Hello, is anyone left out there or are you all in prison for looting Primark and Dorothy Perkins?
I have resisted the urge to offer a view on the recent disturbances, I did not want anyone to feel that I was making light of the situation, especially as people lost their lives, their livelihoods and their homes.
Then it occurred to me, if I don't carry on then I am letting the lawless thugs rule - so I'm here, with brush in hand, and I intend to carry on being insensitive, witless and sarcastic, because you deserve me!
As I write this modern masterpiece in social exploration, the Prime Minister is on his feet in a recalled parliament basically bollocking the Police for not being tough enough on the ruffians, bollocking parents for not being strict enough with their little lambs and bollocking anyone who isn't sat within a few feet of himself, because no matter what caused the riots it's got nothing to do with politics!
What he wants to see, and what the general public want to see is flogging, water cannons, rubber bullets, more flogging and perhaps the odd execution. That'll learn the little buggers a serious lesson in how to behave. Just think of all the new jobs created in the Department of Public Correction and Humiliation.
The blame game is well advanced on this one, parents are getting it in the neck because the kids should be at school not roaming the streets - talk about MP's being out of touch...it is the school holidays I think!
Parents do have to take their share of the blame, you see it all starts at home when kids are very young. Let me paint you a word picture...
Little Johnny and little Mary are playing with their toys in the playroom of their humble little five bedroomed home in leafy suburbia. Johnny likes his pretend tool kit and Mary likes her fluffy little pussy cat. Suddenly, Mary grabs hold of the tool in Johnny's hand and snatches it away - obviously Johnny cries out and this noise attracts the attentions of the au pair Ingrid. (Mum and Dad are working in the City).
Ingrid, hearing the noise, asks the plumber with the big droopy moustache to pull his trousers up, and she goes to investigate...she discovers little Johnny sobbing and little Mary trying to insert the tool into her lunchbox. (You thought I was going to say fluffy pussy didn't you? - You disgust me!)
Ingrid turns to little Mary and says, 'would you like to give Johnny his toy please Mary?' and Mary says 'No! Mummy told us both that we should share our toys'.
And there we have it - the whole problem of looting, take what you want because mummy said to share and the au pair accepts the situation because she wants to help a plumber loosen his nuts.
We should come down hard on these awful parents who teach children that they can take what they want, we should really teach them all to be selfish and only play with toys that they have purchased themselves from their trust funds.
Let me pose this question...are all looters really bad people?
Of course they are - why are you even thinking about it! You are going on the list my friend...Eric Pickles will have your guts for garters, and your liver for breakfast.
You see, life is really simple - there are the 'haves' and there are the 'have nots' - I am a 'have not' because I don't have a brand new plasma screen, Nike trainers or a Blackberry.
Do you think I can apply for some benefits to help me go on a training course so that I can learn how to get all of those lovely things? If I do, they wont last long...my next door neighbour is called Little Mary, and she believes in sharing.
Well I hope this has helped you all understand the world a little better, I'm off now to brush up on my back hand, fancy applying for the post of chief flogger in residence, Mansfield District Council.
Just an afterthought - If I have offended anyone with this blog I do apologise - but it's not my fault - it was my parents and my lack of education and a job and that I don't believe in god.
Thursday 11 August 2011
Sunday 7 August 2011
Reflections on a Long Week
Hello my dearly cherished horde, I hope this missive finds you in fine fettle...
It seems just short of forever that last we spoke, and the time has arrived once more for me to reach out through the electronic mist of misery and embrace you all with my big strong masculine arms.
There has been a lot of hugging in my life this week and I must admit I am rather partial - I'm not very good at being standoffish and I leap in for a grapple whenever the opportunity arises.
This week Mrs B and I were blessed with a visit by the whole Amos clan, they had not travelled this far north since before Amy Winehouse was famous...so hugs all around.
