We have made a covenant with Death….

..and with Hell we are at agreement.


Some eighteen-odd years ago, I was a supervising engineer running construction works sites to install a new system supplying, transporting and pumping huge quantities of treated drinking water to a sector of North London.

My site office was on the outer rim of a fairly large site, with the telephone line strung along three sections of an old wall, total length of cable was some eighty yards. The whole site was hit by a lightning strike, my old-fashioned fax machine was literally blasted, the electrical supply cable to the office blown apart at a junction box. Once we got sorted, power supplies were repaired, but the phone cable was dead. As the phone company couldn’t supply staff to immediately repair the line to the site office, I decided to locate the fault myself. The field area itself was virtually waterlogged, as we had been hit by unremitting rain for over three days; the mud was literally deeper than my site rubber knee-high boots. For the next hour, I had to literally pull my feet and legs every water-logged yard, as I worked my way along the length of the phone line. It was unremitting slog, with the mud sucking at my legs and feet every foot of my journey.

Now transport me to a trench dug into the soggy earth of a wood given the name ‘Polygon Wood’ timed at ten a.m. on the morning of 31st July 1917, place me amongst three regiments of British soldier ‘Pals’, arm me with a rifle, burden me with 90 pounds of kit, ammunition and equipment deemed necessary by someone in an office in London who had never seen the conditions under which we had to fight or even exist; and then, on the signal of a whistle, blown by an officer who was just as doomed as the rest of us; climb out of that soggy trench, and struggle forwards into the never-ending mud and machine-gun fire from the Kaiser’s well-armed, well-supplied, and confident regiments opposing us. The title, ‘Polygon Wood’ may be a slight misnomer, as the only evidence of trees left in that nightmare swathe of blasted and bomb-strewn mud, were a few splintered trunks still upright.

For those of a delicate disposition, or who remain of a sensitive nature who recoil from reality, the photograph which gives the full bloody, body-tearing message of this nightmare is shown below. We struggled on, and then too often fall back under the guns, shells and bullets of well-sighted German infantry and artillery, who had of course been informed virtually of the minute when we would first advance because all the roads, where all the vast amount of stores, shells and of course; men were under the gaze of German observers, who knew how to count. Men and horses literally drowned in the mud, churned by the millions of shells from both sides, which is one reason why there are so many names on that Memorial.


The battle ended in November, with over half-a-million casualties; with approximately four miles of territory gained after three months. The plan, to sweep forward and attack the Belgian coast-sited submarine bases, from where the U-boats aiming to starve Britain into a surrender would sail; did not even smash the well-built artillery bases which protected the frontier barbed wire. The Passchendaele salient was gained, but very, very little else.

Back in the comparative silence and safety of 2017, I must look back, and ponder, if we had known them what we know now, would we have even bothered? We, the West and Allies, had to fight another War, but not, as we thought to stop an autocratic Dictator from pursuing his dream of ‘Lebensraum’; but to stay and end the dream of an evil genius whose dream was that of a world without Jews, without gypsies, without homosexuals or the mentally-ill or feeble, without Communists and Stalin: and of course without the military might, arms and minds of an Allied Cause who fought and finally defeated him.

Looking at today’s world, where we have allowed a Fifth Column numbering nearly three million adherents of a Religion which preaches our destruction; to enter and settle in their ghettoes; sited in London, Luton, Bradford, Manchester and in many other towns and cities across the four nations which make up this once-United Kingdom. Look at the 23,000 listed people, all from that same religion who have at least come to the attention of our Security Services who have thought about, considered or preached ‘Jihad’, who demand ever more that they need to come first, and everyone else a bad second; and then determine if those sacrifices in the three months of mid-1917 were really worth it, after our pusillanimous politicians have not only left the field, they have surrendered that high ground completely!

Dicken’s Oliver Twist (as amended)….. ‘Give us More’

A new problem for the ever-nearly-broke (£ $ € terms) (Dis)United Nations

Seems as though the United Nations’  UNWRAgency would like to start spending more; a lot more, and it feels it has got to start getting real, and in a hurry, about what cash it would like, and where it would like to spend ever-more of that same cash.

All the ‘buzz words’ are used; such as Taking note with appreciation, recalling, having considered, taking note, noting with appreciation: along with all the other blether which is a major constituent of such documents, the begging letter, otherwise known as the Ecuadorian draft resolution United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East  says many things, notes many achievements; it also re-affirms, welcomes, appeals and expresses its appreciation for cash contributions in the past, totalling $623,000,000.00 (that’s 623 million bucks to the average Joe or Joelene) for 2016 ONLY. What it wants to say for future Donors is to say please; pretty please, kindly keep quiet and otherwise quietly accept without discussion our published hopes for a 61.7% rise in proposed expenditure, as we know that Big Brother Donald, along with his mates in the Republican (and some of the Democrats as well) Senate, are just hoping that we’ll just ask, like Oliver, for ‘some more, please’.

The problem, for UNWRA at least, is the request that future contributions will come from the actual Budget for the United Nations; in other words, the ‘voluntary contributions’ would now become a normal sector of UN disbursement, and this of course would mean an automatic uplift in expected contributions from the major UN Member States, which of course means ‘More Cash from Uncle Sam’. The General Assembly runs the budget, and the U.S.A. has no blocking vote; but can you imagine the uproar from just about all Senators, on both sides of the aisle, never mind an incendiary President; when UNWRA can’t even bother to say ‘thanks’ to its major funder, of some $150,000,000.00 for the previous year?

A troubling (for definitely some Republicans) problem within UNRWA is the fact that the Palestinian Authority routinely pays salaries to the families with terrorists held within Israeli prisons. The payments are supposed to be ‘welfare and subsistence’ payments, but they are listed within PA official papers as ‘Salaries’’ and The Donald apparently blew his top with Mahmoud Abbas when they met. Another item which really ticks Americans off is the strange silence from UNWRA when it was ‘discovered’ that HAMAS were storing rockets in a UNRWA school. In a statement, UNWRA said there were indications that the items found were not rockets, but declined to comment when a reporter asked if they ever recognised the old adage ‘if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck…..’

The Resolution is postponed for now, with U.S.A., Canada and Israel opposing the Resolution; but what the reaction of an angry America will be is totally unknown. America is used to being battered by little countries with big mouths, but what will happen when America decides its just had about enough of the trash talk?

Standard tour, or a sick visit to a very sick culture?

I was paging through my Telegraph, noticed a full page advert for a holiday based around six cities in the Balkans without really pausing: then stopped short, simply astounded at what was being advertised as ‘A fascinating insight’ by virtue of a walk through the infamous Sarajevo tunnel’, as part of a ‘discounted tour’ by Saga. The advert, in the smaller print, also states that a Saga Tour Manager will be available!

I wonder whether the Tour Manager will be explaining that, for the bargain price of £1,700, the tourists will be given an insight into the deadly internecine blood feud which was the source of the bloodiest ethnic-based civil war in decades! I wonder whether the Tour Manager will be authorised to give out rebates for the tourists who are sickened by the tales of genocide and savagery which was the hallmark of all four sides of this terrible conflict? I wonder if the Tour Manager is from one of the ethnic and religious groupings which started this grab for power, for land, for the sheer thrill of peering over a telescopic sight fixed to a high-powered sniper rifle at a panic-stricken mob fleeing from a mortar explosion specifically targeted to make those same panicked people run straight into the target sights of those pitiless snipers, as they perched in their camouflaged bases?

