At a Lancs V Sussex County Cricket match in 2007.
Finally, the ankle surgery
has mended.
Flintoff, the big, forthright man
is thumping down the pitch,
filling in the footmarks.
Down at the Lancs. stand,
a father with a paunch
talks to a mobile.
'The usual rounds of
ice-cream and drinks'
he says, turning
slowly in circles.
He stumbles over
a blue nylon boundary rope.
as three boys
play Darth Vader with their
tiny replica bats.
'Ross' he shouts, holding
the phone to his belly,
waving admonishments with
the free hand.
Ross has been kicking up
the dust, twitching
the blue rope.
Ahmed jigs in for the
Sussex side
drawing swallow circles in
the summer air
beyond trampled grass
and plastic cups.
At the close of play, all
three boys have beguiled
Hopkinson into signing
fake score cards
and miniature bats.
'D'you all play?' he enquires,
laughs an Aussie laugh,
full and fruity,
larger than his life.
He bends over to scrawl
big hoops and crosses
on each card.
His blue eyes are backlit
by an ice cream sweater.
He turns round and
his name is written
in maroon on it.
Ross waves the cards
at his father, turns to his friend.
'D'you know the highest score
in the Ashes'? he says
'It was 18 for 8'
He pauses to let it register,
then goes on.
'How old is your bat?'
'Got it at Christmas'.
'I've had mine for two years!'
'Yeah, yours is marked, though'
'So-you can put it in the washing machine'
was the last word, putting down
the Yorker after
a few seconds, smothering it.'
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
It’s a small world.
It was situated on a busy road that housed not only Tranmere Rovers football club and the Ducklings nursery but also numerous medical practices of uncertain status.
A huge plastic banner resembling one of those ‘all you can eat’ banners that buffet-style restaurants like to display was draped across the front wall.‘NEW PATIENTS WELCOME,’ it announced.
The Buckingham Dental Practice was in fact a large,Victorian house which had been converted, so that patients would frequently wander into rooms not meant for them. In vain might one try to imagine the original character of the house and of those who once lived there, so heavily impregnated was the whole place with its present purpose and its pink mouthwash smell. It was impossible not to run one’s hand along the smooth curved banisters without a frisson of dread at the horrors to come. Neither could the waiting room, with its gaudy women’s magazines spread on the low coffee table reassure.
The morning of my appointment to analyse a flaring tooth pain was a bright, brisk, December morning. Sunlight, passing in and out of the clouds faded in and out of the waiting-room, coinciding, it seemed, with the flares of pain. Each burst of sun from behind a cloud illuminated the low table in the centre of the waiting room.
The lady sitting opposite me was about fifty-eight. She was seated on a black, studded, leather chair. Half discomfitted, half-curious, she leaned forward on the creaking shell of leather, picked up one of the fluorescent chat magazines and held it at arm’s length for an instant before dropping it cautiously on the pile of similarly pink and yellow chat magazines that boasted ‘Britain’s first pregnant man, and whose features, including ‘My doughnut shame’ and ‘In a Klass of her own’ were so garish that they seemed to be shouldering each other off the page.
The woman was dressed darkly, in order to resemble someone much younger; her own daughter perhaps? Her feet were crammed into black, chisel-pointed boots and the chain-belt she was wearing cinched a waist that was barely distinguishable from her hips. At her throat, she wore a pashmina, tie-style scarf. Reactolite, square- framed glasses topped her head( she felt that glasses like these took years off her). She had lately been considering laser eye surgery but had decided to have her veneers done instead as this seemed the natural thing to do.
A few minutes elapsed in the private, but disturbed sphere of the waiting room, during which time she took a packet of Dove tissues from her handbag, blew her nose in a self-satisfied way and lifted the main body of the Daily Telegraph, which someone else had cast aside. She appeared to read the main headline in a desultory fashion, her face retreating from the newspaper pages in affectation of distaste, then she let it flop back onto the low coffee table as though it was too heavy for her to hold.
As is so often the case in a doctor’s or dentist’s waiting room, it was hard to discern the exact reason for her visit. Nonetheless, she was to be seen swiftly.
The dental assistant, whose badge read ‘Kirsty’ was wearing a pastel green smock. She waved me down the landing to an empty practitioner’s room and swiftly backtracked along the corridor to usher another patient towards a door marked Dr.Lindsay. I stood for a minute in the empty room before realising that it was the wrong one.
I soon found the correct room with Kirsty now installed by the dental instruments cabinet. The tall Dr O’Brien hovered near the yawning black dental chair while I contemplated the statistic that dentists, followed by farmers were members of those professions most liable to commit suicide. I wondered what it was that induced such despair. I could understand farmers, lonely, communing with their Fresian herds at 4 a.m., then deriving less than a penny a litre for their milk from the ruthless supermarket chains in the face of soaring feed prices. I could feel their despair at having this year’s wheat crop flooded at the crucial harvesting time, but dentists?
Dr. O’Brien took an x-ray then sent me back to the waiting room, where a conversation was now flowing between the fifty-eight year old woman and a new, middle-aged woman with thinning, magenta-coloured hair, a tailored denim jacket and Ugg boots. They seemed to have some sort of connection between them.
‘We were in Cuba too last year’ said the first woman. ‘Isn’t that strange. I think we stayed in …I can’t remember the name of the place... I think it began with an H?’
‘Havana, so were we, but we had the second week in Puerto de los Sablos. That’s on the coast.’
‘Did you?' the first woman purred, the self-satisfaction now having spread to her conversation.'Oh yes, we found the hotel in Havana was alright but they’re like, very laid back in there.’
‘Mmm, that’s right, we found that too, but the year before that we were in Thailand. They couldn’t do enough for you there, and right away. Everyone is so friendly.’
‘Well, they do say that don’t they? A bit too much sometimes with the men!'
There was a burst of appreciative laughter from both the women.
‘And I think it was in 2005 that we went to Jamaica' the first continued.
‘ Now that’s somewhere we’d love to try, but Brian’s not as keen as me.’
Both women laughed and there was a kind of gurgling satisfaction in their laughter.
