Dickiebo’s Ace Wally – Update.
Chief Constable Richard BRUNSTROM
Just in case you think that the man has reformed – wrong. He’s getting bloody worse! From today’s Daily Mail;
“Fatal car wrecks should be removed with their dead victims still inside to ease traffic congestion, controversial police chief Richard Brunstrom proposed today.
He said his idea would boost the economy by allowing roads to be reopened up to an hour earlier following such crashes.”
And – Sod the poor buggers involved in the accident!
Once a Wally, always a Wally.
The saga of the leaking roof!
My mate, who built the extension, came down, together withhis mate – a Roofing Contractor. Monsieur le Contractor and his oppo spent some time on the roof and told me that he has never seen anything like it!!! On raising several tiles, he was astonished to see that everything beneath the tiles is totally saturated! The battens are rotting and mould is growing there. No wonder we have serious leaks. He unequivocally stated that the tiles are totally unsuitable for a roof with such a small pitch! The entire roof must come off and replaced with new battens and suitable tiles – whenever we can expect some decent weather. Likely to take them 2 – 3 days to complete. God knows how much this is gonna cost us! I’ll let you know.
The question regarding the reader in Bolton has been solved.He is Tom, who said something nice about enjoying the blog. That’s nice, innit? I mean, I do manage to upset somereaders who are perfectly nice people apart from being lefties, so……….there you go!
Nick had to have an emergency visit to the dentist when he came home yesterday. Wisdom teeth! Yuuuk! A quick extraction, came home and changed and that was the last we saw of him. He had a nice farewell card signed by the pupils in his Form, a couple of bottles of wine from some staff, and – to his great pleasure – a whistle on a length of green cord, inscribed ‘Gowerton School. 2009. NICK’. Well, he is a Physical Education teacher. He’s back at Uni for a week then onto a new school. Next week he hands-in his latest Assignment which he asked Dickiebo to read. Good grief! What I always suspected about teachers. Bloody long-winded! It’s all about MAR! For normal people, i.e. non-teachers, that apparently is Monitoring, Assessing and Recording. I can tell the laymen amongst you that, quite clearly, teaching is going around in circles! We are very nearly back now to where we started all those long years ago. If only the bloody politicians would keep their noses out and allow Teachers to Teach!!!! I’m not the greatest fan of teachers – far too far left for me – but I really do believe that they know more about teaching than politicians do.
Did you hear this one;
A census taker in a rural area went up to a farmhouse and knocked. When a woman came to the door, he asked her how many children she had and their ages.
She said, ‘Les’ see now, there’s the twins, Sally and Billy, they’re thirty-two. And the twins, Seth & Beth, they’re twenty-six. And the twins, Penny and Jenny, they’re twenty-four.’
‘Hold on!’ said the census taker, ‘Did you get twins EVERY time?’
The woman answered, ‘Heck no, there were hundreds of times we didn’t get nothin.’
Another Dickiebo true story!
Success! Public pressure at long last has had some effect on this vile Government. Swamped by letters from the likes of Dickiebo, they have had to cave-in and cancel the proposed law that would have given all MPs complete secrecy of all the truly massive so-called expenses that they steal from us people. Although MPs of all parties are equally guilty of this wholesale rape of public (our) money, it was only NuLabour who attempted to block public scrutiny of their evil doings. Surprise, surprise! Do you remember their electioneering? “We will get rid of sleaze!” Liars!
So, what was their next brilliant move to give away money that, God knows, we don’t have to give? Yea! A little gem! It is now proposed that we give £12,000 to the relatives of ALL people killed during the ‘Troubles’ in Northern Ireland. THIS INCLUDES IRA MURDERERS, SOME KILLED BY THEIR OWN BOMBS! For God’s sake. Just how bloody out-of-touch with reality are this lot? (For USA Citizens: this is identical to Obama doing the same for the 9/11 perpetrators!) The total cost of this obscene gesture is estimated to be about £300 million. Feelings have already reached boiling point in N.I. over this and I cannot think of anything more likely to re-start all the troubles that we had in the past.
For how much longer do we have to endure this lot, Oh Lord?
Seen on this blog today.
“I’m sick of it. Thoroughly sick of it.
At every turn today, I am being shouted at by people who like to sleep with people of the same sex. Nothing I watch or see or do is untainted by this vociferous minority.
They have a voice WAY beyond anybody else and all I can hear is them shouting. Again.
So what is so different about Gays? WHY do they demand quotas, special rights, representation at every level and in every f—–g thing?
In essence, homosexuals are exactly the same as everybody else, except what they do in bed. But so are sado masochists and adult babies. So are people into rubber or wife swapping or cock piercings. Do they demand quotas, representation, legislation? Do they have to infiltrate every facet of modern life? Do they have to march through the streets demanding recognition?
No, they f—–g don’t. They get on with doing whatever it is they enjoy. And they leave me alone. Gays can’t do that. They have to be seen and heard at every opportunity. Their views have to be taken into account, their opinions sought before the rest of us are allowed to get on doing whatever it is we do.
