Snaike:
Lizzie dear... please help us understand your term "gustoic phlegamatism" as it does not appear in any English literature that I possess. =)
I appreciate the 'Pistols reference and would like to add my favorite Johnny Rotten (no 's') quote... "There's nothing glorious in dying. Anyone can do it."
Ah well now you see (Or are seeing) the addition of "ic" after "gusto" changes the noun to an adjective in the same way that "hero" might be changed to "heroic". It could be that you were perplexed merely with "gusto" being used as antithesis to Phlegmatic which was kind of the point of the dichotomy raised when one word is in direct opposition to the other. The implied description therefore raises a query and yet carries with it a certain acceptance that indeed, the way in which Cook and Jones perform, at least in this instance, is indubitably contrary to the very image of Punk Rock in its own essence. Thats all I meant.
Your other query with regard to Phlegamatism can be answered simply enough- I made a mookoo of a spelling error. I am warmed that you felt bound to draw my attention to this, and would gladly accept any forthcoming offer of editorship-heaven knows I need to be controlled from time to time.
I blame that on the bacon quandry of this morning. I had a house guest who was to leave early and I took upon myself to engineer a bacon sarnie for her departure, wrapped in tin foil because that feels so warm for ever such a long time, and I like my guests to take a little of my warmth with them so that they will glad hasten back whenever they can.
I am aware that I am more or less alone in my dilligence to the various minutiae of everyday life and the profundity that a lack of caution on my part might heap upon my day, however, I deem it prudent to reveal the aforementioned quandry. From time to time, I will cook bacon dry in a frying pan and this works well enough although more supervision is required since there is a distinct tendency for the bacon to burn a little faster this way. So this morning, aware that my parting dole to my house guest was to be something of a keepsake, if only temporary, I decided to employ sunflower oil to a depth of something less than one centimetre with which to fry the bacon. This has the effect of generating slightly more in the way of aroma in my experience and so was the method of not only choice, but also prudence, given the effect I wished to promote. So far, so good you might suppose.
And you would of course, be correct. Everything was just dandyroo roo as the house entertained essence of fried bacon throughout, even unto Lamberts chambers. My problem however, was still to become manifest and it did so the moment I laid butter to the bread. Fingerprints. To impress or not to impress. We all know that the very best of bacon butties carry the unmistakable hallmark of a Mothers love in the shape of her fingers having pressed the top slice down into the bacon, and this is perfectly acceptable within the nuclear family. My hand hovered above the bread. Could I, not a Mother, not related to my guest, presume to fingerprints in a bacon sandwich? You see now my dilemma. Answers on a ten pound note please. Or here if you are so tight fisted as to care not a jot for my welfare.
Lizzie xx