It’s been a while and my apologies to regular followers of the low-lifes and miscreants that populate the wonderful world of The Scruffy.
It was my first Thursday night for months without junior cricket and predictably the lure of The Scruffy proved as irresistible as Our Jackie’s bingo wings flapping around the Tetley’s pump.
“Good evening Stephen” she bawled in those husky Capstan Full Strength tones “and what will it be tonight?”
My God was this a new Our Jackie? Did she not remember my tipple of choice?
Alone as I was – Big Al had had a “procedure” and was sat at home on a very large rubber ring – I settled into my corner as far away as possible from the inmates gathered in ‘Nob ‘Ed Korna.
Our Jackie was regaling the gathered flock with tales of a new business venture; she was going to open a hairdressers and call it “Blow & Go”.
“That’s a lot to swallow” offered one wag fresh into the Debating Chamber.
Rumours abounded that the Thackley Trumpit was losing it’s circulation battle with the Bradford Telegraph & Argus and was considering including a Reader’s Wives section as a last desperate strike.
Our Jackie mused on the possibility of being Miss September. Slung out over a chaise longue, a beer towel or two draped over her seductively, electric fag creating a dusky hue, pint of Carling in hand; the inmates slavered at the thought.
Somehow I thought it wrong Our Jackie had missed out on David Cameron’s “Honours” list.
‘Nob ‘Ed Korna had reached the critical debate of the day; who did it for you in a time gone by?
Several admitted a secret passion for Corrie stalwart Helen Worth. Bags of crisps were clenched as passions rose, beers were refilled and other contenders were offered to the crowd.
A smartly dressed old gent silently slid in and took a place at the bar, ordering a half, taking in much changed surroundings and listening casually to the banter.
“I first came in here when I was twenty” he said to Our Jackie amidst the grunts and groans from the inmates over the merits of Helen Mirren, Sally James (Tiswas) and Felicity Kendal “and I’m seventy-seven now. Good to see nothing’s changed!”
Generation Rent
When our idiotic Council voted to concrete North Bradford, waiving through numerous sizeable housing developments in return for wads of developers’ cash, none of us seeking a reasoned debate expected anything other than chaos.
Generation Rent made the headlines too last week as – surprise, surprise – we are not building enough of the houses that those most in need can actually afford. In truth, it has been generations since we have.
The current Government promise 1m new homes by 2020 which is quite patently bollocks; the developers have got Government and local councils by the self-same bollocks and will build what and largely where they like.
Executive directors of the large developers are paid by results and nobody gets rich building affordable homes. So we get £400k+ boxes in a city with one of the lowest average incomes of any major city in the UK.
Meanwhile, the grotesque Simpson Green concrete jungle continues with little regard for local people. And, as a foretaste of what is to come, the swing bridge across the canal has been closed for several weeks causing predictable gridlock.
Believe it or not but the long-term aim is to close the bridge permanently which is mindless in anybody’s language. Having suffered the carnage only today nobody in their right mind would argue that closing this bridge is a good idea.
Still all is well elsewhere if you rely on pedal power. I passed up and down the newly opened Leeds-Bradford cycle highway – costing £29m – and noticed over two days…three cyclists! Well done the local brains trust once again.
Premier Con
Here we go again with the most over-rated circus in the world the Premier League. This summer the obscene excesses have reached new levels although England still flat-line marked as “shit”.
Here are some numbers courtesy of the Daily Mail – yes it’s the time of year to sit around the gym scanning the papers – relating the the inflating of this non-event.
In 2006 Sky and Setanta (remember them?) paid a combined £1.7bn to screen 148 live games. In 2015 that cost had soared to £5.2bn paid to screen 178 games.
Small wonder few normal people have any time for this unchecked greed.
Have a great weekend.
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