Stop telling us what you do in bed. I’m not interested. You are not special. You do not need special rights any more than I do.”
And so say all most of us!
| A list of actual announcements that London Tube drivers have made to their passengers… “Ladies and Gentlemen, I do apologise for the delay to your service. I know you’re all dying to get home, unless, of course, you happen to be married to my ex-wife, in which case you’ll want to cross over to the Westbound and go in the opposite direction.”
“Your delay this evening is caused by the line controller suffering from E & B syndrome: not knowing his elbow from his backside. I’ll let you know any further information as soon as I’m given any.”
“Do you want the good news first or the bad news? The good news is that last Friday was my birthday and I hit the town and had a great time. The bad news is that there is a points failure somewhere between Stratford and East Ham, which means we probably won’t reach our destination.” “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologise for the delay, but there is a security alert at Victoria station and we are therefore stuck here for the foreseeable future, so let’s take our minds ff it and pass some time together. All together now…. ‘Ten green bottles, hanging on a wall…..’.” “We are now travelling through Baker Street… As you can see, Baker Street is closed. It would have been nice if they had actually told me, so I could tell you earlier, but no, they don’t think about things like that”. “Beggars are operating on this train. Please do NOT encourage these professional beggars. If you have any spare change, please give it to a registered charity. Failing that, give it to me.” During an extremely hot rush hour on the Central Line, the driver announced in a West Indian drawl: “Step right this way for the sauna, ladies and gentleman… unfortunately, towels are not provided.” “Let the passengers off the train FIRST!” (Pause.) “Oh go on then, stuff yourselves in like sardines, see if I care — I’m going home….”
“Please allow the doors to close. Try not to confuse this with ‘Please hold the doors open.’ The two are distinct and separate instructions.”
“Please note that the beeping noise coming from the doors means that the doors are about to close. It does not mean throw yourself or your bags into the doors.”
“We can’t move off because some idiot has their hand stuck in the door.”
“To the gentleman wearing the long grey coat trying to get on the second carriage — what part of ‘stand clear of the doors’ don’t you understand?” “Please move all baggage away from the doors.” (Pause..) “Please move ALL belongings away from the doors.” (Pause…) “This is a personal message to the man in the brown suit wearing glasses at the rear of the train: Put the pie down, Four-eyes, and move your bloody golf clubs away from the door before I come down there and shove them up your arse sideways!” “May I remind all passengers that there is strictly no smoking allowed on any part of the Underground. However, if you are smoking a joint, it’s only fair that you pass it round the rest of the carriage.” |
Something from Linda to start the Sabbath!
An African Laxative!
Anyway. The day after yesterday! This has been the problem for a long time, on and off, as two Roofing Companies, two Builders and umpteen friends have all been unable to trace the root (and ‘route’!) of the prob.
Really not very nice in one’s front room! So, yesterday, in sheer desperation, we called in a double-glazing window expert. The belief was that water may be getting down the window-pane, going down behind the lead flashing, down the underfelt which is beneath the external tiles, and into a pool, above the point of entry into the room!! Yea! I know. We really are getting desperate.
The double-glazing ‘expert’ immediately said that the window is not the prob. He thought that the ‘pitch’ of the roof was so small that water (rain) could be blowing up, under the tiles. That would lead to a general wetness beneath nearly all of the tiles. He lifted selected tiles all across the roof and, Voila! Everything soaking wet! Seems he may be onto something. Next step. He rang somebody, told them the exact make of the tiles, and asked them what is the minimum pitch for this type of tile. Back came the answer – 27 degrees. Our guess as to our pitch? About 12 degrees!
Shallow-pitched Roof
Suggested remedy? Remove the entire roof of tiles, ‘board up’ (whatever that is), and fibre-glass the roof. Cost? At least £4,000!!
Naturally, we shall get several estimates for the work, and sound-out the firms as to their views on the suggested remedy. What incenses B is that we paid full-whack for the extension, which was done by one of my lifelong friends, who is now retired. Surely he should have known these tiles were not suitable? We have, over the past couple of years, recalled him several times to see the problem, but he has always insisted that there is nothing wrong with his work!!!!!!!! Though, needless to say, he could not find the fault, or, much less, suggest any remedy!
If I didn’t drink, it would be enough to drive me to do so!
Have a nice day.
Langland Bay, Swansea.
…..And Dickiebo’s brolly!!
C’mon then. Memory Lane is here again. Do you really remember these?
Andy Pandy.
Bath night!
Blackjacks.
Catapaults!
Green Shield Stamps.
Comptometers.
Chicken Pox.
Hula Hoops.
Meal times at the table!!
Roy Rogers.
Catching tiddlers.
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me dear old knockers,
Not flashed them to boys behind the school lockers,
Or let them get fondled by randy old dockers,
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me tits.
‘Cos now I’m much older and gravity’s winning.
It’s Nature’s revenge for all that sinning,
And those dirty memories are rapidly dimming,
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me tits.
‘Cos tits can be such troublesome things
When they no longer bounce, but dangle and swing.
And although they go well with my Bingo wings,
I wish I’d looked after me tits.