‘So how are you fixed for Christmas?’ the first woman asked the second.
‘Oh we thought we’d go away again but I’m not so sure with all this, you know, the credit crunch. My daughter’s asked us over to Sligo, that’s where she met her husband.’
‘Oh that’ll make a change. We’re off to Florida. We DID do the shopping trip to New York a few years ago, it was amazing but…’
At this point a small, tinny shout seemed to leap out of the first woman's handbag. She stared at the bag, wilfully pulled it towards her, whipped out the offending mobile whose ringtone was a pre-recorded male voice which shouted angrily ‘message!Message! MESSAGE! M-E-S-S-A-G-E! She swiped at the thing, pointed it away from her, shot me a withering look in reply to my obvious scowl. Staring incredulously at the screen, then cupping the mobile against her cheek so she could fondle the bag, she told the mobile, the waiting room and its occupants that she had done the rest of the shopping but would be late, repeated the word ‘Prenton’ twice, then squirelled the mobile away into her bag. She picked up the dropped thread of the conversation almost immediately.
‘Yes, we DID the shopping trip to New York too’
'Did you stop off in London like WE did on the way back?’ the first woman interjected.
‘No, no. God, no.Too much trouble. Queues etcetera. Anyway this year we just want to be somewhere warm, after all that cold, so we thought Mexico.’
During the course of their conversation, I had been holding the pages of the Daily Telegraph open on page twenty-seven, retreading an article that bristled at me not so much because of its content but with my annoyance reflected back at me from the page. I fulminated at the thought of the air-miles the two women had blithely clocked up over the past few years between them.
The tall Dr.O'Brien appeared in the doorway to relieve me of my fury.
‘Mrs Jean Robbins.’ he called, appearing to examine the sheet of paper he was holding out in front of him.
The first woman stuffed her Dove handkerchieves into her handbag and waddled to the door. After she was installed in Dr O’Brien’s room, the second woman with the thinning, magenta-coloured hair turned to me approvingly.
‘Isn’t it a small world?’ she remarked. ‘Would you believe that that lady and myself were both in Cuba last year, and then we both turn up at the same dental practice?
Unbelievable!’
It was situated on a busy road that housed not only Tranmere Rovers football club and the Ducklings nursery but also numerous medical practices of uncertain status.
A huge plastic banner resembling one of those ‘all you can eat’ banners that buffet-style restaurants like to display was draped across the front wall.‘NEW PATIENTS WELCOME,’ it announced.
The Buckingham Dental Practice was in fact a large,Victorian house which had been converted, so that patients would frequently wander into rooms not meant for them. In vain might one try to imagine the original character of the house and of those who once lived there, so heavily impregnated was the whole place with its present purpose and its pink mouthwash smell. It was impossible not to run one’s hand along the smooth curved banisters without a frisson of dread at the horrors to come. Neither could the waiting room, with its gaudy women’s magazines spread on the low coffee table reassure.
The morning of my appointment to analyse a flaring tooth pain was a bright, brisk, December morning. Sunlight, passing in and out of the clouds faded in and out of the waiting-room, coinciding, it seemed, with the flares of pain. Each burst of sun from behind a cloud illuminated the low table in the centre of the waiting room.
The lady sitting opposite me was about fifty-eight. She was seated on a black, studded, leather chair. Half discomfitted, half-curious, she leaned forward on the creaking shell of leather, picked up one of the fluorescent chat magazines and held it at arm’s length for an instant before dropping it cautiously on the pile of similarly pink and yellow chat magazines that boasted ‘Britain’s first pregnant man, and whose features, including ‘My doughnut shame’ and ‘In a Klass of her own’ were so garish that they seemed to be shouldering each other off the page.
The woman was dressed darkly, in order to resemble someone much younger; her own daughter perhaps? Her feet were crammed into black, chisel-pointed boots and the chain-belt she was wearing cinched a waist that was barely distinguishable from her hips. At her throat, she wore a pashmina, tie-style scarf. Reactolite, square- framed glasses topped her head( she felt that glasses like these took years off her). She had lately been considering laser eye surgery but had decided to have her veneers done instead as this seemed the natural thing to do.
A few minutes elapsed in the private, but disturbed sphere of the waiting room, during which time she took a packet of Dove tissues from her handbag, blew her nose in a self-satisfied way and lifted the main body of the Daily Telegraph, which someone else had cast aside. She appeared to read the main headline in a desultory fashion, her face retreating from the newspaper pages in affectation of distaste, then she let it flop back onto the low coffee table as though it was too heavy for her to hold.
As is so often the case in a doctor’s or dentist’s waiting room, it was hard to discern the exact reason for her visit. Nonetheless, she was to be seen swiftly.
The dental assistant, whose badge read ‘Kirsty’ was wearing a pastel green smock. She waved me down the landing to an empty practitioner’s room and swiftly backtracked along the corridor to usher another patient towards a door marked Dr.Lindsay. I stood for a minute in the empty room before realising that it was the wrong one.
I soon found the correct room with Kirsty now installed by the dental instruments cabinet. The tall Dr O’Brien hovered near the yawning black dental chair while I contemplated the statistic that dentists, followed by farmers were members of those professions most liable to commit suicide. I wondered what it was that induced such despair. I could understand farmers, lonely, communing with their Fresian herds at 4 a.m., then deriving less than a penny a litre for their milk from the ruthless supermarket chains in the face of soaring feed prices. I could feel their despair at having this year’s wheat crop flooded at the crucial harvesting time, but dentists?
Dr. O’Brien took an x-ray then sent me back to the waiting room, where a conversation was now flowing between the fifty-eight year old woman and a new, middle-aged woman with thinning, magenta-coloured hair, a tailored denim jacket and Ugg boots. They seemed to have some sort of connection between them.
‘We were in Cuba too last year’ said the first woman. ‘Isn’t that strange. I think we stayed in …I can’t remember the name of the place... I think it began with an H?’
‘Havana, so were we, but we had the second week in Puerto de los Sablos. That’s on the coast.’
‘Did you?' the first woman purred, the self-satisfaction now having spread to her conversation.'Oh yes, we found the hotel in Havana was alright but they’re like, very laid back in there.’