I wonder if the Saga Group, whose marketing is supposed to be aimed at the older generation, actually sat down and thought about where their ‘Six Cities’ tour would actually visit. Would they have visited THIS particular website, and then encouraged their future tourists and customers to maybe click on image #2, showing a sniper-eye view of Sarajevo; or perhaps just move forwards to image #3, showing that sniper’s targets in close-up, as they cowered, seeking cover from those commanding heights? Will they search forwards for #4, picturing Serb leader Radovan Karadzic (right) and General Ratko Mladic, butchers and murderers both, as they preened and smiled for the cameras. How’s about a few pages forwards, to see a real dandy image #10; of a tearful boy as he is driven away from his desperate father at the height of the siege? But I reckon that they will hold their search, and maybe get their printers to show image #12, and the exact results of their desire to show all of the mysteries of that great, fun-filled argument over, exactly; nothing! How’s about skipping forwards to image # 32, and maybe ask why there only girls and women in that sprawling encampment.


The puzzling thought is this: why would people who should know all about the massacre of Srebenica, or the siege of Sarajevo; who suffered under it, who carried it out, and, of course, the end result: want to give any of their hard-earned cash to people who, more often than not, were probably willing participants in this multi-ethnic slaughter? That same sprawling ethnic killing ground which carried on until, finally; the Americans got fed up with the bloodshed, went in and stopped the death rattles, for the time being, at least!

Gender bent, but not otherwise damaged.

When the news cycle, in either London or Washington, churns around towards elections, great play is made by many actors, some good, many not-so-good; when asked for their endorsements / opinions on those standing for office, or political affiliations in general: tend to utter the standard liberal garbage. Anything left-wing, liberal, or as the favourite label goes ‘progressive’, is fairly standard reaction from those who do a different job: because folks, that is what acting is. Its a job. The performers have to know their lines, alter their facial and vocal expressions to suit the tempo and the plot, and in many cases have studied and honed their craft for years, but; again, they are just doing their jobs. Most actors love the very idea of endorsing a favourite politician for President, or for opposing a wicked statement (wicked of course in their eyes and minds) because, as the old saying goes, ‘any publicity is good publicity’.

Martin Sheen did a competent job as standing in as the President in ‘The West Wing’, and won several awards for his role, but got infected by the insidious bug which actors tend to catch, and believed that he was qualified to tell Americans how and who to vote for. He might have studied American Politics to do his job as ‘President Bartlett’, but as for being equipped to ladle out advice on politics, and voting, he had no qualifications other than a belief that HE knew best what and who was to be in the White House, and look what that advice got America. (Obama)

 Michael Caine was asked why he voted ‘Leave’ in the Referendum, and he replied, sensibly, that it wasn’t about immigration, or ‘racism’; it was about Freedom. In other words, he was stating his opinion why he voted, but refrained from telling others how to vote: which, to me, is admirable.

Two actors who preferred to do the other job, of governing as politicians, rather than just pretending, spring to mind: one was the Terminator himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger; the other was the late President Ronald Reagan. Arnie tried as California’s governor, failed, folded, and went back to acting; but you have to give him credit, at least he gave it a go: Ronald went on to become one of the great Presidents; and as the man who was hailed as ‘The Man who won the War’.

But I would like to write today about an actor who takes the other road, of a sensible, centre-right approach to politics, and who has entered into the cauldron knowing full well he shall be the target of every mouthy liberal, every frothy feminist, and especially any one with a viewpoint on Bender-Gender Politics. James Woods, star of  ‘Contact’ and ‘White House Down’ amongst many others, came full throttle with a Tweet condemning this family who put up a sign telling everyone their son has gone ‘Gender Creative’. Now the science tells us that females, women have xx chromosomes, whilst males, men have xy chromosomes. Women exhibit all the necessary functions for giving birth, vaginas, wombs, periods, breasts which will provide milk for the new-born babe: men have the ability to impregnate the female to enable that birth.

All the drugs, all the surgery in this world will not allow a man to become a woman, and vice versa. The tall, burly man who is the father of the ridiculous bunch of talentless weirdos a.k.a Kardashians, is dressed up as a woman, wants to be addressed as Caitlin, but still talks with a baritone voice; is but typical of the feather-brained mob who seek nowt but publicity. The ones who do need both support and sympathy are suffering from Gender Dysphoria, a mental illness.

Mr. Woods has taken a stand, and the gender-bender wolf packs are already gathering, but I reckon James Woods is ready for a fight, and, after all, he has both science, human biology and a fair few right-wing supporters on his side, so he shouldn’t worry overmuch.

The parents? Plain stupid, thick and obtuse!

As humans grow into maturity, we all develop ways of thinking, we all have to accommodate other people and their needs and desires; we all have to, literally get along. Most of what makes our patterns of life are unconsciously absorbed from our parents: and it is a fact that, from birth to five years-old, children absorb and learn everything which serves as a base for their future growth and life. My own philosophy, which I can state is mine own because it works for me, has grown over the years to encompass my family, the ones I love without exception. Put plainly, it states: You can only play the cards that you are dealt’.

I have learnt that ‘Responsibility’, that Duty’, that ‘Family’; are more than words: they are signposts by which one human being has, and indeed continues; to learn, and to accept that which he has undertaken. I tend to ‘tell it as I see it’, and if that means I come across as hard, bitter and uncompromising; so be it. Life is hard, and uncompromising; and if you don’t stand up, speak out and fight for what you believe in: you really shouldn’t have bothered! I have compassion, but not for fools; not for those who simply ‘knew best’!

I have striven, over the years, to advise my kids (now of course adults all themselves), from my own experiences and knowledge. I hope that, when my time to die arrives, they will look back upon the times, decisions, beliefs and actions of my life, and determine, ‘he did his best’. They might reminisce of the many times I told of the same happenings, and of the equal number of times they refrained from telling me they had heard it all before; but if that was a failing, hopefully it will be one of the few. I have given my kids advice on many subjects, but never insisted on holding to that advice, because they all have to make their decisions, all of which in the light of ‘what is best for them, and their families’. I hope that my life will be reflected in the lives of my sons and daughter; along with the four bundles of nitro-glycerine masquerading as grandsons. My family is, in mine own view, my attempt at immortality; and I would, and indeed have done, deal out extreme physical damage to one who would even think of assaulting or attacking my kids.

So it is that I can read of a death which should not have happened; should not have even been contemplated: and simply came too early in a lifespan which could have been counted in the decades: and state, categorically that this was due to a failing on the parents’ side. The young person, described by parents as a delightful strong-willed, caring and compassionate child (who) had developed into a courageous and confident young woman, was, unfortunately, nothing of the kind. She was, instead, wilful, headstrong, disdainful of advice which might have saved her bloody life: she thought she was ‘Invincible’.

Sorry, darlin’, the only Invincibles I know come care of Marvel Comics, and they only have a shelf life. The parents did not get their daughter into the single state of mind which told her “The only pills I take are from either a registered pharmacist or chemist, or a pack which has been supplied on a doctor’s prescription.” The parents might have stated, as reported in the news article, “Leah had the benefit of good information and advice from many different sources at various intervals of her adolescent life,” as well as Leah was well aware of the nature of different illicit substances and the risks attached.: but she wasn’t warned harshly or strongly enough. ‘She was only fifteen, she wasn’t, as they stated, ‘a courageous and confident young woman, she was, in reality, a spoiled brat who wouldn’t be told; wouldn’t take advice; and she died because of her own stupidity, and because the parents were simply not good enough!

