Lies, damned lies, and Westminster

I have always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, excepting of course any of our breeds of politicians, to who I give neither respect nor credence. Some may call  me cynical; and while they have as much right to their opinions as I have to mine, I believe that my opinions are bolstered and proven by long experience. They (politicians)  routinely change course, they equally routinely lie, obfuscate and cloud the argument, in order to hold to their Party line, and the Party rules above all.

A Tory MP, Mark Pritchard, spoke on a Commons Motion to ban all live animals from appearing in circuses; he spoke despite being pressured by Whips as well as No. Ten, Downing Street, whose occupier was said to ‘look dimly’ on mere MPs actually speaking their minds. Some MPs spoke against the Motion, more agreed with Mr. Pritchard, and the Motion was passed. Now the actual Motion was just advisory, the Government need not heed its passage at all, but the reason why I write with such annoyance is because of the sheer, unadulterated bullshit which was unloaded within the Commons, and more importantly outside that building which used to represent the place in which speeches were made which decided how we lived in this once great country.

The journalist & commentator Nigel Lawson is no innocent in the jungle of politics; he was editor of the Spectator, editor of the Sunday Telegraph, and is now lead columnist for the Sunday Times. He wrote a whole leader column within Sunday’s edition, a position which used to command respect from readers, journalists and politicians alike. To write a leader column for the Sunday Times means you have ‘arrived’. And yet, this ‘wise man’, this ‘paragon amongst journalists’ cannot, or will not, write the simple truth about the stupid and silly ‘circus animal Motion’, because it would have meant revealing the fact that Parliament has not got the power to impose a ban upon circus animals! We gave it away, or at least one of the British governments gave it away; they gave it to Brussels. In twenty-six column inches, on the main opinion page of the Sunday Times, he cannot even tell the truth to his readers. Don’t believe me? Believe Richard North, of EU Referendum fame. He has chapter and verse!

My old Dad used to purse his lips whenever politics was mentioned in the pubs he used to run when we were young men, and once I asked him why he successfully stopped any political discussions in the bars?

Hiws reply:- “Michael, the ones that talk about it don’t know enough; and the ones who practice it mostly lie through their collective teeth!”

What are the odds indeed?

Forget the simpering EuroSlime as he pushes his, ‘homeowners can defend themselves line for all he is worth, but the comment to be listened to is the one from the senior plod on the scene. He stated, ”

‘We are investigating this matter within the legal framework as it stands and I don’t want to speculate on political matters at this stage.

‘If somebody was confronted by a burglar tonight, I would tell them to ring the police and use reasonable force to protect themselves.’

In other words, some poor bloke who was faced with a career criminal is now likely to be charged with manslaughter, unless heavy political pressure is brought to bear!


Stuff Shami, if I was confronted by some clown who was trying to rob me, or harm my own, he would be dead before he got both feet on my engineered-oak floor! It truly is amazing what one can find literally misplaced on a low cupboard top next to the front door; a really, really sharp 9-inch long serrated edge knife that I was using to dead-head some roses last summer, a nice conveniently-weighted claw hammer that I was using to tap some cable clips tight against the skirting some six months ago: it truly is terrifying just to see where I dropped these things and forgot to tidy them away.

Gone unfortunately are the days when I could drop my hand on to my fully-loaded .38 calibre revolver, loaded that is with cast-lead death. That was in the good old days when I lived overseas. True, I had to attend a gun-handling course on the responsibilities of owning a deadly weapon, but few people have actually had to draw their weapon, as I had to do. I fired to injure, to warn; and for that I received a stern lecture from a Police Major, and also faced the possibility of the loss of my licence. The Police determined instead that I should attend further training sessions at the gun range, with strict adherence to re-learning the ‘kill-zone’ on the human body.

I fired my gun again, early one morning, at the racing figure of a black bloke who was trying to force my flat patio door open. I reckon I hit him, because the police found blood traces on the concrete of the property next to ours. That time, the Police Sergeant gave me some gentle advice on leading my aim on a moving target, and also the possibility of buying a gun with a longer barrel, which of course would provide a longer, better-aimed bullet flight!

My views are simple, yet robust; if someone comes into my home without express welcome from myself, he will get all he deserves. I wish sometimes that our laws descended from a Constitution, and were not continually being fenced and finagled by do-gooders.

Those silly ‘green’ lamps don’t last very long, Philip!

” Philip, I told you that it was all a lie, it was all rubbish, this ‘Climate Change’ stuff that you read about. When that silly man Blair was in charge of Our Parliament, he got hold of some silly nonsense, probably from his equally-silly wife, about how we were all doomed unless we all switched to this tiresome ‘Green Climate’ thing that all the others were talking about. I told you that if British people were forced to change the way we live on the basis of the predictions of some ‘Committee’ which is beloved of the United Nations; we would all regret it! Now I read, just the other day, that all their predictions were based on computerised guesswork. And what have we ended up with, even here at the Palace? The lights don’t last; when they do they give off a light that you cannot even read by! I am so glad that I read that small piece on the Internet by that nice man who lives up in the North-East, and went to the site he linked to, so I have at least some decent lights to read by when I am in bed!”