‘Mmm, that’s right, we found that too, but the year before that we were in Thailand. They couldn’t do enough for you there, and right away. Everyone is so friendly.’
‘Well, they do say that don’t they? A bit too much sometimes with the men!'
There was a burst of appreciative laughter from both the women.
‘And I think it was in 2005 that we went to Jamaica' the first continued.
‘ Now that’s somewhere we’d love to try, but Brian’s not as keen as me.’
Both women laughed and there was a kind of gurgling satisfaction in their laughter.
‘So how are you fixed for Christmas?’ the first woman asked the second.
‘Oh we thought we’d go away again but I’m not so sure with all this, you know, the credit crunch. My daughter’s asked us over to Sligo, that’s where she met her husband.’
‘Oh that’ll make a change. We’re off to Florida. We DID do the shopping trip to New York a few years ago, it was amazing but…’
At this point a small, tinny shout seemed to leap out of the first woman's handbag. She stared at the bag, wilfully pulled it towards her, whipped out the offending mobile whose ringtone was a pre-recorded male voice which shouted angrily ‘message!Message! MESSAGE! M-E-S-S-A-G-E! She swiped at the thing, pointed it away from her, shot me a withering look in reply to my obvious scowl. Staring incredulously at the screen, then cupping the mobile against her cheek so she could fondle the bag, she told the mobile, the waiting room and its occupants that she had done the rest of the shopping but would be late, repeated the word ‘Prenton’ twice, then squirelled the mobile away into her bag. She picked up the dropped thread of the conversation almost immediately.
‘Yes, we DID the shopping trip to New York too’
'Did you stop off in London like WE did on the way back?’ the first woman interjected.
‘No, no. God, no.Too much trouble. Queues etcetera. Anyway this year we just want to be somewhere warm, after all that cold, so we thought Mexico.’
During the course of their conversation, I had been holding the pages of the Daily Telegraph open on page twenty-seven, retreading an article that bristled at me not so much because of its content but with my annoyance reflected back at me from the page. I fulminated at the thought of the air-miles the two women had blithely clocked up over the past few years between them.
The tall Dr.O'Brien appeared in the doorway to relieve me of my fury.
‘Mrs Jean Robbins.’ he called, appearing to examine the sheet of paper he was holding out in front of him.
The first woman stuffed her Dove handkerchieves into her handbag and waddled to the door. After she was installed in Dr O’Brien’s room, the second woman with the thinning, magenta-coloured hair turned to me approvingly.
‘Isn’t it a small world?’ she remarked. ‘Would you believe that that lady and myself were both in Cuba last year, and then we both turn up at the same dental practice?
Unbelievable!’
A Never-Ending Battle
If anything it's they
who are occupying
our homeland that they have no business
being in.
I would say it's a rogue
state, except it's not really a state.
It's not anything.
It doesn't exist.
Population? What are you
talking about?
2.5 million did you say?
Yeah, but they don't really count.
Do you count ants, individually?
They need culling
If they live like animals in gangs
and herds,
they can't expect not
to be slaughtered -d'you get me?
And 2.5 million -
on one strip of land?
It's disgusting-they breed like rabbits-
and then they act like the world
owes them a living
What is everyone bellyaching about?
They're sitting on top of
the juiciest land;
the primest cuts,
they don't even appreciate it
my friend;
they've got some balls,
sucking the Fertile
Crescent dry,
It's Canaan's Land-
always has been
or didn't you ever read the Bible
you schmuck or are you just
a Philistine?
It's the Chosen Land they're
overrunning like
cockroaches.
Lieberman's right.
Best to drown 'em all
in the Red Sea-
all in one go.
The Land of Milk
and Honey-you read about
that in school, right my friend,
they're bleeding it dry
with their seven kids each
or is it eleven? Anyway, and
their pregnant womenfolk
ready to pop another one any minute
trailing behind them like
the servile dumbasses that they are,
and their ancient relatives
clinging on
like some kind of tribe?
And when you try to pop one he bobs up again
like a fairground shooting alley.
They don't have any pride,
these people, living in ramshackle stone huts
like so much human litter
degrading the place.
They're probably spreading diseases
with their filthy sewage overflowing and their
inbreeding. Right now, they're
probably spreading all kinds of shit
to our people.
You give them an inch
and they'll take a mile-
best to confiscate
the things they'll
just squander
best to wall them in
where we can
keep an eye on them.
Best to wall them out too.
in case they infect us with
God knows what- or we have to
hear their craven,
raving prayers and their wailing
banshee mumbo jumbo.
They'd kill you as soon
as look at you.
It's the kids you've
got to watch-like a hawk
They may have a stoopid flower in their
hand, and a smile on their stupid faces
but don't let that fool you- they're wild.
Loco. We've seen them used
as human shields
when we have to
batter down the doors
of their Goddam huts
to prise them out of their shells-
You know-just how low can you go buddy?
And you know what?
You can kick
down their flimsy tents
like a pack of cards -they'll all
go up again the very next day.
They're hard faced and thick-skinned
these people;
They're like Hydras, my friend;
you cut one head
off and ten more spring up-
Oi Vey, I tell you;
It's a never-ending battle.
Source: The Independent. 17.01. 2012
The paper reports that the Design Council has spent one year studying how to reduce aggression in A&E wards. Its guidelines, which are being piloted in University Hospital, Southampton, include the idea that staff should be able to dim the lights to calm down agitated persons. It suggests changes to the decor and seating designs, plus signage notifying people why others will be seen ahead of them.
Hospitals plan to
dim the lights at A&E-
you can guess the rest.
A&E welcomes
careful drinkers..or you'll end
up in A&E.
Hospitality
sweet at A&E: all mod
cons for all mod cons.
Get hammered, then dry
out in the comfort of our
Casualty lounge.
'In the interests of
fairness, people who kick off
will be seen to first'
The paper reports that the Design Council has spent one year studying how to reduce aggression in A&E wards. Its guidelines, which are being piloted in University Hospital, Southampton, include the idea that staff should be able to dim the lights to calm down agitated persons. It suggests changes to the decor and seating designs, plus signage notifying people why others will be seen ahead of them.
