I confess to having given up sending Christmas cards years ago for a variety of reasons, although few of them were altruistic in truth. Bah humbug?
However, spare a thought for the people of Cumbria who will have much more on their minds than cheap cards from China.
So if you cannot be bothered writing a card to the neighbour you barely know and who you’ve not spoken to all year, why not send the money here?
Just a thought.
Mean Streets
There are some parts of our city where it appears probably best to avoid given the escalating incidence of car crashes. In fact it could be a sound business move to set up an F1 circuit complete with a breakers yard slap bang in the midst.
The carnage is on a daily basis and it is hard to imagine how these halfwits secured a driving licence, always assuming that they actually have one. Who on Earth would insure them begs another question?
Even the normally oblivious local bugle has started a campaign to highlight the seriousness of the issues. The campaign represents quite a shift for the T&A, so used to occupying the ground known as “sat on the fence”.
Most of you will have experienced some of the lunacy on our roads and it is apparent from comments on social media that this is not simply a Bradford problem; so let’s not blame ourselves for what appears to be a national malaise.
On my way home the other night I came across one of the morons as he scooted towards the changing traffic lights with every suggestion that he – for it inevitably always is – was either colour blind or was unaware what a car’s braking system was for.
Making the sharp left turn – just – he then accelerated on before soon grinding to a halt behind an AA van, the driver of which was clearly aware of the moron on his tail.
At regular intervals he sought to pass the AA man despite a variety of pedestrian islands and oncoming traffic. For half a mile at least the AA man skilfully slowed him down, ensuring the safety of other drivers.
Soon he was off at what must have been 50-60mph only for me to catch him up at the next roadworks, barely a mile down the road. Several heads were bobbing up and down in the car like meerkats on acid.
Perhaps hopefully, I decided I would try to call the Police as it was evident the idiots were not out for the weekly shop.
I was put through to a menu, not unlike the one Sky Tv offer with the advice “if a crime is happening now or there is a danger to life please ring 999”.
I hung on and was advised they were “experiencing a high level of callers”; was I sure I was not ringing Sky? Maybe I could order a movie?
In the end I gave up as the morons flew off, hopefully to hit a lamp-post full-on, necessitating no resources from the NHS.
This is not a swipe at the police as they are clearly doing what they can with very limited resources. You cannot catch every criminal no matter how desirable an aspiration.
However, what we are witnessing is a collapse in respect and, more crucially, a fear of the law. This is the result of decades of weak policy towards halfwits who are too stupid to believe that the law has any purpose.
That they endanger innocent citizens is bad enough as is the reality that we all pay with higher insurance premiums.
Equally, the growing perception that elements of society are “untouchable” and governed by an as yet unpublished different set of laws is to the detriment of all decent people.
As cars have advanced with technology it seems a section of society have actually regressed; vorsprung durch technik this certainly is not.
As I got back home our MPs were still debating on spending millions playing war games in the Middle East bombing innocents. Back home it appears we have a bit to do to make our own streets safer for our innocents.
FOOTNOTE
Take a look for yourself at some of the madness out there.
The obvious solution is pure common sense; confiscate the machines, use the proceeds to do some good and start doling out very long driving bans. The time to stop pussy-footing around is well past.
The Mystery Of The Washing Machine
Patch was sombre the other evening having had an altercation with the washing machine, the plug in one not the excitable Mrs P.
He’d recently treated himself to a Hugo Boss sweater and, after a few wears, had casually tossed it in the basket marked Get This Washed Luv.
Unfortunately the fragile piece required a hand job, something Patch confessed he had not seen on the menu for several years. To his horror, he discovered that the original Rotund size had been reduced to Posh Spice; Oxfam here we come.
It reminded me of another incident that suggests we men should take more responsibility for our delicates.
Having purchased two expensive woollen cricket sweaters several years ago – before the current trend towards pyjama tops – I had been careful to wash these as instructed, caressing them in warm, soapy suds and drying them lovingly.
Nevertheless, I must have rubbed too hard and they had started to resemble a forerunner to the Onesie. My neighbour – she shall be named Mrs B as litigation continues – offered a solution, one in my desperation, I meekly accepted.
As my washing machine had been bought after several beers in The Scruffy (for twice the price of a new one despite being somewhat vintage) it only had option “F” that appeared to work. Good enough for most men you would think?
The Accused possessed one of those washing machines that resembles a fruit machine at Blackpool, all twinkling lights, any number of options and guaranteed to double a house’s carbon footprint.
“Leave them with me” she said “I’ll warm them up and they’ll be like new!” as I handed over my sack of goods.
A few nights later there was a knock at the door; I opened my back door to find nobody there but on the step was a black bin-liner. I brought it inside, though I could hear wild laughter from next door.
Cautiously I opened the sack, burrowed away and retrieved only two badges – the remnants of my sweaters – the only part of them not completely destroyed. It was like a bag of woolly snow and was as if they had been put through a threshing machine.
The moral here surely is that a hand job is best done manually.
Down Memory Lane
A wonderful old picture from the Idle Folk Community Facebook page showing our beloved Scruffy from another age.
You can just spot a young Big Al wandering down to the bookies.
Have a good weekend all.
Cath wilson says
Based on my current teaching experience it’s a sad fact that too many children lack respect! They also have no fear of authority and in
My mind these two factors can only mean a demise in general behaviour.
Steve says
The plus point Cath is that most are so unhealthy the chances of being mugged in old age are slim!