Ina Updated

Apologies if you have been trying to click on links and found nothing.  I was undecided as to whether to carry on talking about work, and I decided against it.

For the uninitiated, I unexpectedly hit on someone, and am very surprised but happy about it. I think my rampant hormones made a good decision.  Evidently I am very healthy.

I am now settling into my new role as custodian, and have started the garden off for the summer.  I may or may not decide to do a sporadic post about it.

Inevitably, as I have the usual insecure male problem at work, I am also having to make contingency plans whilst moving the artwork on and doing some reading.

Otherwise, this is the lull before the storm, so much stress is on the way that I have to enjoy it whilst I can.




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Only in America….

Today my facebook feed is full of Americans saying how sorry they are for Starbucks after several racial incidents were reported.

Two black men were arrested in one branch for waiting for a friend – in a coffee shop, who’d have thunk it?

In another, it was demonstrated that white people get codes for the toilet and black people do not.

During the Civil rights highpoint in the 60s, black American families had on average a sixth of the income of white families.  Now it is down to a tenth.

The prison system works on the basis of multiple crimes – if you are convicted three times you can be in for life.  This makes Victorian Britain look fair.

If this is what you want for the UK, then you are welcome to carry on spitting feathers at what I have been telling you about American influence in the UK.  You do not want this country buying their way into ruling public services, be that public health, prisons, policing, social care or anything else.  It is not a nice country, and the inhabitants are no longer particularly bright.

The people on my friends’ list cited healthcare for part-time workers as a reason why having piss-poor policies towards black people was OK with them.  An astonishingly large proportion of Americans believe that companies exist for reasons other than taking your money.

They do not.  Businesses exist to turn a profit.  They do not exist to educate you or enrich your life experience in any way other than upsizing your fat lazy backside by selling you more solutions to your artificially created unhappiness.

You are fat, so you need a diet, you are celebrating so you need a cake, you are ugly so you need make-up, you are unhappy so you need an alcoholic drink – it goes on and on.

This is not what any sensible person would want for the UK.  Education is nothing to do with business.  Health should not be anything to do with business or how much money you have.  Prison is nothing to do with making a profit for a capital labour business.

You want to be stupid?  Keep on watching the TV and consuming the Starbucks.  Keep on buying and sending the missiles.  Keep on assuming that Theresa May knows what she is doing.  Keep on enjoying the Big Bang Theory and being reminded about the difference between ugly girls and pretty girls, and how stupidity is always a good answer for everything unless you want to be a hilarious dweeb.

There are six vacant homes for every homeless person in the USA.  Capitalism unfettered by concern for actual humans DOES NOT WORK AND IT IS ACTUAL FASCISM.


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Is David Wolfe an idiot?

Thanks for the mail and the interest.  It’s very kind of you, but to answer your general points:

No, David Wolfe is not an idiot.  I have come across this attitude before, where gentlemen are apparently supposed to do the decent thing and get it up to order, and I don’t buy it.  It is neither pleasant nor adult behaviour to bonk everything that moves.  Besides which, he appears to have a preferred list of attributes which I am not on.  I was likewise until I met him – I use the term loosely, since it was really a brief moment of cynical irritation on youtube that initially sparked things off some months prior to our fortieth.  The haiku was good, apart from that.

I do have the message I sent to my friend somewhere on one of the computers – I think it was 2008 or so.  One of Harley’s psycho fanbois was involved as far as I remember, and I said something along the lines of “Shit, I appear to be in love with the horrible man, how the hell did that happen?”  In any case, it appears he was married by then, although there was no trace of it at the time, so it has all been a self-delusion of mammoth proportions which happened to get me through at least one period of extreme stress – my mother would have been dead years ago after being thrown into a care home by her disgusting offspring if it hadn’t been for the aspirant Mrs Wolfe delusion.

Anyway, from casual observation – I stopped looking at anything to do with him in 2011 or so as I was afraid that I was going mad – he prefers compliance and a considerable amount of forbearance, and I am definitely not of that ilk.  Been there, done that, don’t need the anxious wrinkles or the insecurity.  I am probably in the best situation I could be in – I get to make indignant objections without pissing him off, which strategically is the most advantageous situation for both of us.  I also get to obsessively work and ignore him, which is kind of why I don’t generally do monogamy in the first place.

