The Queen marches on Parliament

‘Off with their fucking heads’

Liz woke at 5 in the morning to the sound of Phil and the corgis snoring.

“Fuck one rigid, ” she thought. “There must be more to life than this. Sodding state receptions, unveiling plaques for things I don’t give a toss about, sorting out the messes my bloody family’s gotten themselves into, Harry’s tittish behaviour…”

She tossed and turned but it was no good, she was wide awake now and another boring day beckoned.

Later, after her customary breakfast of All Bran followed by eggy soldiers, she sat reading the morning papers.

There was column after column of reports of MP expenses fiddling and calls for an early General Election but then something she’d never seen before, and never imagined, not even in her wildest dreams…

‘Why doesn’t the Queen do something?’ screamed the headline in the Daily Blart.

Liz was stunned.

“Bleedin’ Norah,” she thought. “A chance for one to do something useful for a change!”

Calling for her wardrobemaid who assisted her into her crown, jodphurs, thigh length riding boots (with spurs) and the flak jacket with ‘Koo’ embriodered on the back that Andrew had left at the Palace after the Falklands, she immediately phoned round, and 20 minutes later a small but perfectly formed convoy of tanks, armoured troop carriers and any of Britain’s finest who weren’t engaged in shooting goats in Afghanistan was assembled in the Mall.

She climbed onto the leading Chieftain tank and addressed her troops.

“Right, you men. We need to sort out those cunts in Westminster. We want no-one escaping. Round them all up and teapot them (she thought that was the right term) in Parliament Square. We mean to kick bottom and chew fruit pastilles, and we’re fresh out of pastilles!”

So saying, she hit the top of the tank with her riding crop and the convoy moved off.

“One wonders if one can get away with breaking a cap in a few bums, just as a warning?” she mused, toying with Daddy’s old revolver, freshly cleaned and fully loaded with hollow-point bullets.

This would be even more fun than wringing a grouse’s neck.

It was going to a good day after all…

Does the IPCC actually do anything?

How to turn the G20 death drama into a bureaucratic nightmare – Part 2436…

Why the delay?

The IPCC has yet to interview the officer involved but said it intends to “as soon as possible”.

Maybe I’ve been reading too many crime novels, but isn’t it always best to investigate and interview ‘as soon as possible’?

In the case of ‘Officer X’ straight after he made himself known to his superiors would seem to have been a good time therefore.

And now, of course, it’s Easter and I’m guessing that the fuckwads at the IPCC won’t be back at work before next Tuesday at the earliest.

Definitely police brutality

This doesn’t look good.

I’m now sure, no matter how many inquiries are held, that the police were responsible for the death of Ian Tomlinson – an innocent passer-by – at the G20 protests last week.

The video shows a clearly unprovoked attack.

I hope the people guilty of this are brought to justice and receive the maximum punishment available.

The G20 death – predictable hysteria

So, someone died at the G20 protests yesterday.

Here’s the story so far according to the Guardian, who seem to find nothing suspicious about the death.

Predictably, people in the anti-G20 camp are now calling him ‘a hero’ when it isn’t even clear whether he was involved in the protests or just going home.

The hysterical response to the rumours surrounding the guy’s death is well displayed by the Twitter feed in an anarchist’s blog:

  • @ahsbenton: i.e thank god we’re all ok, not thank god the poor guy died. I’m sitting in front of the laptop crying. What the hell happened? about 18 hours ago
  • Thank god. Christ, I don’t recognise this country anymore. about 18 hours ago
  • Oh my god. A guy’s just died at the G20 protests.

She really ought to do a spot of research first and not go all Hollywood on us.

After all, she is a journalist writing for…er…why, the Guardian!

This same blogger also commented:

Did you hear that a guy died at Climate Camp? Jesus…

He was nowhere near the Climate Camp…

But back to the main point.

People suddenly die all the time – sometimes after living a perfectly healthy life with no illnesses or sign of illness whatsoever.

I bet someone else collapsed and died in London yesterday.