Hospitals plan to
dim the lights at A&E-
you can guess the rest.
A&E welcomes
careful drinkers..or you'll end
up in A&E.
Hospitality
sweet at A&E: all mod
cons for all mod cons.
Get hammered, then dry
out in the comfort of our
Casualty lounge.
'In the interests of
fairness, people who kick off
will be seen to first'
Monday, February 20, 2012
Writer's block. 16.04.2008
Source: BBC Radio 4
The Today programme, on Radio 4 discussed the phenomenon of writer's block with two fellow sufferers, one of whom was the former Poet Laureate, Andrew Motion.
Andrew's having a
hard time, sitting on his stool
waiting for motion.
The Today programme, on Radio 4 discussed the phenomenon of writer's block with two fellow sufferers, one of whom was the former Poet Laureate, Andrew Motion.
Andrew's having a
hard time, sitting on his stool
waiting for motion.
Caterpillar pupates 16.02.2012.
Source The Times:
Operatives at the Caterpillar locomotive factory in London, Ontario have decided tocall for a boycott of the plant's products after the firm demanded that they take a 50% wage cut.
Earlier this month, the company closed the Electro Motive Diesel plant and sacked 665 workmen. Caterpillar workboots are also being boycotted.
Caterpillar vehicles are regularly seen gouging out land and mowing down trees and shrubs for development or mining all over the world. This will not dent their rapacious dirty business. Their largest vehicles are used to raze and run over Palestinian land, olive trees, houses, sometimes people in the service of Israeli settlers, the Israeli Defence Force etc.,
Caterpillar crawls all over
workforce, makes tracks
to Indiana.
Caterpillar, when
not chewing up Palestine
pupates, devours plant.
Caterpillar stamps on
Mother Earth, tramps on, boots out
unhappy workers.
Operatives at the Caterpillar locomotive factory in London, Ontario have decided tocall for a boycott of the plant's products after the firm demanded that they take a 50% wage cut.
Earlier this month, the company closed the Electro Motive Diesel plant and sacked 665 workmen. Caterpillar workboots are also being boycotted.
Caterpillar vehicles are regularly seen gouging out land and mowing down trees and shrubs for development or mining all over the world. This will not dent their rapacious dirty business. Their largest vehicles are used to raze and run over Palestinian land, olive trees, houses, sometimes people in the service of Israeli settlers, the Israeli Defence Force etc.,
Caterpillar crawls all over
workforce, makes tracks
to Indiana.
Caterpillar, when
not chewing up Palestine
pupates, devours plant.
Caterpillar stamps on
Mother Earth, tramps on, boots out
unhappy workers.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Letter to the Wirral Globe about the sale of the Wilfred Owen memorial Fields. 07.02.2012.
Sir,
Wilfred Owen and the millions of others whose lives were taken in WW1 and 2 died in the filth of dispute. It matters therefore that their countrymen and families should be able to remember them in the places they were born and raised before being so cruelly cut down in no-man's land, in the dirt and squalor of war.
Mr Anson (letters 18.01. 2012) thinks we could or should just nip over to the Commomwealth War Graves sites if we wish to commemorate them. What he illustrates by default is that, unlike Tranmere Rovers FC and WBC, those originally responsible for placing and maintaining the Commonwealth War Graves would not have dreamed of turning over the turf and memory of the fallen dead to turn a penny. Nor should we.
Yours,
Louise Stothard
Wilfred Owen and the millions of others whose lives were taken in WW1 and 2 died in the filth of dispute. It matters therefore that their countrymen and families should be able to remember them in the places they were born and raised before being so cruelly cut down in no-man's land, in the dirt and squalor of war.
Mr Anson (letters 18.01. 2012) thinks we could or should just nip over to the Commomwealth War Graves sites if we wish to commemorate them. What he illustrates by default is that, unlike Tranmere Rovers FC and WBC, those originally responsible for placing and maintaining the Commonwealth War Graves would not have dreamed of turning over the turf and memory of the fallen dead to turn a penny. Nor should we.
Yours,
Louise Stothard
The Wisden of Geoffrey Boycott 08.02.2012
The Wisden of Geoffrey Boycott.
You can only get better by first admitting that you were not as good as you thought you were.
It's all very well for Jimmy Anderson to complain that the ball wasn't turnin' but if you can't make runs on flat bitches then you haven't a hope in hell of winning Test matches.
On the evidence here, England look a one-dimensional team who only bowl well on flat bitches or against zeam-bowlers when their batsmen can go'ard att the ball.
England have had a helluvalot of batsmen that were better than this lot. I should know. I was one of them, averaging 59 in any Test Match on the subcontinent.
In Sri Lanka next month, they may well get turning bitches but they may also be lucky and face flat batting tracks.
You see you cannot win Test matches unless you make runs. I've said it before. We didn't have a cat in hell's chance of winning.
I am convinced that Bell cannot pick Saeed Ajmal. Pieterson shows glimpses of lettin' the ball come to him, playing straighter, but just when you think he is getting better, he reverts to his old faults of lunging in front of 'is pad and playin' across the line.
The only way Morgan's gonna get any runs at Test level is to play his shots but I am still not con-vinced that he is the man for a crisis moment. You see, Cook and Strauss defended their stumps, let the ball come to them, just knocked it for one so that they rotated the strike.
I've said it before, matches are won by an accumulation of runs, not by grand gestures..they always go wrong in the end.
I'm a great believer in puttin' runs on the board. Then before you know it, you've got forty or fifty before the middle order even comes in. (OK I made that piece of Boycott Wisden up but you wouldn't have noticed, would you??).
You can only get better by first admitting that you were not as good as you thought you were.
It's all very well for Jimmy Anderson to complain that the ball wasn't turnin' but if you can't make runs on flat bitches then you haven't a hope in hell of winning Test matches.
On the evidence here, England look a one-dimensional team who only bowl well on flat bitches or against zeam-bowlers when their batsmen can go'ard att the ball.
