...I`m not sure you`re going to like this...

But here goes anyway.   Now, of course, like everyone else I have been appalled by the tragic and horrific events that have taken place at Grenfell Tower in London.  It`s impossible, for those of us not directly involved, to imagine the harrowing experiences of the occupants, their neighbours, families and friends and I have nothing but the most profound sympathy for all those affected.

But the images on television, the accounts on the radio and the reports in the print media have perhaps made it more evident that in this so called United Kingdom, there are at least two quite separate countries - one is called London and the other is called the rest - although I suspect that there are yet more separate countries in the big conurbations up and down the rest of the country.  I feel a bit uncomfortable at this confirmed realisation.

Next, I notice that today`s anniversary of the murder of MP Jo Cox is to be marked by an event over this coming weekend called The Great Get Together.   It must have passed me by in my Dibley-esque Kentish enclave but apparently the event will involve `thousands of street parties and baking competitions` all over the country to `celebrate the life of Jo Cox.`

Now I`m sure I`m missing the point and, once again of course, I have the deepest sympathy for Jo Cox`s family and friends over her tragic and brutal killing.   But - yes, there is always a but with me - whilst I fully understand the need and desire for her family to mark the anniversary I wonder how the friends and families of all those others who have been murdered in what now seems an almost daily occurrence feel.  I suspect they are mourning and `celebrating` the lives of their own loved ones in their own way, perhaps with the private sincerity that befits both them and the occasion.   We seem to be prone to straying into the realms of celebrity mourning?  If so, I`m not sure it`s very appealing.

And lastly, the BBC.  Now being an elderly curmudgeon I don`t have to pay the compulsory licence fee, but if I did I might just be a tad miffed at their obviously biased coverage given not only to the tower block tragedy but also to so many of the other major issues of the day.  It`s time the BBC remembered the words of Johnny Mercer in accentuating the positive, eliminating the negative, latching on to the alternative and most certainly not messing with mister in between.

So there we are - a few things off my chest before I`m afraid I have to close down these pages for a while for what is euphemistically described as `essential maintenance.`

CAP IN HAND....

Oh, dear.   I don`t know about you but I`m getting more frustrated living in a country caught in the dying embers of a once great empire.   I accept, of course, that history is simply repeating itself and that it is the fate of `empires` to wither on the vine but I can`t see that it`s necessary for us to be losing our dignity and self respect in the process.

A couple of examples.  One is our Prime Minister`s `negotiations` in his quest to secure reform of Britain`s relationship with the European Union.  I thought it was very telling that he felt it necessary to go on a whistle stop tour of EU nations, chatting up those countries` leaders as he went and especially galling to see him going off cap in hand to Brussels, Paris and, most embarrassing of all, Berlin on what already seems a doomed mission.  Why can`t we just do our own thing and get on with it?

Last week the Commons began considering whether the time has come to start joining in the air strikes in Syria, partly I suspect as a reaction to the appalling events in Tunisia but also perhaps to overturn the `embarrassment` that Cameron suffered a year or two ago when the Commons narrowly defeated a move to authorise UK air strikes back then.  It was instructive to discover that, following that Commons defeat, Cameron had to go cap in hand to explain it all to President Obama.  It might be Independence Day in the Good Ol` US of A but we over here truly seem to have lost our own independence.

One day last week I had occasion to visit a nearby town, more out of necessity than choice, and that too was depressing, not only because I failed to get what I went for but also because the `town centre experience` was yet another example of how very different this country has become.   I suspect it could have been any High Street in any town in England so I am not singling out the one I visited for any special criticism.   But there was indeed much to criticise, not perhaps so much the town itself but the `demeanour` of what seemed a majority of people on that hot summer day.

Obesity was much in evidence;  so too tattoos; unemployment or more likely unemployability;  and conversations seemed to be conducted largely in foreign languages whilst those carried out in what passed for English seemed to consist largely of indecipherable grunts or shouts, with a hefty dose of obscenity thrown in for good measure.  Perhaps it was best summed up by the spectacle of a man sitting on the pavement with an empty violin case and what looked like a ferret on a string.    It all made me wonder whether, if these street scenes are being replicated across the land, a clear contradiction emerges - and it`s this. 

As our leaders go cap in hand around the world in missions of increasing impossibility it seems that the issues that concern them - and perhaps little middle Englanders like me - are a world away from those that enter the heads of Mr.and Mrs. Obese-Tattoos, whose principle concerns seemed to be to find their way to the benefits office and get home to watch the next instalment of pulp fiction television whilst munching their way unthinkingly towards the local A and E Department.  So I beat a hasty retreat with my heartfelt wish for a national rediscovery of dignity and self-respect very definitely confirmed..... as yet another pig flew over my roof .

SOME DAYS...

