Sunday 16 June 2024

Labour Lies


 Why does Sir Keir Starmer keep repeating his "my dad was a toolmaker" line when everyone knows that it is such utter bollocks? Rodney Starmer owned the factory in which the tools were made, it is as simple as that. By the way, the Starmer family lived in Oxted, which is as home counties plush as they come. 

It's not just Sir Keir, either. Emily, Lady Nugee, is the wife of a senior judge and the daughter of a very senior United Nations official who likes to pretend that she is poor Emily Thornberry who was dragged up on a council estate. Actually, when her parents divorced little Emily spent five minutes in a rented house until the divorce settlement came through and her mother then bought a nice house with some of the loot.


 Her Ladyship even went campaigning in Rochester and took this photo of a house with its England flags and transit van. It was as if she was a Victorian explorer seeing a Zulu hut for the first time, that is how remote these people are from my tribe.

Labour has always had an upper-middle-class element in its ranks. Clement Attlee, Tony Benn, my old MP Michael Meacher, were all born to wealth, but they didn't pretend that they were anything but wealthy men who had cast in their lot with the urban proletariat. 

Sir Keir and Lady Nugee both do: they pretend that they are just like us when it is so obvious that they don't actually like us, still less understand us. That's fine as it means we don't have to pretend that we like them, but I am curious to know why they think they can get away with it?

It may be that since Labour has now shed almost all it working class members and party meetings are made up of the teaching trade, social work industry and the local government nomenklatura. Few of such types even know anyone who is currently glued to his TV watching the football, still less socialises with them. So, they believe the bollocks that Sir Keir and Lady Nugee dish out to them.

However, the rest of us can tell from their accents, their dress and the way they carry themselves that they do not belong in our ranks.

A bit of honesty in future would be welome.

Saturday 15 June 2024

Contrived Row Over D-Day Junket

 

I found the Rishi Sunak D-Day row a bit hard to take. I know where my father was eighty years ago this month: he was a gunner, so was on the southern coast along with most of the artillery in anticipation of the Germans launching a raid to try to disrupt the D-Day landings. By the end of the month, with all the beachheads linked up, the heavy guns crossed the channel and Gunner Charlie Bell helped blast the way through France and into Germany with a minimum of finese and a maximum of high explosive.

He was demobbed in late 1945 and put the whole wretched war behind him. He never went to the local cenotaph, nor did he join any veterans association. I claimed his medals for him years later as he had no interest in doing it himself and when I told him my plan he replied: "You'll have to pay for 'em! You don't get owt for nowt in't bluddy army!"

Actually, they were free and his Second World War Medal, his Good Conduct Medal, along with his France and Germany Star duly arrived in the post. He stuck them in a sideboard and forgot to tell me so I found them by accident.

Forty years ago when the politicians last used D-Day as a vote grabbing opportunity I asked my parents why it was forty years and not fifty, and my mother who had been conscipted to work in the Avro factory to work 12-hour days building Lancaster bombers, replied that it was so that there would be enough old men around for the politicians to be photographed with.

Both my parents are long dead, but I just know that my dad would not have given a tinker's cuss about Sunak leaving France early, so on his behalf, I don't either.


Why the Election is Now Good Fun

 

 

Sunak is 5'6" and Starmer is supposedly 5'8" but I have my doubts looking at this photo. Clearly, the blonde is taller than the pair of 'em. Now, I know that there is a difference between midgets and dwarfs, but I will be buggered if I can remember what it is. Shall we just settle for calling them a pair of shortarses?

This photo was taken before the first leaders' debate, but it reminded me of just why I don't really care which one of these two chancers gets to live in 10 Downing Street in July. I live in Scotland and just about everything that affects my day to day life is decided in Edinburgh and not London. Of the things that do come from London such as my state pension, there is unanimity between the two parties that the triple-lock will remain. Even Brexit is a non-issue, with both chancers determined not to discuss it. So, I settled back to watch the fun, without really caring one way or the other who won.

Then Nigel Farage entered the fray and what was tedious became very good fun indeed.

Then I discovered that Keith Vaz, a former Labour minister and washing machine salesman was standing as an independent. That the Northern mill towns where the Pakistanis are the only ones guaranteed to vote were breaking away from Labour and standing their own independent, Islamic candidates. That George Galloway and his Workers' Party of Britain were aiming for the Pakistani and the White working class vote in those towns with a campaign that mixes support for Gaza with an economic policy that I approve of wholeheartedly. Finally, that several Labour candidates in London have been prevented from standing under Labour's banner and are now on the ballots as independents, with the chief amongst them being the former leader, Jeremy Corbyn.

With Farage giving the Tories a serious collective bowel movement and the Islamists, Workers' Party and London independents doing the same to Labour, all of a sudden my heart was filled with glee as I realised that two parties that really don't give a stuff about me or the Muirhouse council scheme where I live, were about to tear themselves to pieces.

Hopefully, out of the wreckage, something better will emerge, but even if it doesn't I am determined to enjoy the show for the next three weeks.

Let's enjoy it together.

Election Blogging Time


 

After a four-year blogging hiatus I am back until the 2024 election is over. I have to be honest and say that I have not enjoyed myself so much in years and I want to share my glee as I watch the political system collapse.

In three weeks the blog will go back on ice, but until then, I'm gonna rock, roll and enjoy myself.

 

Saturday 25 April 2020

Pandemic Prepping Guide Now Available




Pandemic Prepping is now available to download to your Kindle, and if you found yourself without food during the height of the panic buying then it is a short, 4000-word e-pamphlet that you cannot be without. I was stunned when people could not buy the basic foodstuffs to cook a meal for that evening as supplies were always available, just not in the places where they were looking.

So grab yourself a copy of Pandemic Prepping and then kick yourself if you were one of the people who had to go to bed hungry because you did not know where to go for your supplies.

At least you won't be hungry the next time that the supplies dry up, which they will.

Tuesday 21 April 2020

Oxford's Coronavirus Vaccine


It seems that Oxford has come up with a Coronavirus vaccine that will be trialled starting this week. It probably may not be as efficient as one developed at Cambridge, but it will be far wittier. Of course, the data is not going to end up in Moscow, either.

Monday 20 April 2020

The Lockdown Breaks in Edinburgh


This is what Edinburgh should look like under its lockdown, but doesn't as increasingly people are just ignoring the rules and going out and about. 

I noticed when I went shopping on Friday that the numbers of cars on the roads seemed to be far higher than it had the week before. There was also a lot of people walking, many with shopping bags in their hands who did not seem to be heading towards the shops. I guessed that this was a foil the filth tactic just on the off-chance that a bored copper decided to turn them over.

Arriving at the supermarket I turned the car around and left without stopping as over 100 people were queueing up to enter the building. I drove to a Lidl that was half empty even during the height of the panic buying and found a security man on the door filtering people into the shop. He let me through without any bother as I am both elderly and semi-crippled, but the fellow behind me was asked to wait until someone left. The same was going on at the B&M which never before has been so full that people have to wait to go in.

Last night my son took delivery of some supplies from Tesco and I took the opportunity to chat to the deliveryman who confirmed that traffic is now much heavier than it was and the streets much busier.

My theory is that Scotland does not have the same number of curtain twitchers that England has, probably because people do not want to get on the wrong side of the retired murderers and superannuated gangsters who are their neighbours. South Edinburgh may be terribly swish, but the council schemes that form a big chunk of the rest of the city are traditionally plebian in their mores.

So, if the lockdown is starting to collapse, anyway, that is probably why the Scottish government announced the other day that they are looking at ending some of the restrictions next month. 

All good fun.
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