Who is at fault?

I had either the good fortune, or bad fortune, I haven’t made up my mind yet, of listening to some half-wit chuntering away on the wireless last night.

The poor old sod was stuck in his car on the M6 near Wigan in the snow, having travelled about a quarter of a mile in about three and a half hours.

One feels a degree of sympathy, as it would appear that our transport system is, once again, completely unprepared for the winter weather we tend to get in winter.

My sympathy began to waver when I heard his plaintive cries about lack of action, lack of information (it’s snowing, you’re on the motorway, traffic has stopped, use your imagination – in this case a jack-knifed HGV) and that calls to the Greater Manchester Police non-emergency number had resulted in referral to the Highways Agency. Well, it wasn’t an emergency, so that sounds about right to me.

Apart from it could have been an emergency.

You see, despite advice from a copper with scrambled egg all over the peak of his cap, the usual stuff, you know, ‘the weather is very bad, do not travel unless it is a matter of life or death’ that was given out that afternoon, this man was in his car with a colleague of his who was eight and a half months pregnant.

No, he wasn’t taking her to the hospital in an act of fraternal solidarity. He was giving her a lift home, and found himself stuck in the snow, with a very pregnant woman, returning from their office Christmas party.

My sympathy evaporated quicker than a Scottish footballer playing in a Qatari world cup match when I discovered they were estate agents.

So, senior copper says stay at home, and what do you do? Take your pregnant colleague out into the snow to attend the office shindig?

And you have the nerve to demand to know who is at fault for your current predicament?

OK, here’s how you find out. Whilst you're sat behind the wheel of your immobile car, the fuel tank indicator needle inexorably drifting to the red ‘E’ as you keep the engine running to power the blower, look up at the centre of the top of the windscreen. Just tilt that mirror until you see a face in it. That is the person at fault, you utter, utter mong.

The One That Wants The PM To Stop The Snow. . .

Heavy snowfall is going to be very bad, and the Prime Minister needs to do something to stop it, now.

Except we all know there's nothing he can do to stop the white stuff falling from the sky. It's coming and there's bugger all we can do about it.

Why would I state the obvious like this? Simple, because Frank Field and the 'Balanced Migration Group' seem to think that the major parties can stop or cap immigration at 70 million.

Former minister Frank Field is among those arguing current immigration rates, unless restricted, will impact on public services and quality of life.

The Balanced Migration Group said the BNP continued to exploit the issue.

Labour says its points-based migration system is working but the Tories want an annual cap on incoming workers.

Well, you can introduce as many points based systems as you like, but still you ignore the elephant in the room.

I don't need to point out what it is to you, except to say that we can restrict Sri Lankan doctors, Australian working holiday makers and Indian software engineers as much as we like. But all the time the population of twenty odd countries can decide on a whim to come and move over here, tinkering about on the edge is like seeing if removing the teaspoons will stop you repeatedly and violently slamming your fingers in the cutlery drawer.

It is madness to come up with solutions that won't sort the issue, and then to make a big fuss about dreaming up these solutions, when everyone can see what the answer is. The problem being that those we pay to come up with the solutions will not consider the simplest and only effective one. They won't even discuss it. They won't even acknowledge its existence.

I'm off to my garden to institute a points based system for the snowflakes that want to land there.

The One That Is Saying Something Nice. . .

I only ever seem to moan and bitch on here, so now it's time for something completely different.

Snow.

I love the stillness and silence that snow provides, and the crunch of it underfoot. One of the cheapest and most satisfying pleasures there is.

The One That Doesn't Understand What All The Fuss Is About. . .

8th March 2008
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Minus Twenty Centigrade, including wind chill
38cm snowfall over 24 hours
Disruption to life and services: Slow rush hour.

3rd December 2008
Rossendale, Lancashire, UK
Minus 2 centigrade, including wind chill
5cm snowfall over 24 hours
Disruption to life and services: All major roads and motorways closed, scores of schools shut, breakdown of law and order as cars left with engines running to defrost are stolen.

Bloody hell, why do we make such a fuss? What amused me is when I took that photo in Tronno earlier this year, there were people from Alberta rolling their eyes saying 'of course they just can't deal with snow down here, we get proper snow, they get a bit of a dusting and make such a crisis out of it.'

The One That Thinks There Might Be Something In This Climate Change Lark. . .

Northampton Town's Sixfields Stadium earlier this evening.

It must be climate change, there is no other possible explanation. I mean when was the last time you saw a league match being postponed in bloody October?

We must take positive action, Comrades. The Arctic ice-shelf is on the rampage, the townsfolk of Northampton losing football fixtures to the weather, kids in the Midlands building bloody snowmen! In pissing October! Won't somebody think of the children? What sort of world will they grow up in? Are they expected to build igloos in their summer holidays?

Join me, join me in turning the heating up full blast and opening all the windows, drive everywhere, even if it is to put a bag in the bin, as fast as you can, in first gear, sit in your armchair drinking a cup of tea in one hand and have an orbital sander whirring around in the other. We must stop the climate from changing!