When they’re both long enough to tie up in a bow,
When it’s not the sweet chariot that swings low,
When they’re less of a friend and more of a foe,
Then I wish I’d looked after me tits.
When I was young I got whistles and hoots,
From the men on the site to the men in the suits,
Now me nipples get stuck in the zips on me boots,
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me tits.
When picking them up requires some leverage,
When it’s not so much lift as industrial heavage,
When there’s more of a parting and less of a cleavage,
I wish I’d looked after me tits.
When I was younger I rode bikes and scooters,
Cruising around with my favourite suitors.
Now the wheels get entangled with my dangling hooters,
I wish I’d looked after me tits.
When they follow behind and get trapped in the door,
When they’re less in the air and more near the floor,
When people see less of them rather than more,
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me tits.
Keefy sent me an e-mail yesterday about “Do you remember?” The full article can be read here, but I thought that I would mention a couple of things of yesteryear, as they were the days of Dickiebo’s childhood. So, unashamedly pinching some of Keith’s items;
Do You Remember When…
All the girls had ugly gym slips?
I’m not at all sure that they were ugly! I knew quite a lot of girls who looked rather nice in them. Not to mention the fact that my four sisters wore them also!
When 3d was a decent allowance?
3 pence was, to me, the base unit of currency. Most importantly of ‘everything in the whole wide world’, it bought 2ozs of sweets! Nothing, simply nothing, could have been so precious. Even though they were ‘on ration’. It was also my daily dinner-allowance. You see, I couldn’t stand school meals, and dear mother had little money to give me for lunch, so 3d was it! I could either have a 3d bag of chips from the Windsor Cafe in Swansea, (which is still there), and was sheer bliss, OR buy a cake from Eynon’s (usually an Eccles cake because that was the most filling!) which cost 2d, and then I would have 1d to go home by bus rather than on the Mumbles train. Oh yes! The bus picked up the girls!
All your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done every day and wore high heels?
They did, too! Miss Rees, our primary school head teacher, stood 10 feet tall in her high-heels, and had the mandatory ‘hair-in-a-bun’. A gentle yet terrifying woman. How can you be both? Don’t ask me – only a proper teacher knows that. And that, they were.
They threatened to keep kids back a year if they failed. . . and they did it!
Proper teachers. Proper schools. Decent kids.
NO P.C./Socialist Targets/Multi-Cultural Crap/Totally Irrelevant Subjects. When we left school behind, we could all read, write, spell, add-up, and knew right from wrong.
When a Ford Zephyr was everyone’s dream car…to cruise, lay rubber or watch the girls… and people went steady?
Cars were all different in the early days. We would know every make of car and they were gloriously different in shape. Nowadays they look very similar indeed. Not that there were many around. We could play in the street all day and perhaps not a single car would pass! Imagine that now! And, as for people ‘going steady’. Well, they did. It was like a kind of duty. Everybody had to have a ‘steady’ or he/she wasn’t normal. One of my sisters split with her long time steady after going together for umpteen years, – he also came from our little village. Thereafter, all my mates would ask me, in hushed voices, ‘What happened?’ As if I would know!
Lying on your back in the grass with your friends?
and saying things like, ‘That cloud looks like a… ‘?
Yea. We did this a lot. The boys and, of course, sometimes the girls – dependent on what we were playing! The picture reminds me of both Caswell Valley, and the donkey field down Marytwill Lane. Both were regular play spots. Caswell Valley would be a sea of blue, from the bluebells, which the girls would pick by the armful. Vandals! Casting my mind back now, the biggest difference between then and now is undoubtedly the sheer quiet of the time. Even the birds singing seemed almost like an intrusion then. Come to think of it, Underhill Park was also in this bracket. Mustn’t leave that out.
Playing cricket with no adults to help kids with the rules of the game?
Most of our time was spent playing either cricket or football in the street. With there being no cars to worry about, this was quite enjoyable. We never had this many kids though. Come to think of it, we probably didn’t have that number in the entire village. Adults to help? I don’t think so. What on earth could they possibly have known that we didn’t? One day, one passing idiotadult said that we get 2 points for kicking the football over the crossbar! Hmmmph!
Who can still remember the Coronation, Mr Pastry, 6.5 Special, The Army Game , Sunday Night at the London Palladium, Emergency Ward 10, the Lone Ranger, Hancock’s Half Hour, Trigger and Sergeant Bilko.
How Many Of These Do You Remember?
Ahhh, sweet cigarettes. AND they did not require ration coupons, as I recall. Dixon of Dock Green! I met Dixon (Frank Warner) in later life, and on Sundays, we would spend lunchtimes in a pub in what was Paddington Green – or ‘Dock Green’ as it was known in the films.
Coke in bottles. When I was in the RMP in Hong Kong, I was, for a time, our Unit Rations NCO. One of my tasks was to ensure that the coke machine was always full. It was refrigerated, and when you put your money in, a bottle would drop out with a right old bang. How they never broke I don’t know. Good glass in them thar bottles!
Coffee shops with Table Side Jukeboxes.
