My Tax Statement

This week I've been really pissed off with people expressing hatred of anybody who has a few more bob than them minimising their tax liabilities. If they love paying tax so bloody much then make a few voluntray extra payments to HMRC, I'm sure Giddy Osborne and co would be very grateful.

If any of those jumping on the 'tax 'em 'til the pips squeak' bandwagon have never tried to minimise tax contributions I might respect them, although I would still disagree. But I'll bet they've bought duty free  goods at some time. I bet they've bought cheap booze and fags in France and elsewhere at some time. I'll bet they've filled up their tanks at Calais to avoid paying our ludicrously high fuel duty a little longer when they get back. I bet they've filled their fuel tanks the day before a budget to avoid paying extra duty. I bet they've made charitable donations by gift aid thus depriving the exchequer of income towards the NHS or whatever. I bet they've saved in an ISA or some other 'tax efficient' saving scheme.

My moral duty is to provide as best I can for my family. My moral duty is not, and never will be, to waste hard earned cash by pouring any more than I have to into the bottomless pockets of the state. My moral obligation is to pay as little tax as I legally can. And if I'm one day worth millions I will still live by the same principles.

Sack The Mithering Politicians

The devil makes work for idle hands is so very true of our politicians. With over 70% of our laws coming from our European Union masters there has been no decrease in the number of conmen in the House of Commons. Indeed we now have many more politicians and bureaucrats mithering and bullying us than we ever had when we had the world's greatest empire.

In all affairs at the moment we seem to have a government that is incapable of independent thought, let alone independent action. In addition to the EU we slavishly follow what our allies do, whether formally through NATO or the United Nations, or by grovellingly kowtowing to the United States. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a USA basher by any stretch of the imagination, they are fine allies to have and valuable friends. What I find demeaning as a British citizen is the way Blair/Brown/Cameron have slavishly followed the lead of Bush/Obama. As the Americans look set to jettison the vacuous Obama Cameron was over there grovelling and smarming around him while ignoring conservatives in the Republican Party. Cameron is a visionless 'yes man' who should be dumped by his party at the first opportunity.

This lack of vision, and selling out to supranational bodies, means that our politicians have nothing to do but micromanage our lives. For decades the National Health Service and education have been political footballs undergoing endless reform, reorganisation and restructuring at a cost of millions by successive governments. Despite all that, and years of waste by Conservative and Labour governments, the emotional retards on the left have been crying and screaming about the Tories privatising the NHS, since the 1970s in my memory, probably earlier. Sadly no Conservative government has had the guts to privatise it. I still can't work out why the people who hate politicians the most are the happiest to have them in charge of our health and education services.

Now we have elected mayors. Why? What for? We are soon to have elected police commissioners. Why? What for? Are those councillors previously responsible for what these misfits are going to do going to get the axe? Don't make me laugh! Politicians are busy using our tax money creating ever more gravy trains for each other, stuff the cost to mugs like you and me. At least two current Labour MPs are going for these new jobs, Manchester MP Tony Lloyd for Police Commissioner, Birmingham MP Gisella Stuart for elected Mayor. Why doesn't a pair of lefties going faster than Usain Bolt to clamber onboard a new gravy train surprise me?

Now, to try and reassure us the government is to send us all a breakdown of how our tax money is spent. The patronising bastards! How many bureaucrats will it take to produce that? Will it include how much tax is wasted on pointless bureaucratic exercises such as sending us all a breakdown of how our tax is wasted? Will it include a breakdown of how much our sponging parasite politicians really cost us? Thought not.

But as long we have millions of useful idiots in this country, whose answer to everything is 'the government should spend more', then government will get away with it. When the idiots realise that government can only spend our money, which means ever higher taxes, politicians will have carte blanche. Or maybe the useful idiots like the idea of 100 year bonds, they probably don't give a toss about our grandchildren and great gandchildren being saddled with a huge debt crisis, as long as they're alright. Socialism in practice.

Mother's Day

We pray for all mothers throughout the world,

may they experience the joy and appreciation of those they have brought into the world, and may they be blessed today as they are surrounded by a loving family.

FC United of Manchester-Real Football

It's been some time since I wrote about FC United of Manchester so here goes, a bit of an update for you.

Our club was formed when the Glazers took over Manchester United. Don't get me wrong, that wasn't the sole reason. For years we had seen football being screwed by money men who had turned big clubs into huge corporations so far removed from the idea of a sports club that you could barely recognise them. I say 'our club' because it is owned by the fans. If a rich Arab wanted to buy the club 51% of us would have to vote yes. We had a vote about having a shirt sponsor. We voted no. It's quite simple and it works, if you're interested in real football and the ethics of your club rather than selling your heritage and soul to buy a trophy or two.

Does anybody think Abramovitch woke up every Sunday morning from childhood desperate to find out how Chelsea went on the day before? No, it's his play thing. That's another thing too, football on a Saturday afternoon. Remember those days? If you don't there was a time when football games kicked off at 3-00pm on a Saturday, or midweek on a Wednesday night. When Newcastle play Southampton on a Monday night do the authorities actually give a toss about the supporters? Course not, they get more cash from the telly than those mugs who buy tickets.

Today FC United are playing in the Evo-Stick Northern Premier League. We had rapid promotion from the North West Counties League, where we started life in 2005, and lost the play-off final last season to Colwyn Bay, who are now doing very well in the Conference North. We're away to Henesford Town today and I'll be picking up one of the supporters' coaches around 11-30 in the shadow of Old Trafford, a sweet irony. Hednesford is a huge game as they are up there in the play-off spots where we are fighting to be. There will be well over 1000 fans at the game when the average in this league is around 250. Our home games usually attract around 2000 and we have over 3000 members.

"So what's it like giving up your season ticket at one of the world's biggest clubs to watch non-league?" I get asked a lot. And I always answer that I haven't enjoyed my football as much as I have these last seven years in decades. When I was travelling to watch United in Barcelona, Florence, Athens, Prague, Turin and many more wonderful European cities, I never dreamt that I would soon be travelling to Northwich, Whitby and North Ferriby instead, and loving it!

So if your sick of the sterile atmosphere, the ridiculous price of a leather-burger let alone the astronomical ticket prices at your league club get down to your local non-league club. You'll probably pay well under a tenner, find a cosy clubhouse selling proper, affordable beer and you can have a bit of banter with the other fans without facing a line of yellow jacketed jobsworth stewards and hyper-twitchy robocops in riot gear. In other words, a proper Saturday afternoon. You can even swap ends at half time.

