Indeed, what’s not to like?

Seems as though our oh-so-clever Conservative Government has, is, and will continue to shoot itself in both feet over Tata Steel. One Minister says ‘Nothing, inclusive of Nationalisation, is off the table’. Her boss, Sajid David, the Secretary of State, says ’No ways taxpayers cash will be spent on Tata Steel; European Union rules forbid it’.

But then we learn that British intransigence has stymied EU measures to hit Chinese steel imports with high tariffs because Britain doesn’t want to upset China: along of course with Chinese money! We also know that, whilst Germany, France and Italy protect their domestic steel industries, Britain does not, mainly because we slavishly obey EU rules; and the others do not. Also to be considered are the facts that we are paying 50% more than France for our power; 25% more than Germany: all because of our ‘Green Taxes’ and obeisance to EU rules, as well as the Tory tax grab on the ‘Carbon-heavy’ coal power generators which are being phased out as I write.

So, we will probably end up with no steel industry, 65,000 more on the workless lists, a shortage of power generators; and more indebted to China than before. Because the rabble who run the Leave Campaigns are still arguing about who gets the cash, as well as the glory, the Remain bunch will probably win by default, mainly again because the Labour supporters follow their so-called leaders like dumb sheep, and the younger Tory-leaning voters don’t remember what it is like to be able to make your own laws, protect your own borders, and trade with anyone they choose to.
What’s not to like?

Beware all foreigners!

Foreign Office advises against travel to parts of:

Algeria, Angola, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Bangladesh, Burkina Faso, Burma (Myanmar), Cambodia, Cameroon, Colombia, Djibouti, Ecuador, Egypt, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Georgia, Haiti, India, Iran, Israel, Ivory Coast, Japan, Jordan, Kenya, Kosovo, Lebanon, Madagascar, Malaysia, Mali, Nepal, Nigeria, Pakistan, Philippines, Republic of Congo, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Tajikistan, Thailand, Turkey, Uganda, Ukraine, Venezuela, Western Sahara

So Salford is still considered safe then?

Let’s have a little discrimination!

We read of the outpourings of solidarity with the bereaved and injured.

We read, once more, of the many politicians who declare that ‘this tragedy / massacre / murder / bombing’ in Paris, or Brussels, or even in London (delete the unnecessary terms) will not separate us.

We remember those truly ludicrous Twatter campaigns featuring such stupid and meaningless slogans such as ‘We are All Charlie’, (or Charlies) or ‘BringbackourGirls’; or any of the many other touchy-feely ideals which say a great deal and do little else.

End result of all those ‘sadness and solidarity’ marches and press campaigns? Absolutely Sweet F*** All!

Where are the calls to root out the Sunni Muslims who plot and plan these murderous campaigns?

Where are the petitions to deport, immediately, every Saudi-funded f***ing imam now seated resplendently within their seething hotbeds of sedition, also known as mosques?

Where are the politicians who are actually brave enough to either detain and deport, or permanently imprison the murderous plotters who preach and plan against the peaceful people of Great Britain, never mind the rest of the bloody Europe Union?

Where are those who will stand up and state, categorically, that a mistake was made, and too many Muslims were let through the so-called border, and even given British passports? They would get my vote, and they would also get a great many more, if they promised to leach out the Fifth Column, disperse and deport the Salafists / Sunni / Wahabbi scum who; whilst being supported by the vicious Saudi State; spread their vile philosophy to the ill-educated unemployables who are the beneficiaries of our Welfare State.

Where is the politician who would spot the gaping Security hole in our Transport System, when we scrutinise everybody at an airport terminal, instead of ‘profiling’ would-be passengers on the basis of their ethnic origin, and stop X-raying and searching 75-year-old White-skinned British bearded pensioner’s shoes because ‘we must not discriminate’? And, as an afterthought, ban the employment of bloody raghead muslims who are supposed to ‘ensure our safety’ by searching both our baggage and ourselves!

The resultant silence in reply means there is no-one who will respond to the call!

Allahu ‘Effing’ Akhbar!

Reports are continually pouring out over the radio waves about the Brussels airport attacks, and how Arabic words were heard being shouted. No translations, no guesses: but I wonder if they were in fact being shouted by ‘Men of Asian appearance’.

