Lord Dubs has got an awful lot to answer for.

It has been suggested that the ‘Authorities’ had been warned of the actions of the teenage Parson’s Green bomber weeks ago; including the “Prevent” bunch which is supposed to check radicalisation of young muslims.

Here we see a picture of the ‘Authority’s answer to the queries:-


A classic case of bolting door AFTER the ‘effing Horse has not only bolted, but delivered the ‘effing bomb. It was through sheer luck, and the inexperience and incompetence of this Muslim Maniac, that we are not watching multiple funerals in the days and weeks to come; along with dozens maimed in hospital.  The Manchester jihadi followed a (for him) better pattern, and he delivered his mass murder with precision and glee.

‘Prevent’ has cost this Nation tens of millions; and what do we see for our cash? A murderous thug allowed to walk and cycle freely, even after he was picked up and questioned! He was probably allowed to walk because he was a ‘Child Refugee’ Muslim, and therefore incapable of the mass murder he was so inevitably drawn to.

Could it: Would it possibly be that the ‘Bucket and Lidl Bag Bomber’ is one of those ‘ever-so-special Child Migrants’ who were bussed in behind draped scaffolding some fifteen foot high? The drapes were there because of the outrage caused by the MEN who were pictured walking, grinning, towards the gates in Dover!

Campaigners wanted  3,000 Syrian and other ‘Children’ in Europe to be found homes in the UK, with Lord Dubs sitting cheering from the House of Lords. It was all about the ‘Child Migrants’.

Lord Dubs has got an awful lot to answer for.

Smart meters?

We who live in the United Kingdom have been bombarded with t.v. adverts, leaflets, special offers (time-limited), all in the sacred name of the so-called Smart Meters: to be offered and fitted into every UK property on both grids.

  • We are told that they are free.They are most definitely not free, the cost is to the customer, but spread over ten years (I think) so the apparent cost is allegedly minimal.
  • We are told that it is a UK Government initiative. This again is incorrect, as the push comes from European Union requirements and secondary legislation, on the slippery grounds of both Harmonisation, and battling ‘Climate change’.
  • We are told that, with a ‘smart meter’ fitted, you will be able to check your energy usage at a minutes’ notice; and that you will ‘save money’ if a smart meter is fitted.

Now let us examine that last statement very carefully. You will be able to check your energy usage? Yes you will. I have no problem with that statement. But the second phrase: ‘you will save money if a ‘smart meter’ is fitted? Now folks, the only way or manner to save money, with or indeed without one of these small ‘gizmos’ is to switch things off, so the electrons and energy stop flowing through the circuit. You can, if you wish swap to another supplier, but the ‘true’ savings are minimal, at best.

So, are we being ‘lied to’ in order to get a truly dodgy piece of kit switched int to your home services? Yes, is the answer, the ONLY way to pay less cash for the same electricity is to switch the damn thing off, and; when the washing machine is half-way through its’ cycle because it is ‘costing’ too much, all you are left with is a bundle of sopping wet shirts etc. which you cannot get out of the machine because the programming is telling the machine that there is still a heap of water in there, along with the half-washed shirts.

The ONLY people to benefit from ‘Smart meters’ are:-

  • The Meter manufacturers, having been handed a multi-million contract to fit gear which will be only of use to:-
  • The Power companies. Why? Because they can cut your supply off at the touch of a computer mouse if they need to ‘shed load’ for frequency-matching purposes; or
  • Because if you are late paying your bill, they can chop your supply off without hesitation; and:-
  • They don’t need to employ expensive meter readers, because; when the kit is working correctly, the total bill is available automatically at the power company’s monitor screens, computers and printers.

Into the bargain, because of the insane way in which Government thinks of ‘high-tech’ equipment; which is to believe that electronic, computer-controlled and software operated bits of kit will work perfectly straight out of the box: when any half-aware computer-literate bloke will tell them that this never, ever happens. The ONLY way to introduce gear like this on a National basis is simply to approach it on an area test case, where the technicians who are supposed to stick the gear into your power switch are trained to accept all areas of the technology: and then to run things on a three-month basis, wheedling out all the screw-ups, logging same and cataloguing them so the technicians know what to expect when the system goes National.

And then someone pops his head around the corner, and tells you that its all gone wrong, because the first ship-load of kit is being superseded by another, and you have to start all over again!

I have built and commissioned Water and Sewage pumping stations, sections of a Nuclear Power Station, Defence installations, Electrical substations and high-rise buildings, and they all are the same: you check all and every interlock forwards and backwards; you always either see it done yourself, or hand over to trusted subordinates; and when the Client shakes your hand: then you know it is accepted.


FAB: but not exactly Fabulous.

