Tuesday, 27 May 2008

The One That Marvels At The Cynical Attempts At Manipulation . . .

Today we see another demonstration against fuel duty by HGV drivers who will be convergining on London in a wonderfully British display, a demonstration which is organised in co-operation with the police and organised to let people know how unhappy they are, but in an apologetic sort of fashion and not creating too much disruption. This is one of the reasons I love this country so much.

No, really.

Things are pretty grim on the road at the moment for our hauliers. On top of the tax they pay on their earnings, they also pay a huge amount of tax just to operate, foreign firms drive on the roads in the UK without this tax burden on fuel (they'll normally fill up in Belgium or France before coming over) in vehicles which aren't subject to the same controls as those on the continental mainland (well they are, but VOSA don't have the resources to enforce these standards), that don't have to pay to use the roads as British vehicles do, and with the threat of £2000 per head for every clandestine potential illegal immigrant hauled out of the back of their wagon by British (or foreign contractor to the British government) search teams in Calais, Dunkerque or Coquelles. There's so many of these people in Northern France because the British government makes the UK look so appealing. It must be noted however that many drivers do not help themselves by having inadequate security on their vehicles, and that many clandestines are now being found outbound from Dover. How bad are things getting when economic immigrants are queueing up to leave?

The point is this, the path of the haulier is beset with obstacles that do not seem to reflect the level playing field European harmony that the EU utopia promises. In France, the hauliers, fishermen and anyone else will bring the whole country to a standstill and will refuse to move at least until there's a credible promise to see what can be done. More power to them.

It is without doubt that oil is incredibly expensive at the moment, and that vehicle fuel only accounts for a small amount of oil usage, but this seems to have the qualities of a commodities bubble, and it will surely burst before long. The market cannot, and will not meet the price for much longer.

What really, really annoys me is the shrugging of the shoulders over tax on petrol and diesel. 'We've deferred the duty rise until October.' say the MPs. Oh well, great, that's fucking good of you, thanks a lot. Why is there this idea that fuel duty has to go up all the time? Would any party dare to stand for election by saying that income tax would have to go up a couple of pence every year? Why do people accept that fuel duty must go up? It is a cynical, hostile tax. The goverment of whatever political colour has always been banging on about too many people using the country's roads and that this tax will drive people to alternatives.

What alternatives?

I live a 25 minute drive from work, if I took the bus, the journey would take an hour and five minutes. If I wanted to take the train, I'd have to go to either Ashford or Dover from Canterbury and then change there to go to Folkestone, with no integrated transport policy, I'd be hanging around on the platform for ages waiting for the Folkestone train, and I'd still have a twenty minute walk to the office. I have no alternative but to use my car, and the goverment knows this all too well, drivers are like a cash machine that keeps pumping out bank notes. Living in a semi-rural setting, in a rural area, a Labour government is only going to treat me with contempt.

Now we have the new argument. Joan Ruddock, Labour MP for Lewisham Deptford (above) and an environment minister has come out with a bloody fatuous statement. She has said with regard to the fuel duty rise, that the government "could not lose sight of the environment agenda". What now? Please enlighten me. How does me handing over more cash to the government save the environment? I don't see the connection. ZaNuLabour and the Green (Watermelon) party environmental policy seems to be take every penny we've got. Perhaps they've got an army of eco-elves that go around fanning polar bears and ambushing loggers in the rainforests that our fuel tax is paying for?

Watch out, environmentalism is making up the triumvirate of totalitarian control, along with H&S and 'Security Reasons' ('I'm sorry, I can't tell you about my expenses/let you ask me pointed questions/do the fucking job you elected me to do, because of security reasons'). Dare to question these closed statements and you'll be branded radical, dangerous, selfish and probably a paedophile as well.

Friday, 23 May 2008

The One That Thinks Bob Russell and Julian Lewis had better bloody watch it. . .

So, a small victory for those of us who think that given they are spanking tens of thousands of our cash, MPs perhaps should tell us what they are spending it on.