When I was a young cop in Soho, I would stand outside Chas McDevit’s coffee-bar, the Freight Train (named after his hit record) listening to the juke box. Brill. Helen Shapiro and Rikki Nelson, etc. (And I must mention my big fav, Clarence Frogman Henry!!)
Telephone numbers with a word prefix…( Mayfair 3489). Party lines.
I shall remember, until the day I die, sitting at that old. old switchboard, answering, “Victoria 1113, Police Rochester Row.” Implanted on my brain. There was a lot to be said for the old system and certainly some numbers were far easier to remember. When B used to work at a Recording Studio as a young girl, her boss would love to ask her to telephone one of his friends at his place, the 100 Club, at 100 Oxford Street. He was (is) a jazz musician, Humphrey Littleton, and converting his telephone numbers into letters, his number was HADAPIS! One red-faced B!
Bletsoe, Bedfordshire.
I’ll bet you’ve never heard of Bletsoe, now have you? Well, if you haven’t, it’s not really surprising, as it is a tiny village – population 281 – in North Bedfordshire. A charming rural village which was how our country was years ago. The people there don’t bother us – and we don’t bother them. Ha, ha, ha! Not so anymore! The buggers have asked for it and now they’re gonna get it. What have they done? And what are they gonna get?
Well. They voted, didn’t they? Come on, now, they must have done. Else, how come they have a Council who make life-changing decisions on their behalf? Which leads me on to – what are they gonna get? Tee hee! A gypsy encampment!
NO PROTESTS NOW! That would be racial! After all, if the Council won’t take any notice of the people who elected them into office, they’re certainly not gonna be bothered by you lot.
But, won’t it be out-of-place in this quiet secluded, peaceful li’l ol’ village? No. Course not. Well, how about the letter of objection sent to them by the Police, no less, stating that they have attended a nearby gypsy encampment no less than 109 times in the past 2 years, and have attended the 3 nearby sites a total of 210 times – in the same period – for such crimes as Assault, Arson, Fights, Stolen vehicles, Violent Disorder, Anti-Social Behaviour, Theft, Use of Weapons, and Child Abduction!!! The Council’s reply? This letter is racial, and will not be considered.
Get on with it, you lot. Keep your heads buried in the sand and don’t raise them until YOU are affected and – yes – then it WILL be too late.
Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Experts Say
Include Your Children When Baking Cookies
Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers
Drunks Get Nine Months in Violin Case
Iraqi Head Seeks Arms
Is There a Ring of Debris around Uranus?
Prostitutes Appeal to Pope
Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over
Clinton Wins Budget; More Lies Ahead
Plane Too Close to Ground, Crash Probe Told
Miners Refuse to Work After Death
Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant
Stolen Painting Found by Tree
Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half
War Dims Hope for Peace
If Strike Isn’t Settled Quickly, It May Last a While
Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide
Yea! Do you remember when;
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or “upper crust.”
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock them out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a “wake.”
England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a “bone-house” and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive.(How d’you feel now?)
And, nowadays;
There are still men in Guam whose full-time job is to travel the countryside and deflower young virgins, who pay them for the privilege of having sex for the first time…
Reason: Under Guam law, it is expressly forbidden for virgins to marry.
(Let’s just think for a minute; is there any job anywhere else in the world that even comes close to this?)
In Hong Kong, a betrayed wife is legally allowed to kill her adulterous husband, but may only do so with her bare hands. The husband’s lover, on the other hand, may be killed in any manner desired.
(!)
Topless saleswomen are legal in Liverpool, England – but only in tropical fish stores.
(I wanna fish!!)
In Cali, Colombia, a woman may only have sex with her husband, and the first time this happens, her mother must be in the room to witness the act.
(Perish the thought!)
In Santa Cruz, Bolivia, it is illegal for a man to have sex with a woman and her daughter at the same time.
(I presume this was a big enough problem that they had to pass this law?)
And, remember;
The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL believe that we are above average drivers.
To all those “damn British” people out there … I would like to thank you.
Apparently the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Aid (OCHA) has raised US$35.6 million towards fighting cholera in our country and apparently nearly 40% (US$13.8 million) came from donations made by the British.
So… to all you “oppressors/ traitors/ racists/ colonisers”, thank you for letting our lunatic geriatric dictator’s words of hate wash over your heads. More than that, thank you for giving a damn about ordinary struggling Zimbabweans when our grubby vitriol-spewing political elite quite clearly doesn’t give a damn at all.
Actions speak louder than words, a simple fact that the myopic Zanu PF junta has yet to grasp.
Copied from a Zimbabwean’s Blog.
