Now the election is all over the real argy-bargy has started and it seems there are some very unhappy ex-MPs, especially in Bradford East and Bradford West. Claims and counter-claims over the process are rife.
How strange that we have spent decades trying to spread the principles of democracy around the world and that here, in my home town, it might appear we have the politics of the clan ruling the roost.
Poor old George Galloway has been threatening litigation once again, despite most treating his various threats these days with ridicule. George is complaining that the same mob politics and power of the block vote that got him elected in the first place, have now booted him out.
As the song goes…nobody loves you when you’re down and out.
Over in Bradford East, I for one cannot believe that my new MP – having failed to win against George only three years previously on a far friendlier patch – used persuasive political argument to unseat the incumbent Lib Dem MP David Ward over this side of town.
The corrosive influence of postal votes undermines the whole process. Figures are not yet available for last week’s result but in 2010, some 11,437 votes were cast in this manner representing almost 28% of the turnout; why?
As the attached article suggests these are the politics of a banana republic. And are you seriously telling me, in a city not short of the odd taxi, that the average attendance at Valley Parade could not make it’s way to the polling booth?
As for the arguments I have read making the case for “community leaders” to influence voters en bloc that may be all well and good back in the mud huts but it is primitive bollocks here. In a progressive and free-thinking democracy it simply does not wash.
Perhaps we ought to emulate the mud hut approach and revert to having our fingers inked as we form an orderly queue. I smell a big, rotten rat here and, frankly, would rather have Roland Rat representing me in Parliament than the hopeless stooge I now have.
Big Society
St Mary’s Welcome is a soup kitchen and winter night shelter offering hot food, clothes and a sympathetic ear. Based in the hall of the former St. Mary’s Church, Bradford, last December a deluge of rain destroyed part of the roof.
Sadly the building was condemned and services stopped for four weeks. Having now been offered the former school buildings at St Patrick’s Church, this building requires some remedial work.
The Catholic Church have offered to pay for the removal of asbestos at £40,000 and St Mary’s have £6,000 which they believe will be enough to fit a kitchen and decorate. They need another £15,000 to pay for toilets and showers.
Like many such operations up and down this wealthy nation of ours, they deal with the homeless, the addicted, the poor and people with mental health problems. It’s an ever lengthening queue.
In true Brit style they are all volunteers and receive no funding from any source. The food is mostly donated and other costs are paid for from fund raising events; this time they need a bit more help than usual.
One of the regular volunteers was canvassing the similarly condemned regulars in The Scruffy the other night clearly spotting many future customers as she prodded us to support this noble cause and pursue some significant funding.
Aviva are doling out community grants but you have to vote for your favourite project; the good news is you don’t need a community leader to tell you which one to vote for.
Dead easy – I did it after all – so take a minute to provide a hot meal and a roof as me, Patch & Big Al will really appreciate it in a few years.
“Auntie” Christine
Tragic news from the gym with the retirement next year from front of house of Auntie Christine.
The old dear has been there longer than some of the kit – sorry Julie – and has a unique, unrivalled approach to customer service. Over the year’s I’ve had some wonderful greetings, the pick of many being.
“Did you wet the bed or get kicked out of it?” at my very few attempts at the early morning classes.
“If you stare at that young lass any longer you’ll burn through her kit!” which was a fair comment.
“You can’t sit there sponging coffee all day…can you?” a jealous reference to my somewhat early “retirement”.
Apparently, they are replacing the old battleaxe with “software”; this will be interesting given the average gym punter’s single digit IQ.
Personally I shall miss the old dragon and have promised to visit her weekly at the old folks home for her soothing and comforting words.
Dear Andrew
On my journeys across the playgrounds of local primary schools this summer there is much evidence as to why cricket has as many issues at the bottom as it does at the top. However, ponder over this one if you will.
At two different schools I have witnessed two kids of seemingly natural talent. Both seem to have natural hand-eye co-ordination, good hands and have been able to pick up basic skills almost effortlessly; one is a Bulgarian girl the other a Polish boy.
Coincidence or evidence that in certain parts of the world you need hands for something more than an X-box? By the way, both are impeccably behaved too which, in many cases, is also a contrast.
One Day In May
BT Sport’s One Day In May (available on Freeview) was a sensitive, if chilling, reminder of the horrific events thirty years ago. Amazing bravery, dignity and goodwill to other people in the face of a cruel tragedy.
Above all the human spirit came to the fore.
RIP the 56.
Leave a Reply