Bloody hell, is that the time? Better get ready to drive to Old Trafford to get the coach to Hednesford Town FC. . It's a true promotion six pointer. Will we win promotion this season? It would be nice, but if we don't it will mean another trip to Whitby (if they don't blow it and get relegated) next season for fantastic fish and chips before the game. Now that beats tapas before a game at the Nou Camp any time.

Motorways-Germany and England

Doing a lot of driving recently I had time to think about our motorways and German autobahns. I once reached 140mph on an autobahn which was great fun. It was a big flash hire car but I doubt I'd have had to face the music if I'd crashed, it was comforting to think I'd have probably know nothing about it at that speed . It was perfectly legal too and I have never felt in any danger on a German autobahn.

Different story here where pillocks sit in the middle lane or cut you up swinging across your front bumper as they nearly miss their junctions. On Tuesday I even had a misfit barely going over 40mph on the motorway causing all kinds of fun and games.

That got me thinking about the difference between us and the Germans. I think two songs about roads sum up the difference between us and our German friends. Here is the German one:



Here is the English one:



Yes they are aren't they?

Time For A Yorkshireman Joke

As a Lancastrian from Manchester it's great fun taking the mickey out of Yorkshiremen and Scousers, and they love having a pop at us just as much. But I've had many a pop at Scousers on here so here's a joke about Yorkshiremen:

A Yorkshireman' s wife dies and the widower decides that her headstone should have the words "she were thine" engraved on it. He calls the stone mason, who assures him that the headstone will be ready a few days after the funeral.
True to his word the stone mason calls the widower to say that the headstone is ready and would he like to come and have a look. When the widower gets there he takes one look at the stone to see that it's been engraved "she were thin".
He explodes - "Fooking 'ell man, you've left the fooking "e" out, you've left the fooking "e" out!" The stone mason apologises and assures the poor widower that it will be rectified the following morning.
Next day comes and the widower returns to the stone mason - "There you go sir, I've put the "e" on the stone for you". The widower looks at the stone and then reads out aloud - "E, she were thin".

If you don't like that one how about this very old one:

An actor in Hollywood goes for an audition. He wows the director but he calls the actor to one side:
"I'd love to give you the part" he says "but you must change that name".
"Why?  What's wrong with my name?" he asks.
"Well it's a good wholesome family film and your name could possibly cause offence".
"But I've been called Penis von Lesbian all my life and it's never caused offence yet" Protested the actor.
"Come back in two days with a new name or you don't get the part" demanded the director.
Two days later the actor returns: "OK", he says, " what about Dick van Dyke?"

The Jam-Beat Surrender

This is what you call energetic:



Them were t'days!

Chelsea v Tesco In The Champions League Quarter Final

At least if Chelsea draw Tesco in the last eight of the European Champions League we are guaranteed one English club in the semi-finals. It was  especially encouraging to hear that like Chelsea a week or so ago, Tesco have just got rid of their boss after a poor run of results since Christmas.

Since breaking into the top four in spectacular fashion Tesco have become complacent and are planning a complete revamp of their ageing squad. Indeed I saw their right winger Hartlepool Branch yesterday and it was looking very tired and lethargic, and that was on a Tuesday morning, how it could cope with the full rigours of a Saturday afternoon with a huge crowd I don't know.

Personally I would like to see a final involving those two entertaining giants of Europe Barcelona and Nestle. After spending years as a slumbering giant, as were Real Madrid in the late 70s and early 80s, Nestle are back on centre stage and are once again serious contenders for European honours. Pep Guardiola could be leaving Barca at the end of the season and what a grand finale for him. It is rumoured that Chelsea could be luring Guardiola to Stamford Bridge but but don't discount him replacing Brasher as boss at Tesco.

But my money is on a late swoop by newly renamed Manchester Arsenal FC to take Guardiola to the Etihad Stadium on a salary that neither Chelsea, Tesco nor even Sainsbury could match. My spy tells me that Manchester Arsenal are planning to take every member of staff from Arsenal FC over the summer, including the tea lady, leaving Arsene Wenger to start rebuilding for a glorious new era.

OK I've made that up. But that's how I feel about English football. Two huge corporations like Chelsea v Manchester City excites me as much as reading about Tesco pipping Sainsbury in the battle for Christmas sales. It's all about money. Big deal.

The Joke That Is The Olympics

What I can't understand about the Olympics is how people who never go near an athletics meeting, or even watch one on TV start going gaga when the Olympics come round and would kill to get their hands on a ticket to see a race that lasts 10 seconds.

As if the cash involved did'nt make a big enough mockery of the 'Olympic ideal' we now have the vulgar joke of the British Olympic chiefs touting for athletes from around the world to join them in the hope of picking up a couple more medals when the vile circus turns up in London this summer. The latest, and there are several others, is Yamile Adama who has pulled on a vest for Cuba where she was actually born, Sudan and now Britain. Not only that but she could even captain the UK team.

So what has happened to the millions and millions of public money spent on facilities and training for the next generation of UK athletes? Or was it all spent on that huge politico/bureaucratic vanity project known as 'the Olympics' and stuff the future of our homegrown young athletes?

Like the Irish football team of old, when having once had a pint of Guiness qualified a half decent player to join the Irish national team, that athlete you are cheering on for a British gold medal may be no more British than the President of Argentina.

Health Fascists Are Everywhere!

Have you ever wondered how much of your taxes is spent on those mithering, badgering health warnings that are popping up like a plague of pox all over the country? Have you ever wondered how much of your tax money is spent on those mithering, badgering 'studies' that we are told about on a daily basis that tell us how we are going to die early if we eat, drink and breathe?

I'm reaching the end of my tether. I am considering how to stop it without landing myself in Strangeways.


This morning the BBC was telling us we will all die if we eat pork pies and bacon. This week, after decades of being told to eat five portions of fruit and veg a day or we'll die, the dentists are telling us that we will lose all our teeth if we eat our five a day. Then I suppose we'll be told that only eating liquidised food, or food we can suck, will lead to a premature death.

These last few days I've been working silly hours with ludicrously early starting times in different parts of the North West. This means I listen to radio a great deal and sit in traffic jams. On Friday night I went to bed early in a rage because I was sick of those adverts on TV telling me that if my 'poo' is soft I've got bowel cancer, in my case it's usually a dodgy vindaloo the night before. But I've ranted about that before. So on Saturday I left home at 5-30am to get to Liverpool, where I thought I was going to join a riot for a film being made there and would be able to legally kick a Scouser and get paid for it. As it happens I was part of a crowd attacking a prison van with child murderers in it, and had a great laugh with the Scousers I was working with.