Our eldest nephew, Samuel, stayed on for a few days whilst the rest of the clan flew out to Menorca on a well earned, all inclusive holiday. The hotel has already felt the dip in profits, as nephew Max devours all the food and my little sister Alison, devours all the local booze! My brother in law, Simon, is far too restrained to have made such an impact.
As Sam stayed on with us for a few days, we suggested he invite our godson, Liam, to come and stay. So, there we were with two 18 year old lads in the house, the testosterone levels went through the roof and I felt their presence, my own energy levels increased substantially and I found that I could scrape six new potatoes in the time it normally took to scrape three!
The other thing you notice with two extra bodies in the house is that by the time I got to the shower there was no hot water left...and I was amazed at that because I thought teenage boys didn't shower!
Eventually they departed and Mrs B and I headed north, arriving in Lancaster, where I was to conduct a baby naming ceremony.
More hugs followed, reunited after several years with Callum (the dad) and meeting for the first time Rachel (the mum) and then meeting the little angel herself (Elsa). Both families were present and some of them I had not seen for a while so more hugs all round.
I must just say, baby naming ceremonies make such a nice change from funerals - and I have three more to look forward too in the coming weeks. There are bound to be lots of hugs and I imagine that by November my arms will be really tired.
Little Elsa is a very pretty baby and although I only met Rachel for the first time on Saturday I can see that she is well capable of looking after not only her daughter but Callum too!
It makes my old cynical heart soften just a little when I see such contentment and I wish Elsa and her mum and dad lots of happy days.
Now off with you all, I have work to do!
I have to visit the supermarket and liberate a pot of yoghurt and some milk as well as write a funeral before trying to scrape six potatoes - it's going to take a long time as my testosterone levels are back to those normally attributed to a neutered sloth!
Carry on.
It seems just short of forever that last we spoke, and the time has arrived once more for me to reach out through the electronic mist of misery and embrace you all with my big strong masculine arms.
There has been a lot of hugging in my life this week and I must admit I am rather partial - I'm not very good at being standoffish and I leap in for a grapple whenever the opportunity arises.
This week Mrs B and I were blessed with a visit by the whole Amos clan, they had not travelled this far north since before Amy Winehouse was famous...so hugs all around.
Our eldest nephew, Samuel, stayed on for a few days whilst the rest of the clan flew out to Menorca on a well earned, all inclusive holiday. The hotel has already felt the dip in profits, as nephew Max devours all the food and my little sister Alison, devours all the local booze! My brother in law, Simon, is far too restrained to have made such an impact.
As Sam stayed on with us for a few days, we suggested he invite our godson, Liam, to come and stay. So, there we were with two 18 year old lads in the house, the testosterone levels went through the roof and I felt their presence, my own energy levels increased substantially and I found that I could scrape six new potatoes in the time it normally took to scrape three!
The other thing you notice with two extra bodies in the house is that by the time I got to the shower there was no hot water left...and I was amazed at that because I thought teenage boys didn't shower!
Eventually they departed and Mrs B and I headed north, arriving in Lancaster, where I was to conduct a baby naming ceremony.
More hugs followed, reunited after several years with Callum (the dad) and meeting for the first time Rachel (the mum) and then meeting the little angel herself (Elsa). Both families were present and some of them I had not seen for a while so more hugs all round.
I must just say, baby naming ceremonies make such a nice change from funerals - and I have three more to look forward too in the coming weeks. There are bound to be lots of hugs and I imagine that by November my arms will be really tired.
Little Elsa is a very pretty baby and although I only met Rachel for the first time on Saturday I can see that she is well capable of looking after not only her daughter but Callum too!
It makes my old cynical heart soften just a little when I see such contentment and I wish Elsa and her mum and dad lots of happy days.
Now off with you all, I have work to do!
I have to visit the supermarket and liberate a pot of yoghurt and some milk as well as write a funeral before trying to scrape six potatoes - it's going to take a long time as my testosterone levels are back to those normally attributed to a neutered sloth!
Carry on.
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