Musings From The Padded Cell

Saving Daisy and Ernie.

Ernie - the fastest milkman in the West

Ernie – the fastest milkman in the West

Whilst none of us are shedding a tear for oil barons as the price of oil plummets – unless you support Man City – spare a thought for the dairy farmers who face a very uncertain future as milk prices also collapse.

Whilst Sheikh Dodgy has been shafting us for decades, the same cannot be said for Farmer Giles and Daisy. Caught between a world over-supply (in part created by politics) and a supermarket price war, the face of the countryside could change beyond recognition.

But this is so easy to solve with a bit of good old people power; how? Buy your milk from a milkman for the sake of a few extra pence. It’s fresher, tastes great and you will be keeping a part of life embedded in us for centuries alive.

As an impoverished student I spent a summer helping a mate who had a milk-round and it was an eye-opener, not least in what you saw going on in the wee small hours.

Pure mythology!

Pure mythology!

One morning we headed up a main road only to see an elderly woman walking the other way right down the middle of the road in her nightie; squeezed safely in between us, we took her back to the local nut house with a free pint of gold top to help her sleep.

Mornings were freezing – even in Spring / Summer – so you charged up driveways just to dump the cold bottles as fast as you could and get back to the cab. Once back inside it was hard not to emit a comforting fart or two as gold top tended to promote this.

Our darkest hour though was completing the round after a cup victory at cricket, several pints worse for wear and not gold top. We went straight from the pub to collect 80 gallons; drunk in charge of a milk crate would have been hard to explain to my mum.

Milkmen are a part of our lives so sod the supermarkets, they will survive come what may; Daisy may not!

Money, Money, Money

We live increasingly in a world of haves and have-nots, of gated communities next to ghettos, of extreme poverty and unbelievable riches. Some enjoy rights that are completely denied to others. Relative inequalities are exploding and the world’s poorest, despite all the advances of globalisation, may even be getting poorer. Noreena Hertz

They say it makes the world go around but it could also make parts of it go tits up if current trends are not addressed. BBC2’s The Super Rich And Us was a fascinating demolition of the myth that the super rich are good for us all.

Decades of being told that the rich create trickle down economics was blown away. Since the global crash, whilst the majority of people have struggled to make ends meet, the super rich in Britain have simply got richer and by some margin.

Nowhere more is this in evidence than in London which is rapidly being turned into a playground for the Chinese and Russians; no other country can flog itself as shamelessly as an old whore fallen on hard times than Lady Britannia.

The programme stated that some 70% of new build properties in central London were being acquired by foreign buyers and not necessarily to live in. UK property is clearly seen as a safe haven for dodgy billionaires desperate to stash some cash.

Whilst we claim to be the defender of civil liberties and social equalities around the globe, Dave, Boris and their chums have no problem turning a blind eye to the wholesale acquisition of London by our new “friends”.


Successive governments since Maggie’s in the late 1970s have allowed the super rich a regime of super soft tax laws so don’t expect cuddly Ed to be clobbering the rich if he gets the keys to No 10 in May.

The super rich are simply too nimble to be caught with their pants down by politicians. He may as well propose a Burger Tax as the ridiculous Mansion Tax.

However, there are those amongst the super rich that clearly have come around to the understanding that a civil and ordered society – which they all enjoy along with us – cannot prosper when the inequalities of life are so stark.

As one explained, if he earns 1,000 times more than Average Joe, he does not necessarily buy 1,000 houses and cars etcetera to compensate and create trickle down. Most of his super wealth creates little but interest in a bank.

Where ordinary people feel the real effects of the super rich is the property market. My first house, purchased twenty five years ago, cost around twice my salary but today the ratio could be anywhere from six times upwards; we are failing generations.

As the super rich inflate the top end of the market, this is where trickle down economics comes into play – and it’s benefiting nobody. How long before ordinary people realise they are being quietly shafted by the one section of society that has access to abundant and cheap capital?

But spare a thought for the super rich because nobody really likes them do they?

The only “mates” they have are those who tag along for the freebies; imagine going through life without anybody ever buying you a pint? And the super-yacht is hardly a comfort when most people on it would like you to simply fall overboard.

They are also amongst the dumbest people on the planet; how else can you explain paying vast fortunes for glorified tower blocks in the centre of London or millions for diamonds they are too scared to wear?

Of course they can buy countless Ferraris but you can only drive one car and it will still only go at 5mph in central London whilst people walk by quicker with that look that says you are a complete twat.