Maybe because it`s Monday and it`s cold and it`s dark but whatever it is it`s one of those days when you`re not quite sure whether you have woken up in the real world or some parallel universe where everything seems `odd.`  Here is just a small selection of things that are confronting me this grey winter`s morning.......

.....HM Gov. are planning to spend £2 billion to ease the congestion on the A303 around Stonehenge.   It was all of 35 years ago that `improvements` to this notorious bottleneck were mooted and we`re told that today`s proposal will probably take a good ten years before it gets completed - if it gets started at all, of course.

Now I use the A303 quite a lot on our journeys to and from the great south west, so I know all about the Stonehenge problem, but at my age I`m beginning to seriously doubt whether I will live to see the announced improvement.  So from my point of view what`s needed is a quicker fix and there are a couple of options.   The first one, which will cost so much less than £2 billion, is simply to move Stonehenge to another more remote location and the second obvious solution is to build an entirely new Stonehenge at a tourist hotspot which will guarantee a return on the investment.

.......and speaking of returns on investment, how about the Dartford Crossing, where the cost of building it had been recouped in toll charges many years ago with the promise that it would then be free to cross.  Today, the price of the toll charges has risen by 25%, the Highways Agency are scrapping the toll booths and drivers will now have to join DartTag, pay on line or by phone and if you don`t there will be a hefty fine.   All well and good, but what if you are an easily confused elderly pensioner without access to the internet or a phone?  My answer to all this will be like my answer to most things -   I`ll just go the long way round

.......and finally for this miserable Monday morning, I`m getting a little tired of the constant barrage of appeals for cash from so many charities that it`s hard to keep track of them all.  Now I give to charities of my choice and I do so quietly and willingly so I don`t need to be harangued with television adverts, people banging on the door, letters in the post, wristbands, ribbons, telling secrets, rattling tins or `celebrity appeals.`   I just wonder if, like politicians who browbeat us to vote one way, the compassion overload we`re now having might just turn people away from supporting anything.   

Well, it is Monday morning.  Have a nice day!

TO FLUSH OR NOT TO FLUSH?

Had a letter before Christmas from South East Water saying they`re going to install water meters in our street, starting on 7th January.   Now I suppose this is yet another initiative to conserve water supplies which is a bit ironic as we`ve just had the wettest year in England since records began.   And in the seemingly never ending deluge of environmental initiatives, this is just another to go with all the rest such as recycling everything in sight, driving Priuses, having wind farms, wave hubs, solar panels and all kinds of insulation.

So I guess I shouldn`t mind as I`m an eco-warrior, keen to do my bit for saving the planet. But there`s one aspect of the `customer metering programme` that I do find objectionable and it`s the compulsion of it.   No consultation, just telling us what they`re going to do and when.   Now if, like gas and electricity, there was a choice of companies from whom I might get my water supply then it wouldn`t be so bad.   But there aren`t.  South East Water is a take-it-or-leave-it monopoly and so I have no choice.

What makes the whole thing more intriguing is the fact that South East Water only supply the water.   Another monopolistic company, Southern Water, don`t supply it but they are responsible for dealing with the waste water and effluent from my house.   I can`t see, therefore, why they too don`t install meters and charge me depending on how much stuff I flush down their drains.

Anyway, I`m reliably told by a near neighbour that I will `love` the water meter as it will save me so much money.   Her assertion, of course, depends entirely on how often I flush the loo, hose Barney and the car, water the garden in summer, have a bath or shower and  how often Mrs. Snopper turns on the washing machine.   There may be trouble ahead.   "But while there`s moonlight and music and love and romance, let`s flush the toilet and dance."  (Armitage Shanks)

Well, a couple of things really.

The first is the Abu Qatada business.   I just wonder how much it has cost the taxpayers of this country to keep this turbulent cleric and his family for all the years he has been here sponging off the state for all kinds of benefits and legal fees as he has used every legal loophole to avoid deportation back to his native Jordan where he is wanted on terrorist charges going back as far as the millennium `celebrations.`

I was hoping that Home Secretary Theresa May would have stood up in parliament today and told us that, as she spoke, Qatada was on a plane back to Jordan.   Instead - and I do understand the legalities involved here - we have the prospect of yet further delays as yet another appeal procedure opens up before him.   More frustration, more months or even years of delay, vastly more expense.   Now I understand too about Qatada`s `human rights` but do you know what?  I really don`t care about them or him and I think it`s high time he was shunted out of this country.  

But no, we seem determined to go down the laudably moral route of sticking diligently to the law not only of this country but also the European Court of Human Rights.  Instead, maybe just for once we should actually do something - stick him on a plane and live with the legal consequences - utilising the old hackneyed management phrase, "For God`s sake do something...even if you just say `goodbye.`".   

On the more serious issue of Afghanistan, I read with dismay the reports that the Taliban are stoking up the heat of battle again with their concentrated targeting of western embassies, government offices and military bases in and around Kabul, leaving Afghan President Karzai to complain - yes, complain - that western intelligence, especially NATO,  isn`t doing enough to stop this kind of thing happening.