I was asking myself for some time whether the overall situation was a question of safety.  I gave up a lot of old relationships that were not really going anywhere because of it, and I don’t regret it at all.  It is also very safe emotionally speaking to avoid actual relationships, so I wondered about that, too.  Having had several tiresome years to ponder it, however, and considering the number of times I was told I was mad for admitting to it, I do not think it was a cowardly decision to just accept it and work through the inevitable questions that followed.  Cats or Wolfe? Mother or Wolfe?  Do I hate America more than I love Wolfe?  Shit happens, and sometimes you just have to make like a fish and deal with it.

The frightening bit was the lobster tank part – if you put lobsters in a tank, one will almost make it over the top before the others pull it back down, and I got a lot of that.  I had no idea that people who criticise others for achieving, do so on the basis that they feel safer being a nothing, so anything you do is going to be hated.  They will pretend to be interested and then sabotage what you are doing because it makes them feel safe.  That has wasted years even after making the decision to roll with it, never mind the years of misery before I met Wolfe.

I think the first thing I wrote for him was an astonishingly pompous looking academic philosophy of love entwined with some rhetoric material.  Even I looked at it and said WTF, so I had some vague ideas about disseminating information to a wider public at that point.  A really good specialist publication can sometimes only sell about 8 copies, to people that need to know who you are before they will buy it, so academia was never going to work for the over-arching project.  I do not now regret the huge confidence crisis that has meant the delay in the work, although measures could have been taken earlier to prevent agronomic war, which I suspect is now inevitable in about fifty years.  We can blame the Avocadess for that one, so she is welcome to a good hard stare in the mirror when America finally gets bombed flat by 194 irate and probably starving countries using its own crappy missiles.  I was more of a sarcastic pal prior to that bit of pointless nastiness, and I was certainly very out of touch with my emotions generally.

I don’t really do convention, and I don’t regard squabbling over ‘ownership’ as being something that is relevant to me at all, since I do not play that way.  Either you want to be with me or you don’t, and if you don’t you are welcome to bugger off for ten years until you figure it out. I’m not usually in love with them when I make that deal, however, so I guess this is a bit of a departure from my norm in that respect.

The only really bad part is the timing.  I could theoretically go and have a child before it is too late, but I don’t really want to be sucking anybody into anything I don’t mean.  Tough tittie, you make your decisions in life for whatever spurious reasons I guess.

Suck it up.







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I don’t like the look of the new cleaner much.” Helen scowled at the little man fluttering around the CEO’s office.

There’s something a bit funny about him, yes. I can’t quite see what it is. He certainly cleans well though.” Robert looked up briefly. The little man was sweeping the parquet with delicate precision. “They don’t usually brush the floor before mopping it.”

Yes, why is he doing that? Nobody else did it like that? There’s something odd about him.” Helen continued to stare at the apparently effeminate man.

And, more to the point, why does he dress so well?” Robert applied only slightly more thought to the issue.

He has very good skin, have you noticed that? Why does he have such good skin? Cleaners normally have eye bags and drooping jawlines from the chemicals.” Helen screwed up her face. “Do you know what he said to me the other day?”

No?” Robert was losing interest, and leafed through his BMJ.

He suggested that I had a subconscious desire to retrain as a nurse. Can you imagine?”

He spoke to you?” Robert was suddenly irritated. Cleaners were not supposed to speak. Especially not to encourage his wife to do something other than concentrate on him. “He isn’t supposed to converse with other staff.” Robert felt suddenly threatened. “Good grief, woman, why didn’t you tell me?”

Well, I was speaking to Margaret about my dream. You know how you hate it when I talk about dreams. I had a dream that instead of booking people in to see the nurse at the reception desk, I was able to simply deal with them. You know, in a sensible way where they weren’t having to wait for a fortnight to get a skelf removed.”