England have had a helluvalot of batsmen that were better than this lot. I should know. I was one of them, averaging 59 in any Test Match on the subcontinent.
In Sri Lanka next month, they may well get turning bitches but they may also be lucky and face flat batting tracks.
You see you cannot win Test matches unless you make runs. I've said it before. We didn't have a cat in hell's chance of winning.
I am convinced that Bell cannot pick Saeed Ajmal. Pieterson shows glimpses of lettin' the ball come to him, playing straighter, but just when you think he is getting better, he reverts to his old faults of lunging in front of 'is pad and playin' across the line.
The only way Morgan's gonna get any runs at Test level is to play his shots but I am still not con-vinced that he is the man for a crisis moment. You see, Cook and Strauss defended their stumps, let the ball come to them, just knocked it for one so that they rotated the strike.
I've said it before, matches are won by an accumulation of runs, not by grand gestures..they always go wrong in the end.
I'm a great believer in puttin' runs on the board. Then before you know it, you've got forty or fifty before the middle order even comes in. (OK I made that piece of Boycott Wisden up but you wouldn't have noticed, would you??).
Gay bishops to be defrocked. 04.02.2012.
Source: The Independent 04.02.2012.
Church of England solicitors have drawn up a document detailing the circumstances in which a cleric would be legally banned from becoming a bishop.
The caveat in the legal note says that only those who had 'repented their physical gay past' could be considered for the bishopric.
It was nicknamed the 'The Jeffrey John clause' after the openly gay Dean of St.Alban's who was made to relinquish his 'Bishop of Reading' appointment in 2003.
It has been reported that the Right Reverend John had had enough of being passed over for promotion and has instructed a specialist employment law firm to begin proceedings against the Cof E.
Wierdly, Jeffrey Johns is the split of Elton John.
Colin Coward, director of the pro-gay lobby says 'The church is sick, it needs to be fixed right away'.
The word 'Bishopric'
may now have a rather less
reverential slant.
Clergy revered by
their partners are 'not fit' to
preach what they practise.
Defrocking-is that
just a euphemism for banning
gay clergy from office?
Elton lookalike
Jeffrey John is most like him
in both word and deed.
Unholy row means
that Dean of St Alban's can't
Carry On Preaching.
Church of England solicitors have drawn up a document detailing the circumstances in which a cleric would be legally banned from becoming a bishop.
The caveat in the legal note says that only those who had 'repented their physical gay past' could be considered for the bishopric.
It was nicknamed the 'The Jeffrey John clause' after the openly gay Dean of St.Alban's who was made to relinquish his 'Bishop of Reading' appointment in 2003.
It has been reported that the Right Reverend John had had enough of being passed over for promotion and has instructed a specialist employment law firm to begin proceedings against the Cof E.
Wierdly, Jeffrey Johns is the split of Elton John.
Colin Coward, director of the pro-gay lobby says 'The church is sick, it needs to be fixed right away'.
The word 'Bishopric'
may now have a rather less
reverential slant.
Clergy revered by
their partners are 'not fit' to
preach what they practise.
Defrocking-is that
just a euphemism for banning
gay clergy from office?
Elton lookalike
Jeffrey John is most like him
in both word and deed.
Unholy row means
that Dean of St Alban's can't
Carry On Preaching.
Duke's dog does duty 02.02.2012.
The Times, 02.02.2012. reports that the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall have a cocker spaniel puppy which is currently sharing their home in Anglesey. 'It will no doubt' the paper adds 'provide company for the duchess when William is on a 6 week tour of duty in the Falklands'.
The original dog, Otto was accused of swallowing the pearl earrings that he gave his then girlfriend for her 28th birthday.
Duke's dog does duty,
deposits dirt while duke does
dark, dastardly deeds.
Cocker spaniel cocks
leg while William cocks a snook
at Argentina.
Pearl earrings swallowed
by his dog. Was pearl necklace
swallowed by his girl?
Puppy provides Kate
with company, Anglesey
with loads of dog dirt.
The original dog, Otto was accused of swallowing the pearl earrings that he gave his then girlfriend for her 28th birthday.
Duke's dog does duty,
deposits dirt while duke does
dark, dastardly deeds.
Cocker spaniel cocks
leg while William cocks a snook
at Argentina.
Pearl earrings swallowed
by his dog. Was pearl necklace
swallowed by his girl?
Puppy provides Kate
with company, Anglesey
with loads of dog dirt.
Float like a butterfly. 05.0.2012.
I used to float like a butterfly,
sting like a bee
but that was many moths ago.
sting like a bee
but that was many moths ago.
Royal dog reverts to type 05.02.2012.
Source: The Daily Telegraph 2003.
Princess Anne became the first Royal to have a criminal record when her bull terrier, Dottie savaged two boys in Windsor Great Park last year. This year it was accused of mauling one of the queen's corgis at Sandringham. The corgi was put down. The dog was exonerated when it was discovered that the mauling was at the hands of the Princess Royal's other bull terrier.
Princess Anne's terrier
savaged boys but still gets
a Royal Pardon.
Princess Anne became the first Royal to have a criminal record when her bull terrier, Dottie savaged two boys in Windsor Great Park last year. This year it was accused of mauling one of the queen's corgis at Sandringham. The corgi was put down. The dog was exonerated when it was discovered that the mauling was at the hands of the Princess Royal's other bull terrier.
Princess Anne's terrier
savaged boys but still gets
a Royal Pardon.
Friday, January 27, 2012
HS2 due in 2030. 18.01.2012.
Source: Wirral Globe
Justine Greening, a Wirral MP has secured a commitment hat the go-ahead of the HS2 rail link 'will quickly benefit Merseyside' and that Phase 2 might be completed in 2032.
"I am looking at all the ways in which I can progress this project s fast as possible. At the moment, it looks as though the time frame is the fastest we can bring it to fruition."
Besides costing the country 32bn it will wipe out Britain's last woods and forests.. Now that's value for money!
Huge Snail Two on track
to wreak destruction of woods
for a half trillion.
Justine Greening, a Wirral MP has secured a commitment hat the go-ahead of the HS2 rail link 'will quickly benefit Merseyside' and that Phase 2 might be completed in 2032.