I have written many times before of the not-so-hidden Fifth Column; and I do wonder about the thinking which not only welcomes over a million so-called migrants, mainly all young men, all of whom profess the same delusions; but also lays plans to welcome a further 90 million more, when Turkey gains visa-free access to the European Union.


As Enoch prophesied and stated so many years ago, ‘We must be Mad’!

Taxing times.

An interesting document popped into my e-mail ‘spam’ collection this morning. I say ‘interesting’ because it purported to be from HMRC, the tax and customs people from our friendly Government. The e-mail advised me that I still had not responded to prior reminders that I was owed a refund of cash, as I had overpaid my tax; and warned me that time was running out before the refund disappeared forever.

Now I imagine that many readers will understand, having received lots of ‘scam’ messages themselves, that to receive any message purporting, nay encouraging a taxpayer to get a refund would be viewed with an understandable cynicism; but I am sure readers will readily understand the trigger phrase which determined that this message was just a ruse to get me to respond.

The final sentence said:-

Please submit a tax request and allow us 5-7 days in order to process it.

Battle honours!

Battle of Verdun World War I                       755,000–976,000           1916
Battle of Asiago World War I                        250,000                             1916
Brusilov Offensive World War I                   1,600,000                         1916
Battle of the Somme World War I               1,120,000–1,215,000     1916

When the figures roll by your eyes, it is indeed difficult for people who have never experienced true fear or exposure to terror or war; to comprehend the nature of the facts as reported. The numbers given above are casualty lists, for both Allied and German sides, of a random selection of battles and offensives fought to a bloody stalemate during 1916. Apart from the Luftwaffe’s Blitz; along with the murderous attentions of the IRA, mainly within the Province of Northern Ireland but with some deadly incursions on to the mainland such as Manchester and the Hyde Park bombings, totalling some 3,000 over a ten-year period: the only truly successful recent enemy activity against Britain was from the muslim murderers who blasted their way to their idea of glory with the death of 52 tube and bus passengers on the 7th July 2005.

When the guns and howitzers finally fell silent in November 1918, and when the Nation took stock of its losses, the figures stood at 660,000 dead; with many, many, thousands of wounded. The scale, the sheer magnitude of the dead, which hit the cities, towns, villages down to the smallest hamlet, with their sons and husbands never coming home, forced the Government into two actions: firstly the planning and implementation of a single National Memorial, peopled by the corpse of the Unknown Soldier; and then the building of countless memorials throughout the land, where the names of those sacrificed by a bunch of crazed politicians who signed their respective nations up to interlinked treaties without any thought to the future were engraved, to last as a symbol of the awesome sacrifice laid down in the dust, mud and blood of a thousand futile battles.

These British War memorials, with the family names, some of which stretch back into the shades of our history have been the focus of countless ceremonies, of music both sad and martial; are as pages of our history: with the men and boys who left off their civilian pursuits, raised their rifles and bayonets, strapped on their webbing, and marched towards the sound of the gunfire. The names which were added after 1945 were remarkably similar to the lists chiselled in 1920, needing only a smaller stretch of granite or marble, for the numbers were indeed smaller. The Allies are remembered in places such as the American Cemetery near Duxford in Cambridgeshire; but all these places, from the smallest village memorial to the majesty of the Cenotaph, are but repositories of the bravery and sacrifice of hundreds of thousands of British and Allied servicemen and women who were simply doing their duty.

Which is why I believe that Chris Evans and Matt LeBlanc of the reconstituted and severely-dessicated Top Gear team ought to be prosecuted in the same manner as Charlie Gilmour was, as their actions showed that they neither knew nor cared that the Cenotaph; focus of a Nation’s memories, along with the Memorial to the Women of WW2, were only yards away from their stupid antics with a screaming souped-up sports car!


It really is a nice surprise.

