This is the second part of a two-part rant; just in case you didn’t have enough yesterday. The first part can be read here.
So, the campaign group “Devizes for EU,” emailed “avert another crisis,” lobbying to extend the Brexit transition so the country “can concentrate on recovering from the effects of Covid19.” I appreciate the angle, yet cannot help but feel they’re pulling a plaster off an arm slowly. Brexit is no bonza idea in my book, but this isn’t the injudiciousness of a persuaded nation, at least the nation four years ago.
It begs the question, how swiftly does “Devizes for the EU” suppose we will recover? I’d wager, and in some small way hope, the Brexit Bunch will be pushing up daises by then. It has to be all or nothing and it’s too late to tuck our tail between our legs and hold out in the EU for support (insert sneering French snort here.) Farage and his cronies ensured this when a sombre moment in history was displayed by childish sneering and flag-waving; an indicator we’re led by donkeys.
Donkeys with an escape plan; pin the tail on Covid19 when the economy takes another nosedive due to failing Brexit strategies. Or is that, tragedies? For it is tragic, or a “fuckduggery shitshow” for want of a more offensive term. If the Farage brigade did tuck their tail between their legs, they’d do it in juvenile mirth; “look mummy, I’ve got a willy!” In similar fashion they themselves acknowledged we’d be looking at forty plus years of glorious blue passports and straight bananas before we regained economic incline after deserting the EU. For their next trick, they cut off their noses to spite their face. No! Don’t touch the face!
Ah well, Dalek climbing off a dustbin; they’ll do what they want anyway, crafty buggers. Cummings; prime example.
If you recoiled at my Cummings comparison to the bald chap in Benny Hill and like to think he’s more like Michael Knight; a young loner on a crusade to champion the cause of the innocent in an EU of criminals who operate above the law, can we not make a compromise? Retain the Benny Hill scenario but in a parody of Knight Rider? Replacing Devon with Bojo Hill; easy. Vivid images of him slapping Cummings’ bald crown as auxiliary Hoff, while Liz Truss as Bonnie Barstow flashes her undies from beneath a mac at Donald Trump. A slap-and-tickle trade deal, but hold the punchline Benny, she’s missing a tooth. Strike a light; Daily Mail page 3 girl.
Who in the Tory Party forgot to pay the Mail their monthly backhander anyway? Certainly not the Knight Industries Two Thousand. Maybe his car turbo-boosted itself to Barnard Castle?
Seriousness aside for a historical tangent; believe, Cummings should have a flashing red light on his car, a warning to us all; don’t mistake Durham for Lourdes. You don’t gotta tell Waltheof, a bad-boy Earl of Northumbria who supervised the building of said castle. Geezer had a bit of beef with ol’ Willy the Conqueror, and joined an earl’s revolt against him. The nutter later repented and confessed his guilt to the king, thinking he’d sympathise and support him. But Willy jailed him for a year, then cut the twat’s head off…. just saying.
Ah, the Norman equivalent of posting a nasty meme on Twitter. You don’t earn the hashtag #bastard for being a light touch. “no 1 told me,” Waltheof replied, “LOL.” Whoa, arrow in the eye sorted him out, Bayeux Tapestry reported, probably hacked his papyrus. Applying social media into historical conflicts one has to wonder if they’d have happened at all, if they could screech their opinions on Facebook. Social media is akin to road rage, shielded by a screen, gossip about and slate who you like, then be nice to the same person if you pass them on the street; I do!
Appreciate we live in a time of peace, relatively. How bizarrely wonderful it has been to extend a Sunday afternoon ambience with a two-month Groundhog Day. It would be a crying shame, but perhaps inevitable, if post-lockdown our bitterness returns to real life levels. I admit, Wiltshire is great at this. Here you go, the Gazette reported, “only one person in the county was handed a coronavirus fine during the scorching bank holiday weekend.”
We’ve a great track record in abiding to social distancing, and as a consequence Wiltshire is doing well by comparison to other counties, or, say the blazingly ignorant example set by our leaders (more on this later.) Local rag continued, “But while the majority of people were abiding by the rules some were stretching the boundaries, chief constable Kier Pritchard said.” Because as we progress the rules get consistently vaguer. Waffled by an incompetent Prime Minster, it’s hardly surprising. “Stay alert” is the UK’s new motto, I gather that means If you see Covid19 heading your way, duck.