So we've found out that Tone and Cherie ended up owing the local water company (don't get me started on those bastards) £147 and were on the road to getting cut off. Apparently the letter contained the phrase 'We appreciate you may be experiencing some financial difficulties.' So that explains Cherie's Magnificent Octopus (Blackadder reference). We also know that Tony spent £10k on refurbishing his kitchen in Co. Durham. The mind boggles. Old Two Jags the vomiter also sought guidance on his entitlements on his pad in Admiralty House after 'adverse press coverage.' Perhaps he should have done that before moving in?

Still, Bob Russell, the LimDem member for Colchester has reacted badly to the High Court ruling, tabling a motion that the expenses and home addresses of High Court Judges be released for public scrutiny. What's the matter Bob? As someone who claims to represent the people of your community, don't you think you should account for the cash you get handed? Do we have something to hide? Hmmm?

Julian Lewis, Con MP for New Forest East is equally upset, decrying the release of MPs addresses as 'Barking Mad', it seems he's worried about hate mail (now, why would anyone hate you? What have you been up to?) and 'extremists.'

You'll note an earlier blog entry of mine when I spoke of H&S and 'Security Reasons' being the new totalitarian mantra. The political equivalent of a trump card, the concerns that may never questioned, the most sacred issues.

Here's a newsflash for you chaps, any extremist can get your address off the electoral role. Could it be, just maybe, that you resent the fact that the proles dare ask you to account for yourselves? If the £64k a year you get isn't enough, and you feel you're worth more, why not vote yourself a rise? Oh, the luxury of being able to do that, and still keep the shitloads of wonga you are so obviously deserving of under 'expenses'.

Here's another newsflash, FUCK YOU, fuck you very much, in the ear. If you're taking my cash, you'd better bloody tell me what you're spending it on. Every year we're expected to tell you through the treasury what we're doing with ours, so you can fucking do tell us in return, you grasping, avaricious, arrogant, money grabbing pricks. You know where I live, what I earn, who I call, what internet sites I look at, the list goes on. You want my DNA profile for crying out loud, and you won't even deign to tell us that you've spanked £1500 on kebabs, or whatever.

I hate you, I hate you with a passion you cannot even begin to imagine. If you think for one moment I'm going to go and support your campaign to go and carry on this lifestyle at the next election, you've another thing coming mate. For the cash you're getting, I want to know how often you cut your toenails.


The One That Thinks It Has Started Already. . .

OK, let's get this out of the way:

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! I find myself wondering why it is always poor old Harriet Harman that is wheeled out to face the music whenever Labour have a bad day. Ol' Gordie must really hate her. It was great watching her defend the indefensible on Al-Beeb's Breakfast show this morning, and with the same old mantra trotted out; 'pause for reflection (watch out for headline grabbing initiative tomorrow), listen to the public (translation: simpering smile like Blears whilst nodding, but inwardly fuming and wondering how we can bring in our next liberty infringement without anyone noticing), not indicative of a general election outcome, (they're right, it'd be much worse), it's the global economy, not Gordie's fault (wrong, we're all thoroughly sick of the sight of him).

Dunwoody's campaign was cynical and ill-advised. Why not run a campaign by saying 'vote for me and I'll do X,Y and Z', rather than 'don't vote for him, he's a toff.' What is it? 1973? And of course, most importantly, Gwynneth Dunwoody for her faults, wasn't afraid to speak out against the Supreme Soviet, you ask her daughter about an unpopular ZaNuLabour policy and the silence is deafening. Never mind, I'm sure she'll be parachuted into another 'safe' seat that she can lose at the next general election.

But it would seem the jostling for Gordie's position has begun already, although Lord knows why anyone would want it. It is akin to the Captain of the Titanic jumping overboard with a junior member of the ward room doing a little victory dance and shouting 'YES!' as he puts on the skipper's cap and realises he's in charge.

Buried away in the news today is an item detailing a fairly extra-ordinary attack on Jack 'Concerned Eyebrows' Straw from David 'Bumfluff moustache' Miliband. Apparently he's accused Jack Straw of being 'unchivalrous' and has called him 'pathetic' for taking Condee Rice's bed and making her sleep on the floor, no not at some horrible facsimilie of a teenage house party in Downing Street, but on a trip together. To be fair, that's probably no more than Rice deserves, but Straw could be accused of so much more than being 'unchivalrous'. Still, at leat Mili didn't accuse Straw of having tried to have drunken 'surprise sex' with Condee as she slumbered.