I come to bury her, and to praise her!

I have always considered the funeral of Princess Diana to be the ultimate triumph of hypocrisy. Her marriage was a managed fiasco, her engagement was a farce, as the poor girl had only been alone with her future husband nine times before they became engaged; and as for her marriage! The only good thing to emerge from that disaster area were the two young Princes: and that was what she had been virtually hand-picked for. Diana was regarded by most of the Royal organisation as, quite simply, a brood-mare. The Line needed a direct heir, and hopefully a spare, and when that particular task was achieved, Diana’s job was seen to be completed: Charlie just waddled back to the local aristocratic bleached-blonde bicycle he had been, literally, riding for most of the time his marriage was in being, and Diana; that wonderful mother and woman was left to pick up the pieces. She received some support from Edna, but the rest of the pack watched as her life fell apart, then the separation; and finally the divorce.

Advice came there none, help was in short, very short supply; and as a direct result; the paparazzi’s wet dream gave up her Royal Protection detail, and she walked forwards, alone, into the storm; checking out the fools, vagabonds and Hooray-Henries as she passed. She died as she had lived, at a high and dangerous speed, accompanied by some Arabic dozy wanna-be who fancied his chances. She was guarded by the Arab’s father’s bodyguards; but unfortunately no-one thought to breathalyse the driver, and she died because the drunken fool tried to out-race paparazzi on high-powered motorcycles.

But worse was to follow. The funeral, a purely private one as wished for by the Spencer family, was transformed into a semi-state occasion; probably as a belated attempt to apologise for all the crap the Establishment, together with the Royals; had ladled out so carelessly when she was alive.

Her brother, Earl Spencer, did not wish anyone but Charles and himself to walk behind the cortege; but he was told the boy princes William & Harry had consented to walk behind their mother’s body. Interviewed by the BBC, Earl Spencer stated ‘Buckingham Palace staff, and Government lied to me. I was distraught; never mind the boys; as they walked through that wave of emotion from the crowds as they followed the noise of the horses’ hooves.’

At the funeral itself, Diana’s sister spoke, and was instantly forgotten, Prime Minister Blair spoke with a biblical quotation, and I doubt if anyone really noticed it; Elton John’s re-working of the song which actually was written in memory of Marilyn Monroe was played, and it was as gloopy as was envisaged; but then Earl Spencer stood, faced his world-wide audience, gripped the lectern, and delivered his verbal atom bomb, aimed straight at both the paparazzi whom he blamed for her death; and the Family whom he believed had deserted her once her task was over.

The only genuine emotion in the whole circus, came not from the funeral, not from the Abbey, not from the assembled show-biz squad in the cheap seats: but instead from the hundreds of thousands seated in the various Royal Parks. As Earl Spencer finished his dose of verbal dynamite as he praised his dead sister; ending with the words:- we, your blood family, will do all we can to continue the imaginative and loving way in which you were steering these two exceptional young men so that their souls are not simply immersed by duty and tradition, but can sing openly as you planned”: that massive audience stood, almost as one; and sent that applause, never, never ever before heard at a funeral, rolling across the Parks, sweeping across the silent, still streets; and thundered into the crowded Abbey itself; startling the staid and sober congregation, just as Diana herself had done so many times before.

That was the single tribute which was honest, was heartfelt, did actually meant something.


Seriously violent protests quelled across Cuba!

The delusion that Cuba is somehow more free after the old goat’s death has suffered yet another embarrassing revelation.

Obama made a deal with the Castro regime, said it gave them access to tourism, gave them the belief that if you are interested in promoting freedom, independence, civic space inside of Cuba, then the power of things like remittances to give individual Cubans some cash, even if the government was taking a cut, that then allowed them to start a barbershop, or a cab service, was going to be the engine whereby individual Cubans—not directed by the United States, not directed by the C.I.A., not through some grand conspiracy—can now have their own little shop and have a little bit of savings and start expecting more.”

So Donald Trump gets elected, and reverses most of the Obama deal, stating “We challenge Cuba to come to the table with a new agreement that is in the best interest of their people, of our people, and of Cuban-Americans. We call for an end to the abuse of dissidents, release political prisoners, stop jailing innocent people, open yourselves up to political and economic freedoms.”

In an escalation of the arbitrary arrests and detentions against the Ladies in White, a dignified, silent protest group who always dress in white; seventy women were forcibly detained, some whilst on their way to church for Sunday mass. One of the serious charges levelled against these terrifying demonstrators (my sarcasm) was their statement that the Government charged her with “public disturbance” for shouting “down with Raúl”

See what I mean? The terrifying sight and sounds of a middle-aged woman calling for a dictator to stand down: why it calls for a battalion of armour on the streets in reply! Why, just think of the damage she could do with her handbag!

Oh say, can you see: kneels he still yet?

As most readers accept, I rarely write upon matters sporting because I have scant knowledge of, and indeed lesser interest in, Sports; either in particular or in general. If any one of my mates comments upon some sporting item or other, I just nod and say little or nothing; mainly because I usually haven’t a clue as to what is being talked about. My mates and wider family all accept that ‘sports’ and ‘Mike’ just do not mix; and leave it like that. My late brother (the sports nut-case of our family) once stated that ‘I had no soul’; and his opinion, whilst not exactly on target) is just as valid as others.

But I picked up on an op-ed piece regarding Colin Kaepernick, and that particular gentleman’s attitude towards his Country, his Country’s anthem, and his use of that Nation’s very rights to harshly criticise the things in which he loudly proclaims that change is needed. Seems as though, after stating that he despises America’s attitude towards black people, even more vehemently affirming his support for ‘Black lives matter’; and that ‘pressure groups’ attitude towards America’s Police, for America’s dissonance towards all minorities; and in general and in his own words:-

“I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color. To me, this is bigger than football, and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder.”

As to mine own viewpoint; this must be viewed from a stance which states that, as far as I know, there is one hell of a difference between American Football and the British version. I believe that, in America, they handle the ball quite a bit: in England; not so much. But, whilst mainstream America respects the right to protest, in any and every way possible, mainstream Football-crazy America, with the Flag being saluted at every occasion, with patriotism being virtually handed out along with the doughnuts: it seems as though Mr.  Kaepernick has chosen the wrong set of targets to kneel before. He seems to be disrespecting the very things which give him the right to shout from the rooftops of his unhappiness.

Mr.  Kaepernick is now out of contract with his old team, but despite making his availability known all around the circuit, coaches have picked, signed and carried off men of, apparently, far less talent than he.

As one commentator wrote:- Indeed, the greater glory of America is that better men than he have died to preserve and protect the All-American right of Colin Kaepernick to be a jerk.

So the query must be, ‘Has Colin Kaepernick protested enough; and if he should quit his sitting, or kneeling, and get back towards the mainstream: should he be welcomed back into the fold?’

Salute to the ‘Little Ships’, and the men and boys who crewed them

One of my all-time favourite films is a light comedy entitled ‘The Bishop’s Wife’, starring Cary Grant, David Niven and Loretta Young. One of the many reasons for my affection for this film is the scene in the old church where Grant, (playing an angel) produces, out of seemingly nowhere, the boys who had once drifted away from the choir, to sing Noël (Montez À Dieu – O Sing to God) by Gounod. Irreligious these days I may be; but the music, and those voices, speak to me as though they are at my very doorstep. But the man who wrote the original story, upon which the film was based, was an American poet named Robert Nathan.