We can’t have that. People train for years to remove skelfs. There is a union for dealing with people like you, that think they can simply remove skelfs or recommend that people stop having a daily Mars bar without guidance from a proper nutritionist. You will upset them. You don’t want to be dealing with an upset nurse, I can tell you.” Robert shuddered. “I do hope he hasn’t spoken to Physiotherapist Ian about anything like this. He is most unpredictable. He might start to think he is a counsellor, or worse an actual expert in something.” Robert had the GP’s usual disdain for three year degree courses in occupational therapy, podiatry or physiotherapy as being essentially worthless, resulting in hugely overpaid jobs to tell you to buy yourself a better chair, or whatever. The NHS was in many ways, the last bastion of useless unionism. Apart from the doctors of course, it wouldn’t do if they were cheated out of their inflated pension scheme.

Anyway, the queer little man looked up and said he liked listening to dreams. He actually smiled at me you know. I must find out what he is using to exfoliate. He has the most marvellous skin. He said I have a repressed desire to help others, and my dream indicated that what I really want to do is be a nurse. Preferably in charge of a department apparently. I quite fancy it, what do you think dear?”

Madness. You would have to give up yoga.” Robert was now irritated. “I hope that bastard isn’t looking at the medical records. We can’t have him actually curing anybody.” He viewed the cleaner with increased suspicion. “What age do you suppose he is?”

Well, that’s just it dear. I wondered too, so I called the agency that sent him, and apparently he is 65! He looks great, doesn’t he?” Helen flushed with excitement. “What does he know that we don’t?”

Pass the bran flakes, dear, I don’t want my diverticulosis to get any worse.” Robert growled and issued a surly glare in the cleaner’s general direction. Some uncomfortable rumblings in his abdomen told him that he needed more dry and unpleasant fibre today. “You can put the butter away. I might be tempted to actually eat it.” His mood was becoming worse, and his arthritic wrist was starting to flare up as he became more irritated. “I will deal with the cleaner later.”

Physiotherapist Ian swallowed another steroid as he left the gym. The guys were so much nicer to him now. The only downside seemed to be his uncontrollable need to touch people. He had become quite handsy with the other men, of late, so desperate was he for physical attention. He wasn’t sure he really liked the oily film over his skin, or the need to shower three times a day. He liked having a waist for the first time ever, however, and the steroids had certainly enabled that.

He had also found that he could not stand much in the way of conversation. People were so – challenging. They never seemed to respond the way he wanted them to. The girl in the bakery was way down his food chain, and she barely noticed him. He had had to actually attract her attention. Why was this fair, when he worked so hard in the gym to obtain a more masculine shape than merely blob, as he had been for decades before?

The cleaner had smiled and recommended that he gave up meat. What madness was that? Telling a man to give up meat? What else were men for, but to impregnate and consume lesser beings? What kind of world did the little man inhabit, where men were polite, had good skin and cleaned clinics for a living? The bastard. He would fix him later. He had noticed him enjoying a mouthful of sugarsnap peas. The bastard. What kind of person ate sugarsnap peas for lunch? Ian could feel a wave of aggression as he met the challenge of dealing with the irritating cleaner, who just wasn’t right, somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The cleaner even knew how to perform a clinical clean down. He had caught him the other day. What kind of cleaner had that kind of knowledge?

Margaret the nurse was also annoyed. She had spent hundreds of pounds on private treatment for her symptoms of menopause, which included a weight loss clinic, since NHS advice was no help, hormone treatments, since NHS treatments actually made her feel worse, and, to her horror, alternative medicine, which she of course did not officially believe in. She was aware that if any of her colleagues found out, she would be laughed at, but she did it anyway, because it was the only thing that made her feel better.

Thus she would laugh scornfully when discussing such therapies with her colleagues, yet sneak off and use them when she did not think they could see her. There were rules about that sort of thing. You must maintain the illusion of authority, so that people had confidence when clinical decisions were made on behalf of the patient, to act in their best interests. It would not do to admit to an alternative, even if you actually used it yourself.

She too, was annoyed with the little cleaner, in this case for recommending that she ate more pineapple to deal with her persistent cough. Five times more effective than cough medicine indeed! He was clearly a liar. He was also too smart. Everybody knew that only pharmaceutical companies could be trusted with medical matters. You should never eat anything that wasn’t out of a packet, in line with NHS hospital policy. Everybody knew that.