Just to let you know; Yesterday, my 3 front teeth came out yet again!!! Woe upon woe. I’m fed up with this lark. I went a la dentiste this am and had to go back this pm. He has stuck them back and come to the same conclusion that B came to months ago; he needs to drill into the tooth socket and implant a ‘rod’. Funny how lay men know more, seemingly, than dentists, ain’t it? Gotta go back next Monday for that little extravaganza! Gonna cost about £70. Thank goodness we OAPs are earning such good money!!!! Yesterday I had to go and pick-up Nick from a place that I was not familiar with, so I used his Xmas pressie – a SatNav! My God! How I wish that I could have had one of those things when I was working. They are brill. All the times that I had to drive hundreds of miles looking for some out-of-the-way place where villains were melting-down our beer kegs, not to mention that really bad time I had in Leeds, trying to find my hotel during the rush-hour traffic when I was dog-tired, fed-up, very angry, completely lost, etc.!!! Wow! Drivers don’t know how well-off they are now.
B is now in the garden with her new toy Xmas pressie – a garden vac. Bless her! What other woman would ask for a garden tool for Xmas, eh? Nick is, needless to say, down the University gym. He returns to school tomorrow. He has just started his next Uni project which is due in on 15th Feb. He is not too keen on this teaching lark and I can’t see him taking to being a schoolteacher. We’ll see. B and I advised him to get the teaching qualification as it may well come in handy in the future. Unfortunately, it appears that the qualification is not complete until he completes a further year as a teacher! He is dithering between doing that – which seems to be the least appealing to him, – or going back to his job at Swanea Uni and completing a Master’s Degree. He also bumped into his old pal who is currently coaching football in New York. He has invited Nick to go over and visit and I reckon that he probably will.
Oh dear! B has finished the garden and has come in, and Nick has rung to say he’s on his way home. (I’m hungry, Mum!) Time to go.
28FEB2009
An Asian Tory Councillor in Bristol opposed a scheme to spend £750,000 of Ratepayers’ money on a project about ‘The Slave Trade’ which had been proposed by a black, female Councillor, Ms Brown. (Real name!) She represents the LibDems.
Highly choked, she rounded on him at a Council Meeting, and called him a’coconut’. Apparently, Dickie learns that this means ’Brown on the outside, but white on the inside’!!!! I’ve lived in ignorance of this expression until now!
On now being taken to task for making a racist remark, what do you think she said? Well, I’ll tell you;
“I’m not aware that my comments were taken as a racist remark. How can I be a racist when I’m black?”
And that, I believe, sums things up rather nicely.
You just couldn’t make it up, now could you?
Our country is in deep shit;
Most of us are struggling financially;
Nearly 2 million people can’t find any work;
Banks have gone bust;
Industry is teetering on the brink of oblivion;
Hundreds of thousands of scroungers are entering our country all the time and being kept by us;
And – what do Blackpool Council do?
They spend £24,000+ per annum of OUR money (which we ain’t bloody well got!) on a DANCE DEVELOPMENT OFFICER!
What sort of bloody loony has this as a priority? Are they NuLabour, Tory, or LibDem? Do you know the really scary thing about all this? Not only did we vote these people idiots into office (Yes. WE did!!), but WE’LL GO AND DO IT AGAIN and AGAIN.
More on Nathan’s Burial at Sea
Atlantic Ocean (May 19, 2004)
USS Enterprise (CVN 65) combat systems department officer, Cmdr. Mark Sanford plays “Amazing Grace” on the bag pipes during a Burial at Sea ceremony conducted from one of the ship’s aircraft elevators aboard the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise (CVN 65) for Machinist’s Mate 3rd Class Nathan Taylor.Enterprise is currently underway conducting Carrier Qualifications in the Atlantic Ocean. For more information on the burial at sea program visit the Navy’s web site at: http://www.chinfo.navy.mil/navpalib/questions/burial.html.
U.S. Navy photo by Photographer’s Mate Airman Rob Gaston (RELEASED)
StaffPhoto imported to Merlin on Thu Aug 4 16:24:07 2005
Pampas Before….
Pampas After!
Did a bit in the front garden, this is the result!
Burials at sea are just so emotional, aren’t they?
This casket bearing the body of US Navy Machinist’s Mate Third Class Nathan Taylor goes over the edge of the USS Enterpriseduring a Burial at Sea ceremony.
Rest In Peace, Nathan.
THE COST OF LOOKING GOOD
Earrings $2
Make Up $60
Tattoo $150
Boob Job $6000
Forgetting To Tuck In Your Nuts… Priceless
Well! I gotta say! Last night, I happened to be switching channels when I came across a programme about our Border and Immigration Service. Have you seen it? It is a series of documentaries in which the cameras follow our Immigration Officers on their daily duties. What a bloody farce!
Case 1). They stop a Pakistani person entering Heathrow on a ‘Student’s’ Visa. He produces certificates to show that he is studying Interactive Business Studies at a British Uni. He doesn’t even know what Interactive Business Studies are!!! He isn’t your normal student, as he must be at least in his 30s and maybe more!Basically, he lies, and lies, and then tells more lies. Astute work by the Immigration Officer discovers that this ‘student’ has beenworking full-time for 2 – 3 years as a taxi driver in this country, and his wife and 2 children also are living here! To cut a long story short, he is refused permission to enter the country. Of course, he appeals to the Chief Immigration Officer at the airport, who confirms the decision not to allow him to enter, and tells him that he will be put on the next flight home. Ha, ha, bloody ha! At the end of the programme, rushed in so that you are barely aware of it, they say that this liar has appealed against the decisions, and has been released! In other words, “Carry on, dear boy!” He is now missing and cannot be found!