Mr. Nathan’s works were many and varied, but the words which caught my attention were written to honour the ordinary people who made the real Dunkirk possible. It is true that the vast majority of those rescued came by the Navy’s destroyers; but many of those rescued made their way to the Navy by virtue of the small boats, and their civilian crew. Further to my small posting on the Dunkirk film, I would feature Mr Nathan’s moving words; simply as a salute to those extraordinary ordinary people,

Dunkirk (A Ballad)
Continue reading “Salute to the ‘Little Ships’, and the men and boys who crewed them”

Totally daft, beyond all parody or belief!


I saw the click-bait advert, decided it could not possibly be that bad; but, in reality: it was.

As my old mate used to say; ‘If I hadn’t seen it, I would have had to invent it!’

I shall not link to the advert in question; but leave it to the avid searcher to plumb the depths of sheer, unlimited stupidity which accompanies, and is part of, this strange, almost weird collection and ideal.

Not Industrial Scale: more Pandemic Scale!

I lived in England until I reached my majority at 21. I served in the British Merchant Navy, I then lived overseas, but the place which I called home was England. Its very roots, its Laws, the makeup of our Nation; my very ancestry, from England and from Northern Ireland spoke volumes. The fact that we could walk the streets free of fear, free of violence; free to trust; implicitly, those placed to tend our needs when in need of medical treatment: these things pulled me back when I returned to England.

What has happened to this Land where such freedoms were both implicit and explicit? The Law itself has altered; has swung away from responsibility to ‘rights’; from where a free man could stand and say exactly what he means: to a place where everyone is afraid to say things straight out because someone might be ‘offended’. We used to accept that the saying ‘Innocent until Proven Guilty’ was the Law of the Land. The Law has been biased towards a viewpoint where the very accused has to prove his innocence, not the accuser to prove that the person opposed is guilty. How can one prove that your opponent has not been ‘offended’ by your words or actions? It is impossible to prove a ‘negative’. And so the strings which used to bind us so tightly have been, once more, fatally weakened!

But I mentioned things medical, where the latest attack on our systems is headed, and as usual, the speartip is formed by the Homosexual Lobby, those who would preach that ‘they are just like us’, that they are ‘no threat to our very way of life’: and so on ad infinitum. The homosexual (and other equally-grisly behaviour) lobby has never, ever strayed from the path of demanding that, risk or no risk, their acolytes should not be ‘discriminated against’ from being able to donate blood without any searching questions whatsoever about their sexual practices being asked at all.

Readers may have noticed reference to a scandal regarding the contamination of blood products imported from America. This was in the 1970’s and early ‘80’s, when people suffering from Haemophilia were treated with blood Factor VIII. As the linked article describes, concentrated Factor VIII was derived from many blood contributions, some of which came from blood sold by American AIDs or HIV sufferers, and the virus was therefore delivered straight into the veins of vulnerable haemophiliacs: giving them AIDs/HIV or Hepatitis C. 2,400 have already died, with many more suffering from these terrible diseases. Andy Burnham, former health minister, called the scandal a “criminal cover-up on an industrial scale”.

So the the National Blood Service (Transfusion), then UK State-Run, decided that until further notice, no blood would be allowed to enter the system from any (anal sex-active) homosexual or drug-using person, as the risks were simply too great. This ruling was modified some years back so that blood donation rules prevented people who engage in risky homosexual- or oral-sex behaviour; or drug use, from giving blood for a 12 month period.

We  now move forwards to today, when we read that the government has announced changes to blood donation rules following a review by the Advisory Committee on the Safety of Blood, Tissues and Organs (SaBTO). So the wheels churn around, homosexuals are, seemingly, the good guys nowadays, and their every word is to be trusted, and they now only have to acknowledge that their activities can spawn dread disease up to three months after shoving their penises into some accommodating arsehole (by both name and nature): or some other equally-risky drug use or sexual practice!

We, the users of the blood and plasma now supplied within the NHS, have to take it on trust that the tests, presumably to be carried out on EVERY sachet of blood or plasma passing through the laboratories will actually detect viruses before any incubation period has elapsed. We, the users will have to accept that the SCIENCE behind this ruling has been verified, and we should take it for granted that a Privatised Blood Service has our very best interests at heart! We should also note, with some relief no doubt, that Commercial sex workers, along with those charming individuals who confess ‘sex with a partner who has been sexually active in areas where HIV is common’, are all given that same donor clearance after three months abstinence.

As some may have noted, I was hospitalised a few years back for a major operation, which included many pints of blood to carry me through the process. I made no objection, because I knew I was protected by Law from dread disease! You know something, I am going to find out if I can donate and store my own blood over any time left to me, so that if I need a transfusion, I know where it is safe to look! I will also be advising my adult children to do likewise, for their own protection, as well as my four grandsons!


….some of my best friends are tall black coffee-drinkers!!!

Alternate title……The Chips are down!

So, you are walking down a busy street in ‘Wherever City’. You have an appointment; your car broke down, the train was late, the ‘Uber’ app on your iPhone just would not kick out a call: so, you walk. But people coming towards you just don’t understand that a) you are going to be late, b) you are obviously in a hurry, and c) you are very aware of your own self-importance. So why won’t these ‘White Women’ just move aside and let you through the hordes, instead of blocking your path with their silly, self-absorbed and totally racist attitudes? (Forgot to mention; you are tall and black.)

Seems as though this black bloke gets rather frustrated when people won’t get out of his way (because he is obviously big, and black, and so very, very important) when walking briskly in New York. He takes to task only one sector of the Big Apple’s massive crowds of pedestrians, and one only. He states ‘White Women’ deliberately ignore him, deny eye contact with him, and sometimes literally force him off the sidewalk onto the road: and do all this because he is a big black man.

I would place good money on the response he would get if he ever stated his problems with ‘White Women’ to his mother. She would tell him one thing and one thing only: if any man, black, white, khaki, ever deliberately stood in her way, or walked towards her and exhibited the bad manners and distinct lack of courtesy he had explained; she would batter him over the head with her handbag. He was taught and educated to think, and he’d better live up to her ideals, and learn  to remember simple good manners! He was probably taught that it was simply mannerly, when confronted with a lady OF ANY COLOUR AT ALL, to give way to the weaker sex, to show that their being female was a clear signal that they were to be respected, above anything else: and to hell with feminist attitudes!

The New York TImes, who published the original story, cleverly entitled ‘Power Play’, also point to two other stories which profess, or allege, unconscious racism in their lives.

One of the pieces is a perfect example of that which George Bernard Shaw’s ‘bon mot’ which stated ‘Britain and America are two nations divided by a common language.’

‘Waiting’ was about a black couple who seemed to be denied tortilla chips whilst waiting to be served at a Mexican-themed restaurant. Seems the chips are a freebie munchy, to be set out whilst you wait for your food to be served. The couple then saw another couple served with those same chips as they gave their order. The male of the first couple then asked why they were not given free chips, as they were obviously available; and so on, and so forth.  I just don’t understand their problem. Should he have demanded his portion of ‘chips’ as part of the Mexican Experience? Should he have stormed out, accusing the Mexicans of sheer, unadulterated racism? Never having had an overwhelming urge to munch chips at a restaurant, I would simply not know.

Chips, for our readers in the former colonies, in Britain are longitudinally thinly-sliced potatoes, deep-fried in either beef fat or oil, and served, usually lukewarm, as part of what used to be our National dish; ‘fish and chips’. That which you call ‘chips’ are, in Britain; called crisps; similar to heroin in addictive effect; chock-full of totally fattening carbohydrates; and tortilla flavour has actually crept back across the pond, and is now available in all supermarkets. Our National dish, if one believes the Sunday supplement magazines, is now a curry named ‘Chicken Tikka Masala’!