She did not feel like being smiled at and having conversations with a cleaner. He was supposed to be part of the furniture. Perhaps she should bring it up at the clinic meeting?

When the Tuesday meeting rolled around, Helen, Margaret, Robert and Ian agreed that there was something odd about the cleaner. Robert made the decision that he would ‘speak to him’ to pin down the problem.

The cleaner was finishing up when Robert asked him to come into the office. Robert could not think of a reason for firing him, so he tried simply lying.

The staff are complaining that you smell. Are you having problems at home?”

The little man did not smile “What possible connection would problems at home have with me smelling?”

Well, perhaps you lack running water or something.” Robert felt suddenly uncomfortable.

Are you a little inflamed? You look a little inflamed? Any joint pain, coughing or general fatigue?” the cleaner looked concerned about Robert, and blissfully unconcerned about his allegation.

Now look here!” Robert was suddenly furious. “I am not sure who you think you are, but I am the doctor here!”

Experience tells me that that does not mean that you know anything at all about health. How is your diet?” the little man remained calm, and remarkably patient for someone who had just been maligned. “Perhaps you should try eating more vegetables?” he folded his arms. “You know your physiotherapist has a steriod problem?”

That isn’t your concern.” Robert blustered. “We are all professionals here.”

Apparently not. Apparently you are busy talking about other people.”

What qualifies you to talk about my diet?” Robert spluttered.

What age are you Robert?” the cleaner cocked his head.


You need to pay some attention to your diet, and I don’t mean following NHS guidelines, unless you want to be really ill. The problem is Robert, that there are too many doctors and not enough concern about health.”

Who are you?” Now red in the face, Robert stared at the little man.

I used to be a nurse, then a psychologist, then I got interested in alternative medicine. Then someone very much like you ruined my career, so now I am a cleaner. You needn’t worry, I am fully trained in dealing with confidential information. Why did you take a career in medicine if you aren’t interested in health?”

How dare you!” Robert started to shout. “You are fired!”

Oh, I’m well aware of that. I’m just not sure why you felt the need to have this meeting.” the little man continued to stare at him. “You are aware that you have bowel cancer?”


You can see it in your eyes. Go and get it checked, there’s a good chap. The NHS won’t pick it up until it is later stage. Likewise your type 2 diabetes, which they won’t diagnose because of your low blood sugar. You will need to go private for them to perform the necessary tests. Luckily your over-inflated NHS wage is more than sufficient for you to pay for it. Your nurse also needs help. Those hormones they are prescribing her have started off the beginnings of breast cancer. Even private healthcare has its problems. None of you are trained properly.”

Get out! Get out!”

With pleasure. Sort your health out, Robert. And let your wife do what she wants. She is bored, and no wonder.” the little man smiled at him. “I will be going to have a nice long magnesium bath.” He got up and adjusted the perfect seam in his linen trousers. “You will need some nice chemical solutions for the next cleaner by the way, I only use safe solutions. You will notice a difference in the smell.” he smiled unpleasantly again. “Don’t forget about your bowels, although I imagine by now you already have difficulty forgetting.” he laughed. “Don’t be accepting too many antibiotics and X rays now, will you?”

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Here we go

So, I finished writing the last blog post, settled down to my History of the Conservative party and then the phone rang…..

And rang……

And rang……for about an hour…..

I ignored it and then found my fan page bristling with life.

“Why are you hating on Boris?  You always liked Boris.  I remember you hotly defending Boris twenty years ago when blah blah blah blah blah……”

You get the picture.  My lovely ex cannot apparently read any more.  This is a guy who used to know more about the Rothschilds and the Classics than most postgraduate specialists, and now he cannot read.  I used to get a kick out of the Glasgow hardman/advanced reader combination.


For the benefit of people who think they read this blog and do not apparently understand it, I will go through this again.  You will find it under politics and economics, you will find it in Unpopular Blogging,

you will find it in any rudimentary Social Science education programme if you cannot manage to figure it out by looking at those things we used to call books.

Communism, Conservatism, Socialism, Fascism, Liberalism are Debating positions.