Anyway, on the M58 into Liverpool I had road rage. I was listening to a commercial radio station and an advert came on telling me that if my 'poo'was soft I had bowel cancer. I screamed and turned the radio off. I joined the A59 when I left the motorway and got stuck behind a bus. My eyes wandered from the back seat of the bus to an advert beneath it telling me that if my 'poo' was soft I had bowel cancer. I was about to jump out and rip the ad off the bus when the traffic lights changed to green. I screamed and thumped my dashboard.

So the next time you hear about some poor soul with a terrible disease who has been refused drugs on the grounds of cost, remember that all the money has gone on idiot campaigns to make us all hypochondriacs and paranoics. We must be wasting thousands and thousands of GP hours, and millions of pounds, going to see about our bowel cancer when it's nothing more than Ghandi's Revenge.

I think as a civilisation we are becoming morbidly self-obsessed. Probably a symptom of our moral decline.

Fighting To Save Marriage

As the onslaught against Christianity continues, with Dave and his Coalition pledging to end the traditional marriage, the Archbishops of Westminster and Southwark have issued the following pastoral letter, read out to parishioners throught the country at Mass this morning. You can sign the petition against this attack by the government on the Coalition For Marriage website.

A Letter on Marriage from the President and Vice-President of the Bishops’ Conference of

England and Wales

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Jesus Christ,

This week the Coalition Government is expected to present its consultation paper on the proposed change in the legal definition of marriage so as to open the institution of marriage to same-sex partnerships.

Today we want to put before you the Catholic vision of marriage and the light it casts on the importance of marriage for our society.

The roots of the institution of marriage lie in our nature. Male and female we have been created, and writteninto our nature is this pattern of complementarity and fertility. This pattern is, of course, affirmed by many other religious traditions. Christian teaching fills out this pattern and reveals its deepest meaning, but neither the Church nor the State has the power to change this fundamental understanding of marriage itself. Nor is this simply a matter of public opinion.

Understood as a lifelong commitment between a man and a woman, and for the creation and upbringingof children, marriage is an expression of our fundamental humanity. Its status in law is the prudent fruit of experience, for the good of the spouses and the good of the family. In this way society esteems the married couple as the source and guardians of the next generation. As an institution marriage is at the foundation of our society.

There are many reasons why people get married. For most couples, there is an instinctive understanding that the stability of a marriage provides the best context for the flourishing of their relationship and for bringing up their children. Society recognises marriage as an important institution for these same reasons: to enhance stability in society and to respect and support parents in the crucial task of having children and bringing them up as well as possible.

The Church starts from this appreciation that marriage is a natural institution, and indeed the Church

recognises civil marriage. The Catholic understanding of marriage, however, raises this to a new level. As theCatechism says: ‘The matrimonial covenant, by which a man and a woman establish between themselves a partnership of the whole of life, by its nature is ordered toward the good of the spouses and the procreation and education of offspring; this covenant between baptised persons has been raised by Christ the Lord to the dignity of a sacrament.’ (para.1601)

These rather abstract words are reflected however imperfectly in the experience of married couples. We know that at the heart of a good marriage is a relationship of astonishing power and richness, for the couple, their children, their wider circle of friends and relations and society. As a Sacrament, this is a place where divine grace flows. Indeed, marriage is a sharing in the mystery of God’s own life: the unending and perfect flow of love between Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

We know, too, that just as God’s love is creative, so too the love of husband and wife is creative of new life. It is open, in its essence, to welcoming new life, ready to love and nurture that life to its fullness, not only here on earth but also into eternity.

This is a high and noble vision, for marriage is a high and noble vocation. It is not easily followed. But we are sure that Christ is at the heart of marriage, for his presence is a sure gift of the God who is Love, who wants nothing more than for the love of husband and wife to find its fulfilment. So the daily effort that marriage requires, the many ways in which family living breaks and reshapes us, is a sharing in the mission of Christ, that of making visible in the world the creative and forgiving love of God.

In these ways we understand marriage to be a call to holiness for a husband and wife, with children

recognised and loved as the gift of God, with fidelity and permanence as the boundaries which create its sacred space. Marriage is also a crucial witness in our society, contributing to its stability, its capacity for compassion and forgiveness and its future, in a way that no other institution can.

In putting before you these thoughts about why marriage is so important, we also want to recognise the

experience of those who have suffered the pain of bereavement or relationship breakdown and their

contribution to the Church and society. Many provide a remarkable example of courage and fidelity. Many strive to make the best out of difficult and complex situations. We hope that they are always welcomed and helped to feel valued members of our parish communities.

The reasons given by our government for wanting to change the definition of marriage are those of equality and discrimination. But our present law does not discriminate unjustly when it requires both a man and a woman for marriage. It simply recognises and protects the distinctive nature of marriage.

Changing the legal definition of marriage would be a profoundly radical step. Its consequences should be taken seriously now. The law helps to shape and form social and cultural values. A change in the law would gradually and inevitably transform society’s understanding of the purpose of marriage. It would reduce it just to the commitment of the two people involved. There would be no recognition of the complementarity of male and female or that marriage is intended for the procreation and education of children.

We have a duty to married people today, and to those who come after us, to do all we can to ensure that the true meaning of marriage is not lost for future generations.

With every blessing.

Most Reverend Vincent Nichols Archbishop of Westminster

President of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales

Most Reverend Peter Smith

Archbishop of Southwark

Vice-President of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales

Shafting The Motorist!

I've just had the journey from hell. I live around five miles from Lancaster but it took forty five minutes. Lancashire County Council and the Lancashire Police seem to hate motorists. In recent days we have had numerous new speed limit signs appear in our streets, and invariably the speed limits have changed. 30mph limits are down to 20mph limits. 40mph limits are down to 30mph and so on. The same stretch of road, no change in population or building density, and it suddenly changes from 40 to 30mph for no apparent reason. Then bang, you hit a speed camera.

This whole area is suddenly plastered with speed signs. It looks to me like they are splashing out on speed signs to use up their leftover budgets before the end of the financial year. Or some dodgy bureaucrat or councillor has shares in a sign company.

There is ample evidence that the less 'furniture' there is cluttering our streets the safer they become. The idiots in control in this country seem to think that turning our streets into obstacle courses with warning signs every five yards, chicanes, speed humps and ever more complex traffic light sytems is helpful. Well it's not you pillocks! Like every other aspect of life piss off and get off our backs, life would be much more bearable if you did!

Read this article about shared space in Drachten.

Or this article about shared space in Bohmte.