So what is in a name?

I was checking out the possible commence date of the remake of a superb film, the original being a factual WW2 production; true-to-the numbers of dead flight crew members. There was quite a bit of angst and signs of liberals shovelling their heads up their nether regions when it came to the tricky bit where the Wing Commander greets his black labrador upon returning from a mission.

Now as to the rights and wherefores of a word, in common usage at the time: and as I am an Englishman, not American, nor Black; it all depends on individual taste and sense as to the rights and wrongs of such a term. Some may state that it (the word) should never, ever be used again: others take the viewpoint that, if someone gets upset over the term, then that is their problem. I read David’s post about his hero’s recording, and how the Beeb had censored the word off the sound-track, and whilst fully agreeing with his sentiment regarding liberals’ sensitivities; I find listening to the actual track a tad less than tuneful but there again, that’s just me! Just not my cup of tea.

Whilst clicking through late-night TV, searching for summat’ to watch as not yet ready for kip, I came across Reginald D. Hunter, he of the winsomely-entitled Pride and Prejudice… and Niggas show. As he said, ‘That word can be used, and not an ounce of harm can be taken: but the next guy to use spits it out with venom!

So, my viewpoint reckons, if anyone uses the term today, they use it in the full knowledge that it was a truly nasty, derogatory term when used, say, in the Deep South in the days before MLK or LBJ. When the film was made, and, much earlier when those brave men took off to fight their way across France and Germany towards the dams, with their hand-held sights to pick up the dam towers, and their downward-facing spotlights which provided a perfect aiming point for the ack-ack guns sited on both sides of those dams, if anyone thought of the word, he was thinking of Guy Gibson’s coal-black labrador, named as probably thousands more dogs were, without a racist thought made in all of them.

Before ending this small essay, I recently visited a site where this re-naming thing was being discussed: and I would like to copy some of the comments made on that site. I include them because, to my slightly-addled sense of humour, they really ring the bell! If you do not believe that humour sometimes is the best medicine, especially when dealing with terms so upsetting; my reply would simply be: get used to it!

Missing the point!

I think you’re all missing the point here. Imagine a family of diggers moved into your street. You wouldn’t be happy about it, would you? And where there’s one family of diggers, there’s usually more diggers. Before you know it, the whole area is overrun with diggers, your house it’s worth nothing and your car has been stolen.

Coming Next: WWII without anti-semitism

Because you can’t have Jews being rounded up and shipped off to death camps in this day and age. Historical accuracy go screw yourself.

And it’s “just the name of a dog – what’s the big deal?”,… OK so let’s change the Lancaster bombers to B52’s, let’s change Barnes’ name to something more American friendly like Hank, and while we’re at it, let’s have Glen Miller’s St Louis Blues swinging over the end credits instead of that British Imperialistic Dambusters March…


It’s not the dog’s name I object to, it’s having all-Hobbit flight crews and making Barnes Wallis an Elf.

By Jove, I got it!

Instead of removing the allegedly offensive name, why not just redress the balance by calling the rest of the cast ‘Honky’!

Who pays the piper, calls the tune – again

Stephen Fry should heed his own words “you just can’t go back, which is unfortunate” – and refrain from b*****ing around with History. The poor animal will probably end up being played by a chipmunk – all cute and apple pie.

Hollywood has so corrupted it’s output that half the world would misbelieve any actual historical fact presented to it.


What is the Russian term for ‘Get Stuffed’?

Readers may remember a while back when a bunch of ‘activists’ from Greenpeace tried to board the Prirazlomnayaa Russian oil rig? Greenpeace stated shock and ‘extreme disappointment’ when the entire crew and protesters off the Arctic Sunrise were slung into the local chokey, many on a charge of ‘piracy’. Cue large and regimented quantities of weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. Eventually, the protesters were released, after their mummies stated they would be smacked if they did it again.

An International Arbitration Panel awarded $5.8 million in damages, and told the Russians not to do it again, as they had been extremely naughty.

The Russians, who had not taken part in the Arbitration Scheme, stated their reply would be forthcoming!

Review:- Nice movie: cannot understand why ‘Diversity’ does not play larger part!

There have been as many opinions as grains of sand as to the likelihood of a successful retreat, by a battered, disorganised British Army, from the beaches, piers and waves of Dunkirk. No one really understood why an Army of over 275,000 weary, demoralised British soldiers; along with approximately 140,000 French, Belgian and Polish soldiers of a similar demeanour; was allowed to escape the overwhelming menace of the German tank divisions and regiments.

The simple fact, borne out by research after the War was over, was that the evacuation was allowed to happen because the British and French armour regiments attacked an exposed Panzer Division at Arras, exposed because they had outrun their supply chains, artillery and infantry support; and were in serious danger of being outflanked and forced into retreat.

Von Runstedt, after urgent reviews with his subordinates, signalled Berlin and Hitler that he wanted a pause, to regroup and re-inforce, before pressing into Dunkirk. Hitler agreed, giving Von Runstedt to ability to decide when to advance, as he had been promised by Goering that the Luftwaffe would clear the air of the R.A.F, and the beaches of the British Army.

The Luftwaffe did their best, but lost 156 aircraft whilst bombing the ‘little ships’ whilst the R.A.F. lost 145 aircraft, and, more importantly, precious pilots. The Germans regrouped, re-inforced and commenced moving after three days, there was an organized and extremely competent defence; but ‘Operation Dynamo’ was in full swing, and only the dead were left on the Dunkirk beaches. The surviving soldiers formed the nucleus of a resurgent British Army, which eventually, together with America, Canada, and Free French; as part of the Allied Cause, returned on 6th June 1944, and on towards victory.

The film ‘Dunkirk’ is now on general release, but USA Today reviewed ‘Disaster turned Survival’ movie named ‘Dunkirk’ with the following words:-

Dunkirk is also one of the best-scored films in recent memory, and Hans Zimmer’s music plays as important a role as any character. With shades of Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations, the melodies are glorious, yet Zimmer also creates an instrumental ticking-clock soundtrack that’s a propulsive force in the action scenes.

The trio of timelines can be jarring as you figure out how they all fit, and the fact that there are only a couple of women and no lead actors of color may rub some the wrong way. Still, Nolan’s feat is undeniable: He’s made an immersive war movie that celebrates the good of mankind while also making it clear that no victory is without sacrifice.

Yes, I can just imagine David Oyelowo calling up the casting director and stating that a 17.8% of the Army roles on the Dunkirk beach scenes should be reserved for B.A.M.E. (work it out yourselves) actors!

Play it again, Sir Michael…

When the BBC trots out an ‘expert’, many things can be guaranteed. He, or she, will be presented as a ‘world or leading authority’ on the subject being discussed; he will be definitive in the conclusions reached by his research, as one would expect; and he will give his reasons for reaching this conclusion. He will also, by very definition, be an opponent of some strategy or operational requirement of the Government, especially if the Government of the day is Tory.

So, it was again this morning, with our very special expert being Sir Michael Marmot. Now this guy is seemingly, overqualified to be anything else that the Angel Gabriel. He has awards, degrees and doctorates up the kazoo; he has been there, and written about it many times.

He comes onto the Today Programme to discuss his ‘findings’ that we, as a nation, aren’t living quite as long as health statisticians believed we should be, and matter-of-factly stated that he knew why our ageing wasn’t extending as prophesied.