In much the same way as Abu Quatada`s stay in this country must surely be unsustainable, the  mission in Afghanistan, despite the  US military assurances, will eventually prove  unsustainable in the long run.  The UK has so far lost 408 military personnel in this conflict and I can but imagine the feelings of their families and friends as they must surely wonder why their loved ones have been taken from them in what seems a fruitless adventure accompanied by no thanks whatsoever from the head of the country for which they gave their lives.

.......I guess it serves me right.   In my last post I reasserted my uncertainty about the existence of an omnipotent being (OB.)   I almost went as far as to suggest that, given all the trouble and strife in this world, it would not surprise me to learn that this world is, in fact, the OB`s draft - the dummy run - the prototype - to sort out all the gremlins in advance of the production model arriving.

But for all of that, it may be spookily significant that nothing but bad news has come my way since my last post.   To begin with, we`ve had a hosepipe ban here in deepest Kent for a week or so due to the drought conditions we`ve experienced for the last few months.   Today it`s bucketing down with rain.   Over the weekend the cricket season started - the harbinger of summer, the sound of leather on willow, country parsons dozing on the boundary and an air of calm which only the truly beautiful game can bring to banish the mayhem of football.   And rain has stopped play.

As for football, things haven`t gone too well there either.   First our street`s hard working pacy flanker Scott ("Buzzin` six pack") Wagstaff, pictured, was sent off in Charlton`s game at Oldham on Saturday for committing the dismissable offence of slipping over on the dodgy Boundary Park pitch.  In the accidental process of falling over he inadvertently tripped up one  of the opposition players, which was treated as violent conduct by card happy referee Trevor Kettle, who this season has officiated in 19 games, shown eight red cards and an astonishing 86 yellows.  Wagstaff, it seems, was just another notch on Kettle`s holster so maybe he should just shrug his shoulders, sit out his one match ban and move on at the end of the day.  To be fair.

My beloved Saints are wobbling as they approach the finishing line in their questionable quest for promotion to the Premier League.   31,737 were at St. Mary`s to see them held to a 2-2 draw against arch rivals Portsmouth, whilst their closest challengers for promotion - Reading and West Ham - both won.   My bum is squeaking a bit as I await the outcome of today`s game at Crystal Palace.

And then there is Manchester United.   A combination of appalling refereeing decisions and gross ineptitude on the part of Manchester City seems to have handed the Premier League title to United once more.   I really don`t know why the title isn`t just handed to Manchester United at the start of each season so we don`t have to go through all this playing games nonsense.   

Some time ago, hidden in the dark recesses of this blog, I once confessed that, invoking the philosophy of Albert Camus,  the one true religion might well be football, that it was no coincidence that Matthew Le Tissier was know as Le God and that the forces of evil were to be found permanently lurking in Old Trafford, Manchester.   I`m not sure I`ve changed my mind but recent events may just confirm  my suspicion that we are living in a prototype world, where things aren`t quite right and where someone named Bubba can win the US Masters.   The OB has his (or her) work cut out sorting out this lot.

ABSENCE OF MALICE ?

There`s a memorable scene in Sydney Pollack`s 1981 masterpiece, Absence of Malice, when an Assistant US Attorney General, James A Wells, played by the wonderful Wilford Brimley, turns up at the Miami Courthouse.   He`s there to investigate whether false evidence has been planted in the local newspaper designed to incriminate someone entirely innocent and whether, if so, the newspaper and the local District Attorney`s office have a case to answer.

During his inquiries, it comes to light that the DA`s office might have leaked a story to the newspaper, which then published it, which prompts James A Wells to declare, "You had a leak?  You call what`s goin` on around here a leak?   Boy, the last time there was a leak like this Noah built himself a boat!!"

I was reminded of this exchange yesterday when I heard the news that we here in deepest Kent are to be hit with a hosepipe ban from 5th April, due to the drought conditions as a result of months of unseasonably dry weather.   Now, we get our water supplied by a private company called South East Water.   They just supply it but it costs me about £350 a year.   Another private company - Southern Water - takes the water away in the form of sewage or highway drainage, for which I cough up about another £400 a year for the privilege.

I have just paid the first half year`s installment on each of these bills, but I did so reluctantly, especially as  Water Companies across the country are responsible for leaks which amount to a staggering 3,356million litres of water lost each and every day.   They`re not my figures, they`re from Ofwat, the water industry regulator.  I`m surprised Noah hasn`t been in touch.   

The legal definition of the hosepipe ban means "they cannot be used on gardens, plants, cars or boats for "recreational use"; to fill or maintain ponds, pools or fountains; and to clean paths, walls, windows or other artificial outdoor surfaces," so I might reasonably expect a rebate as the service I`ve paid for has been reduced, but I`m pretty sure I won`t get one.   