The interesting thing is, that with Gordie now dead and buried, and let's face it petrol could come down to 30p a litre and all could be sweetness and light, and he'd STILL lose the next election, these two have got to be amongst the favourites to take over. I bet the Tories are shitting themselves. Bloody hell, I bet the Loony party are rubbing their hands in glee at the prospect of one of these two jokers taking over the big chair. This is a party in big, big trouble. There's no realistic successor, no hope of victory and no-one with any political aspiration would want the job. Unless of course we are looking at two individuals who are desperate to be PM, just so they can sit at a desk with a little name plate that says 'Prime Minister'.

Now we see Tony Blair's legacy, bugger minimum wage, Iraq, even the bloody Dome. His real legacy is that he took a party that was in the wilderness but with its integrity intact and sold the membership and the history of the party down the river just so he could be PM. Let's face it, Dennis Skinner could have been the leader in '97 and they'd still have won. The result? A party with no hard-core base that can be relied on to turn out, no leadership, hostile and unfair taxation, a bizarre view of a private sector run public sector and a mania for controlling every aspect of people's lives. Just as the Lib-Lab pact and the Thorpe affair signalled the end of the Liberal Party, Blair's hunger for power, attitude to his colleagues and disrespect of those principles he trampled has left the Labour party broken, irrelevant and despised. Is there a way back? I don't know, and don't care. My only hope is for a UK Libertarian Party candidate standing in Canterbury in the next election.

Wednesday, 21 May 2008

The One That Wishes They'd Turn The Sound Down. . .

Just a quick one today.

That's a picture of my street when the adverts come on, because they're so FUCKING LOUD.

I'm now getting very tired of being blasted through the wall into next door's living room whenever a commercial channel feeding through the Sky satellite system cuts to the adverts. The difference in volume between the programmes and inducements is startling.

It is also embarrasing, frankly, when I get people from Hammerfest knocking on my front door asking if I wouldn't mind turning the volume down on my telly, because the noise of adverts is disturbing their herd of reindeer.

This doesn't make we want to buy the sponsors' products, indeed it has quite the reverse effect. Now bloody cut it out.

Monday, 19 May 2008

The one that isn't sure what it would do with it's vote on Thursday, if it had one.

So let's get something straight, there's more chance of me commanding the first manned mission to Mars than voting Labour, so if I had a vote in Crewe and Nantwich, I certainly wouldn't be voting for them. I could write a huge missive on why I'd prefer to repeatedly slam my testicles in a heavy drawer in an antique oak dresser than vote for that bunch of bastards, but it makes veins stand out in my neck and makes me all cross, so I'll save that for later.

LibDems? A party with no spine, no leader (yes I know Clegg is the leader, but come on, be sensible), and a manic desire to hand over the rest of what little remains of our autonomy and sovereignty to that cesspit of corruption, the EU.

Tories? Don't you just get the feeling that something isn't right there? It is like when x-ray specs were advertised in comics, you'd send off your postal order and become almost breathless with anticipation, until you realised that you'd been sold a pup. It is all very well saying that there can be no policies until they've had the chance to look over the books and what have you, but I'm afraid it just doesn't wash. Apparently, Gordie says they are all style and no substance. Now, I'm not about to take style tips from Gordie, he's wrong, there's neither style nor substance. They will of course win the next election by default. Well they won't win, ZaNuLabour will lose it, at the moment, and as will be demonstrated on Thursday, they could line up against an under 7's amputee football team and still lose.

So that leaves us with the fringe parties:

Greens? The 'Watermelon' party, green on the outside, red in the middle. You think that Labour lot are preachy. Can you imagine? I suspect that a reprise of Pol Pot's agrarian communism would be on the cards.