Most of these people live soulless lives dominated by the fear of losing what they think actually defines them – wealth – surrounded by people only attracted to them by wealth.

Personally, give me The Scruffy and a beer with my scruffy mates anytime.

Money, Money, Money…more.

Developers are at it again with yet more ridiculous plans for houses in one of the most gridlocked parts of Bradford where soon only a helicopter will get you from A to B.

In addition to 80 new homes on the brownfield site of the former Stylo shoe warehouse – understandable – now we have an application for 130 on adjacent green fields used for grazing in addition to plans for more than 600 homes on nearby sites too.

It is utter madness, as is the statement submitted with the application which says: “Bradford’s identified shortfall in housing supply will be assisted by the delivery of this development.”


The fourway junction at Greengates is stuffed at peak times now so what impact another 210 houses roadside and spilling directly onto this? It will be like queuing to exit a football match for those convinced to buy.

The developers offer bungs to the halfwits on the Council claiming improvements to the junction but short of a tunnel there is nothing you could do. Approval of this idiocy would shame our clueless Council.

Why Middle Aged Men Go To The Gym

RC Dunn - just the kind of odd character that you meet in a gym

RC Dunn – just the kind of odd character that you meet in a gym

Monday nights at the gym are hard enough after a weekend on the brown sauce but starting the week with a lung busting spin class tests the old ticker to the limit.

For those of you who have never tried this, spin is basically cycling like a madman (or woman at least for those that do actually pedal once the iPhone has been turned off) on a static bike, usually to music akin to audio water boarding.

As a New Year treat and presumably because he has got nothing better to do, our teacher – Richard – has increased the class from 45 minutes to an hour. As the final 15 minutes approaches, most of us are in need of some form of sustenance or, at the very least, distraction.

Back in the changing rooms this week I confessed to my fellow spinners that my mind had started to wander, in particular in the direction of two pretty young tanned (£3 token for ten minutes) fillies working out on one of the weights machines.


The slim blond one was assisting her curvy brunette friend, gently easing the bar behind her toned shoulders as sweat dripped slowly down the nape of her neck and onward…(Stop! Ed)

“To be honest Andy, I only got through that last 15 minutes watching those two girls” I confessed “though I’m not sure I could have steadied the bar for her mate as my hands would have been shaking like a junkie!”

“You would have been allright” said Andy “because I was holding it too!”

“No way” said Brian, equally dishevelled after the monumental effort “you can’t have been there because I never saw you when I was mopping her brow!”

Sad old boys?

Benefits – Too Fat To Work

Modern Britain

Modern Britain

Watch this I was implored, my friend convinced there would be a humorous slant here. So I did and have to confess to being utterly dismayed that, in these supposedly austere times, the state financially supports idiots like these people.

Forget the sympathy ticket, people have choices and adults personal responsibilities. In one clip, they had gone to a state funded weight loss clinic to be congratulated on losing probably less than they had shat the same morning.

To “celebrate” they ordered take-away kebabs – paid for by you & I – and guzzled these in their state funded flat.

Britian's newest export...useless fat spongers

Britian’s newest export…useless fat spongers

We treat old people like dirt in this country and yet fund parasites like these two, costing us over £2k a month according to the programme makers. It defies belief that a 31 year old man with no disabilities should have his arse wiped by the state.

If you really want to cut the deficit here’s a good place to start.

Personal Grooming Corner

Total Being

As the purse strings tighten in January, ladies don’t let those little spider’s legs run riot!

The Final Frontier

Violated forever!

Violated forever!

We all knew that our annual treat was getting smaller, shrivelling up each year like our ageing nether regions, both offering less and less comfort in our dotage.

However, those smarmy twats that we have such a “special relationship” with – the Yanks – have committed an outrage far beyond a bit of corporate down-sizing.

According to an article in the Guardian “no longer shall the egg shell be made from delicious Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate.”

How many more civil liberties will we see eroded?

“It’s no longer Dairy Milk. It is similar, but not exactly Dairy Milk,” said a spokesman for Cadbury.

The spokesman said the new chocolate had been tested on “consumers” – industry shorthand for “idiots”, clearly – and had been “found to be the best one for Creme Egg”.

There is nothing left to do…I call on you to march on Parliament to condemn this outrage.

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  1. Release a pitbull in the fatties room on a daily basis that will get them moving, proving they are not as disabled as they think they are. If they get a chunk bit out of them, weight loss, win win. Tally Ho

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