So I guess I will just have to shrug my shoulders and put up with it, but it seems to me that the ban, the £1,000 fine for transgressing it, the reduced service, the absence of a rebate and the appalling level of leakage all point to the fact that the customer once again with these utility companies comes a poor second to the profit motives for their shareholders.   James A Wells might call it malicious.

DECLINING AND FALLING..

There`s a fine line between disappointment and embarrassment  and between what is acceptable and what is not.   This weekend has been one to forget as far as the sporting nation is concerned.   And yet we forget it at our peril, for there are lessons to be learned, reviews to be undetaken and changes to be made.

I suppose it all began on Friday evening with Ingerland scraping  a 2-2 draw away at Montenegro to secure qualification for next year`s European Championship finals.   But once again it will be for the antics of Wayne Rooney that the game will be remembered.   His petulant assault on a Montenegro defender saw his rightful dismissal and resulted in all round condemnation.   The result was perhaps disappointing but Rooney once again proved to be an embarrassment for the game, for himself and his seemingly dysfunctional family and for the nation.   Not a good start.

On to Auckland and the inept `performance` by the England rugby team which, perhaps mercifully, resulted in defeat against the French and an early departure from the Rugby World Cup.   Now, sometimes defeat is honourable, even heroic, but it seemed to me that all the off field nonsense perpetrated by this England team during their stay in New Zealand was somehow transferred onto the field of play - the carelessness, thoughtlessness and false sense of entitlement merely confirmed that the whole venture to the antipodes also became embarrassing.  

I think my despair brought about by this weekend was summed up late last night, when former Home Secretary and serial taxpayer swindler, Jacqui Smith, popped up on tv once more to give her verdict on today`s newspapers.   I`ve grumbled about her before, of course, only this time she appeared on BBC News 24 rather than Sky.   Her appearance, this time paid for by the compulsion of the licence fee,  seemed somehow to encapsulate the malaise flowing through the country right now - it really doesn`t matter how disappointingly or embarrassingly you may have behaved, the lessons go unlearnt, the changes go unmade and you can just carry on regardless.   The prevailing culture of drawing a line in the sand and moving on at the end of the day as if nothing has happened is once again confirmed.

For decades now, this country has been in decline and right now, as I look around, I see nothing that suggests we wont carry on falling.  Small wonder then, that I feel like Pooh sitting in his puddle with his empty honey jar and it`s not just because it`s Monday morning.

  

RANTING RESUMED..

Hugely enjoyable family business has kept me away from these pages for a few days but now that there is a lull in proceedings, I have a chance to rant once more.   Just a glance through the weekend`s `news` produces enough for me to rant about and although it won`t do any good, at least I will feel better for it.   After all, a rant a day helps me rest, work and play.   So here goes.

First, our old friends the EU, whose details reveal that £2.9million of taxpayers` money will be squandered this year on health care for the 736 members and their families - an increase of 36% over last year.  Brussels lets them claim for items such as free breast surgery, anti-ageing products and slimming treatment from a private health scheme, as well as Viagra for husbands and sons of female Members, visits to Health Spas and a host of `alternative therapies.` The claim is that, as the MEPs work away from home, they can`t take advantage of the medical facilities in their home countries.  You and I couldn`t make it up....but they have.

Next the newly enobled Lord Prescott of Somewhere-or-Other has hit the headlines for two reasons.  He has claimed over £10,000 in `expenses` for attending the House of Lords on just 13 occasions.   No wonder he has taken up the invitation to earn a few bob from the BBC by reading the Shipping Forecast on Radio 4,  supposedly all in the name of Comic Relief.   I think we should find out when this will happen, as there could well be room for maritime misinterpretation of his forecasts.  "State of the slight, see.  Windy in Dogger or German Bight - somewhere that way, backing north-east where Tony comes from....."   You get my drift.   Here`s a suggestion - why doesn`t he do the shipping forecast for free and hand over his `expenses` to Comic Relief?

And I can`t leave this without being bemused at the promised antics of former MP Ann Widdecombe who, fresh from her nationwide embarrassment on Strictly Come Prancing, has now been signed up for a stint in the Sleeping Beauty Pantomime at the Orchard Theatre, Dartford.   Maybe there was, after all, an eighth dwarf who has only now emerged or, more likely, Dopey Rides Again.

Ah, that`s better.  Every little rant helps.

       RANT ALERT !!

It used to be said that sport was the last refuge for those who found it impossible to idle.  But given the strange state of the world today, I suggest the reality is that sport is now the first port of call for those, like me, who find the world impossible to take very seriously.

At the moment we are faced with things such as the Euro crisis, the Wikileaks business, the worst November weather since records began,  a weird sense of what passes for `entertainment` and a host of other issues that test our sense of reality to the limit.