Could be worse, we could be in the USA, where I believe the President should freely practice what he preaches and inject himself with disinfectant. Do not delay, Trump, inject yourself with as much as you possibly can.
Or is it that we can hide flaunts of the rules in a largely rural environment? Ghostly figures of high-risk pensioners nipping out for exercise in the middle of the night; Covid19 takes a nap. I see you, Wee Willy Wrinkle. I’ve been in the supermarket queue too; oddballs shuffling closer. Unmoved by a virus, me, as a keyworker, probably got it anyway by now, more so, they smell. Question them and they apologetically claim they forgot. The streets are void of life, warning signs everywhere, spots on the floor, every media source bleating about it, people sauntering past wearing facemasks, how the fuck can you possibly forget?!
Ewe ‘avin’ a laff, shagger? Devizes; stuck in its ways, questionable or not. Opinions rarely change here. Example: I’m queuing for Lidl, somewhere near Etchilhampton. On the wall they listed all first names of their workers, thanking them for their risky labour. The disgruntled bigot baby-boomer behind me, who previously snarled aloud at the irony of a driver lowering her facemask to light fag, scanned the names and muttered to his wife, “humph, loads of foreign names.” Hello you, realise Lidl is German and operates internationally, do you expect someone in the Balkan states to be called Dave Smith?
Idle mutterings maybe, but it’s the same mindset which sees an Afro-American killed by police over the pond. And Trump’s reaction? Threaten to open fire on objectors. You’d think a congress would oversee what he tweets, but I’m glad they don’t; it shows an exaggerated interpretation of the real feelings of the far-right philosophy. Highlights my notion social media is akin to road rage. Trump is to Twitter what Reagan was to “the big red button,” hovering over it, dying to unleash his façade of showmanship. You have to understand the difference between idle mutterings and publishing something on social media, at least better than the melted figurine of He-Man.
Pandora’s box cracked open now, me boy. Let’s clear it up. Ideally, I believe a Facebook group should adhere to the objective it sets. It’s no use disguising a desire to cast political bias onto your Facebook page if it was supposed to be about local issues, and uncompromisingly delete every comment deflecting. This is bound to cause upset. Users of local groups are getting an inkling where I’m driving this. Watch out, I’m a cheeky monkey, flinging the poo back at you.
It is, however, as it is. Admins of Facebook groups are NOT expected to hand over their efforts into the hands of keyboard warriors with absolutely no respect for others. No matter how much upset this petty discourtesy causes you, the need to chastise admin with threats or obscene insults is beyond justified. For crying out loud, how sad have we become? I like the guy, often differ in opinion, but he is not Pol Pot.
I rest my case, but it is important, doubly so while we cannot go down the boozer. I’ve forgotten where the Southgate is; eh? Oh yeah, head south, towards the gate. Social media is a necessary evil now, addictive too. I’m a Facebook junkie, my dreams come over as a Facebook feed. Where I swoon though is when Police posted a photo of teens suspected of breaking into Devizes School and numpties tag their mates. What happened to honour among thieves?
I tell you, shall I? I know you want me to. It’s all about setting a good example for youth. If you’ve read this far, I salute you. We like our news like the Spanish like food. Tapas, small, bitesize. But stay, just a smidgen longer. Oh yeah, you. Whisper; did you really expect Danny Kruger to risk his job to call out Cummings? That’d be letting him know he’s in charge of a haven of village idiots; nightmare on Sidmouth Street. But perhaps we could carve his name on the Market Place Cross next to ol’ Ruth, when you consider how much rural support he’s bleated about, how he’s donned green wellies and spoke with our blue flag-waving Tory farmers. Then note, while we swam in Cummings gags, he voted to lower our food standards during the Covid19 pandemic and endanger the livelihood of the farms, and in turn our entire infrastructure.
What do they take us for? Giving it, “we will sell our beef to America.” Baloney, they don’t call themselves cowboys because they’re partial to wearing bells around their necks; they’ve got their own beef, quite a lot of it too. Furthermore, I listened in geography class, you can fit the UK into Texas 2.8 times, and that’s just one of fifty states. Why would they want our family pack of Tesco burgers?
I don’t want a fucking bucket of Kentucky chlorinated Chicken, thank you. So, waddle off to Devizes Parkway, clap all the way for a health service your mates are supposed be funding from OUR tax, rather than expecting the poorest to fundraiser for, wait for the imaginary train to stop, pop that in your pipe and smoke it all the way to Westminster, Mr Kruger.