boxers in his Richmond flat, the early morning light filters through his net curtains as he gazes up at the picture he keeps on his wall of JS in his South of France holiday clothes, ‘will I ever be as sussed as that’ he thinks and sighs, ‘Yankees, overpaid, over here and wearing our Weejuns, what do they know about Northern Soul’, but it’s time to go to work. At the shop it’s a quiet Wednesday, a gentle drizzle is falling on Hill Rise. 2RS notices that a giant diorama of old Frith Street has been pasted on the inside of the shop window giving the impression that 1960s Soho is outside. Charlie Parker burbles away in the background.  Suddenly in bursts JFM (Hugh E Grant) and exclaims ‘Sorry I’m late… Christ it’s like the bloody grave out there, anyone fancy a sharpener?’ He is taken aback as he is struck by a well aimed vegetable slice launched by Strachan (Tom Hardy) who had been expertly folding Troy Guild shirts in the back, with one hand whilst rubbing Innes No3 compost into his raincoat with the other. Startled 2RS looks up from his copy of the Morning Star……Cut to sunny California where Chens is hanging ten in a pipeline on Malibu. The wave subsides and he slides majestically up the shoreline, he surveys the scene through his Maui Jim shades and spots a man wearing Nantucket Reds and and a batik overcoat strolling hand in hand on the beach with Muffy (Candice Bergen). Despite the searing heat she is wearing chinos and a roll neck Irish sweater. Chens falls off his surfboard as he is struck by a vision of collegiate Ivy Style, an online meeting place where people could give vent to their dodgy right wing views under the guise of talking about clothes ….. this was how he could expunge his guilt at not going to Cornell ….

I thought for years that it was the Muffy who went around slaying vampires.  Now I see how wrong I was.  In fact, she looks not unlike my well-bred but rather vapid GP, about whom I once nursed some vague (well, not all that vague) erotic thoughts.  Quite unlike the females one tends to encounter in my part of perfidious Albion, where drinking too much local ale has made them all look like extras in 'On The Waterfront'.

I suspect Muff perhaps does not have the same interesting connotations in the leafier parts of New England that it does for males of a certain age in the UK.  Muffy certainly makes her sound nicely alluring. 
I was also much taken with one hilaryhenners, who sold me a Blossom Dearie CD on Ebay earlier in the week.  The accompanying photograph is of a dish.  Quite possibly, of course, it's just something for promotional purposes - but it's pleasant to gaze on over coffee.

Is there any truth to the rumour that, in the brief(s) time they were together, Woof and BB (no, not that one, the other) managed to exchange undershorts?  Woof always signs his (and charges an appropriate fee).  A free laundry ticket comes with them.  Sometimes - not often - they are auctioned for charity.  Having once contained the secret policeman's balls they are of much interest to certain visiting diplomats and their coteries.

Muffy would be more than welcome round at my gaff if a. there was no football on telly and b. the missus was out for the night.  There are only two things occupying the mind of the English male: his team doing the double and shooting his load.  In that order.

I noted that name elsewhere and wondered if it was some kind of Irish joke as in 'Did you hear about the Irishman who thought muffin the mule was a sexual offence?'

Boyer studied English Literature in Moravian.  Gosh.  I only studied English Literature in English for my O-Level: Keats, Wordsworth, Hopkins, Noyes, Dickens, Trollope, Burns (token Scot), Coleridge et al.  Then American Literature in English: Melville, James, Hawthorne, Whitman, Eliot, Pound et al. 
Bruce certainly has had an extraordinary career.  Is Moravian 'Czech' or 'Slovakian'?