It happens, not that makes it any less tragic for the deceased’s family, but to ascribe  such a death to something rather more sinister is just a cynical ploy that shits over any respect for the dead person.

More Mail fuckwittery

Winter’s coming back tomorrow – the Mail says so.

Old folk are going to die by the billion, birds will freeze midflight and cause planes to crash as they rain past them and get sucked into their engines, gay people will steal all your children and sell them for smack, socialists will move in next door, venereal disease will eat your face off,  prostitutes will throw cheese at you and house prices will plummet.

And it’s all Sir Fred Goodwin’s fault!

Fessing up

Since starting this blog I’ve become aware that I’ve changed a lot over the past few months and that things which would once have been mild annoyances now provoke a stronger reaction in me.

So, I guess that I need to examine this for my own benefit and possibly to explain to anyone reading this blog why I’m coming across as less than sensitive towards certain people.

A year ago, we were facing a rather uncertain financial future – my wife was chronically ill with Meniere’s Disease (and obviously still is) and we weren’t sure if she could get an ill-health retirement pension. We had a woefully inadequate endowment plan to pay off the mortgage and we had a rather large car loan. It’s not that we’d been reckless or imprudent with money (we didn’t have any debts apart from the mortgage and the loan) just that we were ill-prepared for retirement. We weren’t going to live out the rest of our days in abject poverty, but neither were we going to have a retirement we were looking forward to. It wasn’t that far away, either – 3 years in my wife’s case and 8 in mine.

Then something happened.

One morning in March of this year – it was actually Easter Bank Holiday Monday –  we were in bed and the phone rang. It was a policeman saying that my father had been found dead by one of his carers. He hadn’t been very well and only the day before we were talking about how he’d have to have more carers in and we were going to tell him we were going to do this – I had power of attorney so I was going to go ahead with this even though I knew he wasn’t going to want the expense.

Anyway, that immediately ceased to be relevant and the weeks that followed saw us getting the funeral sorted out, notifying everyone that had to be told, etc, etc.

(For those who haven’t had to do this, I can only say that I’m sorry but it’s an extremely stressful experience especially as it comes on top of the grief that you feel.)

Anyway, that all got sorted out and – all considerations of loss and grief aside – we soon realised that with my Dad’s savings and the property that I inherited that the future was going to be rather different.

In short, we had enough to pay off the car loan and put some money by. We managed to sell my Dad’s flat in spite of the state of the property market which meant we could pay off our mortgage in full with some left over. This also meant that we could stop paying the endowment and surrender the policy bringing in another lump of money.

So, now we own our house outright, we have no debts whatsoever and we have a substantial sum put by and I’m looking at retirement before I’m 60, as opposed to having to work until 65.

In 9 months we’ve gone from a negative to a very positive situation.

To be brutally honest, most of 2008 has been a total headfuck.

I still miss my father and every so often I get upset when something happens that reminds me of him or I see something I associate with him. Then there’s the fact that we’re looking forward to our retirement together, possibly in France if things go OK, and that financially we seem to have a lot of security – certainly a lot more than we had 9 months ago.

The two things – losing my father and being far better off – don’t sit very well together in my head but that’s my problem and, really, my head tells me that they essentially have nothing to do with each other. My heart makes me feel guilty – I’m benefiting from the death of someone I loved – but I’m sure I’ll sort that out.

A side effect of all this has been that I’m finding myself far less tolerant towards those who are in the situation that I used to be in – not fair, I know, but possibly quite human, I hope! I now look at the current economic climate from the point of view as a saver and see lots of help being given to those in debt and none extended towards those who aren’t. We’re not going to make much from our savings for the forseeable future and I can’t help thinking that this is inherently unfair.

Maybe I’m facing up to the fact that for once my destiny really is in my own hands as I now have some choice as to what’s going to happen.

After several years of having really no idea what we want to do after we’ve finished working, we now have a plan and some degree of determination regarding the future.

Who knows?

That’s enough personal honesty for now…

And I still think that anyone who hasn’t worked for 27 years should get off their lazy arse and find work!