The Territory Labor Government has committed $150, 000 to upgrade facilities at
Blatherskite Park in Alice Springs.
THE word
blatherskite arose in conversation the other day.
This is the kind of
blatherskite from such blabbermouths that makes them sound totally irrelevant, if not downright despicable.
The meeting itself in
Blatherskite Park, on the 29th November, 1986, was a most memorable and historic occasion, cementing the Catholic Church, at all levels, to her maturing Aboriginal flock.
Seamlessly translated by Victoria Cribb, the book suggests there are those who scrawl along, ultimately becoming connoisseurs of their own drab
blatherskite, and those who are provided with the gift of a compelling tongue.
Yes, perfect, though perhaps a better example of what happens when a Beckian
blatherskite forgets that advertisers are a fickle lot.
For all of the technocratic
blatherskite it generates, business theory gives little attention to the basic human interactions that make business a profoundly human enterprise.
In Canada they include: bag of wind, scuzzball,
blatherskite, a trained seal, jerk, pig and, bizarrely, a weathervane.
And why should anyone take any notice of what a here-today, gone-tomorrow
blatherskite columnist thinks about the war?
Over the years, the following words and phrases have fallen into that category in Canada: parliamentary pugilist (1875); a bag of wind (1878); inspired by forty-rod whiskey (1881); coming into the world by accident (1886);
blatherskite (1890); the political sewer pipe from Carleton County (1917); lacking in intelligence (1934); a dim-witted saboteur (1956); liar (consistently from 1959 to the present); a trained seal (1961); evil genius (1962); Canadian Mussolini (1964); pompous ass (1967); fuddle duddie (1971); pig (1977); jerk (1980); sleaze bag (1984); racist (1986); scuzzball (1988).
