They still don’t get it!

teapotPiers Morgan said on TV this morning that Remain got it wrong – they thought we were concerned about the economy but it was actually immigration that worried us. Wrong!

Immigration was an issue but so was our disgust at our laws being overruled by foreign bureaucrats. The reason I voted for Brexit was my refusal to allow the continued supremacy of EU law over UK law

But most of all, this was a vote by hard working taxpayers against the Establishment – we are sick of being screwed down whilst bankers pay themselves bonuses, fatcat politicians lie & line their pockets, and multinationals pay no tax.

We have the bit between our teeth now, so watch out Westminster!

1 Jovial

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Politics after the Referendum

Next Thursday the Brits go to the polls to decide whether the UK will leave the EU, having been battered from both sides with predictions about the economy and immigration. However, how about an unbiased prediction of the political scene after the Referendum, whichever way it goes?

cameron corbyn boris farage compositeOne thing is for sure: it will never be as it has been. But there are numerous possible outcomes against a background of a Tory party split down the middle, Corbyn only 70% sure and he and Cameron appearing side by side on stage. Likewise Sadiq Khan and Cameron.

It’s unheard of for two political opponents to come together whilst their members defect. You don’t come back from that. Continue reading

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David Cameron on the Brink of Insanity?

The claims coming from Cameron and his EU Remain camp are becoming increasingly bizarre and unbelievable, although he could be excused this irrational behaviour if you delve a little deeper (see below).

Continue reading

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Honeymoon in Sri Lanka – Not us!


I will shortly be attending the wedding of my niece, with a reception in a swanky hotel and country club, from which they will fly to Sri Lanka and on to the Maldives. Or possibly the Seychelles, or Mauritius, or somewhere similar with palm trees and sand.

My daughter took her honeymoon in the Dominican Republic in preference to Antigua.

Not us. Our honeymoon was taken at Smilie’s where we were dropped off following a reception at Rayners Lane Scout Hall at which my new brother-in-law repeatedly played “House of the Rising Sun” by the Animals on a Dansette record player. You can guess which decade.

Not that I am bitter that I missed out. Much. But Smilie’s was not an acceptable substitute for Sri Lanka.

Smilie owned the terraced dwelling where we rented our first “home”. Two dark rooms in a suburban street called The Gardens in West Harrow. Gardens which had been paved over as hard standing for dustbins in a London borough which hadn’t seen a harrow for at least a century.

Mr and Mrs Smilie were retired and operated a shift system. He was around during the day and slept at night. She was up all night and slept during the day. They hated each other and did not communicate except occasionally for practical reasons as they passed on the stairs at 9.00am and 9.00pm.

We shared the bathroom and kitchen and were allocated a small space in the fridge alongside the old man’s burnt sausages. Every weekend he would cook sausages until they were shrivelled and black then eat one each day for breakfast. He kept a Velocette motorbike in the hallway but I never saw him use it. He rarely went out.

To this day I have not met anyone quite as mean. In the few brief months of winter when we shared his roof he would huddle by day in his parlour refusing to light a fire – he proudly announced that blankets were cheaper than coal. I kid you not.

We were allowed one bath per week and could switch on the immersion heater for no more than one hour to heat the water. When he discovered that I was taking liberties by bathing on a Wednesday and a Saturday he built a wooden box around the immersion switch with a hinged door and a small padlock. We would have to ask him to unlock the “bath box” for exactly one hour, allowing 7 days between each request.

Of course he suffered from his own meanness. The padlock was so cheap and flimsy that I could open it with a tiny key from a toy money box. So I would open the bath box, switch on and relock it. Twice he cursed himself for being forgetful. The third time he rumbled and our relationship deteriorated from there.

It reached its nadir due to an unplanned incident when I noticed that the front door of the house had been left open. I closed it and went upstairs to our room. After a few minutes there was load knocking on the front door from both the knocker and then from fists thumping on the woodwork. I returned and opened the door to find a florid faced Smilie accusing me of deliberately locking him out.

Perhaps my laughter as I walked away didn’t help repair the situation as he came careering down the hallway towards me, howling with rage, and took a swing at my chin with his right fist. Now, he was slow, old and fat. I was quick, young and nimble. Sidestepping his blow did not require great agility and he skidded on the worn linoleum straight into the kitchen, colliding with the refrigerator which fell forward, spilling burnt sausages across the floor.