"I am looking at all the ways in which I can progress this project s fast as possible. At the moment, it looks as though the time frame is the fastest we can bring it to fruition."
Besides costing the country 32bn it will wipe out Britain's last woods and forests.. Now that's value for money!
Huge Snail Two on track
to wreak destruction of woods
for a half trillion.
Fergie may serve time 16.01.2012.
Source: The Independent
The Duchess of York may have to serve time in a Turkish jail, it is widely reported. For trying to 'expose' Turkey's 'child cruelty', she may be extradited there.
Fergie proves to be
a bit of a Turkey-and may
have to do bird there.
Turkish Delight as
Duchess biscuit (Ginger Nut)
is stirred in Porridge.
Duchess of York
to serve at her Majesty's Pleasure
in Ironbar Hotel
Fergie faces the
slammer for slamming Turkey's
Iron Pen children.
The Duchess of York may have to serve time in a Turkish jail, it is widely reported. For trying to 'expose' Turkey's 'child cruelty', she may be extradited there.
Fergie proves to be
a bit of a Turkey-and may
have to do bird there.
Turkish Delight as
Duchess biscuit (Ginger Nut)
is stirred in Porridge.
Duchess of York
to serve at her Majesty's Pleasure
in Ironbar Hotel
Fergie faces the
slammer for slamming Turkey's
Iron Pen children.
Artisans of death face cuts 16.01.2012.
Source: The Daily Telegraph.16.01.2012.
There are to be large cuts in defence staff. The RAF, the RN, Royal Paratroopers and the Brigade of Gurkhas will feel the effexcts as 30,000 jobs will go. A senior officer involved in the UK defence cuts said "Frankly, we have to take our share of pain."
Death by a thousand
cuts means that those who cut 'em
dead will be cut too.
There are to be large cuts in defence staff. The RAF, the RN, Royal Paratroopers and the Brigade of Gurkhas will feel the effexcts as 30,000 jobs will go. A senior officer involved in the UK defence cuts said "Frankly, we have to take our share of pain."
Death by a thousand
cuts means that those who cut 'em
dead will be cut too.
Gay clergy to be defrocked soon
Source: The Independent 16.01.2012.
Church of England solicitors have drawn up a document detailing the circumstances in which a cleric would be legally banned from becoming a bishop.
The caveat in the legal note says that only those who had 'repented their physical gay past' could be considered for the bishopric.
It was nicknamed the 'The Jeffrey John clause' after the openly gay Dean of St.Alban's who was made to relinquish his 'Bishop of Reading' appointment in 2003.
Colin Coward, director of the pro-gay lobby says 'The church is sick, it needs to be fixed right away'.
It has been reported that the Right Reverend John had had enough of being passed over for promotion and has instructed a specialist employment law firm to begin proceedings against the Cof E.
Wierdly, Jeffrey Johns is the split of Elton John.
The word Bishopric
may now have a rather less
reverential slant.
Clergy revered by
their partners are 'not fit' to
preach what they practise.
Defrocking-is that
just a euphemism for banning
gay clergy from office?
Elton lookalike
Jeffrey John is most like him
in both word and deed.
Unholy row means
that Dean of St Alban's can't
Carry On Preaching
Church of England solicitors have drawn up a document detailing the circumstances in which a cleric would be legally banned from becoming a bishop.
The caveat in the legal note says that only those who had 'repented their physical gay past' could be considered for the bishopric.
It was nicknamed the 'The Jeffrey John clause' after the openly gay Dean of St.Alban's who was made to relinquish his 'Bishop of Reading' appointment in 2003.
Colin Coward, director of the pro-gay lobby says 'The church is sick, it needs to be fixed right away'.
It has been reported that the Right Reverend John had had enough of being passed over for promotion and has instructed a specialist employment law firm to begin proceedings against the Cof E.
Wierdly, Jeffrey Johns is the split of Elton John.
The word Bishopric
may now have a rather less
reverential slant.
Clergy revered by
their partners are 'not fit' to
preach what they practise.
Defrocking-is that
just a euphemism for banning
gay clergy from office?
Elton lookalike
Jeffrey John is most like him
in both word and deed.
Unholy row means
that Dean of St Alban's can't
Carry On Preaching
Head count of Montrecristo rats. 16.01.2012.
Source: The Daily Telegraph. 16.01.2012.
The island of Montecristo, off the coast of Tuscany is home to thousands of black rats. Now the director of the National Park Authority, Franco Zenichelli wants to drop 26 tons of poisoned pellets on the island at the end of January.
So-called biologists say that the rats pose a grave threat to the island, an archipelago nature reserve, but that pales into insignificance besides this monstrous mass poisoning plan. The islands and all life on them will not only be killed off by the poison but also by the decomposing bodies of the poisoned rats, Air land and sea will be poisoned.
Island threat isn't
the black rats, it's the evil
rats who poison them.
One rather large black
rat who poisoned Italy
was Berlusconi.
The island of Montecristo, off the coast of Tuscany is home to thousands of black rats. Now the director of the National Park Authority, Franco Zenichelli wants to drop 26 tons of poisoned pellets on the island at the end of January.
So-called biologists say that the rats pose a grave threat to the island, an archipelago nature reserve, but that pales into insignificance besides this monstrous mass poisoning plan. The islands and all life on them will not only be killed off by the poison but also by the decomposing bodies of the poisoned rats, Air land and sea will be poisoned.
Island threat isn't
the black rats, it's the evil
rats who poison them.
One rather large black
rat who poisoned Italy
was Berlusconi.
Face FYLLer 16.01,2012.
Source: Telegraph 16.01.2012.
Due to hit UK stores this week, the 'Forever Youth Liberator' range by Yves Saint Laurent, which is owned by L'Oreal contains an active ingredient proclaimed 'world changing' by scientists. It has been developmed over the last 20 years.
Chris Griffiths, Professor of Dermatology at Manchester University said years would be needed to prove whether the product lived up to its claims.
At £50 per ounce (a 30gram pot) it doesn't come cheap.