Problem here is your nanny state doesn't trust you. And don't even get me started on those patronising effin' signs that light up a smiley face if you are under the limit and frown if you are speeding. Or bloody mothers who treat other motorists like potential child killers, then drive abominably and park even worse when picking up little Kylie or Jason from school because the fat little pampered brats can't waddle the mile home on their own.

They deserve their own post. But I'm off for a brew now.

Gay Marriage And Homophobia

I've had a restless day today, for various reasons and have followed in the media with interest some of the debate around 'gay marriage', especially in relation to Cardinal O'Brien's comments. What has struck me quite forcefully is the pure venom and intolerance of so many in the gay lobby towards anybody who disagrees with them, especially those with a religious position. The minute somebody disagrees with the concept of 'gay marriage' they are dismissed as 'homophobes' as if they are incapable of rational thought. I have heard Cardinal O'Brien described as 'evil' today and the Catholic church attacked as 'hateful' and 'full of paedophiles'. In fact if the vile attacks on the Catholic church I've heard today were used about a race or about gay people the abuser would be pretty promptly charged with a hate crime.

For the record I oppose the concept of 'gay marriage'. Marriage is between a man and a woman, it's that simple. On the other hand I have no problem with civil partnerships for gay people, but let's not pretend that marriage can suddenly become something it is not, that is fundamentally dishonest.  That is not homophobic, it is just a clearly logical position and in fairness, I have heard a couple of more rational gay people making that point themselves today.

The problem with the militant political gay lobby is that they are so strident they actually create a negative response from many people who may otherwise be tolerant, if not sympathetic. As with any overly strident campaigning group on any issue they lose the middle ground.

Take the case of gay adoption. The power of the gay lobby is such that adoption agencies that would not, on grounds of conscience, place children with gay couples have been closed down. There is no tolerance of people who, on grounds of conscience, could not place a child with a gay couple. I wouldn't place a child with a gay couple, but neither would I close down agencies that do place children with gay couples. I would actually like to be allowed to make the decision myself and not be pilloried as some kind of extreme gay hater, which I am not. I just believe that children need a mother and a father.

It seems to me that as a nation we are becoming slaves to minority pressure groups, and the silent majority are being increasingly attacked and in some cases oppressed, especially those who describe themselves as Christians.

Stuff The Coalition. Here Comes The Lancashire Democratic Front!

Lancashire Democratic Front on training exercises

On my way back from Mass this morning, while Bob at the Munch Box was griddling the bacon and sausage for our Sunday treats, I was thinking about the government. It didn't put me off my brekkie, I have a very tough constitution and enjoy my food too much, but I did decide that I would abstain at the next general election. What set me off on this train of thought?

Take Syria. Assad and his dad before him have ruled that place for all my living memory, and as far as I know have not been elected. So when a gang of misfits kick off our government recognises the rampaging nutters as the legitimate government, even though they are trying to come to power by killing a few thousand people. Seeing how our government fawns over what we used to call terrorist groups it's no wonder nutters have kicked off all over the Middle East. But for every government action there is a reaction.

Now then, if you're stuck with a government that wasn't elected the Western powers will back you if you take up arms against your oppressors. Look at Syria, Libya et al. Now forgive me but did you see the choice 'Poxy Bunch of Nobhead Tories and Lib Dems in Coalition' on the ballot paper in 2010? Neither did I. Just like Syria and Libya we have a government that not a single one of us voted for. Surely we should rise up against this unelected bunch of misfits.

I am now considering starting the Lancashire Democratic Front. Surely if it's good enough for Libyans and Syrians it's good enough for us, and we really do need to get rid of this government for the sake of our sanity. If you would like to join me please get in touch. I would ask for donations of military hardware but a joke like that in this nanny state we live in could land me in Strangeways or Guantanamo Bay.

Roxy Music Time!

Last week I was getting the adrenalin rush of performing in a play at a theatre I fell in love with the first time I saw a production there sixteen years ago. My beloved has only just got over her end of run hangover.

This week has been a little flat, although I did get my first telly work this year which is good. I went for a casting in Manchester on Wednesday and got a part in a TV commercial, as did a good mate of mine who I enjoy working with. Filming next week somewhere in the North West which will be good fun.

This week the news hasn't been exciting enough to stimulate a great deal of blogging. The government still doing its best to screw up the Middle East by pratting around in Syria. The European Union pretending they have a solution to the cock-up that is the Euro. Strange how they seem to think endless summits will solve the problem. Which reminds me, I was asked yesterday if I had any financial dependents. I answered: "Yes, the population of Greece!" Boom, boom!

So to end the week I thought a bit of Roxy Music would go down well. In my humble opinion Bryan Ferry has never written or sung a bad song, so I'm always spoilt for choice. I went for Psalm, off the Stranded album:

The Monkees' Davy Jones RIP

I was sad to hear of the death of Davy Jones who died yesterday. Funny that even though I saw The Monkees in the early eighties on one of their reunion tours I can still only see him as he was on the TV when I watched their wacky TV show as a kid.

Jones was born in one of the terraced houses in Openshaw, the district of East Manchester next to Gorton where I grew up. The family then moved to the posh bit of Gorton, on the other side of Debdale Park to us, next to Denton. He appeared in Coronation Street before he was lured to the States to join the Monkees.

An abiding memory of my childhood is my dad coming home from work moaning about all the screaming girls he'd had to fight his way through to get to Davy Jones' parents' front door. He was their postman and he had to fight through hundreds of screaming girls waiting to see him if he was due back from the States.

RIP

Is Shirley Williams Actually Tony Lloyd MP In Drag?

Has anybody ever seen Baroness Shirley Williams and Tony Lloyd, MP for Manchester Central, in the same room? Or have they ever been recorded as being in the House of Commons and House of Lords at the same time?

I ask because I have a habit, if I'm bored, of looking at people and trying to see if they have a double. Well today Prime Minister's Questions was particularly boring, then up popped Tony Lloyd MP. Now I'm not being nasty, I've debated with him and he supports Manchester United, he struck me as a decent chap for a Labour MP, but I swear he dons a frock and becomes Shirley Williams. Have a look:

Baroness Shirley Williams?

Tony Lloyd MP?

Focus-Hocus Pocus

The sixties was the bizarre decade in my view, where too many musicians thought they were changing the world and contributing to 'the revolution'. In the same way that every Scouser claims to have been to school with one of the Beatles, every social commentator seems to think that the whole of the UK lived through a haze of pot smoke in Afghan coats listening to Jimi Hendrix in the sixties. In reality the best sellers in the charts in the '60s were Rolf Harris and Englebert Humperdinck.