UKIP? I used to be quite well disposed to UKIP, but two things changed my mind, firstly the embracing, however fleeting, of permatanned arse-clown Robert Kilroy Silk (and whatever happened to Veritarse?) and secondly, whilst I support their plans to withdraw from the EU, I can't help the feeling that there's a little bit of the Johnny Foreigner about it.

It is a sad state of affairs isn't it? The same old brigade, representing the same old (self) interests, you can be assured that any of them would continue to tax us until we puke, and then continually nag us whilst expecting us to be really most 'umble and thankful to them for it.

Bunch of bastards, the lot of them.

I see the Flying Brick is standing for the The Official Monster Raving Loony Party, (Official? WTF?) I think I'd vote for him, I could do with a flying brick.

Of course then the problem is not agonising about who not to vote for, but who to lob the flying brick at, ah decisions decisions. Hopefully I may one day be able to vote for the UK Libertarian Party, you can find them in the little button on the top right hand of the page.

Sunday, 11 May 2008

The one that wishes they'd just leave us alone. . .

Oh look, there's another story that was published by the BBC on Sunday morning, although seemed to have been removed from their website by Sunday afternoon.

Some buffoon from the Fabian Hard of Thinking Society has decided it would be a good idea to withdraw child related tax credits from parents who decline to have their children given the MRR vaccination.


Now I don't hold with this MMR Vaccination gives kids autism story. I think it was a story that the staff at the Daily Fail loved having around because there's nothing better than being able to write 'WE'RE ALL FUCKING DOOMED!' in dirty great big letters on the front page. Surely given this government's mania with banning things (I believe it is called 'Bansturbation') if there was the remotest chance that the all in one MMR jab induced autism it would be withdrawn.

The issue here is choice. ZaNuLabour are always banging on about choice. We want to choose which hospital we go to (I don't I just want my local NHS hospital to be clean and good, it should be the same as every other hospital), which school our children attend apart from you can't now, it's all down to a ridiculous and hateful lottery system, c'mon is that any way to build the foundation for an education system? How about a lottery to see which teachers go to which school, which subjects those teachers teach and a lucky dip bin for exams season. Been studying German? Tough luck mate, you've just picked the Textile Design GCSE paper out of the bin. Anyhow, where was I? Oh yes, choice. Surely it is up to the parents to choose if their kid has the all in one, all three in constituent parts, some of 'em or none at all. It's their choice.

And here comes Mary Creagh, dishonourable fuckwit for Wakefield, and chair of Spongebrain Fudgepants' manifesto group on Public Health (whatever the hell that is). She has decided in her, obviously limited, wisdom that unless kids can provide an innoculation certificate, they should be prevented from attending school. Oh really? Let's look at Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights that ZaNuLabour hold so dear:

1. Everyone has the right to respect for his private and family life, his home and his correspondance.

2. There shall be no interference by a public authority with the exercise of this right except such is as in accordance with the law and is necessary in a democratic society in the interests of national security, public safety or the economic well-being of the country, for the prevention of disorder or crime, for the protection of health or morals, or for the protection of rights and freedoms of others.

So, in other words, they'll have to pass a law that requires everyone to be vaccinated. Now, how often is mumps, measles or rubella fatal? I had measles and rubella and was seemingly naturally immune to mumps. I don't recall any child at my school dying as a result of either illness, so is obliging people to vaccinate their kids necessary? How can this be ethically defensible? I'll bet parents would be prosecuted for not sending their kids to school if they didn't have a vaccination certificate.

Why don't you lot just fuck right off and do something constructive with your time? Perhaps if you spent more time worrying about your performance as public servants and less time worrying about nagging everybody else like a clucking old woman, you wouldn't be getting your arse handed to you at elections.

Oh and Boris, you've got the bug as well, old bean. Banning drinking on the London Transport network? Why? Are the current drunk & disorderly, breach of peace and assault laws not enough? Don't start banning things because there is a crime existing in potentia, that is a very dangerous road to go down.

So in summary; Fuck off you tossers, I'll make my own decisions, thanks. Go stick your head in a pig.

Friday, 9 May 2008

The one that would write a letter of complaint if it wasn't so hot and if it thought anyone would take the blindest bit of notice.