We here within the borders of the British Isles have, mostly, always considered one area to be above all sacred, to be preserved for posterity; for the purpose of Remembrance, and for relatives, friends and seekers after knowledge of their forbears. I speak of Cemeteries, of the anguish of losing a loved one, of the sheer relief of being able to visit the place that holds their loved one’s remains. I have written of the anger when a ‘yob’ desecrates a National Memorial.

I have also written commemorating the loss felt when my own sister died so tragically young, so long ago. There is a small North-Eastern town in England which I used to call home, despite working far away so long ago. In that town there sits a small Catholic church, with cemetery adjacent. Within the confines of that Cemeterylie the mortal remains of my beloved sister, who died at the age of sixteen from leukaemia. Her death shattered my Dad, who never completely recovered from her loss, and my Mum wasn’t much better in her grief. There is just a green sward where she lies; no stone, no winged angel, no border resplendent with flowers; because her face is before me as I write these lines. We three remaining brothers need no chiselled granite to remind us of our sister, and so it is.

So it is perhaps fitting that I write of the planned and proposed desecration of a grubby, slightly overgrown patch of land in Alderney, in our Channel Islands. Seems as though a consortium has received approval to shuttle electricity from France to the United Kingdom via the tiny island of Alderney, and that route goes straight through the place where many, but certainly not all victims of island-based Nazi ferocity were laid to their rest after brutal treatment at the hands of their Nazi overlords. Are we to stand silently by while ‘Progress’ towards a project which boasts of Energy Security, of Environmental protections, and of Economic Benefits: rides roughshod over the place where unknown and unnamed victims of the Nazis lie, in place which is soon to be trenched, excavated and built upon? The story is present in the pages of the Sunday Times, but, being paywalled, offers no link.


Do as I shall do, which is write to your MP, write to your local newspapers, and lets see if we can stop the Behemoth which is Europe before those graves are disturbed forever.

There is nothing quite like a Dame!

At times of tragedy, such as the latest attempt to attack British people going about their business, we should not forget the other aspects of life in Britain today. Because some Muslim mecca-facing head-banger gets his explosive mixture wrong (again) many residents of London are alive today. Some may be badly burnt, some worse than others, but the hope is that all will survive. But the best news so far is the possibility that the outer casing, some kind of white plastic bucket, partly survived the fire, and hopefully will provide vital clues to the perpetrator.

As I stated, we should not forget the hum-drum patterns of life in Britain, inclusive of, yet again, Dame Helen Ghosh’s activities in attempting to turn the National Trust into a hot-bed (geddit?) of homosexual and bendy-wendy gender friendliness and fervour. The Trust’s, and of course Dame Helen’s latest gambit is to send out the annual Trust’s volunteering survey.

Well there’s nothing wrong with finding out what sort of person actually saves the Trust a large fortune in salaries, pensions, National Insurance and all the other things which large employers have to cope with; by their use as virtual slave labour (without the compulsion, whips, shackles and beatings as enforced by some other evil so-called Travelling bastards whom I shall be writing about when I have a chance). Some may baulk at my description of these volunteer as slaves, but they do their work for the love of the great houses which the National Trust was set up to look after, they are not paid a penny; and now they find that they are the latest target of Dame Helen’s homosexual-friendly fervour.

Seems as though the Trust’s survey is slightly different from last year’s. This year’s questions include queries not on how many roses the volunteer has dead-headed, or how much gorse and bracken has been cleared in one week; but instead concentrates on queries such as :-

  • Is your gender identity the same as the gender you were assigned at birth?”
  • Whether volunteers are “Trans” or “Non-binary”.
  • Respondents are asked to signal whether they are “Female”, “Male”, “Trans”, “Non-binary”, “Intersex”.
  • On sexual orientation, they are asked if they are “Bisexual”, a “Gay man”, a “Gay woman/lesbian”, “Heterosexual/straight”
  • The Trust defended its questions, saying they helped the organisation “understand who volunteers with us so that we can make the Trust a more relevant and accessible place to volunteer”.

Seems to me, that the only time these questions would be valid is if the aforementioned volunteers were about to take part in some massed weird sexual ritual before opening the gates and welcoming in the unsuspecting guests. Just so they could be paired out together, obviously, as we would definitely not wish to see the upheaval when, say; a lesbian was paired with a bisexual who was about to transit into, well, something else on the list.

Dame Helen, who is remembered for stating that  wind turbines were “rather beautiful things”, is  leaving the Trust to become Master (Mistress, Mattress ) of Balliol College, Oxford. Dame Helen, was accused by Sir Roy Strong, 82, who said: “If you go to a National Trust house or property, you’re being almost told what to think, and how we ought to react. “They’re obsessed with children, play areas, fun things at Easter and Christmas, and so on. The signs are that the National Trust is being turned into a branch of the leisure industry.  It’s ticking the boxes against the disabled, the aged, LGBT, the ethnic communities and the rest of it, and something gets lost along the way.”

