SOME weeks ago I joined UKIP. It’s only £4 a month membership, and I can lose that rushing to the bar for last orders. Chump change.
On Wednesday, during a sunny train ride to London, I paid £25 to become a registered supporter of The Brexit Party.
I can spend that in one visit to the bar, especially when Mrs L and her friends are on their fancy rhubarb and coriander gins, with some exotic flavoured tonic, garnished with fresh nettles and quite possibly a couple of the barmaid’s bogies.
If that’s all it costs to sink the corrupt, self-serving Labour and Conservative parties, then it will be the biggest bargain since the glory days of Lou’s famous discount stall on Dewsbury market.
I can close my eyes and still hear him now: “It’s not a tenner folks, not even a fiver. What missus, you’ll give me two quid for this state of the art kitchen mop? I wouldn’t take it off you love – half a crown, that’s all, or three for 10 shillings … bargain!”
And then would come a rush of women, headscarves covering their rollered Saturday morning hair-dos, my mum amongst them, proffering their half-crown coins or ten bob notes.
Those were the days – when Dewsbury market was in its pomp and would-be traders had to wait years, literally, for an opening, unlike now when you can take your pick of an entire row of sad, empty stalls.
In my teens I’d get the early bus into town from the terminus at the top of Overthorpe estate to help Lou or another marketman unload their goods for a few bob, returning after 4 o’clock to do the packing away.
It fair brings a nostalgic tear to this hackneyed old eye. And it may well be with the same whimsical (and probably misplaced) sense that I remember politics and policing back then as more honest and honourable professions – vocations even, not just a job but a means to serve the community, the country.
A paltry £4 a month and one-off £25 to help tip that festering house of self-serving hypocrites and imbeciles into the Thames? I might join again, just for the fun of it.
Hold on a sec, back in a mo…
…there. I’ve just emailed The Brexit Party inquiring about standing for them in the general election that I reckon is a lot closer than most panicking Tories would like to think.
Don’t take it personally Paula (Sherriff) and Tracy (Brabin), but the nation deserves – nay, desperately requires – change.
That deluded basket case Theresa May needs sectioning quite frankly, but this week she insisted that she would blunder on in the wild-eyed belief that she’s the only person in the country marching in step – that 17.4 million of us (and the rest!) are the knock-kneed morons who can’t put one foot in front of the other.
However, lurking behind May there are dozens of Tory ministers and MPs, whispering in corners like giddy schoolkids, swearing their gangs to secrecy, desperate for a lunge at power once Treason May falls on her sword.
They are the problem as much as her, because all have played their infantile games, allowing the disastrous Prime Minister to bring the nation into global ridicule.
Meanwhile the Marxist clown Corbyn, who couldn’t pass an 11-year-old’s SATS test, rambles on with his lunatic plans to turn the world’s fifth biggest economy into a Venezuelan basket case. I note he’s promising a £10 minimum wage for anyone who’s left school and can count to 20 without using their fingers and toes (and that would rule him and half his shadow cabinet out of a job, for starters).
Well, the very next day that policy became law, I’d be shutting up shop and heading for the hills – me and more wealth creators/employers than dimwit Diane Abbott could count to, even with the aid of a calculator and someone showing her how to use it.
I’m not a massive Nigel Farage fan, but I’ll take him over every single occupant of that broken Palace of Westminster, every day of the week – and especially a polling day.
The revolution’s coming folks, even if the Tories and Labour refuse to believe it, and it starts next Thursday at the European Union elections. So get out there and send them a message that we refuse to be run by a Brussels-Paris-Berlin cabal that despises Great Britain and is proud of having May and her gang of Vichy-like traitors on their knees in front of them.
Corbyn doesn’t want a cross-party deal with May – these ridiculous ‘talks’ are a sham – he just wants a general election, at which point we can prepare for the real battle, the one to decide who can be trusted with our children and grandchildren’s futures. And if that’s not worth fighting for, then I don’t know what is.
PS: The Brexit Party didn’t waste much time, because they’ve already sent me the official application form. I’m not sure how I’m going to sell this to Mrs L – I’d better pick up a couple of bottles of Daffodil and Liquorice gin.
IF YOU or I walked out in public trying to attack someone with a machete, we’d either be sectioned indefinitely or locked up for a very long time. As indeed we’d deserve.
If we climbed into a high-powered vehicle and drove it deliberately at someone – then we would be incredibly lucky if a) they survived; b) we weren’t charged with attempted murder.
You may be mystified by West Yorkshire Police’s decision to only charge Hamza Ali Hussain with Section 18 wounding after he mowed down Josh Adams-Mitchell, and Judge Robin Mairs handing Hussain only half the possible 16-year jail tariff. You shouldn’t be.
From the outset WYP’s priority was convincing the public there was no racial motive involved when Hussain aimed the Mercedes he was driving at a group of people. I wonder, were any of that group non-white? If they were, I suspect the police would have ensured we were told.
I always thought ‘plea-bargaining’ was a dramatic ploy in USA court dramas, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Hamza got a charge/sentence promise in return for an early guilty plea.
We’ll never know these things, because in the week that West Yorkshire Police won a national accolade for the “outstanding” way it records crime, it could equally be condemned for the way it shields criminality from the public eye, or simply ignores it altogether – and that will make ‘recording’ crime easy enough, won’t it?
Three weeks ago the lawless ganglands of Ravens-thorpe were the scene of another man being driven into at speed. And having seen video footage of it – and a prior ‘incident’ where what looks like a machete is brandished – it will be an interesting case to follow.
We were going to share those CCTV images on our web pages, but made precautionary inquiries first of the police – otherwise I could have been behind bars for prejudicing proceedings.
Yup, it transpired they had made arrests and charged a man. Obviously someone simply forgot to inform the press and public. A procedural oversight, not an explicit act of their ‘Move Along, Nowt To See Here’ policy of pretending our streets are safe.
We’ll publish those images as and when the case is concluded. And you can make your own mind whether justice is being served.
A STUDY shows that apparently we Brits get drunk more times a year than any other nation – 51.1 times (or once a week) followed by the USA on 50.3, Canada 47.9, Australia 47.4, then Denmark and India before we get to Ireland on a modest 40.7 drunken episodes per annum.
I can explain that Irish anomaly though – when the Paddies tie one on, it can last for days.
They’re not sober long enough to beat our 51. These figures beg more questions for me than provide answers, starting with ‘what is drunk’? The UK’s weekly health guidance of 14 units a week (about six pints) is a lunch-time warmer-upper for some Batley folk I know.
They don’t even have a ‘fresh’ on – and that’s before we even get to their husbands! The ‘experts’ concluded that with all else having failed from preventing us maintaining our sanity without opioids, it’s time “to introduce guidelines on how to get drunk safely”.
Oh joy. Presumably we now wear a crash helmet to the pub and put a gum shield in for the stagger home. These moronic wasters of public money are enough to drive a bloke to drink.
I blame flavoured gins, personally...