Youth Liberator
sounds like a rebel vanguard
th O'Real-ly it's NOT.
Skin cream took yonks to
develop. By the time it's
proved, you won't need it.
Filler is really
old and dear. So will you be,
even if you use it.
The Egyptians are
Ancient but they knew a thing
or two about skin.
Ageing product skins
your purse, layers your skin
because you're worth it.
Due to hit UK stores this week, the 'Forever Youth Liberator' range by Yves Saint Laurent, which is owned by L'Oreal contains an active ingredient proclaimed 'world changing' by scientists. It has been developmed over the last 20 years.
Chris Griffiths, Professor of Dermatology at Manchester University said years would be needed to prove whether the product lived up to its claims.
At £50 per ounce (a 30gram pot) it doesn't come cheap.
Youth Liberator
sounds like a rebel vanguard
th O'Real-ly it's NOT.
Skin cream took yonks to
develop. By the time it's
proved, you won't need it.
Filler is really
old and dear. So will you be,
even if you use it.
The Egyptians are
Ancient but they knew a thing
or two about skin.
Ageing product skins
your purse, layers your skin
because you're worth it.
The Crane Fly 24.01.2012.
The Crane Fly.
Last night, you tiptoed
along the curtain rail.
Your cabriole and caper
swept you
into a dark corner.
Here, you reached
your final resting place.
There was no
crash landing
this time
away from the
dizzying heights,
the lights.
There was no more
ditzing or
trampolining.
Instead you put out
wavering sensors,
touched down
quietly,
cushioned by
your landing legs.
I left you there,
settling over your
undercarriage,
pleased to give you
respite after all your
uphill toiling.
I was a little afraid
of the dancer in you
as a child.
After all, you were
so much bigger
in those days.
Still, I never wished
you dead; I had rather
that you would float
free on scissor-legs, away
through the
window gap I always
left you for your
Great Escape.
Was I afraid you
would brush my cheek
in the dark?
Did I think you would
scare the living daylights
out of me?
Now, of course,
I realise that there
are much bigger
things to be
afraid of.
Now I realise that
you couldn't hurt a fly.
Last night, you tiptoed
along the curtain rail.
Your cabriole and caper
swept you
into a dark corner.
Here, you reached
your final resting place.
There was no
crash landing
this time
away from the
dizzying heights,
the lights.
There was no more
ditzing or
trampolining.
Instead you put out
wavering sensors,
touched down
quietly,
cushioned by
your landing legs.
I left you there,
settling over your
undercarriage,
pleased to give you
respite after all your
uphill toiling.
I was a little afraid
of the dancer in you
as a child.
After all, you were
so much bigger
in those days.
Still, I never wished
you dead; I had rather
that you would float
free on scissor-legs, away
through the
window gap I always
left you for your
Great Escape.
Was I afraid you
would brush my cheek
in the dark?
Did I think you would
scare the living daylights
out of me?
Now, of course,
I realise that there
are much bigger
things to be
afraid of.
Now I realise that
you couldn't hurt a fly.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Salmond swims upstream, 12.01.2012.
Source: The Daily Telegraph. 12.01.2012.
The Government may tackle Alex Salmond, First Minister and Leader of the SNP on his plans to hold a referendum on Independence from the Union, in 2014, ( the seventh centenary anniversary of the gruelling Battle of Bannockburn in 1314).
Feudal groups at that time were represented by English and Norman interests.
The Government representing England would like a trade off of referendum options. Salmond has been seeking a devo-max referendum option, in which all powers except defence and foreign policy are devolved. Westminster wants a straight yes or no to independence.
Salmond jumps upstream
to spawn a referendum,
Bannockburn in mind.
The Government may tackle Alex Salmond, First Minister and Leader of the SNP on his plans to hold a referendum on Independence from the Union, in 2014, ( the seventh centenary anniversary of the gruelling Battle of Bannockburn in 1314).
Feudal groups at that time were represented by English and Norman interests.
The Government representing England would like a trade off of referendum options. Salmond has been seeking a devo-max referendum option, in which all powers except defence and foreign policy are devolved. Westminster wants a straight yes or no to independence.
Salmond jumps upstream
to spawn a referendum,
Bannockburn in mind.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Polite tactics 09.01.2012
Source: The Times.09.01.2012.
Police are appealing to hardware stores to catch someone who has been sprinkling tacks on doorsteps, driveways, footpaths and roads in Axminster, Devon. PCSO Andy Trott said "we want to hear from anyone who has noticed tacks missing" We're also checking with hardware stores to see if someone has purchased a large quantity of tacks"
Police track pointed
tack attacks, practice tactful tactics
tackling thief.
Cops play tic-tac-toe
as Axminster's carpetted
by a little prick.
Bed-of-nails merchant
lays trail, trips up police, tricks
them with trail of tacks.
Carpet tack thief wipes
the floor with Axminster fuzz
and some sharp practice.
Police are appealing to hardware stores to catch someone who has been sprinkling tacks on doorsteps, driveways, footpaths and roads in Axminster, Devon. PCSO Andy Trott said "we want to hear from anyone who has noticed tacks missing" We're also checking with hardware stores to see if someone has purchased a large quantity of tacks"
Police track pointed
tack attacks, practice tactful tactics
tackling thief.
Cops play tic-tac-toe
as Axminster's carpetted
by a little prick.
Bed-of-nails merchant
lays trail, trips up police, tricks
them with trail of tacks.
Carpet tack thief wipes
the floor with Axminster fuzz
and some sharp practice.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Brick shithouses. 03.01.2012
Source: The Financial Times. 03.01.2012.
Encos, a Leeds University spin-out company has produced brick prototypes using sewage slurry from a treatment plant near Leeds, backed by Yorkshire Water. Says Jon Briggs "carbon negative bricks could avoid the need to deposit the ash generated by incinerating sewage in landfill sites".
Disposal of slurry from the sewage treatment plants is an environmental burden for Britain's water companies. Encos hopes to get its bricks on the market within two years if it receives funding of 10m for the commercial product and could provide up to 2% of the 1.1bn UK output of bricks.