From the first mentions of Barack Hussein Obama as a possible future President of the United States until this very morning, I wondered how on this good earth were the American voters fooled into believing that this man, selected and elected possibly and probably only because he was Black, had Presidential timbre in his make-up. From his wilder promises, such as ‘closing Gitmo’ and even weirder signs of fealty to the leader of his religion, by  kissing the old Saudi King’s ring (no pun intended), he seemed to be giving all the right signals to all the causes. Seven-odd years later, seeing the retreat from America’s true friends and allies, such as Israel; with the signing of the truly lunatic nuclear deal with Iran; his alliance with the bitch Clinton, she of the hazy memories of shellfire in Bosnia, and the equally hazy memories of the American dead of Benghazi; of his weird choices of friends in high places, such as the shifty-eyed ex-Attorney General Eric Holder, he of the Fast-and-Furious guns-to-Mexico-without-tracking-devices saga, and of the ‘We’ll all hold hands for poor little (and thankfully dead) Michael Brown’: we should have been able to state that the ‘community advisor’ has not learned a single thing.

And then the President demonstrates that he has learned a thing or two, that he does read more than the newspapers which laud his every move; and also that it does pay to do ‘The right thing’, and stops the grinning murderous Irish terrorist godfather Gerry Adams from crossing the threshold of his own home! Well done Barack; never thought that you had it in you!
Again, many congratulations on a message well sent, and no doubt equally well-received!

Our three basic mistakes!

We were assured that. after the IRA announced a ceasefire in August 1993 and loyalist groups follow suit in October, that all would indeed be well!

The ceasefire was shattered by the IRA announcing they would no longer hold the truce, and seconds later, proved their point by detonating the Canary Wharf lorry bomb, which consisted of 3,000 pounds of AMFO fertiliser bomb, detonated by about a pound of Semtex, part of the Libyan gift of 2 ½ tons of Semtex to the IRA, courtesy of the late and unlamented Colonel Gaddaffi.

So the British quisling government caved, talked some more, caved in again to all the IRA demands, and offered Devolution to the Terrorists of IRA/SinnFein; with the caveat that, please, pretty please, you must try and get your murdering gangsters to give up their guns, bullets, RPGs and bombs!

The terrorists finally claimed they had either ‘Decommissioned’ or otherwise ‘complete and verifiable decommissioning’ all their weaponry; and the Canadian stooge General De Chastelaine vowed that he had seen ‘verifiable proof’ of decommissioned weapons. No lists were published, no photos seen; but we had to trust the killers, and so our politicians, who only ever wanted a quiet life, with nothing ever out-of-place, gave in once again.

The Blair Government was possibly the best thing that ever happened to the IRA, as they gave them nearly everything they ever dreamed of, resulting in the stand-off which is the Belfast Agreement, which has become the travesty of one bunch of killers sitting behind their grinning murderous leader;  in the Devolved Assembly in Stormont.

So the latest victim of this charade dies in a Belfast hospital; the ‘Gentle Giant’ whose only crime was that he worked in the Northern Irish Prison Service. He died because a Semtex bomb exploded under his van as he drove to work. Some of that same Semtex which of course was all, ‘destroyed’ and placed ‘beyond use’!

Deputy First Minister Martin McGuinness, who once commanded the IRA, said: ‘I am deeply saddened that this prison officer has lost his life. First and foremost thoughts and prayers with his wife and three daughters. He was said to have managed not to grin whilst making his statement.

The three mistakes mentioned in the title?

  • We told our soldiers not to ‘shoot to kill’!
  • Our devious politicians believed every promise, every lying scheme, made to them by the murderous IRA/SinnFein.
  • We allowed the IRA prisoners to remain alive, instead of cutting them down as they grovelled!

Less-than-Turkish Delight

As a basic rule of life, I am, and always have been, opposed to censorship of any kind. I first encountered censorship within my own family, when I was forbidden to buy or read Reynold’s News, strangely enough a Labour-supporting newspaper; on the grounds that it was printing news stories about ‘’call-girls’; and I, at the time a twelve-year-old schoolboy, simply wished to know what that was all about. My parents, being thoroughly enmeshed in the Catholic mythology at the time, believed that knowledge of all such news was simply bad, and thus unfortunately stirred my curiosity and made me ever more determined to read and learn of that which was denied me. I write on anything and everything, and as an author, I would never in a million years write something which I did not believe in.