They are not intended to be correct, they are intended to reflect points of view, and they have labels for the convenience of humans.  It is not gang warfare, it is not something that is supposed to run in families, and it is not meant to be used for killing people. It is, like most academia, a labelling system.

The positions in use reflect philosophy.  What we witness as theatrical posturing and drama, is the reenactment of arguments that have gone on for centuries.  They are in use to enable us to move towards an honest discussion of day to day issues from the standpoint of centuries of thought.

To say that you “hate Theresa May for fucking up Brexit” is completely stupid.  You can hate Theresa May for having no charisma, or for allowing poor decision making because she lacks leadership skills, but to say that you would not sit down to dinner with her and have a perfectly civil conversation because she is probably reasonably good company when she is off script (whenever that is) is a bit silly because she is adopting a debating position.

To say that I am hating on Boris, because I object to elements of Conservatism is equally ridiculous.  As you well know, I have always had a soft spot for Boris, because I hear entirely different parts of what Boris has to say than you do, and because I have had a very well rounded life and have direct experience from which to draw which allows me to agree with or understand much of what he stands for.

I may not agree with Conservatism, I may not agree with everything he has to say.  He can still be the best person for the job at hand.  He can still be the best prospect of having adequate leadership to allow a change of course which means the UK survives.

Likewise, I can make this determination alongside my views on independence, because we do not have independence and our prospects of getting it are dwindling by the day.

I can object to the idea of living in a miserable clannish republic rather than a monarchy, and I can object to the idea of having a limitless stream of people taking jobs when there are so few suitable ones in Scotland.

I have in the past worked on a project where the employees are determined by an English agency, and despite the plethora of perfectly qualified Scottish candidates, only forty percent of the employees in Scotland actually lived here.  The people were perfectly pleasant, but as you can see we have a problem.

So, alongside my British tendencies, I am well aware that we are at economic war with our neighbours.

Having said that, we are significantly outnumbered.  It is not helpful to get annoyed about it.

Therefore, our best prospect as individuals, is to make the correct decisions based upon the situation in which we find ourselves.

My situation is coloured by my recent experience, in which I have had cause to witness the failings of the NHS, Social Services and the Conservative Party in relation to the public.

This, in combination with my objection to corporatism has led me to believe that a little activism is in order.  This has nothing to do with Scotland, and everything to do with public welfare.  Boris is merely a rather lovely cherry on top whom I would like to help with the benefit of my critical thinking skills on the way to solving this particular set of problems.

I do hope that makes things clearer for you, and I do not otherwise wish to see any more manga pictures, hear any more conspiracist drivel, or boring, boring stories about how miserably helpless and tedious you are.  Please go and relearn how to read.  I am BUSY working on the future of the conservative party with a view to reducing the number of people ACTUALLY BEING KILLED! Preferably in a pretty, surreal, cute, romantic and entertaining way alongside the actual academic slog.

Boohiss, poppet. I wouldn’t dream of dissing Boris.

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Too bad, how sad, moving swiftly on….

Finally woke up after sixteen hours recovering from my meeting with the largest tobacco company in the world.  They are moving into new ways of killing yourself.  Whilst I am in no position and have no wish to moralise about smoking, (I used to be an Olympic level smoker myself) vaporising their product is no better than burning it as far as my lymph nodes are concerned.  I have a friend who is a smoker, and his habit does not have the same effect on me as sitting in an enclosed space with a tobacco vaporiser going.

Apparently this method of imbibing tobacco is not actually regulated yet.  As it is considerably worse than vaping fluids, I fully expect that it will be banned in enclosed spaces in the fullness of time, as actual cigarettes were positively benign in comparison.

So much for them.  I will not be doing any work for them.

Just when I was moving into position to start on filming, it has emerged that the person I was working with has no connection or interest in the project, refused to understand what the project was about, and reverted to talking about the news as if it was something separate from him.

It is a form of self-protection to assume that there is nothing you can do to solve any problems, so I am not planning on taking a chisel and trapanning it into him.  Therefore, I now have to amass a team from scratch and get the job done properly.