We'll all be shitting
bricks when Yorkshire Water makes
our muck into brass.
By 'eck lass, tha' brick
shithouse is built like a brick
shithouse made of...shit!
Encos, a Leeds University spin-out company has produced brick prototypes using sewage slurry from a treatment plant near Leeds, backed by Yorkshire Water. Says Jon Briggs "carbon negative bricks could avoid the need to deposit the ash generated by incinerating sewage in landfill sites".
Disposal of slurry from the sewage treatment plants is an environmental burden for Britain's water companies. Encos hopes to get its bricks on the market within two years if it receives funding of 10m for the commercial product and could provide up to 2% of the 1.1bn UK output of bricks.
We'll all be shitting
bricks when Yorkshire Water makes
our muck into brass.
By 'eck lass, tha' brick
shithouse is built like a brick
shithouse made of...shit!
Eye-opening surgery 03.01.2012.
Source: Financial Times. 03.01.2012
1.3m surgical and non-surgical procedures were carried outin 2009, four times the figure in 2005. BAAPS (The British Association of Aeshetic Plastic Surgeons) recorded 38, 274 invasive procedures carried out in 2010.
David Poulton, a Conservative MP who sits on the the Select Health Committee said that a lot of 'fillers' are performed on the high street 'by people with no knowledge of anatomy at all'. 'The Government',he said 'needs to turn its eye to this'.
NHS picks up
tabs, baps,discarded pieces,
moobs, boobs says BAAPS.
Eye-opening stats on
eyebrow lifts raises eyebrows
of health Committee.
Government turns the
other cheek but not eye on
eyelid surgery
1.3m surgical and non-surgical procedures were carried outin 2009, four times the figure in 2005. BAAPS (The British Association of Aeshetic Plastic Surgeons) recorded 38, 274 invasive procedures carried out in 2010.
David Poulton, a Conservative MP who sits on the the Select Health Committee said that a lot of 'fillers' are performed on the high street 'by people with no knowledge of anatomy at all'. 'The Government',he said 'needs to turn its eye to this'.
NHS picks up
tabs, baps,discarded pieces,
moobs, boobs says BAAPS.
Eye-opening stats on
eyebrow lifts raises eyebrows
of health Committee.
Government turns the
other cheek but not eye on
eyelid surgery
Drones hover over us all 03.01.2012
Source: The Times. 03.01.2012.
Ben MacKintyre reports that the drone arms race is well under way. In "Look up-there's a drone watching over you" he tells us that, according to the UN, over 40 countries have purchased the technology. Drone strikes are illegal, morally dubious, cowardly and cheap, involving no casualties.
In Gaza, the drones of the Israeli Defence Force are known as Zenana.
Deadly weapons with
dozy names bely their more
sinister purpose.
Ben MacKintyre reports that the drone arms race is well under way. In "Look up-there's a drone watching over you" he tells us that, according to the UN, over 40 countries have purchased the technology. Drone strikes are illegal, morally dubious, cowardly and cheap, involving no casualties.
In Gaza, the drones of the Israeli Defence Force are known as Zenana.
Deadly weapons with
dozy names bely their more
sinister purpose.
A tale of two Sirs...a divorce is for Christmas 03.01.2011
Source Times: 03.01.2012.
The New Year and post-Christmas period traditionally sees a huge surge in the number of divorces and breakdowns.
Mindful of the statistics, Senior High Court Judge Sir Paul Coleridge is launching a campaign to halt the "appalling and costly impact of family breakdown". After sitting in court for over forty years, he has seen "hundreds and thousands of people traipsing through the divorce courts"
Sir Paul wants to halt what he calls a 'recycling attitude' to relationships in which people ditch partners rather than trying to make things work. "Mend it-don't end it" is his message.
He presided over first round divorce hearings between 'Sir' Paul McCartney and 'Lady' McCartney some time ago and may have presided over all his othr divorce cases.
There are approximately 3.8 m kids currently caught in the family justice system.
A divorce is for
life, not just for the dog days
after Christmas feuds.
A tale of Two Sirs;-
Divorce Court Judge and Rich
Pop Star Breakup Freak.
Recycle rubbish
not marriage, says Divorce Court
Judge quite tidily.
The New Year and post-Christmas period traditionally sees a huge surge in the number of divorces and breakdowns.
Mindful of the statistics, Senior High Court Judge Sir Paul Coleridge is launching a campaign to halt the "appalling and costly impact of family breakdown". After sitting in court for over forty years, he has seen "hundreds and thousands of people traipsing through the divorce courts"
Sir Paul wants to halt what he calls a 'recycling attitude' to relationships in which people ditch partners rather than trying to make things work. "Mend it-don't end it" is his message.
He presided over first round divorce hearings between 'Sir' Paul McCartney and 'Lady' McCartney some time ago and may have presided over all his othr divorce cases.
There are approximately 3.8 m kids currently caught in the family justice system.
A divorce is for
life, not just for the dog days
after Christmas feuds.
A tale of Two Sirs;-
Divorce Court Judge and Rich
Pop Star Breakup Freak.
Recycle rubbish
not marriage, says Divorce Court
Judge quite tidily.
Copper-bottomed crimes 03.01.2012.
Source: The Times 03.01.2012.
Hundreds of police officers and Community Support Officers remain in their posts, despite criminal convictions for offences including assault, robbery and the supply of drugs, it emerged yesterday. 944 in England and Wales have a conviction.
Scores of officers facing misconduct charges were being allowed to escape punishmnent by quitting.
Bent coppers supplied
bent copper. Rozzers were robbers.
Old filth were tainted.
Time-served coppers don't
do the time when they've done the
crime-they leave instead.
Hundreds of police officers and Community Support Officers remain in their posts, despite criminal convictions for offences including assault, robbery and the supply of drugs, it emerged yesterday. 944 in England and Wales have a conviction.
Scores of officers facing misconduct charges were being allowed to escape punishmnent by quitting.
Bent coppers supplied
bent copper. Rozzers were robbers.
Old filth were tainted.
Time-served coppers don't
do the time when they've done the
crime-they leave instead.
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