How interesting to see that the BBC has admitted to keeping £106,000 that it managed to cream off premium rate phone calls, and should have gone to charity.

Now, that may seem a little startling at first glance, but of course it is peanuts. Peanuts compared to the £700,000 it spanked on the BBC2 idents back in February last year, or the £18 million proposed in October for the launch of a Gaelic language channel - max audience: 70,000, or indeed the insane and costly move of a large number of services (Radio 5 et al) from London, where all the news is, to Salford, where all the news isn't, for no reason other than it seemed a good idea in the pub at the time.

What a fine example of a public body the BBC is turning out to be, running out biaised news coverage (for example the complete failure to talk about the oft referred to EU aspect in the recent report on Royal Fail, sorry, Mail.), rehashing old tut and passing it off as something new, such as Bianca and Rickaaaaaay in Brain Stem Deathenders, Celebrity do anything for TV exposure and charity (except we now know that money wasn't actually going to charity) and a seemingly ceaseless parade of shows detailing the auction of cheap antiques and the sale of houses.

A shame as what the BBC does well, it does very well. Like. . . well. . . . OK, I'm struggling to think of something at present. The kids' programming is nothing but crap imports, we don't need Brain Stem Deathenders on 15 nights a week, Life on Mars was excellent, except for the fact it was destroyed by the bloody awful Ashes to Ashes. Comedy is now nothing but sketch shows (Little Miss Jocelyn? Titty Bang Bang? Give me strength) and the sports coverage shrinks each year and offers nothing but tired presentation and banal punditry.

Hang on, what AM I paying my licence fee for? If the BBC were a subscription channel like Sky, would I subscribe? Probably not. Perhaps it is time to scrap the licence fee, or at the very least have a directly elected head of the organisation that we take out back and quietly shoot if things go pear-shaped.


Oooooh, the Mediaeval season on BBC4 has been quite good, and I'd turn on to watch Stephen Fry on anything. Perhaps they could commission a series where he goes round to celebrities houses and reads their meter before telling them how much their house is worth, cooking them dinner and sniggering at their worthless knick-kancks. We could call it 'The Very Embodiment of The Dumbing Down and Destruction of a National Institution, and the BBC.'

I bet Ant and Fucking Dec wouldn't beat that in the People's Choice award either.

Thursday, 8 May 2008

The one that is sat here slacked jawed in disbelief...

I noted with interest on Bishop Hill that Tamsin Dunwoody is the party choice to contest the by election in the seat of Crewe and Nantwich, which is vacant due to the death of her mother, Gwynneth Dunwoody. Tamsin herself is free due to her losing the seat of Preseli Pembrokeshire in the Welsh Assembly to the Tories (!) in 2003. (As an aside, how come they're always remembered as 'great parliamentarians' or 'true statesmen'? I never met Gwynneth and I'm not suggesting she was a bent shreiking banshee out for every penny she could get, but she was an MP, so the signs aren't encouraging. How come deceased MP's aren't decried as scoundrels and corrupt in the faux sombre pre PMQ's announcements?) Fair enough, the Tories have been at it for years, I suppose you get the MP you deserve.

But then I continued reading the article, hullo, what's this? A little story from the White City Pravda talking about plans for Emily Benn, Sir Anthony Wedgewood's granddaughter, to stand for East Worthing and Shoreham in the next election. Oh, she's 18. Just.




Sweet Mary, mother of God, baby Jesus and all the little orphans? Eighteen? Some complete fuckwit decided to lower the minimum age for MP's to 18 from 21! OK, consenting bum sex between 18 year olds, fine. Watching a film with a bit of nuddy fun and sweary bits, no worries. Going out and drinking so much Smirnoff Ice Slut Petrol that you're picked up by the old bill crawling through the gutter singing the back catalogue of Bow Wow Wow, good stuff. But running the fucking country? And standing in Worthing? Worthing? I thought being younger than 50 and entering the borough of Worthing was still a corporal offence.

When I was 18, my concerns were a; getting laid, b; scraping together enough shrapnel to buy a pint of cider, c; painting my bedroom black. And the order of that changed from day to day(Indeed, at the age of 32 my concerns are still in the main getting laid and scraping together enough shrapnel to buy a pint of cider.) Now, I wouldn't trust an eighteen year old to run a bath, let alone a constituency.