“Yes dear.”


X-posted from A Tangled Web

A sinking ship?

The picture above is not actually the result of a turnbuckle breaking and sending the $7.5 million luxury cruiser plummeting into the harbour, along with the owner, who was sipping champagne in celebration ten seconds previously; it is actually a graphic representation of the Greek Economy.

To aficionados of detail; note the carefully-protected seats behind the control console, probably so that the EU Finance Ministers would have somewhere dry to rest from their labours.

The good; and the bad!

The cropped photo shows, to my own mind, much of which is good with my world. The small fingers which grip my thumb belong to my eldest grandson, and the photo was taken yesterday, when I flew down to meet his Mommy and his Daddy, my eldest son, who is himself still recovering from orthopaedic surgery. My grandson was born prematurely, but with superb care, he thrived; and now he is just another normal three-year-old boy. My day was filled with laughter, with the sounds which can only be heard when innocence speaks; and life was good. My other grandson’s Mommy was in the hospital’s maternity wing up in Durham, where my third grandson was born late in the afternoon; there is a small problem with that tiny life, so the baby unit team has placed a cannula into an exceedingly-small vein, and are sending measured doses of a medication to fight the infection. So there are a few clouds on my horizon, but I am content that all that can be done, is being done; medically, that is.

And that is the basis of my writing today, because while I am content that the Premature Baby Unit in an Orpington Hospital did all that was necessary for my eldest grandson some three years ago, that the infant who is only seeing life for the second day in Durham City will be monitored and cared for as though its life was the only one being checked and monitored; and the care which my eldest son received was of the best, the same cannot be said of hospitals, and the Trusts which control them, all across the United Kingdom. David has written many times of the cynical manner in which the Health budgets in Northen Ireland are routinely utilised as political fodder, of promises made which cannot ever be kept; of the protagonists living in a true ‘Fools Paradise’. That, last, repeated many times over, are the source of the canker which is living just under the surface of many areas of our wonderful National Health Service. The political interference, the intrigues, the refusal to accept that NHS workers should, if found guilty of negligence or worse, should not ever be ‘punished’; but should instead be ‘re-trained’ or ‘given advice and guidance’. They are never sacked, never demoted, never ever, except in a few really-hardline cases, charged and brought before a jury of their peers.

Consider the Mid-Staffordshire Hospital Trust, who looked after the hospitals hit by scandal and death some two years ago. As the Telegraph reported, No one on the board at Mid Staffordshire NHS Foundation Trust has faced censure and all of them were either paid off, walked into another job or allowed to remain in post. The man who ran the hospital trust received a large pay-off despite his part in the scandal.  Martin Yeates, the former chief executive, left the trust “by mutual agreement” with a pay-off of £400,000 and a pension worth £1.27 million, it has been alleged.

Time and time again, where negligence has been proven on almost an industrial scale, no-one gets demoted, no-one gets fined, no-one will even admit responsibility!

I am a man with a fairly short fuse when it comes to another’s actions regarding my health. When I was recovering from major surgery, the worst that I came up against was to ensure that some Scots nurse never came near my wound dressings, as she maybe was well-trained, but had not a clue about the vital ‘care’ sector of a patient’s life.

So I am suggesting that we as a nation consider a short legal reform, especially aimed at workers in the monolithic structures of Health and Social Services.

  • All employment contract wording, in the areas of allegations of culpability, malfeasance, neglect or death; or in any case where a patient or patients have suffered even a loss of self-esteem, shall be voided; and replaced with a simple, one clause acknowledgement that the employee, if found complicit in the problems or injuries suffered by a patient, shall be charged and brought before a Court. This complicity will extend to all structures and areas of management. This charge will also apply to those who have left the area where the abuse occurred, but were present and complicit during the abuse. This charge will automatically result in a suspension of all pay and privileges, and if convicted, in addition to any sentence which may ensue, the employee shall be fined all or any of his or her earnings which may be invested, in savings accounts, or any bank; they will forfeit all pension rights, even if some of those rights were gained elsewhere. The employee shall also be barred from any employment within any public sector, and shall be forced to disclose such when applying for any Private sector position.

Such a change would be, in these ‘enlightened’ days, be almost unthinkable, but I feel that only drastic and harsh measures will point the way towards a true reform of our Health Services. Once one or two high-profile people have gone through that particular mill, I reckon there would be a great debate within the Health Service, and with that debate would perhaps come a realisation that the only people who have a ‘right’ within the National Health Service are the patients, and when the upper echelons realise that, we might see a better class within our hospitals and administrative areas!