So I think the '70s were quite refreshing. Yes, you had prog-rock which was pretty self-indulgent at times, but you had the pyre entrtainment too of glam-rock and bands like Sweet, T Rex, Sparks and many others. The '70s also saw the emergence of the greats like Roxy Music and, thankfully, punk rock.

But the joy of the 1970s was that it  was a decade that didn't take itself anywhere near as seriously as the 1960s had. A fine example of that being Dutch band Focus:
                                                                                                              


Then, for the lads who remember watching Gammer at The Gransmoor on Ashton Old Road, Openshaw here is Gammer with his very own version from about ten years ago:

The Hatefulness of Socialists

Time to burn the red flag.

Every now and then the last of the dinosaurs wander from under their boulders and remind us that they are not quite extinct, yet. Today it is a fine example of that tired old species Len McCluskey, general secretary of Unite. He is truly a blast from the past.

I have absolutely no truck with the Olympics. I think it's a crass, immoral waste of money. I have no objection to the games in principle, but I object to the amount of money wasted on pampering VIPs for years to bribe them into allowing us to waste millions hosting the games. I object to the millions being spent on top hotels, limousines and all the other trappings before, during and after the games on VIPs. I object to the millions being spent on facilities when we already have perfectly adequate facilities, albeit they may need some updating, in various parts of the country. But we have them here in the summer so let's make the most of it.

But Len McCluskey doesn't think that way. No, the old dinosaur socialist from Unite is hoping that the games will be used by malcontents and misfits to strike and indulge themselves in civil disobedience. Typical 'I'm alright Jack' attitude of trade union leaders. What always amazes me is how socialists are so obsessed with money. They invariably want more money for themselves, check out how much your average trade union leader is on, and are obsessed with how much more than themselves others earn. Those caring NHS staff have been quick to strike recently. Those caring public sector workers, who claim to have turned their backs on a fortune in the private sector to earn less by serving the public, have been quick to strike recently. Now McCluskey wants to wreck the Olympics, and the image of the UK. Me, me, me socialists in all thir glory.

No sooner are the socialist wasters from Occupy swept from the streets of London than they are threatening to 'occupy' McDonald's in protest at Workfare, a government job experience scheme. If I ran McDonald's I'd be tempted to pull out of the UK. They seem to bear the brunt every time a Trot or Marxist malcontent wants to use some of his dole money to travel to a protest. It's either because their farming methods destroy the rainforests, their burgers cause brain damage, now because they are part of a government work experience scheme. In reality they hate capitalism and the United States of America, so they pour their hatred and bile at McDonald's, but haven't got the bottle to be open about it. McDonald's won't pull out because the public show, by about a million to one, that they support McDonald's over Occupy, thus illustrating that Occupy are self-indulgent misfits obsessed with their outdated political views who care nothing for real people.

It would be nice in future if decent people, when they saw misfits 'occupying' a business, went in and 'helped them' to leave so that staff and customers could continue with their business without being bullied.  People power!

So, Farewell Then Occupy London

How good to amble down the old apples and pears this morning to see the rent-a-mob outside St Paul's in London being moved on. Well done the powers that be, at last! Only wonder why it took so long to clear the muck off the streets, isn't that what Londoners pay their taxes for?

What I probably find most unpleasant about this smelly rabble is how patronising and smug they are. But isn't that a sure sign of a person being a socialist? They know best and we are mere cretins who have yet to realise that they know best what is good for us.

Most of us don't need a mong with a ponytail, or a scruffy Marxist in a poncho to tell us that the bankers cocked up. Tell us something new! The way to change it is to get stuck into a serious political party, buy a few shares and get to shareholders meetings or start your own bank. Turning an historic part of London into a dirty slum is nothing but attention seeking and ego massaging.

Good riddance!

Morrissey/The Smiths-I Want The One I Cant Have!

I often think of the opening lines to this classsic Smiths number, especially in relation to somebody I've suffered these last few weeks:

"On the day that your mentality, decides to try, and catch up with your biology". It's better than being happy in the haze of a drunken hour I suppose.

Spring, Port Wine And Sheer Terror!

This week I've been in my first play since I played Mazeppa, a magpie in The Thwarting of Baron Bolligrew circa 1975 at Xaverian College, Manchester.  I think I did drama for a year when the new drama studio at school opened just to see what it was all about. This week I'm playing Rafe, the family patriarch in Spring and Port Wine at the Grand Theatre in Lancaster.

In recent years I've been working as a TV walk on/extra and have sat in bars on soaps, stood by graves in dramas and had the good fortune to spend a few hours in a council office with Timothy West, a great actor and a true gentleman. I've seen close up many great actors at work and it's a privilege to be able to see them doing great work. Then I got wondering what real acting, rather than standing around in a crowd or sitting in the background with a pint, is all about. So I auditioned for the role of Rafe in November with the Lancaster Footlights.

I set off for the audition feeling quite excited. By the time I got to the theatre, a splendid Victorian building well worth a visit and a Saturday tour if there isn't a show, I was wondering what the hell I was doing. At my age did I need this feeling of fear? But the audition went well and I got the part. I love new experiences and am prepared to give anything a go, this was certainly something different for me. The next thing was to get learning the lines. It's been painful but most of the lines eventually stuck, thanks to my beloved who has spent hours helping me and probably knows the lines as well as the cast by now.

Grand Theatre, Lancaster

If you don't know the play it is set in the late '50s early '60s as we moved into the 'modern era'. A daughter refuses to eat her herring at tea time and it leads to a conflict that moves the family into the modern era. In a nutshell!

The action centres around Rafe who transforms from a basically good but uptight Victorian style father, due to his childhood of poverty, to an understanding and open father by the end. It has some wonderful comic moments that we didn't appreciate in rehearsals, but have gone down very well with the audiences. We can all see why comedians must love their work, it is such a buzz when your line gets a laugh.

We've had huge ups and downs and at times we wondered if our production would actually get on stage. In a cast of eight two of us have never done this before, one hasn't since school, I guess about ten years ago, and a week before opening we lost a son, 'Harold' from the cast. But here we are with our last of five performances this afternooon at 2-30pm.

If you have ever wondered about trying am-dram then go for it. I've had nights when I've woken up with cold sweats in sheer terror. I've had days when I've thrown the script across the room because a simple line like 'I never intended her to have to eat it' just wouldn't stick. I've had days I've resented having to leave a lovely warm home to go to a rehearsal room above a pub, especially when it included missing my football. I've been thoroughly embarassed on stage at rehearsals when my mind has gone blank.