Let us consider the current 'Baby of the House', one Jo Swinson, the LD member for East Dumbartonshire and was 25 when elected. She is currently the LD spokesperson for Women and Equality. She got a BSc from the LSE and then worked in PR and Media in Yorkshire. For how long? 5 minutes? Was it work experience? I'll try and find a picture of her in a bit. I'm betting she's dressed up like a woman 35 years her senior, looking very sincere. But here's my message: You're 25 love, live your life. Don't waste it in Westminster, the SNP will probably relieve you of your seat at the next election anyway, go and do something constructive. You certainly can't be a conviction politican as you've no life experience to base your convictions on. Indeed that goes for you and little Emily, a few months in Peru building a school with organic knitted building materials doesn't count.

Still, I suppose we can take comfort from the fact that baby Emily stands no chance in Worthing as she is a; young and b; Labour.

What a bloody shower.

The one that is sat here, not moving a muscle.

I was struck by something as I walked my dog recently. Not five minute's walk from me is a very large green open space, it must be at least the size of five football pitches and is used constantly by dog walkers, joggers and students and kids playing football, frisbee, softball etc. In the lovely weather the other day it was heartwarming to see a bunch of twenty or so young teenagers playing football, they'd even gone to the trouble of making sure that each team were wearing matching shirts. It must have been a relief for these kids to be doing this rather than setting fire to old ladies and driving the local convenience store around the estate at breakneck speed.

What chilled me to the bone was the phrase I heard uttered by a passing pedestrian, an individual I recongnised as one of the local councillors; 'We'll have to put a stop to this,' he said to a colleague/crony as he pointed to the football match in progress, 'if one of them breaks a leg, they'll sue us for everything we've got.'

What a tragic viewpoint, and the saddest thing is, it's not the being sued that is the problem, it's the fear of being sued. One would hope that if one of the young lads broke a leg, and if he and his parents and their ambulance chaser sued, that the judge would sit there and declare that breaking a leg was an implied risk in this situation and that they should get out of his courtroom and stop wasting his time.

This fear now permeates every level of life. I work in a public sector organisation where tried and tested legislation is overruled by policy just in case anyone should complain. Never mind that any complaint would be overturned as it is covered by legislation, the fear of a complaint is such that all pretence of being fair and firm goes out of the window. There was an article on the news this morning about parents refusing to allow their progeny to walk down to the shops because it 'isn't safe'. What are the police doing? Everybody knows that the bushes at the end of the road are teeming with paedophiles, so why don't they go and nick them? I'm not going to bang on about that statistical difference between 'stranger danger' and family members and friends because we've all seen it hundreds of times before.

The danger is no greater now than it has ever been, it just seems greater because it makes good copy for the newspapers who have to print something, anything to shift papers as electronic media means any actual news they print is out of date by the time it hits the shelves.

Of course the people who make most profit out of this feeling of fear is the government. Fear of ecological catastrophe? We'll look after you by taxing you more to 'off-set' the damage. Fear of terrorists? We'll make sure we can lock people up on a whim for weeks on end. Fear of crime? We'll put up CCTV cameras so we can keep an eye on you, all of you, all day, or how about a national DNA database? Don't worry we can be trusted to look after your most personal information, that you'll have to give us, even though there's no suggestion you've actually done anything wrong. We'll also make you carry this little card, it'll help solve crime, prevent terrorism, stop benefit fraud, be more secure. How? Errrm, well, look, it just will OK? Honestly, it's not your place to question us, we tell you what to do, you don't tell us. Now just shut up and put that cross in that little box next to your Labour candidate. Labour - because we know what's best for you.

Ben Franklin said 'Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.' He's right we've neither. H&S and Security - the totalitarian mantra. I'm off to re-read 1984, I've got the feeling that Orwell is actually the re-incarnation of Nostradamus, surely he couldn't have just guessed what the future would look like?

Tuesday, 6 May 2008

Well that didn't last long, did it?