Dictatorships, brutal; such as Russia or on-the-way-to-being-brutal, such as Turkey, dislike the very idea of a free press; because they dislike the idea that the oppressed people might learn that there might be a better or ‘free-er’ way of doing things, and might just opt for change; peacefully or violently. Now at present, if you read anything at all of current affairs, Turkey is deeply enmeshed in the killing-zones of Syria, buying just about all the oil produced by ISIL, and supporting, albeit surreptitiously, the fanaticism within that same Islamic State. They are also pounding the PKK Kurds in Northern Iraq, and are none too happy about the Kurds who are pre-eminent in strategic areas of Syria. They had a truce with the PKK, but happily abandoned it when it suited Erdogan, he of the alleged ‘muslim ideals’ and a weather eye towards altering the Nation’s Constitution, a favourite operation of those with messianic tendencies.

So ZAMAN; the one Turkish newspaper which wrote exposing Erdogan’s tendency towards ‘absolute rule’, as well as writing of huge corruption within the governing elite, has been taken over by court-appointed editors, and the World’s Free Press is diminished again. This Turkish Government is the same bunch of liars and criminals whom the EU states is trustworthy, wants to give them the keys to the European Union’s back door, and also trusts them to keep their ‘word’ on the ‘bogus asylum seeker/ bogus refugees/ economic migrant floods which are just waiting at the gate!

Trust Erdogan and his musselmen henchmen? You have got to be joking!

Burn, Baby, Burn

So, a local politician whom you steadily detest, because he is totally corrupt; makes it known that he intends to stand for re-election.

In this ‘demi-paradise’ called England, the person objecting has many tools at his disposal, ranging from protest meetings, campaigns in newspapers, Twitter campaigns, blog postings, questions to his council; in other words, all legal means at his disposal, along with any other people he rallies to his cause. Sometimes it works, sometimes not; which is actually what Democracy is all about; if you can gain traction for your point of view, and the majority concurs: you have cracked it. The Politician doesn’t get re-elected, or does, but is so fatally wounded that he resigns shortly afterwards.

Not so in that once truly green-and-pleasant-land which I used to call home; namely South Africa. A local politician who was deemed to be corrupt declared that he was standing for office in Isithebe, northern KwaZulu-Natal, once more. So a huge mob commenced a running riot, burning cars, homes and even torching the factories which had given them employment.

As I stated, I once called South Africa my home, but that was in the days when there was an honest, incorruptible White Government at the helm, where there was firm but fair local government, and when some clown commenced burning and rioting, he got what he was due before an independent Judge, after a fair trial. I look back at my time in South Africa with great affection, and even greater worry; for I have many firm friends who did not have the sheer luxury of British Passports when ready to leave: and one Aunt, one small very elderly lady who lives in retirement in a religious community deep within that truly unhappy land, one small lady who mistakenly believed that the Blacks deserved better, that they respected education, and that the magic ‘vote’, along with the equally-magic ‘Black rule’ would solve all the problems.

I still believe in the truth of old Afrikaner statement:- ‘You can take the Kaffir out of the Jungle, but you can never, ever; take the Jungle out of the Kaffir’


The hugely important number which is never, ever, discussed!

Imagine, if you would; your lives, your very livelihood, the place and method by which you earn a living, the very place where your forefathers have lived for generations; is being despoiled, ruined and financially obliterated by a disease. A disease which makes your chosen way of life virtually impossible to continue. A disease which has been directly associated with a carrier animal; but its carriers are protected by Law.

I write, of course, of Bovine TB; of its existence in many wild mammals, but especially in badgers: and of the terrible blight which exists in the dairy farms of England. I also write of the troublesome fact that we are an urbanised society, where the people overwhelmingly live in the towns and cities, and less than 9 per cent live in villages and rural hamlets. From the people come the votes, and voting power; so the farmers get little or no ‘say’ in how they live and are governed, and even less when it comes to decisions which so massively effect their very way of life.

The 300,000? That is the number of cattle slaughtered from British dairy farms since 2005. All were perfectly healthy animals, in every way except one. They all reacted, in a specific manner and to certain specified measurements, to a TB test injection, which states that the animal harbours, in various areas, Bovine Tuberculosis. The disease is spread, primarily, by contact with TB-carrying mammals, and the greatest danger comes from badgers, which normally carry the virus, but do not suffer from the disease themselves.

