“Be Fearful When Others Are Greedy and Greedy When Others Are Fearful”
Warren Buffett
“It’s a closing down sale” said Big Al tempting me to ignore the trustworthy Mr Johnson’s sombre advice, merely twenty-four hours previously. “Consider it Christmas Eve…early in…early out!”
I knew he was talking bollocks but I was hooked like a lame old fish, downstream all the way and we all know how this ends.
Unable to cope with home working, even after thirty years practice, I duly took my stool at 5pm. In he hobbled on his one good leg with stunning news. HMRC had finally given in; after 45 years, he was “working” from home. A single figure golf handicap was in sight.
The old place was rammed; if Boris wanted a “leveling up” of the North, instilling panic buying into the pub sector might not have been what he intended. The Guvnor, aged 93, approached me despite my suggestion that he should be locked away somewhere safe.
“How can you lock me away when you write that shite magazine?”
Fortunately, heir to his throne – Red Bricks – timed his arrival from selling penthouses in Hapless Valley with perfection. By now the usual misfits had started to congregate, Boris having more hope of stopping the oceans.
I ventured to the Gents to find more advice at the sink. The twenty-second hand wash was not likely to catch on here, the water hotter than a boiling kettle. I sang Happy Birthday very quickly.
With skin roasting, I read the guidelines insisting I also wipe the tap with fresh tissue; how I escaped the two doors on the way out remained a mystery but needs must and Big Al had had a good life.
Old Smouldering was aghast, never having worked as hard as this since The Blitz, her usual toss-it-off-Tuesday smashed to smithereens by the constant flood of death defying local drunks seeking beer as the antidote.
By now Five Pints, still battling with the conflicting interests of home working and alcoholism, had joined us had Fat Lad, Magic Joe, Happy Days and Three Jags Pete; perhaps Magic Joe find find a cure?
And on they kept pouring in: Malcolm X in trademark leathers, Tony Two Dogs and Mr Dead! It was like being aboard The Titanic although the band had yet to strike a note.
Our Jackie arrived for the evening shift, mortified at the punters queuing at the bar. There would be no sleeping in the corner tonight; it was time to go.
Could the speakeasys of the Depression years re-emerge? Or would we just find the back door as we did all those years ago? Life, as ever, would go on and old Billy would no doubt be grinning from on high.
The Persistence Of Ineptitude
In 2012, Bradford, Leeds and Wakefield all voted to decline the opportunity to have a Mayor with the “No” votes ranging from 63% to 55% on turnouts from 28% to 33% – source Wikipedia. A conclusive verdict from an apathetic electorate.
Now it appears we are going to get a West Yorkshire Mayor in 2021 – to include Calderdale and Kirklees – whether we like it or not; good old democracy. The Chancellor has offered just over £1bn spread over thirty years for the new mayor.
As the Yorkshire Post wrote: The new mayor will have control of adult education, given new decision-making powers and access to a new West Yorkshire/ Investment Fund worth a guaranteed £1.1bn over the next 30 years…they can raise the profile of the region and its investment opportunities…in the way the likes of Andy Burnham and Andy Street have done in Greater Manchester and the West Midlands respectively.
There will be many as seeing this as just another layer of politics. And, whilst the local Labour councillors cosily gathered for a photo call with their new sugar daddy, the Tory Chancellor, consider this.
The estimated cost of Crossrail will be around £20bn, spread over approximately 12 years. Compare the pot for West Yorkshire’s new mayor?
And what will be the quality of candidate lining up here compared to Burnham, previously a rising star of the Labour Party, and Street who was head of John Lewis? One can only shudder at whose eyes are on this prize.
Knock It Down And They Shall Come?
The Chancellor also bunged Bradford some cash and almost immediately, plans were announced to knock down the Hall Ings car park in the centre.
With impeccable timing this should coincide with the opening of the revamped Odeon, which will add to the very short list of reasons to visit Bradford centre, so long as you can park. More joined up thinking from Comical’s Ministry of Degeneration.
Still, we are going to get yet more cycle lanes for the City’s population of ghosts to be counted in their millions as they dodge the Audis and Golfs.
And plans also to grass over Market Street without one iota of thought as to how the existing businesses will be accessible.
Footnote
You may be at odds with The Scruffy tale above, perhaps considering it a little reckless. Indeed, a week has proven a long time in what we are now being told as regards social distancing.
But consider this? The Establishment wants us to believe their every word, to trust in them as never before. The problem is that our trust has been abused for far too long; people simply do not have faith in our leaders anymore.
What should come out of this whole mess is a complete rethink of our attitudes towards human decency. Or is that wishful thinking?
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