Firstly, he stated that this showed the growth in life expectancy was “pretty close to having ground to a halt”.

He said that was historically highly unusual” given the rising life expectancy seen over the past 100 years.

He also said ‘ “miserly” funding settlements for the NHS and social care, which meant the quality of life for older people would have deteriorated and could well affect their life expectancy.

“I am deeply concerned with the levelling off, I expected it to keep getting better.”

He said it was hard to draw firm conclusions about the cause…..

..BUT, it was “entirely possible” austerity had played a role.


All is revealed:-



Stands to reason, innit?

The single omission did surprise me. He didn’t manage to bring ‘Climate Change’ into the equation.

Teach a man to fish……

A fellow blogger on another site to which I contribute raises a point well worth noting, especially in these days of so-called multiculturalism and diversity. She notes that protests were approaching chaos in Grenfell Tower meetings when it was discovered that most of the people supposedly in need of aid, and succour, and, of course ‘Compensation’ could not understand the leaflets and notices which were supposed to inform them what was being done for them.

As for the actual Tower disaster, and the lunatics’ attempt to be in charge of the bloody asylum by stating that only ‘their choice’ for Chairmanship of the Inquiry would suit their needs and demands, I have already stated, quite firmly, my views on that particular subject. But this particular notion that the ‘survivors’, and that denotes people who were actually SUPPOSED to be living in the Tower, were to be given translations in up to twenty-eight languages on an immediate basis is just plain daft. Councils all over this Nation spend thousands on translators ‘just in case’ a wandering Ethiopian asylum seeker, who only speaks one of two hundred dialects of eighty-three different languages drops by for reassurance, or for Benefit information; which is of course their divine ‘Human right’.

So the Guardian steps up to the plate, and states that the Council just isn’t bothered to help the deprived and abandoned survivors. Survivors were treated badly, the community, on the whole, was ignored and treated as an inconvenience by those in charge. For many, this is too hard to believe. So picture this: we had to fight for even the most basic communication. After eight days, there was a physical sign for the first time. Eight days, no signage, no information. This is for those who are fluent in English; it took 22 days for something in Arabic, Kensington’s second language.

I presume that all the Benefit Claim forms were satisfactorily and legally completed?

Where were the signs pointing towards:-

Kensington and Chelsea College – Chelsea Centre Classes in:

  • Arts, Crafts and Interior Design
  • Business Studies and Management
  • Computers
  • Construction
  • English for Speakers of Other Languages

This is the Country which has, usually unwillingly, given you refuge. Why don’t you do something positive in return, and learn English?

The Law has spoken!

We have travelled this path before. With Debbie Purdy, with Craig Ewart, with Chris Woodhead; along with many, many others who have not caught the headlines.

Parliament has decided,  and has rejected the path towards Euthanasia. The Courts have spoken, that the Law, as interpreted by those same Courts, is firm on this matter. To assist someone to die is illegal, is against the Law.

Individuals who have challenged the Law have lost, every time. Some, like Tony Nicklinson, choose the legal route, who denied himself food, but died from pneumonia.

Noel Conway wants to die on his terms. That is against the Law. Mr. Conway wants to die with drug assistance from medical people. But Mr. Conway has the choice, if he wishes, to die tomorrow. All he has to do is refuse his ventilator, and he suffocates; he can deny himself food, and he dies from starvation. Suicide is a straight-forward option, and no-one can stop him; but he wants someone else to do the dirty work, he wants someone to feed him the pill, he wants someone else to be involved, and that, folks, is simply against the Law!

So what is his problem?


A car? Its not JUST a car!

Akikul Islam, 25, was today handed the lengthy jail sentence after being found guilty of causing grievous bodily harm in May. He was found guilty of driving his Range Rover into a crowd of Muslims whom had been celebrating some Mossie festival or other.

I mean to say, a Range Rover; heaven forfend!

The manufacturers issued a statement abhorring the violence, adding “We could maybe have understood the actions if he had been driving a Ford Focus, or even a Suzuki Lliana, with all the mental trauma associated with less prestigious automobiles; but a Range Rover! We just cannot understand the mental processes generating violence whilst seated in and driving one of our luxurious vehicles; the two just do not mix, not at all!

In a further statement, the manufacturers also stated that the vehicle suffered no damage whatsoever, and was rendered once more pristine after a thorough clean and polish.

As second and even ‘third’ thoughts enter my mind, replete as it is after a really pleasant Sunday lunch; I have to ask how it is that this little gem hasn’t been publicised before now. I mean, one drunken Welsh bloke drives a car into a crowd of Muslims, and there are six-inch high headlines across the nation; the Prime Minister calls up Cobra, and makes a speech stating that ‘Enough is Enough’, as well as ‘Extremism will never win!’. Then we have this bloke, driving his car into another bunch of Muslims, dealing out injuries to two men, and he ends up being reported in the Evening Standard Crime pages.

Could it be a simple case of colour? The white bloke got all the headlines: the brown Muslim bloke. similar charges; gets a fill-in piece in a give-away newspaper. Strange, very, very Strange!!!

An alternate view of an average car owner’s mental processes:-


h/t to Oh What Now


‘Applause’ for the dead?

I have probably made my own opinions known before, in my usually shy and inhibited manner: on funerals, memorials and on remembrance. If a family, and I do mean a family, wants to spend their cash on a showy funeral, service and marble gravestones: so be it, after all, it was their money which funded the exhibition, and therefore their choice. From the truly dreadful burial processions (you’ll have to find the links yourselves, as I do not wish to use bandwidth on a waste such as they were) of either dead gangsters or IRA/SinnFein murderers, to the splurge which was the funeral of Jade Goody. At least the latter was a testament to the singular strength which she showed in her final weeks, as she strived to make her children financially independent by her interviews. Not many funerals show a genuine liking for a genuine ‘gentleman’ such as the city-stopping funeral for Jackie Milburn, who would, I believe, have been genuinely embarrassed by all the pageantry.


But, I ask, why the clapping; why the crowds around the cortege; why the overwhelming outbursts for a small boy who is now dead? He cannot show gratitude for all the flowers. He cannot state that he is very happy that lots of people showed up for his funeral, even if there were horses pulling the hearse. Why the outpourings of alleged ‘grief’; when he was really known to be terminal for a long time? Why the ‘mourners’ dressed as so-called superheroes following the coffin’s progress through Blackhall’s street? Does all the hoo-hah make them feel better? Why the cancer charity’s collecting buckets in Tesco labelled ‘showing our respects to Bradley’?


I never decry genuine emotion. I sympathise with loss. My sister’s death shattered our family; a sixteen-year-old girl dying of leukaemia, in the days when that dread disease was so rare it was in the newspapers: and even at sixty years from when her death occurred, it still hurts. But the ‘Dianafication’ of anyone who has been in even the ‘personal’ columns in regard to the their death? No, I reckon its simply a headline too far! The extension of the old adage ‘If It bleeds; It Leads’ has emerged into an area of life which used to be, and; in my own very humble opinion; should still be: strictly and totally private.

…and its not how you tell it, but getting the telling out!

If there was ever the ultimate demonstration of how the Internet has literally changed Politics; of how one man and one fringe Party has altered, literally altered beyond belief, the political map of Europe, it is in two Youtube videos.