She will be remembered (boy, will she ever be remembered) by the Trust for removing the ‘Easter’ from the Easter Egg Hunt, barring any volunteer from visitor duties at Felbrigg Hall if they did not wear some ‘rainbow’ ‘effing ABCX-supporting badge; along with ‘outing’ the former owner of the Hall, an ‘intensely private man’, on the grounds that the public had a right to know! As far as I can remember, she will pull down a salary of +/- £400,000. Nice wad for not doing very much beside attending the formal dinners, cocktail parties and pressing the flesh (as long as it is compliant, of course).

Unlike Joseph, Jacob’s coat has only one colour: Tory Blue!

Consider the following:-

  • Theresa May, at the urging of her ‘inner’ circle, chose to call for an Election when there was no need for such a nationwide turmoil.
  • The Election was supposedly to centre around Mrs. May, as the leader who was trusted to deliver a Brexit.
  • The Tory Manifesto, upon which the Election would be fought, proved to be a mish-mash and a complete disaster, as it was compiled virtually in-house, no consultations on specific policies was even requested, and, as a result of the suddenly not-so-strong Leader; politics, from a Tory point of view, went downhill rapidly.

So, the Election was fought, and both won, and lost. The Tories remained the Party most numerically strong, but had to ask for the D.U.P.’s help to form a Government. Politics dragged along, until the summer recess, when political commentators had nothing else to do but ‘appoint’ various so-called heavy hitters into a position whereby they would attempt to unseat a weakened Prime Minister. Various names were conjured out of the thin air, including Boris, Liam, Hammond, along with all the other runners and riders; but absolutely no-one took the bait, pushed himself or herself forwards, because the appetite simply was not there for either a new contest, which would tear the Party apart: and the certainty that there would be a call for another General Election, and the Tories were uncertain if their message, as amended, would prove popular; letting Corbyn’s rag-tag Lefties, Marxists and crypto-Communists in through the back door, fuelled by a young electorate who had not lived through either the threat of a hard-line Soviet Communist Empire, complete with a nuclear arsenal: or the chaos and turmoil of a hard-line-Union dominated Government.

So those same commentators swept their gaze around, and fixed upon the studious, old-fashioned Tory gentleman named Jacob Rees-Mogg. Along with their sudden interest in Jacob, came a campaign slogan with the title ‘Moggmentum’. Suddenly they had a Tory to push, make lots of headlines with: and all, unfortunately, for nothing. With his upright personality, his repeated statements that he had no further ambition than to represent his Constituency, and look after his burgeoning family; he just wasn’t playing ball.

So he was invited on to ITV’s Good Morning Britain, and was promptly ambushed with repeated questioning over his deeply-held religious beliefs. Why the ambush?His name had ‘come up’ as a Tory Candidate’ and ‘the public has a right to know’. His answers, which were that ‘these were personal matters which were voted on a ‘free vote’ in Parliament’, although perfectly correct and truthful, were the trigger for more ambush questions.

Jacob then appeared on the BBC’s Daily Politics, where the acid-lipped Jo Coburn accused Rees-Mogg of not being ‘impartial and balanced’. Rees-Mogg, standing in front of a Number 10 image which he then proceeded to puncture by stating that he was in another studio a few yards from Coburn; replied that, unlike many at the BBC, he was both impartial and balanced. As Coburn attempted to skewer Jacob by asking which Ministerial job he would like, Rees-Mogg replied once more that he had no further ambition than to represent his Constituency.

I like Jacob because he oozes integrity, he doesn’t waltz around the barnyard with the political winds. He opposes all abortion, as I do; he is strongly opposed to the very idea of homosexual marriage; as I am, and he gives me the impression that he doesn’t even notice the expressions of ‘abhorrence’ and ‘disgrace’ regarding his long-established ideals and principles. He probably will never see a Ministerial red box, and that is a sad thing to state; but it is a reflection of a principled man, a man who will not tack to the prevailing winds because he sees opportunity; as so many of his Parliamentary colleagues, from all Parties have done, because they seek preferment!

So you’re planning your honeymoon?

Great, so you are thinking of Cuba? Fair enough, so are thousands of others, tourists, holiday makers, no worries. You ignore the fact that the brutal Castro Communist Regime rules the island with a velvet glove concealing the Iron Fist within; because the urge to lie in the sun on a cheapo holiday overwrites all possible scruples against the forty years of a terror-wielding bunch of Communist thugs?