Before the do-gooders, alongside the ‘cuddle-a-furry-animal-brigade’ got into the act, farmers and badgers lived harmoniously. When badgers grew to be a problem, the farmers got their rifles and shotguns out, and brought the population back to reasonable limits, and there was an understanding in the countryside that this way worked: badgers were a pest, but as long as they were controlled, the nuisance and the dangers were very, very low.

But then the Animal rights crowd put up a fuss, cries erupted of ‘You cannot kill Brock, our children love these large wild animals’ along with all the other ‘animal rights claptrap’: and before you knew it, badgers were protected under the Law. So the bloody badger population exploded, Bovine TB incidents and checks rocketed, and then you must begin to understand what has happened. The average compensation paid to a dairy farmer for a cow destroyed because of bTB averages at £1000.00. But when you also consider that most dairy farmers know every cow by name, they know and treat them as larger but quieter members of their family; and when that truck drives away to the slaughterhouse with ‘reactor cows’ on board, many feel as though they are condemning family members to death!  If a dairy farmer’s herd is declared ‘infected’, no milk from the herd can be sent or sold, it is poured down the drain. No animal can be sold or moved until two test-free inspections sixty days apart have been declared. No income, apart from the measly compensation, come into the farms accounts. No wonder the suicide rate for farmers is ten times that of any other comparable work!

The cull is working, but the timid and cautious way it is done is ludicrous, hampered as it is by the saboteurs and the ‘rights-brigade’. The cull is laden down with rules laid down by people who have never seen a wild animal, and have never seen the devastation wreaked upon a farmer when he is given the notice of infection.

So I say let the rifles and the shotguns speak out once more, and get these disease-ridden vermin away from our dairy herds, and if the ‘do-gooders’ speak out, let them come up against a farmer and his friends who wish to protect their way of life in the manner they wish to!

No sugar, No booze; No cakes: No bread; No bacon: and no Joy!

We are bombarded with orders, instructions, dire warnings, exhortations; from every bloody busybody under the sun: the ludicrous comments of Dame Sally; the chief medical officer of England, Jamie Oliver and all his mouthy, self-opinionated cooking buddies, as well as all those who spout all day and every day on tv; alongside all the other twitchy clowns, all of whom know so much better than us.

The orders and the screeching exhortations? Lose weight! You are Obese! You are too fat! Don’t you understand the RISKS? And so on, and so forth; ad bloody infinitum!

Now I realised, some years ago, that I was too fat. Many of us are; but, writing just as one individual, I realised that the urge to change had to come from myself. I realised just how overweight I was by viewing a video, taken by one of my two sons, where I was seated, talking and playing with one of my grandsons. As I do not have a full-length mirror in my home, I literally did not realise, until viewing that video, how fat I had become, through years of indifference towards my own health.

So, I commenced what many millions have done, trying to get some exercise; undergoing one or other of the many diets, some crank, some not; on the market today. It is then, and only then, that you realise that that weight, which is extending your belly, straining your trousers and really making your heart work overtime, is bloody difficult to remove. I will not, mainly for delicacy reasons, speak of what I put my bodily systems through in order to achieve a weight-loss regime; but the side-effect were, to put it mildly, simply hard to overcome. I stopped one diet, commenced another, and continued until, by sheer experimentation, good luck and determination; lit upon a diet regime which works for me. I would never claim, without doubt, that it would work for many others, as I am far too level-headed to state that I have discovered the ‘Holy Grail’, a dieting regime which works safely for everyone who may try it: but I am losing weight, slowly, steadily, and without any of the side-effects which mar many of the more widely known dieting regimes.

I have so far lost, through dieting and a small amount of exercise, which hopefully will increase; a solid chunk of the fat which has built up over the years. When I tell you that I can now comfortably wear trousers which I discarded some fifteen years ago; that might give some indication of the success ratio which I am enjoying. But that weight loss has not come about by itself; you have to be committed, you have to be wary of eating the wrong foods, you must not be overcome by the sheer boredom of a limited diet. To that end I break my imposed diet every fortnight, mainly because my three grandsons visit on a Sunday, and I make and partake of a substantial lunch; but partly because I refuse to leave behind  all the guilty pleasures of eating what I like, when I like; behind; but fortunately my body only takes two/three days to change back to the weight-loss regime; so I can, literally, have my cake, and eat it!


Magic! Bored No More!