The first is a speech by Nigel Farage to an audience comprising mainly Media staff and personalities, where he talks about how this change has been brought about. How a literate, charismatic businessman-turned-politician could make the difference between a tiny fringe Party with not much hope of anything; and then turn into the game-changer which was UKIP. He speaks of opportunities denied, of being ignored by the BBC and all mainstream media: and then, dramatically, the ability to reach a mass audience; of being able to reach anyone with a computer and broadband access: by virtue of  YouTube:-

A sample speech from 2012, where he lambasts the EU Commission for the tragedy which was how Greece, once a sovereign Nation, was treated and transformed into a nation of begging bowls, unemployment approaching 50% for the youth; and being governed by a European/German Gauleiter! And the Parliament, apart from one impotent Kraut who tried to get him censured for his language; sat silent because every bloody word was true!

I wonder, I do indeed wonder how it would have turned out?

In 1975, I was living in South Africa, raising a family; but news from the Country of my birth still filtered through, despite the newspapers being four/five days later than publication. I watched at second hand as the lies, the sheer hammer of the Elite Establishment pounded any opposition to British involvement in the European Common Market, as it was then known; into the dust. The slightest reverberation of dissent, of a call that the best way would be for Britain to shake off those ever-stronger European bonds, which were supposed to be silken, but turned out to be cast iron, was ruthlessly crushed, with those who spoke the truth as they saw it, being ‘rubbished’ and virtually vilified.

The Oxford Union debates have been memorable, but most have been hardly publicised outside a fairly exclusive circle. They have been the cockpit for the debates such as ‘”This House will in no circumstances fight for its King and Country”, as well as the strange feminist squeals from Camilla Batmanwhatever. But one of the most important debates in the last Century was the one entitled ‘That this House would say ‘yes’ to Europe’; which question was referring to the Referendum on Britain’s membership of the European Economic Community. The speech which rings true as far as this observer recalls was hardly covered by most newspapers, brushed aside within the ‘learned commentariat’, and, in the end, firmly defeated in the debate. But the one word, spoken by Peter Shore, a Labour Politician, is and was echoed in another, much more recent Referendum which came to a very, very different conclusion. The conclusion of the later Referendum was that we should LEAVE the EU; and the echoed word? Why, it was simply ‘FEAR’. Now when was that term used, and how was it used in that later Referendum?

I give you Mr. Peter Shore, a prescient politician who, like many of his confreres both then and now, was dissed, insulted and virtually ostracised: for speaking the entire, unvarnished truth as he saw it!



..and (Queers now Rule) We decide what is taught in school!

As I previously wrote regarding my council question, which apparently will be answered within the Council meeting, I was asking if the Council agrees with Ofsted or with me on the subject of teaching and describing homosexual acts and practices to small girls and boys.

I now read that the Vishnitz Girls School looks as though it is being forced to close down.

This harsh stance against alleged ‘bullying’ is promoted and encouraged by one Luke Tryl, who campaigned against homophobic bullying as head of education at the gay rights group Stonewall, as a special adviser.

His close ties to the Cabinet minister gave him huge influence and his appointment in 2014 coincided with a marked change in the approach to teaching LGBT issues in Britain’s schools.

Luke Tryl was appointed Director of Corporate Strategy at Ofsted, and the campaign appeared to step up a gear.


This clown is now in charge, and we all have to bow down before this Fascist bully, who wishes, as far as I can see, to wipe out Faith Schools within England who will not accommodate his homosexual viewpoints!


Poles Apart

San Francisco has got nothing to worry about. Well, nothing to worry at least about on the score of their ‘Sanctuary City’ status and local Law. That is the idea that some illegal alien is protected from US Immigration Law investigators if arrested by local police for a felony.

Their worry? They might have been overtaken by a whole Nation! Well, that was this bloke’s idea in Poland. Civic Platform (PO) leader Grzegorz Schetyna announced the party was going to unveil a list of cities and regions which are willing to host migrants, to send the message that Poland shows “solidarity” in the face of the migrant crisis.

The EU wants Poland to welcome a fair slice of the 1.3 million-odd overwhelmingly Muslim migrants whom Angela Merkel welcomed on an open-door policy after that little kid was pictured dead on a Greek beach, despite some opposition from her opposite numbers within the EU.

The Poles replied, fairly rapidly; “No Way Angie-baby’ quoting a fairly long nation-wide memory of being overrun before by invaders, and definitely not wishing to give a new set of invaders a foothold.

So the Civic Platform leader started of with a list of cities, but hit a major roadblock when Poles just said ‘Not Bothered’ or, in Polish, ‘Bollox’!. He ended up by admitting he had “about a dozen villages showing a sign of goodwill.”

I mentioned ‘SanFran’ not having much to worry about. If Kate’s Law and ‘No Sanctuary for Criminals Act’ get through the Senate, they may just have a whole heap more to worry about than Poland, they may be forced to cough damages for the innocents murdered and savaged by the actions of those given ‘Sanctuary’ by their oh-so-liberal politicians.

Climate Temperatures are Raised

Whilst I have never claimed to really understand the Canadian Legal System, and probably nobody else does either, apart from a few Canucks themselves; and again perhaps understanding mainly the outline of this legal story, could it really be the end of the legal battle between ‘climate changer’ Michael Mann and his long-time legal opponent Dr. Tim Ball?

Long time back, Dr. Ball opined that Michael Mann’s climate change calculations were, literally, hooey; so Mann slapped a LAPP (Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation) libel suit in the British Columbia Supreme Court, Vancouver six long years ago.

Unfortunately, six years later, the Court accepted the Plaintiff’s plea arrangement for the further adjournment of the trial, as the Defendant had also agreed that this delay could take place, as long as Mann kicked up with all his computer data and codes for the Court’s examination by a certain date. Calendar clicks forwards, Mann doesn’t come up with the codes and proof, and it now looks as though Dr. Ball triumphs, as the Canadian Court can now charge Mann with contempt. Contempt sanctions could reasonably include the judge ruling that Dr. Ball’s statement that Mann “belongs in the state pen, not Penn. State’ is a precise and true statement of fact.

But better news is heading down the legal highway. Michael Mann, once the darling of the ‘Climate Change Brigade’, with his now-infamous ‘Hockey Stick’ graph, so beloved of the IPCC, Gore and all the warmish crowd, is now looking at the collapse of his celebrated trial and suit against Mark Steyn. Not bad for a Tuesday!

We’ll have to check back with you; soonest.

We have a passing but vague resemblance to Local Democracy up here in County Durham, and I suppose this is imaged across our County Council cousins throughout the British Isles. They hold elections, but with monotonous regularity, the same people and Party are returned to power. They promise vague things, and once in power just forget everything which was promised, as, usually, they blame the ‘Austerity cuts’. In amongst the many items disappearing. or rather commencing to disappear, are the ‘Questions to the Council’ which were asked at most County council meetings. We used to get three questions per person in County Durham, but that has been sliced back, and we now get one. The rules are arcane, and the ‘Democratic Manager’ is ever ready to state that the question is outside Council stance, or whatever, and many questions are ruled out of order.

My latest question, which shall be asked on the 19th July is as as follows:-

I refer to the call by Prime Minister Theresa May for an early adoption of British Values, without, naturally, any strict interpretation of those woolly words. I also refer to the call by the new Ofsted Chief Inspector, Amanda Spielman for ‘the promotion of so-called ‘British values’  (which) will be determined by individual inspectors, adding, “there isn’t a prescribed translation of it, so schools will have to work it out”.