Case 2). Immigration Officers raid carry out a search warrant at a Cleaning Company, and detain 2 suspected ‘illegals’. One of them, I think he is Nigerian, lies his head off, but is found to be illegally in the country. He failsrefuses to produce any means of identity, although he admits to being a Nigerian. When told that he will be sent home, he starts to cry, saying that his family will kill him – in a row over some family inheritance. (It seems that he stole money which was left by his deceased parents, in order to pay for his illegal entry into Britain.) APPARENTLY, NOBODY CAN BE DEPORTED, UNLESS WE CAN PROVE THEIR COUNTRY OF ORIGIN!!!! So, what happens? He is released whilst Immigration Officers try to obtain proof of his nationality and – go on, guess!! Yea. He also disappears and cannot be found.
Now, I don’t want you to think that I’m being sensationalist in highlighting two exceptional cases. THIS IS THE BLOODY NORM!!! There are tenshundreds of thousands of these people all over our country. What the hell is it costing us? Because of ‘Confidentiality’, I cannot tell you about cases which I know of personally, where ENTIRE FAMILIES follow these illegals into the country, and immediately go onto our Health and Education systems.
But……..we gotta say nowt!
How Britain, the cradle of liberty, is sleepwalking towards cultural suicide
Last updated at 9:28 AM on 12th February 2009
MELANIE PHILLIPS, WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE WEB
If anyone had doubted the extent to which Britain has capitulated to Islamic terror, the banning of Geert Wilders should surely open their eyes.
Wilders, the Dutch member of parliament who had made an uncompromising stand against the Koranic sources of Islamist extremism and violence, was due to give a screening of Fitna, his film on this subject, at the House of Lords on Thursday.
Rightwing: Dutch Parliament member Geert Wilders
This meeting had been postponed amid claims that Lord Ahmed had previously threatened the House of Lords authorities that he would bring a force of 10,000 Muslims to lay siege to the Lords if Wilders was allowed to speak.
Lord Ahmed denies this report and said his lawyers are investigating those he blames for spreading it.
To their credit, the Lords authorities had stood firm and said extra police would be drafted in to meet any threat and the Wilders meeting should go ahead.
But now the government has announced that it is banning Wilders from the country.
A letter from the Home Secretary’s office to Wilders, delivered via the British embassy in the Hague, said: ‘…the Secretary of State is of the view that your presence in the UK would pose a genuine, present and sufficiently serious threat to one of the fundamental interests of society.
‘The Secretary of State is satisfied that your statements about Muslims and their beliefs, as expressed in your film Fitna and elsewhere would threaten community harmony and therefore public security in the UK.’
So let’s get this straight. The British government allows people to march through British streets screaming support for Hamas, it allows Hizb ut Tahrir to recruit on campus for the jihad against Britain and the west, it takes no action against a Muslim peer who threatens mass intimidation of Parliament, but it bans from the country a member of parliament of a European democracy who wishes to address the British Parliament on the threat to life and liberty in the west from religious fascism.
It is he, not them, who is considered a ‘serious threat to one of the fundamental interests of society’. Why? Because the result of this stand for life and liberty against those who would destroy them might be an attack by violent thugs.
The response is not to face down such a threat of violence but to capitulate to it instead.
It was the same reasoning that led the police on those pro-Hamas marches to confiscate the Israeli flag, on the grounds that it would provoke violence, while those screaming support for genocide and incitement against the Jews were allowed to do so.
The reasoning was that the Israeli flag might provoke thuggery while the genocidal incitement would not. So those actually promoting aggression were allowed to do so while those who threatened no-one at all were repressed.
And now a Dutch politician who doesn’t threaten anyone is banned for telling unpalatable truths about those who do; while those who threaten life and liberty find that the more they do so, the more the British government will do exactly what they want, in the interests of ‘community harmony’.
Wilders is a controversial politician, to be sure. But this is another fateful and defining issue for Britain’s governing class as it continues to sleepwalk into cultural suicide.
If British MPs do not raise hell about this banning order, if they go along with this spinelessness, if they fail to stand up for the principle that the British Parliament of all places must be free to hear what a fellow democratically elected politician has to say about one of the most difficult and urgent issues of our time, if they fail to hold the line against the threat of violence but capitulate to it instead, they will be signalling that Britain is no longer the cradle of freedom and democracy but its graveyard.
Dickiebo:- Direct quotation from today’s newspapers.
Section 44 of the Terrorism Act 2000 allows the police to stop and search people.