I`m seriously puzzled by the fact that the UK is `lending` Ireland something like £8billion of cash when I didn`t think we had it to lend anyway.   We`re told that Ireland is such an important trading partner that it would be disastrous if Ireland were unable to continue trading with us.   So, we loan them a shedload of cash so they can buy stuff from us with the money we`ve lent them and we are seriously expected to believe that we`ll get our cash back, plus interest, one bright day?   I`m just left wondering whether the £8billion might not be better spent a litttle closer to home, which I always imagined is where  the heart was and where charity was supposed to begin.

There is worldwide panic in the air about the Wikileaks leaks.   All very predictable, of course, with governments everywhere in a tizz about what American diplomats have been saying about them and others. The American administration is reacting with outrage that what they thought was private is now very public indeed.   I`m not sure they aren`t actually outraged that they have been found out and that, rather than those countries who have been criticised being embarrassed about what has been said about them, it is America which is more embarrassed about what they have been saying about others.  All in all,  I tend to prefer the leaks  to the bluster, the outrage and the egg on face embarrassment of those who have been exposed.  And that includes our own Royal family, a member of which has been accused of `inappropriate behaviour.`  Not much change there then.

Moving on to the weather, as we here in the good ol` U of K suffer the outrageous fortunes of the worst November weather on record, I`m once more puzzled as to why we keep getting these `fuel escalator` petrol price increases designed to combat global warming.   But I now see that it was no more than a cunning plan so we have enough cash to lend to Ireland so they can buy stuff from us with our own money.

I can`t tell you how distressing it is to see that Ann Widdecombe is now dressing up as the most unconvincing Judy Garland ever conceived.   So, small wonder that I turn to sport as the most sane, sensible and rewarding refuge in these mad, troubled, Alice-in-Wonderland times. In a strange turn of role reversal, it seems the world`s `serious` people have gone a bit loopy and the sport loving fanatics have become closer to reality.

This weekend, The Saints continued to make St. Mary`s a fortress with a comfortable 3-0 win over Cheltenham in the FA Cup, giving us a home tie against Blackpool in the next round.   Charlton have a replay against Luton to get through before they travel to White Hart Lane which will give our local hero pacy flanker and his chums a chance to wreak some vicarious revenge on Harry Redknapp for `managing`  the Saints relegation a few years ago.  And Gillingham have gone yet another week without defeat, possibly helped by the fact that they didn`t have a game.

 But most of all, I have been heartened by the Ashes Test in Brisbane, where records tumbled as England held the Aussies to a resounding draw.   At least the sun is shining, really and metaphorically, on a faraway part of this crazy planet which I have long suspected as being God`s draft, so He (or She) irons out the bugs before producing the real one.  Maybe the Barmy Army isn`t so barmy after all.

Have a nice day!

MIXED RESULTS..

Well, James Alexander Gordon got it wrong. On Saturday, Saints scored the only goal of their game away to Sheffield Wednesday on 64 minutes. Had we gone to 84 minutes without scoring, it would have equalled the longest goalless spell in the club`s entire 125 year history. Not a lot of people knew that, to be fair. But the narrow win means that Saints are out of the relegation zone, having climbed to 18th in Division 3 and are now officially on a roll. Possibly.

Over the weekend, there was much dancing in Snopper Street, not only because of the Saints victory but also because the Gills also managed a narrow 1-0 win which must have cheered up my long suffering neighbour no end. In fact, our street was denied a clean sweep of victories thanks to the Addicks of Charlton, who included local hero pacy flanker Scott ("Buzzin`) Wagstaff in their starting line-up, only managing to draw against Dagenham and Redbridge. But, two out of three ain`t bad and if someone had offered me that before the games began then I would have bitten their proverbial hand off, so to speak.

On the Miliband Chuckle Brothers front, younger brother Ed is now the Leader of the Labour Party, thanks mainly to the votes of the `affiliated trade unions and socialist societies.` So he owes them, as the other elements of the electoral college, the Labour MPs and MEPs and the party members, went for his brother David. Maybe I should care more than I do, but I have the feeling that Ed is in for a hard time satisfying his union sponsors (they coughed up £100,000 for his campaign apparently) whilst at the same time being in any way appealing to a wider audience. So, all in all, a weekend of mixed results, but I do wonder whether time will tell if Ed wishes he might not have won after all.

It`s good to be back home after our week in Cornwall. After about 800 miles driving, after six days of unbroken, warm sunshine (it rained all the way home on Saturday) and after being cut off from the rest of the world. We stayed in the `hamlet` of Porthallow just up the hill from Talland Bay and there was no shop, no pub, just a beachside cafe and so no newspapers to keep us up to date with events back in the so called `real world.`

And what do I find when I get back? Well, at least a couple of `curiosities.` The first was that the good ol` U of K came last in the abominable Eurovision Song Contest. It was in 1997, I think, that we last won the thing, when Katrina and the Waves wowed us with `Love Shine a Light` or something, since when there has been a regular pattern of heroic failure. Now, whilst they are dancing in the streets of Germany for having won this year, we on the other hand, who refuse to take it seriously, are finding at least some kudos in being bottom of the Euroclass and, of course, relieved once more at not having to fork out the mega money needed to `host` the event which always falls to the winners to do. So, all in all a good result.

