Cheap Red Knickers.

Rusty called from Lizard Bend. Idaho.

I said hello Rusty how is your Christmas?
He said Tristan it's good, Babs has taken the triplets to Montana and left me home alone. Home alone I can de-frost the fridge, clean the kitchen. do all the washing in the house, clear out the kids rooms, polish the floors and stuff like that.

I said Rusty that sounds like a great present for Babs.

He said No. All she ever wants is a pair of red knickers and an ill fitting bra from Anne Summers.

After all Christmas is just about cheap red knickers.

I said NO Rusty. Christmas is about demonstration of wealth. Buy her expensive red knickers.

Rusty said there ain't no expensive red knickers in Lizard Bend Idaho.

I said rusty buy a cheap pair and then make out you are giving them to someone else, suddenly they will increase in value.

Rusty said thanks.

I said you're welcome Rusty. Happy Christmas.

Trainspotting at night.

Beside my bed I keep a little book
in which I jot down the details of
those trains of thought which
travel nightly the subconscious network.
Occasionally it will be the midnight express
screaming through nightmare tunnels
(its headlight mimicking hope)
towards oblivion.
But more often it is a
benign milk train
with it's churned up cargo  of memories
stopping regularly
at the village halts that
line my past.

My nights spent
supine upon an embankment of pillow
counting wheels
marveling at their locomotion
but no longer curious
about their destination.

Cameron is a weak little man.

David Cameron is a weak little man. When a nation needs a great leader Cameron wont be there, Cameron will be hiding from responsibility because that is what cameron does best. David Cameron is a nasty little shit busy snorting cocaine and then wondering why he runs out of ideas. He has no ideas now because he never had any ideas in the first place. David Cameron will kill Britain.

Cameron declares dog shit 'edible' and the end to world hunger.

David Cameron has announced, after extensive studies by the health department, that dog shit is edible. He goes on to say that judging by the amount of shit in the world today the poor need not go hungry.

I am told that he has instructed his Whitehall minions to come up with what he wants titled: 'Cameron's shit cookbook" which will be given to all poor people in lieu of support or benefit. Cameron has stated that: 'Shit is universal, almost as universal as poverty. As soon as we can make rich folks shit edible the starvation crisis is over because us rich folk is full of shit and we will never run out of poor folk to eat it.

You heard it here first.

Wisdom from Le Peuple de l'herbe.

Jonathan Pandy writes: Written in 2002/2003 for Le Peuple de l'Herbe. Released in 2005. Respect to the people that made the video. The full lyrics are quite poignant, and rather sadly true now I think.

Church of England bans Star Wars trailer.

The producers of the new Star Wars movie say they are disappointed with the Church after it was announced that their trailer for the film would not be screened in churches during services.

A spokesperson for the C of E explained that: ' The films use of imaginary warring people in imaginary places did not fit the down to earth realism of the Christian ethos'.

The Westway Trust: Asset stripping spivs.

Well. It is a fine state of affairs:

Angela McConville and her team refused to turn up, as agreed, to a public meeting regarding their plans for the land they manage (land gifted to the community) on the grounds that she feared for their safety. Good grief.

The meeting was held at the Tabernacle; a venue close to the heart of the community which is professionally run as an Arts Centre/restaurant/bar and as such has ample security staff during large gatherings. McConville's fears were of course spurious. What she wanted to avoid was being asked to explain Westway Trust's cavalier attitude to the very people they claim to work on behalf of: the community.

Westway Trust, with the enthusiastic backing of Local Government, plan to further eviscerate our community in order to serve the needs of the upwardly mobile social immigrants, including criminal money launderers buying up property, who they see as a better bet in the future. In essence they want to turn a unique part of London, which frightens them, into something they can feel comfortable in (and feel very comfortably off).

RBKC and Westway Trust have a completely erroneous notion of what a community is, actually they have no idea what a community is. The one group of people who can define a community is the community itself and this is the one group of people that they are avoiding, it seems, at all costs.

The community is right not to trust the Westway Trust, they are a bunch of property developers and Asset Stripping spivs and the asset they are raping is the genuine community.

Rather than being concerned over her safety at the meeting it is more likely that McConville and her team simply cannot be arsed to consult the very people she claims to care about.

Why I will not be overlaying a French flag on my social media photographs.

I feel I am being beseeched to plant a tricolor on my photographs by the facebook sheepdogs who like nothing more than worrying their flock whilst chasing them hither and thither.

I'm still thinking about superimposing the North Vietnam flag on my box Brownie snaps from the 60's and 70's and then there is the Argentine flag from the Falklands gung-hoism. I should probably have overlaid the Iraq flag at some point and most certainly should be peering from behind a Palestine flag right now.... You see my dilema.