The sight of Harriet Harman as the BBC's Election Night coverage went to air put me in mind of the condemned before they were walked to the gallows. The immense discomfort of the Labourites as the evening went on, and the following day, was a delicacy worthy of two Michelin stars.

'Disappointing' said Gordon. No, Gordon. Disappointing is getting two numbers in the National Lottery, or opening your Sunday paper to discover the complimentary CD has been swiped by the paper boy. (Actually, given the toss that they put out for free, it's probably a blessing in disguise.) I think what you were looking for was 'a catastrophe of arse clenchingly awful proportions.' And that was before Boris unseated the Thane of the Thames.

The message was; 'We'll listen to the voters, reflect and change.' Now I've translated that to mean 'We've never listened to you bunch of bastards and we're not about to start now, we'll do nothing for a bit, and then carry on like nothing has happened.' The problem being of course that this bunch of self-righteous arse-clowns are incapable of leaving alone and doing nothing.

So how has Spongebrain Fudgepants, as my friend Mac the Knife refers to Pa Broon, shown that he is listening? Simple, he's ressurecting a news story from last week that shows his mania for controlling every aspect of everbody's life. Remember the story about the guy who recently got a criminal record, not for saying 'Boo!' to a PCSO, or having a scrap in the street, or driving someone else's car around at great speed, or planting tons of high explosive in the cellars of Parliament, but for the heinous and detestable crime of having the lid of his wheelie bin slightly ajar? Yes? I thought so too, crucifixion is too good for some bastards.

Well for some reason the media thought that his fine was a really bad thing. What a bunch of sickos! Well, Ol' Gordie ain't gonna stand for that, oh no. This is new Gordie, he means business. He's made a decision. He'll probably change it next week, but he's made a decision for now, oh yes. You thought it had been consigned to the dustbin of history, but no, pay as you throw is back! Yes! Now the local councils who are already responsible for the parking fines and the smoking ban will take on more responsibility. Expect a microchip on your bin any day now as your bin is weighed on your bi-annual collection day.

Let us set aside the fact that it is a really stupid idea, unless a pay as you throw scheme means the refuse collection part of your council tax is repaid or remains uncollected. Let us set aside that it is yet another cynical ploy for squeezing money out of us on the pretext of ecological wossname. Firstly, it's MY bin, I paid for it and have the receipt to prove it, any wanker putting a chip on my bin is going to be hit with a criminal damage charge. Secondly, my bin is going in my back garden and never coming out, because every bugger is going to put their rubbish in my bin, just as I'm going to do it to everyone else. My local council puts yellow stickers on bin bags left on the pavement out of bins that read 'Sorry, we cannot collect this bag.' I'm often tempted to ask the council if the dustmen are unable to pick the bags up, (our recycling is collected off the street in specially provided transparent bin bags) or just unwilling?

Everyone will just leave their rubbish on the street, in bags, with yellow stickers. In the end it'll start to stink and the seagulls and rats and foxes will get stuck in, and before you know it Canterbury looks like Naples. But this presents a public health risk. Our council is obliged to take action. So what will happen is, they'll send a dustcart round and the binmen will pick the bags up and throw them in the back. Say, that sounds a pretty neat way of collecting rubbish, why hasn't anyone thought of that? Oh they have, but it was scrapped, because the fuckers just cannot leave things alone.

Why the hell is a Prime Minister getting involved with fucking rubbish collections? Could it possibly be that he has been so obsessed with the idea of being PM (nice hospital pass by the way, Tony) that now he's got there, he's discovered that he hasn't a clue what to do with it? Is this the problem when power becomes an end rather than a means? Is it because he is surrounded by a bunch of such lackwit mouth breathers that he can't trust them to even sort out bin day? Or is it because that whilst they are indeed lackwit mouth breathers, they are capable of organising bin day, but he doesn't want them to, because he wants to be in control so much that it actually hurts?

I'll go for all three.

Right, I'm off to put me recycling in me wheelie bin and me general waste in transparent sacks to leave out on the pavement. Do you think they'll notice? Hell, I work in the public sector, if they feel like me, they won't give a fuck.