The other curiosity was the elevation of John Prescott to the peerage. I thought he had always said that he would have nothing to do with the Upper House, however it seems his good lady wife has harboured other thoughts. Now, I don`t want to be unkind to John Prescott but here we have an ex-cruise ship steward who somehow rose to the status of Deputy Prime Minister whilst all the time displaying a vibrant talent for womanising, croquet playing, punching and brawling with voters and generally bruising his way through life. But his most endearing quality has always been his effortless ability to systematically mangle the English language, to the extent that most of the time we never really understood what he was talking about. Neither, I suspect, did he.

And so how come Lord Prescott of Kingston upon Hull can take the ermine and presume to add to the quality of debate in our second chamber? The answer must be that the `honour` and the title has really gone to the fragrant Lady Pauline who has shown remarkable courage, persistence, loyalty and long suffering above and beyond the call of duty and who has now reaped the reward for standing by her man. Still, I`m looking forward to Lord Prescott`s maiden speech (I use the word advisedly) in the Lords, in the confident belief that he will yet again leave us baffled, whilst Lady Pauline smiles knowingly from the gallery.

The so called `real world` just gets curiouser and curiouser.

BEYOND RANTING

Woke up this morning - dark - raining - switched on the news and wondered, not for the first time, why it is that `news` is invariably bad. Not just bad but mostly annoying, frustrating, leading almost to a feeling of hopelessness that however strongly I might be offended by what I hear, I am powerless to do anything about it. Maybe that feeling comes from living in the New Labour Liberal Elected Dictatorship.

So what`s making me feel so dejected today? Well, there are the MPs at it again. Some of them are, I know, perfectly sensible and honest when it comes to their discharge of the public purse; others - probably the vast majority - seem to be squirming away from doing the decent thing and accepting the `punishments` dished out following their self-inflicted expenses scandals.

Then yesterday we heard about the BBC, their executive salaries and their own expenses scandals. In a strange fit of masochistic candour - or maybe naivite - or maybe sensing they should jump before being pushed - the BBC have published details of salaries and expenses for all of their `top` executives. And it`s quite astonishing how many there are and I really wonder what they all do. And their expenses are `interesting.` For example, Director General, Mark Thompson, claimed repeatedly for parking meters, producing receipts for as little as 70p, even though he has his own driver who picks him up every day when he gets off the train in London after commuting from his Oxford home. Over three months he claimed £3,364.

Another, £1,137.55 claimed by former head of audio and music Jenny Abramsky for a dinner to celebrate Terry Wogan's knighthood in 2005. Now it`s one thing for us licence payers to pay through the nose for Wogan anyway, but quite another for he and Ms Abramsky and their chums to have munched their way through over £1100 worth of `dinner` at our expense. Seems to suggest that the more they `earn,` the more they expect us to pay for their unthinking whims, which hardly amounts to a culture of responsibility among those who really should know better.

And so I think I`ve reached the point whereby the flagrant squandering of public money - mine and yours - by MPs, the BBC and countless unelected, unaccountable quangos - is so great that I just know I am powerless to do anything about it except moan. And on depressing mornings like today, I`m not sure I have the motivation to rant about these things with any conviction. Maybe my exasperation has finally reached a level which is now quite beyond ranting. TAXI !!

There are, in life, so many things which annoy. This morning, having been away for a week, we had to go shopping to replenish our supplies. Now, I don`t know whether it has anything to do with where we live but I encountered a prime example of the annoying thing.

Now, it being late July and therefore the peak of the holiday season, it was raining again and not too warm either. However, some people had clearly been on their own holidays, because, despite the weather, I saw at least three middle aged men dressed in shorts and tee shirts and sporting a tan (fake or otherwise) with the obvious intention of alerting everyone else to the fact. "Look at me," they silently cried, "I`ve just come back from holiday and don`t I look splendid with my tanned legs and my holiday clothes?"

No, actually, you are very annoying, you look like a complete twonk and at your age you should know better.

Another of today`s annoyances is the mobile phone. I bought mine a few months ago for £9.73 and I have used it about twice. But far from decrying their usefulness, courtesy of the so-called `celebrities,` a whole new purpose for the mobile phone has emerged - the art of clasping the phone to your ear as you hurry through the arrival lounge so as to give the impression that you are holding an important conversation with someone just as important as you. When all the time, there is no conversation actually taking place and so the clasped phone becomes simply a device to feign being `otherwise engaged` rather than have to face the people, the press and whoever else might find your presence interesting. John Terry was the most recent example of those using this device. They fool no-one, of course, except themselves. It must be very annoying for them.

A HIT AND MISS WEEK...