What this planet needs now is a symbol or banner (not the Christian dove nor a 6 armed elephant or the flag of the planet's 4th largest arms supplier) which unites mankind in turning his/her back on religions, isms and other methods of mass control.
Without freedom there can be no peace.

Avant Garde painting discovered beneath Dutch masterpiece.

Experts in Holland using X-ray have discovered a previously unknown Avant Garde painting beneath an equally as unknown masterpiece by the Artist Jan Nieupjur.

Black Square No. 1 Painted by 'Abstract Depressionist'  Nieupjur in 1915  was found to be concealing his earlier work White Square No. 12. Painted during the artists not so depressed period.

It was later discovered that an earlier work entitled: Primer No.7 lay beneath the white painting.

Terry Wogan pulls out of Children in Need after threats from Damian Hirst.

Terry Wogan  has announced that he is pulling out of Children in Need after threats were received from Damian Hirst over the use of his 'Spot' painting on Pudsy's bandage.

Hirst is reported to claim that: 'I fucking invented spots, how dare they use them to raise money for children in need. If you don't want needy children don't fucking fuck. Don't go nicking my ideas without adding to my millions.'

Unseen Bronte poem in full.

Jan Nieupjur writes...

A boozy night in Haworth led to a 'private glimpse' of the previously unknown Charlotte Bronte poem recently discovered. My photographic memory did not fail me, here it is in full:

Out on the wiley, windy moors
We'd roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy:
Too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.

Bad dreams in the night.
They told me I was going to lose the fight,
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering
Wuthering Heights.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Ooh, it gets dark! It gets lonely,
On the other side from you.
I pine a lot. I find the lot
Falls through without you.
I'm coming back, love.
Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream,
My only master.

Too long I roam in the night.
I'm coming back to his side, to put it right.
I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering,
Wuthering Heights,

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
You know it's me Cathy!

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!

Of course it is the Kate Bush classic.

Right to Buy. How it works.

1. You live in social housing in an upwardly mobile area of London with an Index linked rent of X pounds per Month.

2. You are gulled into buying your property at a slight discount in order that you may own your own castle and that the Housing Association/Local Authority has the funds to build new Social housing elsewhere in order to socially cleanse the upwardly mobile area in which you live. The repayments on the loan you take out to buy your property cost you 2X pounds per Month.

3. Interest rates rise as they inevitably do in our 'Boom & Bust' economy. Your repayments rise to 3X per Month.

4. When your repayments reach 4X per Month; an amount you can no longer afford. Either the Mortgage Company forecloses forcing a 'Fire-sale' or you sell hurriedly.

5. Your property is bought by an investment company which then lets it at a full market rate thus aiding the social cleansing process.

6. You 'downscale' by buying a smaller, cheaper property in a less affluent area or more likely move back into rented property elsewhere placing yourself back on the Local Authority housing list when you lose your job and health due to the stresses of home ownership.

7. You die in a homeless hostel in Wigan.

8. The investment company eventually sells its entire property portfolio of ex Social homes to the Chinese for billions thus ensuring that in future an Englishman's home will be someone else's pagoda.

Why I am grumpy.

I have COPD; chronic obstructional lung disease according to my doctor. But I don't. I have lost 50% of the oxygen producing cells in my lungs due to contracting a strange virus some years ago. I am now told that standard drug procedures for someone suffering from Emphysemia is the way to go, not because I have emphysemia but because it is the easy answer.

I've been grumpy for a while, I'm grumpy with myself for being grumpy. I'm beating myself up for being a grumpy old man.

For the past six weeks I have been unable to do anything other than try to breath and do nothing and while doing nothing I have been indulging in grumpyness. I promise you, living with me has been hell and I am the first to admit that I have considered hiring a hit man to take me out.

I saw a new GP today.

A new day a new dawn.  I had been prescribed steroids, knowing that steroids fuck up the immune system, without the essential antibiotics to protect a vulnerable body. Ergo: I have been getting every nasty little bug known to man so that my GP can remain happy in the fact that he is not over-prescribing expensive drugs.

My new GP diagnosed a long present lung infection and prescribed antibiotics as well as the steroids necessary for tissue growth.  If the drugs don't work I'm looking at a trip to hospital for intravenous antibiotics before the pneumonia kills me. All because a doctor didn't want to prescribe the right drugs at the right time. He was probably too busy thinking about his golfing holiday courtesaey of the drugs reps.

350,000 people die from respiratory diseases every year, a lot of them unnecessarily.  863,000 GP's go on drug company funded holidays in return for prescribing their wares... Unnecessarily.

That is why I am grumpy.

I'm so fucking grumpy that I am staying alive for the next 60 years to complain about it.