A howling gale, dark clouds emptying their contents relentlessly and my big nose streaming like the Niagara Falls. It looked very much like a weekend sweating under the duvet with Ms Lem-Sip and her soothing aromas.
Days like these almost inevitably lead to an exploration of the endless crap available on television in the hope of something to alleviate the feeling of woe is me; after all you are dying and that is official…nurse!
So, as an afternoon in The Scruffy had failed to provide the miracle cure promised by Dr Molly the previous day, it was Sofa Sunday and to hell with Cyber Weekend.
I’d tuned in to Ice Road Truckers but the tension was unbearable as heroine Lisa had broken down miles from anywhere. I simply could not watch on in case she was gobbled by a polar bear. Where was David Attenborough when you needed him?
I surfed the channels and came across possibly the ugliest bunch of people on the planet.
Storage Hunters UK is eye-popping stuff and a study in where care in the community all went wrong. Arthur Negus would be turning in his grave.
Basically, the idea is the old adage where there’s muck, there’s brass. The “contestants” bid on unseen goods unlocked from storage units often relying on a good old-fashioned punt.
As with most television it is fanciful at best suggesting there are untold riches for the brave…or foolish.
Open a can of rubbish and the losses are dismissed yet supposed gains seem to take little account of reality and taxes…two intertwined and inescapable forces…cue tears or whoops and on to the next one.
As an exercise in human behaviour it offers little hope for mankind; give me Del Boy any day. This is an ugly bunch of people one step short of being sectioned. God knows what they would do to each other if a unit was opened full of gold.
Watch one episode and you’ve seen them all but central to this is ugly, modern-day greed and it’s effect on very stupid people.
I decided I was not yet that stupid and the tension of not knowing if Lisa had survived won the day.
If all else failed there was always The Scruffy.
Wide One
Next season a rule change in the league where I play cricket – can’t mention it because I am too old to get into trouble (I know you read this Mr Assistant Assistant Hon Secretary) – will mean leg-side wides shall now apply in first-team league matches just like they do on the telly!
The hours of play have been extended to midnight and wives advised not to expect hubby until the wee small hours although this will be most likely due to umpire and not alcohol abuse.
Umpires are to be provided with chairs, regular doses of amphetamines to prevent dosing and a torch.
There are no exemptions for fat old trundlers who have existed for decades in league cricket by slipping the odd one down the legs to preserve bowling figures.
Said Old Ted Trundler – allegedly and also using his alias so as not to suffer the wrath of t’Management Committee – “that’s me fooked then. May as well go umpire, at least I could afford a new car then!”
Doubtless this will lead to a new rule change for 2017 demanding all clubs have floodlights; what will they come up with next?
Total Gridlock Man!
No surprise the recent announcement from the Cock-Up Council that the so called miracle cure for Greengates junction in these parts won’t actually take place until well after they have built all the houses that will further extend the existing traffic jam all the way from Leeds to Shipley.
That is, of course, if the builders can actually get through the queues to build the houses.
The diggers are ploughing merrily into local fields as hundreds of new houses rise from the ground. Predictably, Persimmon’s cheque book won the day at nearby Cote Farm to create 220 more boxes and flatten several more green fields.
Years of public protests over-ruled by a distant Government inspector and watched meekly by a flip-flop Council.
Rumours that Council leader Green is planning aerial transport to view his subjects a la David Cameron have been scotched by the Denial Department. A hot air balloon had been suggested fuelled from the man himself.
This is a recipe for total chaos allowed by the ineptitude of a hopeless council.
Across the border, more news from Good News Leeds with plans for a new rail station ready for HS2 sometime around 2030 by which time most of us will have reverted to horse drawn carriages in Bradford.
Assuming HS2 ever does happen what odds would you get on it reaching Leeds before the Cock Up Council sorts out a local road junction?
The bungling is staggering; it is policy from the Arse About Face manual and sadly also represents how hopeless local people are given the might of the developers’ cheque books and the ineptitude of amateur politicians.
Why have councillors at all if they are so bloody ineffective?
Finally, as for a prize comment re taxpayer value in the latest article it struck me that Cllr Slater – Deputy Leader And Housing, Planning & Transport – may not have the hearts and minds of voters entirely with her.
“While we need to progress, we have got to bear in mind value for money, because it is taxpayers’ money.”
As are you dear and perhaps far from a good use of it – see attached Gravy Train document.
Thank You
Movember is over and a big thank you to all those that coughed up again raising – to date – just over two hundred quid.
My page is still open so if you are minded to tip in to a great cause then feel free.
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