The hit of last week was undoubtedly my visit to Southampton University with eldest son, David and grandaughter Sarah. The University itself was fine - large modern campus, nice `halls` and an excellent presentation of the history courses and options available. The Highfield campus is like a town of its own within the city. I could well imagine that it would be possible to live quite happily and comfortably within the confines of the campus without ever venturing into the city of Southampton itself. But that would be to deny the chance to explore some of the city`s history - the Pilgrim Fathers, the Titanic, the legacy of hundreds of years of trading, commerce and conflict - as well as the more modern aspects of the south coast`s foremost metropolis (yes, I know I`m biased.)

After the University Open Day, we went down to Town Quay and parked just in time to see a huge container ship being tugged out of dock and off down Southampton Water. We also saw P&O`s largest cruise ship, Ventura, which was preparing to leave on the evening tide, looking for all the world like a floating block of flats. I had expected Town Quay itself to be more `refined` than on the occasions when my football crew partake of their pre-match almond croissants and coffee at M. Hulot`s Patisserie. However, my expectation was marred by the sight of three armed police officers moving in on an Isle of Wight ferry in the apparent belief that the perpetrator of a robbery in Cowes might be aboard trying to make his getaway. He wasn`t. But it was good to be back in my home port for a few hours. It reminded me that it will be grades and academic options that determine Sarah`s choice, rather than the wistful leanings of a biased grandfather towards any particular location.

The miss of the week was undoubtedly Wimbledon. It`s the last day today - men`s final day - and so far I have just about managed to miss the entire fortnight, despite saturation coverage by the BBC. I happened to hear the odd grunt, shriek and gasp from the ladies earlier in the week (almost a new experience for me) and I believe that our Scottish hero, who has now become British, lost in the semi-final. I imagine he will revert to just being Scottish again. But thankfully I missed the spectacle of the misplaced shouting by the crowd between points (I suspect at least one of whom shouts `Get in the hole` each time Tiger tees off;) I avoided the patronising by the All England Club towards the masses who are permitted to enter their hallowed precincts once a year - at a price, of course; and I missed the hand-wringing depression brought about by the fact that despite £20million of investment in the game each year, we as a nation are still pants at yet another sport we invented. With a family event to attend this afternoon, there`s every chance I will also miss today`s final , which will round the week off nicely.

NOT A LOT TO SMILE ABOUT...

As you can see from the photo, us codgers didn`t think much of November. It was, in truth, a month to forget really with loads of bad news. On the personal front, of course, we lost Henry after all these years and although there will be the new kid on the block before Christmas, losing Henry was a very difficult time.

But let`s look at the wider world beyond the confines of our Kentish village and what do we see that November brought? Well, here are just a few of the depressing events:-

- Credit crunch hitting home with people losing their jobs and homes being repossessed;

- Child abuse cases such as the Shannon Matthews case, the dreadful events surrounding the daughters of the family in Sheffield and, of course, the Baby P case, where it was announced this week that `for legal reasons` sentencing will not now take place until next Spring;

- the human tragedies played out in Mumbai, Bankok, Nigeria and the continuing agonies of Afghanistan, Iraq, Darfur and the rest;

I could go on - the list is almost endless - but you get my drift.

And just when I begin to breathe a sign of relief that November is almost done, it is reported today that `Sir` Alex Ferguson has declared that the thought of retirement has never entered his head. And so we will be left with the mumbled rantings of this charmless oaf until he decides otherwise. No wonder we look grumpy.

BREAKING NEWS......to compound the felony, my beloved Saints have just been drawn at home to Manchester United in the 3rd round of the FA Cup. You couldn`t make it up!

A FLYING VISIT....

OK. So, Flying Disc Man from Mars arrives here in the good ol` U of K this weekend and must surely have concluded that it is indeed a funny old world.

First, he discovers that he has arrived at a propitious time, for in less than a month the greatest show on Earth will begin. The Beijing Olympics will be interesting not just for the competition but also for a couple of sideshows. I wonder what the smog situation will be. I wonder what the reaction to any demonstrations will be. And I wonder whether Dwain Chambers will be there. For the sake of the doubtless majority of genuine participants, I hope the credibility of the Games is enhanced, but there is still a danger that they will continue to be seen as little more than a contest between chemists, former drug cheats and the inevitable lawyers.

Flying Disc Man may have found it difficult this weekend to miss the publicity surrounding the affairs of the Church of England - one of the planet`s great religions. Now, I have no wish to enter into a religious debate with anyone, for my attitude is best summed up by my promise to be the first to apologise should I get up there and discover that it`s all true after all. Good friends of mine are, however, regular churchgoers and I admire them for that. But as one who hovers on the brink of seeking salvation, I might - just might - think twice as I see the schism caused by the arrival of the Gay Bishop from New Hampshire and the ongoing controversy over the ordination of women priests. If I have no problem with Him Upstairs, but I might just have a few with His representatives down here.

