“The old emphasis upon superficial differences that separate peoples must give way to education for citizenship in the human community.”
Norman Cousins
A bit deep that one to start with but you might get my drift…read on…
The Road To Segregation
Plans to build a new muslim boys free school in the city attracted predictable support from Hapless Hinchcliffe, appeasing and clinging to the slender threads of her power.
Had she bothered to read the Casey Report last year she might have noted the odd reference to divided communities in much of Northern England. Schools such as the above are hardly likely to reverse this.
If they were such a good idea why not have free schools for gingers? Or spotty kids? Or even those who just like sport?
This is where sport is so much better at shaping society than hopeless wannabe politicians. A dressing room that may have an accountant, a car-mechanic and many more offers people far more chance to integrate, diversify and prosper.
A Guilty Pleasure?
Cutting the ground the other week in preparation for another summer of cricket, a teammate of mine confessed to a dark secret in the confines of the garage. He beckoned me forward.
Those lovely stripes around a ground do not appear like magical crop circles; they are crafted and woven into the field with love and skill like Granny’s knitted sweaters.
My teammate confessed he got rather excited at the opportunity to secretly weave different patterns – checks and stripes for instance – it was something that gave him immense pleasure he confessed with wide, moist eyes.
I left him alone with the mower purring gently in his ear as he cooled it like a racehorse. His name – now that’s a secret too.
Dear Herr Poetsch
I realise you are a busy man as CEO of VW, what with sorting out your little emission scandal and all, but I think you might be alarmed by events here in Bradford, a little English town miles from London.
Here in Bradford your VW Golf appears very popular, especially with our growing community of young retards, something Fraulein Hinchcliffe – our leader – keeps telling us we should be very proud of.
They especially like it’s ability to reach 0-60mph – sorry, I know you like kilometres but we really are leaving – in the time it takes for our local police to belt up, put the Big Mac and Diet Coke safely on the dashboard and strap on their running shoes.
It’s ability to disregard traffic lights is also well known and you apparently don’t need the four-wheel drive option to climb the odd pavement if you are in a rush.
However, I know you Germans are very clever so perhaps the boffins who spent all their time on dodgy software to tell us your cars were clean could help us?
Maybe you could invent some software that disables your popular runabout if it smells two local delicacies from these parts: cannabis and cocaine? Or maybe you could introduce an IQ test before the occupant was allowed to start the car?
And if the car senses it’s occupants attempting to emulate Lewis Hamilton surely your onboard computer could flash a friendly message up such as “slow down you knobhead!”
It might be helpful if this were in several native tongues.
Footnote – it is incredible and insulting to all of us who witness the appalling driving around our city that pompous London based judges, who most likely have never been here, may intervene on sentences – see this article.
So it was refreshing to also note a plea from the former chairman of the Bradford Bench, Mary Carroll who writes with rare common sense.
All of us suffer from these idiots, be it in increased insurance premiums or simply having to drive with eyes in the backs of our heads. And if you still don’t believe there is a problem take a look at the short video here.
Brassed Off
More “news” concerning a saga that now resembles Bradford’s long wait for the Broadway shopping centre to rise from the hole in the ground. Remember that took almost a decade and let’s hope this is not fake news.
Whilst it is hard not to be sceptical at the rate of progress here, the fact that the building is still standing is testimony to the efforts of those that have fought so hard to save it.
As for those who ignorantly urge the wrecking ball route, they offer no better options and never have. As I have written endlessly, a city the size of Bradford without any entertainments venue is a disgrace and a failure of it’s people. Compare and contrast Leeds…no don’t!
As final proof that we must ensure the Odeon survives Hapless’s pitiful reign, news this week that we cannot even host a brass band contest.
Rubbish
Our volunteer run cricket club received its annual trade waste bill from Bradford Council this week reflecting a 20% hike in the costs.
I rang the Council expecting little but I have to confess I got through to a lovely lady called Liz who at least offered options.
Vote Liz for Council Leader or at least put her in charge of trees!
Dennis Wood
Some very sad news of a former Villas character who made us all laugh and was a joy to play alongside. Dennis Wood – aka Dirty Den –
is in St James, Leeds (Lung Unit Floor 7, Gled Howe Wing) sadly diagnosed with lung cancer.
Our thoughts to Dennis and his family and if anyone can pass by they would be welcome. Dennis featured in our “golden age” playing in the Waddilove Cup finals of 1985 and 1986.
In the 1986 final, he shared a match-winning ninth wicket stand of 56 with another little tough nugget – John Brennan – as we teetered against rivals Denholme. We went on to win the cup comfortably.
Off the field we enjoyed many a night.
For those of you that can remember him I hope you enjoy this tribute from a few years ago.
Bat on, bowl on…for as long as you can…it’s later than you think.
One Hundred Years Ago
This week some recipes from wartime Britain including a cheese, rice and cabbage dish. Worth a try?
Blah, Blah, Blah
Here we go again with yet another seven weeks of the most odious bunch of characters in the land boring us shitless and promising Nirvana to those too stupid to even make their unassisted ways to a polling station.
Where I live, despite us being part of a G7 economy, it seems you don’t have to actually go to a polling station as your friendly local politicians can arrange for your votes to go “postal” – more next week.
The media love it too because they don’t actually have to do any real journalism; simply let streams of idiotic current and wannabe politicians near a microphone and you have instant bollocks.
Rumours of a comeback by Fatty Balls, now convinced the public love him because he dances like a twat, seem unfounded thankfully. These people have no shame but either way…
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