In 2008:
Number of people stopped nationwide by British Transport Police using s 44: 160,000
Number of people stopped in London by the Metropolitan Police using s. 44: 200,000
Number of people amongst the 360,000 stopped under s. 44 and found to have any terrorist material or links: 0
So what does this tell us? Are the police simply:-
Are our Police
Bad Judges
Going Through the Motions
Haven’t the Faintest Idea
Harassing People
Abusing their Powers
On The Ball
View Results
Be warned; be very wary of granting authorities any further powers that erode what’s left of our freedom. Too late, perhaps. I see today that Scotland Yard are advertising internally for a Head of Secret Intelligence! This new, covert unit will monitor and attempt to penetrate ‘extremist domestic agencies.’ Sounds like a good idea doesn’t it? Until you realise that these corrupt politicians who run our country will decide which organisations are ‘extremist’!!!! I suggest that they start with the LibLabTory Parties.
“The problem with socialism is that you eventually run out of other people’s money.”
Margaret Thatcher
“They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human knowledge.”
Thomas Brackett Reed
“He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know.”
Abraham Lincoln
“He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.”
Oscar Wilde
“I’ve just learned about his illness. Let’s hope it’s nothing trivial.”
Irvin S. Cobb
“You were given the choice between war and dishonour. You chose dishonour and you will have war.”
Winston Churchill to Neville Chamberlain regarding the Munich negotiations:
AND – ON LOVE:-
“We are never so helplessly unhappy as when we lose love.”
Sigmund Freud
“Platonic love is like an inactive volcano.”
Andre Pevost
“The story of a love is not important – what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.”
Helen Hayes
“To love someone is to see a miracle invisible to others.”
Francois Mauriac
“To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven.”
Karen Sunde
“There is no remedy for love but to love more.”
Henry David Thoreau
“Love is not blind — it simply enables one to see things others fail to see.”
Anonymous
“One makes mistakes; that is life. But it is never a mistake to have loved.”
Romain Rolland
“Love is an ocean of emotions entirely surrounded by expenses.”
Thomas Robert Dewar
“There is only one happiness in life: to love and be loved.”
George Sand
“True love begins when nothing is looked for in return.”
Antoine De Saint-Exupery
“A heart that loves is always young.”
A Greek Proverb
“Seduce my mind and you can have my body,
Find my soul and I’m yours forever.”
Anonymous
“True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen.”
Francois de La Rochefoucauld
“The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love.”
Pearl Bailey
“It’s better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.”
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
“If I know what love is, it is because of you.”
Herman Hesse
“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.”
Aristotle
I don’t know how true it is, but this quote appeared on a blog today, saying that it was Jeremy Clarkson’s answer to his critics. Non-UK readers may like to know that the extremely popular Clarkson – a TV Presenter – has got himself criticised for referring, whilst in Australia, to our Scottish Twit Prime Minister, as a ‘One-eyed Scottish idiot’.
“I’ll reverse all legislation made by Brown and Blair since ’97 – “transport, health, the war, the treatment of our soldiers, the EU, the bloody environment, the hunting ban, the smoking ban, the endless tax demands on motorists . . .then I’ll break for lunch and have a snooze before going on holiday.”
Ever since the formation of the abomination known as the Black Police Association, the vast majority of decent people have been deeply concerned. If that, simply by definition alone, is not racist, then God alone knows what is! I need hardly say, as so many do, that Lord help anyone who attempts to form a White Police Association!
The BPA was formed with the utmost co-operation of politicians, via the Home Office and – yea, you’ve guessed – senior police officers! Public money – let’s not mince words, money taken from British workers – was ploughed into the abomination and was……………..lost! As with so many of these politically-approved bodies in the Capital, our hard-earned cash simply melted away. But, of course, it was not for nothing! Oh no! The BPA have supported their ‘members’ through thick and thin, quite regardless of the seriousness of their individual member’s wrong-doings. They unequivocally supported any and every claim made alleging ‘racism’ within the police service, whatever the merits or otherwise of the case. They even ‘furthered’ the cause of black people by advocating that no black person should join the police service!! Whilst still pocketing OUR cash.
Anyway, things reached the stage where an investigation waseventuallycarried out by the Independent Police Complaints Commission, who have now reported! Yes. It is a fact that ‘significant public funds’ (massive amounts of your cash) simply cannot be accounted for. Well. That’s alright then, ain’t it?
Ms Naseem Malik, IPCC Commissioner said: “The investigation did not find evidence of misconduct by any serving or retired UK police officer or police staff member.
“However, the record keeping within the NBPA during this period was so shockingly poor it is simply not possible to account for significant amounts of expenditure. Our evidence showed that these accounting failures allowed a culture of extremely poor practice by some individuals. This poor practice involved significant public funds and a registered charity. It could have been stopped at an earlier stage if the Home Office had carried out its responsibilities as the main funder (Dickiebo: Your cash) more effectively.
“I am particularly concerned about the delays to the investigation caused by the lack of co-operation afforded by some NBPA members.
“However, I applaud those members of the NBPA who were determined that their concerns about the organisation should be addressed and did all they could to ensure we had access to all the available evidence. They now have a further crucial role to play in ensuring that the NBPA can play its vital role in policing in future.
Dickiebo says:
- What ‘vital’ bloody role?
- What possible use is this thoroughly divisive organisation?
- Who, or what, is going to be held responsible for our lost cash?
- What action is being taken against those who failed to co-operate with the enquiry?