And in the meantime, whilst these internal wrangles occupy their hearts and minds, there seems to be a lack of even comment, never mind leadership, from church leaders as the problem of knife crime and other social problems go unchecked.

Please click on image to enlarge

There was, of course, so much more to confuse, annoy, puzzle, dishearten and depress this weekend, but Flying Disc Man, like me, might have taken some comfort in the 5-2 demolition of Basingstoke Town and the 4-0 drubbing dished out to Winchester City by a Saints team which is clearly flattering to deceive in its pre-season friendlies. And as a result, maybe also like me, Flying Disc Man`s concerns may have focussed back on to the real priorities of life in a strange weekend in a strange country in a world which has much to answer for.

BIOS MAY BE DEGRADEABLE

I`ve now come to the end of Claire Tomalin`s excellent biography of Thomas Hardy. It was indeed a triumph of research, interpretation and literary narrative. When I posted my `first impressions` - see `Eyes Wide Open` below - I suspected that my view of Hardy`s work might well be changed by finding out more about the man himself. And so it proved to be, for I was left disappointed at what I had discovered which had the effect of somewhat detracting from the value of his novels in particular. So, I will now try to avoid biographies of my heroes, as I don`t really want my illusions to be shattered any more than the are already. I have now been handed Claire Tomalin`s biography of Samuel Pepys to read, but since I come to it knowing absolutely nothing about the man, thankfully I have no preconceptions to degrade.

BBC TO CLAIM OLYMPICS RECORD?

It`s reported today that the BBC are to send no less than 437 of their staff to Beijing to cover the upcoming Olympic Games. This marks an improvement over the contingent which was sent to Athens for the last Games, when only 400 BBC staff attended. Could it be that the BBC are aiming to have one BBC staff member for each GB athlete taking part? There is, however, light at the end of the tunnel for licence-payers to the extent that, this time, BBC staff will be flying economy class to Beijing. So that`s alright, then.

SIX OF THE BEST

I was wrong. Sorry about that - I`ll go and sit on the naughty step. You see, my rant below (THE PIPER CALLS THE TUNE?) contained an inaccuracy, for which I apologise. I stated that there were 10 executives at Kent County Council in receipt of salaries over £100,000 a year. According to today`s report in the `Kent Messenger` there are, in fact, no less than 16. The Deputy Leader of the Council is making a hamfisted attempt to justify the decision not to disclose the identities of the executives in question. He might take a leaf out of Southampton City Council`s book, where they have six `council bosses` earning a six figure salary. Not only are they named, but their photographs also appear in today`s edition of their local paper, the Daily Echo - see http://www.dailyecho.co.uk/display.var.2153685.0.the_magnificent_six.php

An object lesson in freedom of information - and not an assault in sight. Well, not yet anyway.

........and it`s raining. And I wake up this morning to be confronted by two things hitting the airwaves which make me wonder why I bother to watch the `news` of the day.

First, there`s a lot of stuff about the BAFTA awards, the GRAMMY awards and, very soon I suspect, the OSCARS (unless they`ve already been on and somehow I missed it.) Now, I try but I just cannot get interested (let alone excited) about events like this which are self-serving, self-congratulatory, cringingly awful excuses for certain `professions` to lavish large sums of money on themselves. If we are going to have award `ceremonies` then let`s have them for other walks of life which arguably contribute much more to our daily lives than this lot.

How about a Bricklayer of the Year ceremony....or a Plumber Award event? Lifetime achievement award goes to Dave Tatton, Plumber and joint-wiper extraordinaire of Rainham in Kent. Most Promising Newcomer award for bricklaying goes to Shane Richards of Ealing for the recessed pointing he produced to the highest standard achievable using only a 4" trowel.

I think what really hurt this morning was the sceptre of The Police making a come-back at the Grammy awards thingy.....I really had hoped we had seen and heard the last of them, especially following Mr.Sumner`s instantly forgettable attempt to go `classic` with his recent whining`album.`

To add to the Monday blues, I was also berated about the possibility that I`m not quite as `green` as perhaps I might be. Now, I do recycle stuff, put out cardboard, newspapers, tins, etc. for the `refuse operatives` to take away; I also take bottles and other stuff to the recycling bins and I thought I was doing my bit to save the planet.

Not so, it seems. Some worthy comes on tv this morning and smugly goes on about his carbon footprint and how he has converted his house so it`s carbon neutral, how he rides his bike everywhere, uses long life light bulbs, installs solar panels, turns down his heating by two degrees and all the other things that these people do to make them feel better than the rest of us. Trouble is, they are so smug and `superior` about it that it quite turns me off doing anything at all. If and when China, India and especially America start to take global warming seriously and take the drastic action they should, then at that point I might have a change of heart. In the meantime, Mr. Smug and his colleagues should just lay off.

Well, it is Monday morning.