I would ask the Council if they would agree with the Ofsted Chief Inspector when she backed her Inspectors’ view that a private North London Jewish School for little girls aged between three and eight years old; should be marked down by Ofsted for declining to give pupils a full understanding of ‘British values’; inclusive of an ultra-liberal ethos and strictures of the acceptability and practice of Homosexuality, Lesbianism and so-called Gender Identity; or would they agree with me that small girls and small boys, at County Durham schools with either a religious ethos or none, should be allowed to play, learn and prosper without some heavy-handed Ofsted Inspector ensuring that ‘their’ interpretation of those same ‘British Values’ are rammed into those childrens’ innocent and beautiful minds?

I wonder how they will reply; or indeed if they will reply at all?

Something smells ‘off’!

When inspecting a Care Home for the first time, the Inspector from the Care Quality Commission usually carries a voluminous file containing all the standard items which need to be checked, and, of course, ticked off on one of the many ‘test and query’ sheets contained within the file. Many and varied are the questions which must be asked and answered by the management and staff, mainly because the CQC people have to be seen to be thorough, objective and painstaking in their observations and queries. Many if not most Care Homes gain most if not all of their clients / patients via Council placements, which of course means that taxpayers cash is passing to the Care Management, and it is right and proper that independent and impartial scrutiny takes place on a regular basis.

Unfortunately, the whole CQC inspection and grading system is nothing short of an expensive farce, and gets worse by the week, as the small army of inspectors miss glaring mistakes and bad practice right in front of their noses, as they pass by, clipboard in hand, ticking off their interminable lists of points which are so dated, so pointless; that the lists and the expensive inspections need never happen. Time after time, scandals have been uncovered through whistle-blowing staff, or relatives of patients who receive whispered words from their relation, unable to cope with the unthinking and uncaring actions of those who are supposed to be ‘looking after them. Ticked-boxes may state that the patients’ ‘Human rights’ are upheld, but do not show random sarcasm delivered as a patient is cleaned and changed; or goading of a senile patient who has soiled himself because he had to wait until a staff member is finished his coffee break before doing his job!

The sad truth about the Care Home Industry is that it really is money for old rope; with the cast-offs, the demented, the senile, the detritus of our ‘vibrant society’ are hurriedly placed in places which sometimes are literally cash-generators for hedge-fund entrepreneurs. For those families in need of respite, or looking for a refuge for an ailing, elderly relative who cannot look after themselves, but the ability to look after their elderly relative is simply beyond their capacity; the search must be thorough and resolute, with the CQC reports to be maybe checked out, but not trusted because so much is hidden behind closed doors.

Not all Care Facilities are bad, many are excellent, but you will find that the excellent ones are usually the most expensive, because good staff are expensive, and you definitely do not get the greatest staff when you pay ‘minimum wage’ The best homes have a high staff-to-patient ratio, because back-ups are important. The ideal establishment would have a sealed CCTV system in every room, with custom monitored screens available only to relatives, friends or duly-appointed senior staff, with an unbreakable hard drive record of every minute that a family’s relative is in the care of the care home. It may sound a tad-over-the-top, but a known recording would stop the casual cruelty which can go uncovered for sometimes months.

I was forced to place my beloved wife into a Council-approved care home, as I had medical problems which necessitated my being available at virtually no notice for tests, etc. I was able to visit my wife virtually every day, and believe me; the staff knew that at least one husband was making damn sure that the love of his life was treated with respect and dignity all the time.

One final item for those amongst us who will, in the near or far future, look for the services of a Care Home for a loved one; there is one test which will, never be found written down; but is probably the most basic check of all. As you walk around, viewing the facilities and studying the rooms, ensure that you take a good, steady sniff as you walk the corridors: because what you are searching and sniffing for is the smell of stale urine. It is unmistakeable; and proof that the patients are left alone too long without caring supervision, that the very carpets and clothing speak volumes with the loud and urgent message: avoid this place like the plague, for they do not CARE!

The Writing’s not only on the Wall; its online as well.

The Great / Dear / Miracle / Fascinating Leader (delete adjectives not needed) was in full flow yesterday at the Miners Gala (Strange title, I know, but the Labour Left has always lived about thirty years in the past, as there haven’t been any working miners in Durham for over twenty four years. As I said, our beloved Jeremy (T.G.D.M.F.) Corbyn was speaking, and of course being cheered after every other sentence by the sheep loving crowds who had flocked into Durham to hear the Word from the new Saviour. (I know, but that’s what they were calling him, and who am I to argue with ‘Living History?) They were also singing ‘Hey, Jeremy Corbyn, but that was the only line they sang; but they sang it over, and over, and over again! (Bit like a funeral dirge, but not as funny!)

The words and phrases he spoke were somehow strangely relevant to another age, although you must understand I wasn’t actually there myself, as I did not wish to join the adoration session which the Gala speech turned out to be. I will not bore the readers with the speech, (available online; all you need to do is search, and then you can gently go to sleep) as actually I could write it myself from memory, a very old memory, which resulted in a very different outcome from that promised.

Corbyn is, as he openly admits, from a Marxist-oriented playbook, where the only difference between his sort of Government and the Soviet Russia-style Government operated by the Communist Bloc is that this time, he reckons everything will go like clockwork.

Unfortunately, the spring has broken on his Socialist Clock, but he cannot recall how the sad story went, back in the Left’s glory days of the 1970’s; and on into the early eighties. Many of MY generation can recall, vividly, the appalling circumstances which sprang from a weak Centre-Left Labour Government, which inherited No. 10 Downing Street from Heath, and then the pressures mounting almost daily from the hard-line militant Unions, the strikes which almost decimated British industry, the ports almost constantly backed up due to wild-cat strikes almost every day, the strikes hitting at every sinew of British commerce: which ended in the Catastrophe of the ‘Winter of Discontent’, where my own uncle, a lifelong Labour supporter and voter, but also a deeply religious man; declared to my father; Peter, they wouldn’t even let the dead be buried! A notorious industrial action during that winter, and one which was later frequently referred to by Conservative politicians, was the strike by gravediggers, members of the GMWU in Liverpool and in Tameside near Manchester. Eighty gravediggers being on strike, Liverpool City Council hired a factory in Speke to store the corpses until they could be buried. The gravediggers eventually settled for a 14% rise after a fortnight’s strike.

Labour tried to govern, but the Unions rode over every move they made, because the Unions knew weakness, and knew how to exploit it, and with virtually no Law to stop them, they sent out the ‘flying pickets’ to stop the coal trucks and oil tankers entering the Power Station gates, the electric generators began to slow, and the Government caved in and gave wage rises which, ultimately, could not be afforded. Wage claim followed wage claim, and what the nurses got, the shop workers wanted more. Chaos ruled, and then more strikes catapulted Britain into further ruin. Inflation was rampant;  in total in 1979, 29,474,000 working days were lost in industrial disputes.

Corbyn can promise that he will borrow and spend, or rather as he terms it ‘invest’ in British infrastructure; and borrow ever more to spend to reduce a non-existent poverty, to remove the need for food banks, when the only ones to visit have spent the benefit cash, which should have gone on rent and food, but probably went on booze, gambling and more booze.

For a worthwhile look back at the disaster which was a Hard-Left-Wing Union-dominated Britain, try When the Lights went out; or, if you can find a copy, the better coverage of The Writing on the Wall, by Phillip Whitehead. Either book, any relevant online history, they will tell you the truth, of the disaster which was a Britain governed (ha!) by Labour in the Seventies, before we were saved by a woman; a proud Briton, a brave politician; Margaret Thatcher was that woman.