But I am so glad I've done it. Even today, our last performance, I'll be getting the butterflies when the thirty minute call comes over the speaker into the dressing room. I'll be backstage with sweaty palms as the buzz of the audience dies down and the curtain goes up. I'll be praying as I walk on stage as I can't remember the first line. Then bang, it's there and we're off. At least I hope so.

The big fear is that every performance is a new experience. We all do things slightly differently in each performance, the audience reacts differently at each performance. The fears you had on the first night are there every night. It's so easy to see why actors get into routines that they will not break, if the first night goes well, just getting through it maybe, you want to try and do everything the same the next night, including driving to the theatre by the same route, same parking space and so on.

We opened on Tuesday night (21 Feb) and ten days earlier I had sworn that I would never do anything quite as challenging, or at times terrifying as this ever again. Today I'm wondering what the next one I go for will be.

At 2-30pm spare a thought. There will be a group of people in Lancaster, in various stages of nerves, about to go on stage for the last time in this production of Spring and Port Wine. But then again, soon after five we will be leaving the dressing rooms at the end for the last time to go and have several drinks and a jolly good feed.

Break a leg!

Abortion-The Silent Holocaust

Since 1967 millions of unborn babies have been slaughtered in abortion clinics in the UK. Many of us, especially those with a disability, should thank God every day that we were conceived before the 1967 Abortion Act. Having said that my parents are far too humane to have ever considered abortion, they respect human life.

The negative effects of years of pinko liberal policies are all around us. Despite undeniable evidence that they are misguided at best, and that their policies have led to social and moral decay, they continue in their smug arrogance that they know best. Of course the more their policies wreak havoc the more jobs they create in social services departments, counselling, therapy organisations and other refuges for the politically correct to make a living from the mess they have created. More teenage pregnancies? Start telling even younger children about the joys of sex! More drunks to counsel and preach at about the dangers of drink? Let's liberalise the licensing laws!

The evil of abortion has been with us for decades now and millions of unborn children have been slaughtered. Apart from the clear moral repulsion of abortion, who knows that the man or woman who would have found the cure for cancer wasn't one of those? Would a great man like Stephen Hawking have survived if his illness could have been detected in the womb? Would Winston Churchill have survived if his speech impediment had been detected before birth and abortion had been an option? Does that sound extreme? Remember Joanna Jepson.

When you think it can't get any worse we now find out that doctors, in private clinics and an NHS hospital in Manchester, have been carrying out abortions if the baby is the 'wrong' sex! You can read about 'female infanticide' here.

If you would like information about the Society for the Protection of Unborn Children please visit here.

The Big Question

There are some great walks around where I live, ideal for getting out and stretching the legs during the day, especially when you work from home as I have most of my life. But I have one question that try as I might I can't answer, and the problem seems to be getting worse.

Why, oh why do so many dog owners clean up after their dogs, put the mess in a little plastic bag then hang it from the branches of a small tree or a bush?

Cleaning up means either sticking the muck in a bin, or taking it home to dispose of. Please stop dangling it on hedgerows.

Lent

Lent is the period of 40 days which comes before Easter in the Christian calendar. Beginning on Ash Wednesday, Lent is a season of reflection and preparation before the celebrations of Easter. By observing the 40 days of Lent, Christians replicate Jesus Christ's sacrifice and withdrawal into the desert for 40 days.

 Lent is marked by fasting, both from food and festivities.
Whereas Easter celebrates the resurrection of Jesus after his death on the cross, Lent recalls the events leading up to and including Jesus' crucifixion by Rome. This is believed to have taken place in Roman occupied Jerusalem.

The Christian churches that observe Lent in the 21st century use it as a time for prayer and penance. Only a small number of people today fast for the whole of Lent, although some maintain the practice on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. It is more common these days for believers to surrender a particular vice such as favourite foods or smoking. Whatever the sacrifice it is a reflection of Jesus' deprivation in the wilderness and a test of self-discipline.

40 is a significant number in Jewish-Christian scripture:

In Genesis, the flood which destroyed the earth was brought about by 40 days and nights of rain.

The Hebrews spent 40 years in the wilderness before reaching the land promised to them by God.

Moses fasted for 40 days before receiving the ten commandments on Mount Sinai.

Jesus spent 40 days fasting in the wilderness in preparation for his ministry.

Most Christians regard Jesus' time in the wilderness as the key event for the duration of Lent.
Lent is an old English word meaning 'lengthen'. Lent is observed in spring, when the days begin to get longer.

Purple is the symbolic colour used in some churches throughout Lent, for drapes and altar frontals.
Purple is used for two reasons: firstly because it is associated with mourning and so anticipates the pain and suffering of the crucifixion, and secondly because purple is the colour associated with royalty, and celebrates Christ's resurrection and sovereignty.

The last week of Lent is called Holy Week.

Police State-Banning Protest

Councillor Kieran Quinn

I've been involved in politics long enough to know that most political groups or parties attract more than their fair share of nutters and outright lunatics, some harmless others not so. Bloody hell, we had the two biggest nutters in the world as Prime Ministers from 1997 to 2010, bombing countries they took a dislike to and wrecking our economy, so we have an idea about lunatics.

On Saturday the English Defence League are planning a demonstration in Hyde, Greater  Manchester after two white youths were attacked by a gang of Asian youths. I don't know enough about the EDL to support or oppose them, what I do know is that we are supposed to live in a democracy where there is freedom of speech and expression, and that includes groups or individuals whose views we may find abhorrent. Not in Hyde it seems, where the council and the Greater Manchester Police, yet again, are doing everything they can to ban the demo.

Tameside council leader Kieran Quinn is quoted as saying:

"Hyde is a diverse and peaceful community and we don't welcome outsiders coming in whose only intention is to incite hatred. We are not against peaceful protest, but people need to understand this is about a hate-filled group wishing to come to Hyde to share that hate and try and incite hatred, and we will not support that regardless of what group that comes from."

I have to say I haven't seen the EDL close up but what I have seen on TV is that whenever the EDL demonstrate against Muslim extremism, which they claim is their purpose, the violence has invariably been caused by their opponents, the Unite Against Fascism rent-a-mob of assorted hate filled Trots, Marxists and Che Guevara lovers. I have seen UAF and Occupy close up, and both are pretty hate filled and potentiually violent.

Now if demos and marches are to be banned because some jumped up councillor doesn't like the sound of the group, then we are in deep doodies. Remember Quinn represents a party whose government was responsible for bombing the crap out of Serbia, Afghanistan, Iraq, Sierra Leone and God knows where else. I'd call the actions of Blair and Brown a darn sight more hateful than waving a placard in Hyde against Al Quaeda and their pals.