So you make all the arrangements, the white dress (Like a Virgin, eh?); the wedding service in a church which you have probably never visited since being baptised, the super-duper spread in the hotel or fancy stately-home of your choice,,,,and all the rest! You did check out the Weather where you plan your dream honeymoon? Of course you did, you aren’t daft! You just missed the warnings that, at this time of the year, there just might be what is known around the Caribbean as ‘The Big Wind’? Of course you missed those warnings, printed categorically in every advisory from every Island in the whole Caribbean and America.

So you fly in just as what will become Hurricane Irma heats up into a small circle of death out in the Atlantic. Charlotte and Ricky Goffe were in Varadero when Irma skated past, where Cuba only felt the lash of 120 m.p.h. Hurricane-force winds, and the tons of rain deposited; as Irma passed by on her route towards Florida.  The couple, who had married in Britain a week earlier, slept on the bathroom floor when the storm hit their hotel and  son Jason was in the bath lined with pillows and blankets.

Mrs Goffe, who is from Solihull, posted photographs of their battered resort in Varadero and said Thomas Cook should be ‘ashamed’.

In a message on their Facebook page she added: ‘Thomas Cook your “crisis” staff have been terrible. One rep at our initial hotel popped in for 5 minutes to tell us “it would all be ok” and to have a nice day then left as it was his day off’.

Describing the ‘worst 24 hours of her life’ when Irma hit Cuba she said: ‘We spent the evening sleeping on the floor in the bathroom of a room where we had already seen 2 cockroaches as the hurricane lashed down. The situation has been handled so poorly by Thomas Cook’.

2 Cockroaches eh! The End of the World is, indeed, Nigh!

I am Music, who with sweet accents

My wife, when she was still sound of limb and mind; used to accuse me of giving preference to classical music over my family. I will admit that to queue for four hours in the rain outside a booking office (this being in 1970) before heading on to work might seem, to some, to be just a tad over enthusiastic; but in reply I said that we did get the tickets we wanted, there were over four hundred other people in the queue, and I wasn’t first in line. My life has been lived with the rarest of accompaniments, my mind has been filled with glorious sounds. Even in the darkest hours of our marriage, when parted by an illness which knows no cause or cure; we had, besides our children and our love for one another; a shared wonder at what the mind of Man can produce. As anyone who reads my words can maybe understand; classical music has been, to my wife and myself; a soothing sensory balm which can overcome mountains. Those sounds have been a small part of the whole which has sustained us so that we can celebrate fifty years of marriage in 26 days time.

But enough of us,  Cunningham!

I write of a desire, from musicians both unknown and famous, as well as many others who claim an affinity with music in the Classical sphere, for a brand-new Concert Hall, to be known as the Centre for Music, whose sole purpose, as far as I can tell, is to provide a place in which Sir Simon Rattle will get the London Symphony Orchestra to make music. The previous Chancellor, along with Boris Johnson, pushed this scheme for all their worth; inclusive of the words ‘but its only £278 million!’

The ‘great and the good’ having been thwarted of their ‘Bridge over Troubled Waters’ by the sensible decision of London’s Mayor to state ‘enough is definitely enough’ after the spending of £39 millions of public money by his predecessor, but before a single penny of the promised sponsorship funds appeared; have moved away from their desire to commune with Nature whilst walking over a bridge with toll gates and time slots; and aimed instead at ‘Culture’, in the proposed form of the ‘Centre for Music’. They have persuaded the City of London to cough up some £4 millions so that the ‘Business Case for the Centre’ may be completed; and presented the Government in the hope that their minds may be changed. With the completion of the ‘Business Case’, they hope to change the Government’s mind, and get started on the Centre for Music.

I have a great admiration for the musical talents of Sir Simon; I was present when the Birmingham Symphony played at St. David’s Hall in Cardiff, and it was a revelation to watch and hear an orchestra playing as one, with deep feeling and perfect timing; conducted by the Maestro himself.

We have a world-class concert venue in the Sage Centre in Gateshead, there are many other centres where music, of all types, definitions and character can be enjoyed. But, and it is a big ‘but’ of which I write, surely we have many more pressing things which must be attended to before a massive concert hall, music and rehearsal rooms included, can be built so that Sir Simon can create his own magic inside that hall. London holds many concert halls, large and small, and if Sir Simon doesn’t like the Barbican, base of the LSO for now, maybe he can get the acoustics corrected to his taste by means of computer studies; or he can drum up the balance of the cash himself to build his dream; after all, its only £278,000,000: chicken feed to his mates in the City, the über-rich, and the hedge funds, and we can allow our wonderful, caring Governments to throw our cash away in DFID projects all across the globe.