- And, are we STILL going to have money taken from us to give to these people?
Answers, please, on a postcard.
London Police Stations are permitted to fly a flag from the front of the buildings. The flag has to be a Union Jack, or the Metropolitan Policeflag. No others are permitted to be used. But, of course, that does not come into play when one of our Senior Twats Police Officers decides that he wants further promotion to promote the furtherance of homosexuality. He flies the so-called ’Gay Rights’ flag. Personally, had I still been in the police and stationed at Lewisham, I would have died of embarrassment. A Scotland Yard spokesman said the decision to display the rainbow flag for the first day of LGBT history month had been taken by the borough commander, Chief Superintendent Paul Rickett.
The new Commissioner, on hearing of this, ordered that the flag be removed immediately. I should bloody well think so! BUT………what action is being taken against the idiot who flew the flag? I would like to know. A wonderful early opportunity for the new Commissioner to knock this PC tripe on the head by sanctioning Disciplinary Proceedings against the culprit.
This is a can of Shandy Bass, made by Dickiebo’s former employers, Bass Brewers, now owned by Britvic. Bass made it and gave it thealcohol content 0.5%
That was quite deliberate. It made the drink below the official level of an alcoholic drink and as such, may be consumed by children. This is undoubtedly why the brand is now owned by Britvic – a soft-drinks firm. In other words – the drink is perfectly bloody harmless.
Now, this harmless (but very nice, and a favourite of ‘B’) drink is consumed every Tuesday, together with a plate of fish and chips, by a Leicestershire police Constable. He has, apparently, done so for the past 20 years! Imagine what he felt when he was taken aside the other day, by a senior officer, given a rollicking, and told in no uncertain terms, never to drink on duty again!
Think this was one single idiot’s action? Dead wrong! The Professional Standards Dept have now issued an instruction banning officers from drinking this drink on duty! This is despite a statement from Britvic confirming that you would need to drink a bathful of Shandy Bassmerely to reach the drink/driving limit. Incidentally, the ‘official’ figure for alcohol content is 1.2%. (Anything lesser, ain’t!)
So, why this draconian, senseless instruction? Well, perhaps there is a clue in what a Police Spokeswoman said, “Leicestershire Constabulary is committed to maintaining public confidence within the diverse communities of Leicester, Leicestershire and Rutland.”
Ah! That’s alright then!
My Poor Lawn!
Snow still falling!
Oh Dear!
Linda asked where Dickiebo’s Header comes from. Ancient readers will, I hope, forgive me if I explain a little.
The Mug is, of course, yours ever so truly, and I am on our favourite walk with B, along the cliff path between Langland and Caswell Bays. Langland is in the pic and the tide is out. The castle-like building on the right is the Miners’ Convalescent Home – now turned into flats! When I was a kid, it was always nice to see the convalescing miners walking around our village, identifiable by their yellow & black lapel badge. The chalets on the beach are Council-owned, and let out to tenants per season. These were only available to the posh people! On the beach, immediately below the chalets, were wooden framed tents. These sites were leased out to locals and some slightly-better-off friends had one, which we would all share. Democracy at work, for you! Unfortunately, persistent high tides coupled with stormy weather, put paid to the tents years ago and they were discontinued.
The part of the beach which can be seen, is the part where we used to take Tom Brace’s ponies, giving rides to ‘trippers’ for 6p a time. In those days, the beach was absolutely crowded. Who’d ever heard of Spain then? The car-park had a major section reserved for ‘charabancs’ (coaches to you and I!) and their colours I shall never forget. These coaches were all colours, coming mainly from ‘the valleys’ as we would say. The ‘trippers’ would use them as their base during their day on the beach. They would invariably hire out deckchairs for the adults, placing them in a huge circle, with the youngsters on the sand within the circle. They would have great fun. Really!
We were spoilt for choice of beaches, and my personal favourite was Caswell – where we would gather on the ‘flat rocks’ by the ‘big boys pool’ and spend the day talking about ‘man’ things and all!! in between ‘dips’. Langland and Caswell were pretty much equidistant from our homes in Nottage Road;
They are separated by the Langland Bay Golf Course and old readers will know that our family were friends of the Venn family, who lived on the course. Frank was the Head Greenkeeper, and Mrs Venn ran the Clubhouse. During the war, Dickiebo was tied to a lawnmower, to pull it for cutting the greens. My reward was twofold; a ride on the tractor – great, great, great. I shall never, ever forget the wonderful smell of the old, oily thing. And, afterwards, in the bungalow, a cup of tea (yuk!) and a 3p bag of Smith’s Crisps. Faaaantastic!
Eagle-eyed readers may also spot Dickiebo’s newspaper round! The shop was at the bottom of Nottage Road, in Southward Lane, and my rounds took me to St. Peter’s Road, Summerland Lane (which was the nearest bomb that the Germans got to Nottage Road – ha, ha, ha!) Caswell Avenue, Hillgrove, Marytwill Lane, and Brynfield Road.
I’ll bet you’re glad that Linda asked now, aincha?