Then when demos and marches are banned as a threat to public order, as happens, I can't help thinking that the door is wide open for any group to cause violence when their oppponents are on the streets and hey presto, you get your opponents banned. It is only a small jump from that to imagine the state using agent provocateurs for the same purpose.

If a perfectly legal organisation, be that the EDL the Socialist Workers Party or any other group wants to march or demonstrate, it is up to the powers that be, whether that is jumped up councillors like Quinn or Greater Manchester Police, to do all they can to ensure they can do it safely. They should not try to ban them because they don't agree with them. This is not yet a totalitarian state.

Dory Previn RIP

I was sad to hear of the death of Dory Previn at 86. I honestly didn't realise she was that age. There was a time, a few years ago now, when I played her music a lot and I still enjoy putting one of her CDs on every now and then, especially her Mythical Kings and Iguanas album.




Her obituary in the Telegraph Online.

Nanny State Induced Paranoia

One of my first posts a few years back was about a government TV advert in the run up to Christmas warning us not to undercook our turkeys as we could kill our families. Just what you need to build a happy Christmas atmosphere. It didn't apply to us anyway as we were having goose. A fine example of the nanny state in all its glory.

Currently there is a ridiculous state sponsored NHS advert warning us that we could be dying of bowel cancer if our 'poo' is a bit dodgy. Yes, nanny even calls it 'poo', as if preaching to a nation full of three year olds. I assume it is aimed at adults as all the sorrowful looking faces in the advert of the people who have been told their 'poo' indicates terminal illness are pretty old.

Yesterday I accompanied somebody to the local hospital. It involved spending a lot of time sat in the out-patients waiting room. If you ever have to spend time in a hospital waiting room please do not read the notices on the walls. Stare at the floor or ceiling or bury your face in a 1999 copy of National Geographic that you'll find on a formica table. The notices could quite easily induce a frightening level of paranoia.

To give you a flavour I saw Vera Duckworth on one poster informing me to be careful if I get out of breath when walking, it's probably not age or lack of fitness, it's probably emphysema. Another warned me that if my pee has changed colour, or I'm peeing more than usual, I probably have bladder cancer. There was another regarding my pee that warned I might have prostate cancer. At least the ones warning me I might have bowel cancer used the words 'stool' and 'faeces'  rather than 'poo'. I was also invited to an information session on drug and alcohol abuse, warning me that if I drink more than so many units of alcohol a week I'm probably dying of cirrhosis. Yet another warned me that if I have a pint then drive I will kill a child.

The problem is that the nanny state behaving like this doesn't exactly put patients at ease when they sit reading all this just before seeing a doctor, especially when they are pretty nervous in the first place. Strangely there wasn't a notice about paranoia or hypochondria.

I couldn't help wondering how much all this crap costs. Money that could be spent cutting waiting lists or, in our case, just getting the local NHS Trust up to an acceptable standard as it is currently 'in crisis'.

Scousers And The Police State

Whatever they do, no matter how unpleasant and nasty, the people of Liverpool manage to claim victimhood and spend the next few decades wallowing in a vat of sloppy self-pity. Luis Suarez is found guilty of racially abusing an opponent and the Liverpool team and their manager appear at the next game wearing t-shirts proclaiming him to be the victim. How very Scouse!

On Saturday Suarez proved himself to be a Uruguayan who easily adapts to his adopted culture by refusing to shake hands with his victim,  Patrice Evra, despite Evra's civilised attempt to put the whole affair behind them. Suarez, once again claiming victim status. Did that famous whinger Dalglish condemn his player? No, he said any ill feeling at Saturday's game was nothing to do with Suarez. Both have since apologised as the non-Scouse owners of Liverpool FC, a couple of Americans, are obviously much more civilised and are thoroughly ashamed of the whole business. But is apologising because you are forced to really an apology? At least Evra can be grateful that Suarez didn't bite him on the face, which he did to an opponent when he played in Holland for Ajax.

Subversive-ban it!

So it's a mess. Then on Saturday up pops Greater Manchester plod in their size 12s to really prove what a mess we are in. A popular, and very enjoyable Manchester United fanzine, Red Issue, carried an image of a Ku Klux Klan style pointed hat with Suarez  Is Innocent, LFC on it. Football fans wind each other up, that's part of the fun. But plod decided some poor little Scouser might just possibly find said image offensive, so the magazines were confiscated and some people in posession of them were refused entry to the ground. Sellers were threatened with arrest.

I find The Guardian newspaper offensive with it's politically correct whining pap. Will Greater Manchester Police close it down? I find much of what the BBC broadcasts patronisingly offensive. Will GMP close the BBC down?  In fact on the grounds of 'might cause offence' just about every publication, TV programme, radio broadcast could offend some poor soul somewhere. Farewell satire. Farewell biting news programmes. Should they all be either closed by the police or maybe we should just bring in state censorship, you know like they have in Cuba, China and other totalitarian, freedom destroying dictatorships.

If you think the actions of the police on Saturday are nothing, it was only a little magazine produced by football fans, then you should be very worried. If they can do that to Red Issue, what will the next one be? It could be a magazine that you read.

Remember, with possibly offending somebody now bringing you to the attention of the police you need to be very careful. If I open the door for you and you don't acknowledge it I find it offensive and might just dial 999. Tell me a joke about a fat bald man and I might possibly take offence and dial 999. I find the Scouse accent deeply offensive. Actually......

Maybe GMP have actually saved us from another few decades of Scousers weeping and wailing and wallowing in self-pity because of offence caused by that image, or the fact that they could have been offended! But I doubt it, something else will happen soon to have them in an emotional state again.

Searching for the Young Soul Rebels

Time to lighten up, it all got a bit heavy over the NSS and Bideford Town Council, but in a healthy way I think. Thank you to all contributors.

Summer 1980 saw Dexy's Midnight Runners burst onto the scene with the classic album Searching for the Young Soul Rebels. I've just been tramping the Lune Valley on a much longer walk than I'd planned, thanks to taking a wrong turn, and I couldn't get There, There My Dear, one of the tracks on the album, out of my head. So I thought I'd share it and see if anybody else finds it as addictive.

The album must have been one of the strongest debut albums and in the early '80s Dexy's were one of the best live bands I saw. Having said that there were a fair few great live bands around and I might say that about another band in the not too distant.

But here it is:

Christianity Under Attack-Again!