Apoplectic, amid my howls of laughter, he went back out through the front door and returned a few minutes later with a uniformed policeman. The sympathetic copper listened to his rant and calmed him down and I told him that I thought he had left the door open accidentally which he endeavoured to explain to Smilie. I did point out the motorbike standing alongside us in the hall and asked whether a vehicle full of highly inflammable fuel could legally be stored in a dwelling house, then I rapidly retired for an early bath. We moved out a couple of weeks later.

To be fair we did have a proper honeymoon a few months later, staying for a weekend in a B&B in Bournemouth. We were drenched on Saturday night having been caught in a thunderstorm trying to find a pub. Any pub. Not an easy job in central Bournemouth which seems to have been built by Quakers. However, we did take time to send a postcard to Smilie saying “Wish you were here”.

5  Slightly Tetchy


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Cuban Street Art

Followers of this blog will know that I am a fan of street art (not scrawled graffiti) so when I spent a couple of weeks in Cuba earlier this year, I had to get out my camera.








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Bert’s Dilemma

 “Mine’s a pint Bert”.

 “OK Fred, but only because I’m looking to you for some advice”.

 “Thanks mate. Fire away!” he said taking a sip of foam. Another short measure.

 “Well Fred, you know I keep a few chickens and sell my eggs down the market”, said Bert. Fred nodded.

 Bert continued. “I was in here last night and, a while after you left, a bloke came over and asked me if I was the one who sold the eggs. Said he could put a good deal my way”.

 “What sort of deal?”

 “He said that if I joined his club I would be able to increase my sales of eggs because I could sell to his other members. Sounded fine at first, but there are conditions”.

 “I guess there has to be something in it for him. Go on!”

 “Well, first there’s the membership fee and it’s not small. I’d have to stop coming down here in the evening, so that’s the last pint I’ll be buying you!”

 “That’s a serious disadvantage which I will have to consider Bert” said Fred with a twinkle in his eye”.

 “That’s not all. For every £60 that his club members spend on my eggs I have to buy £100 of stuff from them”.

 “I trust you sent him on his way”.

 “There’s more. They will also tell me how to look after my chickens and they will pass laws on chicken management. I will be fined or go to jail if I don’t comply. And if I buy new chicken runs I have to go to him before I can buy them from Joe the Joiner next door”.

 “And some of the members are suffering overcrowding because non-members have moved in to live on their farms. I have to take two every year as lodgers and support them indefinitely – I will also have to send money to their families back home.”

 “Don’t you have any say in how this club is run?”

 “He said I have a vote but there are 24 others so I don’t have any influence.”

 “Have you done any research into this club Bert?”

 “Well yes. They don’t look very kosher. They’ve been around for a long time but their accounts have failed audit every year for the last 20 years.”

 “Bert, my old pal, take my advice and steer well clear. Only a raving idiot would want to belong to a club like that!”




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David Cameron’s Virtual Renegotiation

cameron pleadingHave you seen Dave’s EU “renegotiation” demands?

Why didn’t someone tell him that good negotiators start high and concede little? Not start low and go virtual.

Let’s look at the four main demands he has sent by letter to the European Union:

Protection of the single market for Britain and other non-euro countries

Does he really think it makes sense to be in a club where the other members discriminate against us. Of course they’ll agree to this or be accused of discrimination. Or is he saying they are discriminating now? Smoke and mirrors.

Boosting competitiveness by setting a target for the reduction of the “burden” of red tape

They’ve already committed to this very vague aspiration so there is no need for renegotiation. In fact it’s rather dishonest of Cameron to pretend he has won a negotiating point when Brussels had already decided to blitz red tape. “Move along, nothing to see here”.

Exempting Britain from “ever-closer union” and bolstering national parliaments

Except that the government can still opt in to regulations piecemeal. Which means that we will continue to vehemently implement every regulation that fits their agenda whether or not it is good for the British people (remember us Dave?).

Restricting EU migrants’ access to in-work benefits such as tax credits

But continuing to pay out of work benefits. So immigrants are incentivised to stay at home watching Sky TV rather than get a job. And this is what he wants to negotiate? No thanks!

We really do need to vote OUT, if and when we get a referendum.
(Big IF, I’ll believe it when I see it).


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