In a country where every quirk, weird cultural blip and sexual perversion seems to be protected by equality laws Christianity is the last bastion of the undefended. Those fascists at the National Secular Society are at it again. They are obviously terrified, for some reason, of Christianity and are using perverse human rights legislation to try and oppress it. This time they have turned their bullying venom on that bastion of evil, wicked superstition masquerading as an element of our democracy, Bideford Town Council.

Breaching Human Rights!

A big, soft lardy arsed bastard called Clive Bone finds the saying of a prayer before council meetings so deeply offensive that he went running off to the National Secular Society sobbing and weeping, no doubt with much wailing and gnashing of teeth. What a great, oversized poof!

Of course the High Court agrees with the NSS that prayers are an 'inappropriate ritual that breach articles 9 and 14 of the European Convention on Human Rights'. I used to think that human rights were about important issues, like not buying and selling people, or massacring people by the million, or fighting for peoples' religious freedom, not about stopping a quick Our Father or Hail Mary before a meeting. That's a thought, remember the days when we actually fought for people in totalitarian states to have religious freedom? Well now, we are the oppressed under our glorious, enlightened liberal democracy. It seems that prayers are also illegal under section 111 of the Local Government Act 1972.

I've an easy solution for a prick like Bone, don't say the prayer if you don't believe. If I was in a meeting that was preceeded by muslim prayers, I would just sit there quietly and not join in. But I would respect the rights of the others in attendance to say whatever prayers they see fit. Shame that fascists like Bone and the NSS don't have any tolerance of things that they do not believe in.

Leaving the European Union

While the Eurofanatics continue, at best, to behave like ostriches, at worst like Hitler in the last days in the bunker, others are taking a cool and considered approach to the collapse of the Euro and the eventual disappearance of the EU in its current incarnation.

One such is non-attached member of the European Parliament Trevor Colman. Whilst I know MEPs will actually achieve nothing in helping us gain independence from the EU, most of the honest ones accept themselves that they have no power thankfully, at least Trevor is using his position, as does Nikki Sinclaire MEP, to expose the truth about the EU from the inside.

Trevor has produced an excellent film on the expensive con that is the European Union and I urge you to watch it by clicking on this link to his website.

The Flowers of Manchester by Eric Winter

One cold and bitter Thursday in Munich, Germany,
Eight great football stalwarts conceded victory,
Eight men who will never play again who met destruction there,
The flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester

Matt Busby's boys were flying, returning from Belgrade,
This great United family, all masters of their trade,
The Pilot of the aircraft, the skipper Captain Thain,
Three times they tried to take off and twice turned back again.

The third time down the runaway disaster followed close,
There was a slush upon that runaway and the aircraft never rose,
It ploughed into the marshy ground, it broke, it overturned.
And eight of the team were killed as the blazing wreckage burned.

Roger Byrne and Tommy Taylor who were capped for England's side.
And Ireland's Billy Whelan and England's Geoff Bent died,
Mark Jones and Eddie Colman, and David Pegg also,
They all lost their lives as it ploughed on through the snow.

Big Duncan he went too, with an injury to his frame,
And Ireland's brave Jack Blanchflower will never play again,
The great Sir Matt Busby lay there, the father of his team
Three long months passed by before he walked again.

The trainer, coach and secretary, and a member of the crew,
Also eight sporting journalists who with United flew,
and one of them Big Swifty, who we'll ne'er forget,
the finest English 'keeper that ever graced the net.

Oh, England's finest football team its record truly great,
its proud successes mocked by a cruel turn of fate.
Eight men will never play again, who met destruction there,
the flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester

Rest In Peace

---

Humourless Socialist Pillocks!

Sheffield, not exactly the jewel in England's crown.

One of the things I dislike most about socialists is their complete lack of humour and complete and utter self-absorption. Two particular pillocks stick out this week. Let me mention them.

The first is David Blunkett, a senior figure in Blair's government, which says it all I suppose. This particular prat has been upset the last couple of days and called on Scotland Yard to apologise to the people of Sheffield. I didn't realise the Metropolitan Police had been speeding up the M1 to attach electrodes to the testicles of Yorkshiremen and beat them around the kidneys with rubber truncheons. If only!

No, far worse, Blunkett was upset that hackers have found a secret tape of a Scotland Yard officer telling an FBI agent that: "Sheffield isn't exactly the jewel in England's crown". My God, there must be mass suicides all over the place! If you've ever been to Sheffield I'm sure you will agree that the Scotland Yard officer was being very restrained in his description. I'd describe it as a shithole, but I'm a Lancastrian.

The offending figure, obviously not a female MP.

Then there's the pillock, sorry MP, for Stretford and Urmston, Kate Green. She objected to a Commons bar serving a guest ale called 'Top Totty'. She objected in the chamber and within an hour it had been removed from the bar. I think she objected because the figure on the pump plate is a voluptuous, scantily clad woman, albeit a drawing of a voluptuous, scantily clad woman. Whereas Kate Green is an ugly looking old dog. Well, aren't most feminists?

The Falkland Islands

History is a subject I love but there are times when we have to look at a situation and say that history is largely irrelevant. The Falkland Islands fall into that category. Yes, posession has changed hands at times in the last few centuries, but there is now a clear Falklands culture and population. It is up to the population of the Falklands to decide their future, not the United Kingdom and most definitely not Argentina.

We visited Argentina in 1991 and had a fantastic time. The people are generous and hospitable and the country is beautiful.

Despite reports before we travelled into Argentina, a wonderful train journey from La Paz in Bolivia, we experienced absolutely no anti-English sentiment and we travelled extensively for about three weeks.

At the border there were signs declaring 'Las Malvinas' to be Argentinian, as there were on the side of some buildings in the docks of Buenos Aires, but that was it. We even met an ex-soldier who had been captured in the Falklands. He still couldn't understand why his government had invaded and had nothing but admiration for our armed forces.

Seeing the so-called demonstrators on the streets of Buenos Aires I couldn't help thinking that they looked like a small group of misfits playing to the camera, probably at the behest of the media desperate to ramp up interest in the story. Indeed a friend who has a son currently working in Buenos Aires supported my view.

By and large the population seem to be more interested in finding out the true evils of recent Argentine dictators than marching into Port Stanley again. I'm sure the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo would rather find out what happened to their loved ones under Argentine military dictators than see more young Argentinians sent to their deaths over a group of islands over 300 miles away.

As ever these bouts of love for the Falklands shown by the Argentine government have more to do with government greed than democracy. The easy answer to any disputes such as this, or the current situation in Scotland, is to let the people decide, not governments through power crazed politicians. It's quite simple really.