A small delay is inevitable, but at least it is at this stage and not halfway through.  I have been put in this situation by this individual before, and it is extremely depressing.  To this day, he will try to start an argument rather than take any responsibility for any part of anything he does.  Kinda tired of that, so an early blow-off was preferable.

Thankfully, there are plenty of other exs, and I have my sights on one with some choreography experience.

Extremely tiresome, but inevitable and it is just as well it happened now rather than later.  In the meantime, I now have plenty of time to write and finish the shoe collection to pay for all this….

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Your tasklist for this week

Ok I need

All the graphics done, I will give you a list of things to work on after I sleep off the effects of that horrible poison thing the evil corporatists gave me.

A copy of the Brexit board game box and board.  Source icon items for the moving parts.

At least five different dancers, about the same size as Boris.  They mustn’t be too young or too raj to do it, as this is not strictly a political project.  They will need some significant upper body strength though, since I do not need them to fall over in the middle of doing something.

Organise the green screen time, and it cannot be expensive

A top hat, as the one I have is brown and too wooly

Hunter wellies.

A blue rosette, and I do not want it to be too floppy

A hard hat – I may still have one somewhere

A variety of suits – I am very keen on dressing my lovely dolly in the course of the project

Wine, brandy  and cheese, for the bucket when I force him to eat vegetables.  I think you can probably deal with that already.  You have terrible habits.

The polo neck/snood thing worked well, but it is probably a bit louche, so I will probably do something about the jawline on fake Boris

A flat cap would be good for the Hunter welly idea.  Al is very cute in my head, and I would quite like to cover rural issues even though it will cause no end of trouble.

A stetson.  Two stetsons as Ina will need one too.

Think of something appropriate for Boris on a trampoline?

I need to get more Union Jacks.  I refuse to get the red hands of Ulster, sorry.  Another Wales and another England is probably necessary.

I need to get the giant Boris banner made, and the roller banner done – although I think the long thing I did was too long.

The Trident animation needs to be thought through – I will try to work on this tomoz after I stick the car in to get fixed.

Organise the hovercraft.

Artistic historic graphics for the history scene – I will take a look at this but you will prob worry about the graphics quality.

I will have a look at PA systems again.

I think that covers the first two – maybe. You might want a gimp, I don’t know.

Do we need to purchase crap to hand out to people?

I need to run a few taglines by you to see if I am being too complicated again as this needs to be mute south of the border.  They need to understand a complicated message in very few words.



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My Tory friend

I had a friend for a while who lived in a moderately nice house across the road.  He is still there, but I would not call what he does in the house living.  He mainly sits in his kitchen drinking alone.  He is a Tory.

It is very sad.  He has a quietly cute geek thing going on.  His family was once prominent in Scotland, and so they reached the social class that avoid interaction even with the filthy working middles and who apparently lack the education or wit to think about doing anything else.

I knew him for years.  He first dismissed me as a scruffy worker, even as I single-handedly put together our community council in response to the architectural gems in the area being bought and bulldozed to build sub-standard flats, encouraged people to list their properties, and formed a committee which still exists to protect the heritage that is still here despite the efforts of developers, who apparently lack eyes.  His neighbour, an English git who moved up here from Manchester to socially climb in our unpleasantly socialist city, then took this organisation, since I am obviously too scruffy to do anything but actually do the work, and she still runs it to this day whilst I am blessed with avoiding miserable people and their boring ideas about how to avoid doing anything remotely productive with it.

It was a most interesting process.  I encouraged people who were particularly fond of themselves to form sub-groups, because I knew that this way the whole entity would stay stronger.  I then opted out of actually participating in any of them, because it was apparent that I was dealing with children.  I see evidence of this in politics as well.  Where you see authority, I see a bunch of small selfish toddlers fighting over plastic toys, in the form of nuclear weapons, starving disabled people, other people’s property, and destroying the planet on the off-chance of having an extra fifty pence.

Anyway, as our relationship progressed – I knew the dude was lonely – so I made some efforts to get to know him. I became aware that this rather senior figure in our community did not actually know very much about the world.  When the referendum on Scottish independence rolled around, he expressed great shock that I would be anything other than a Tory.  I informed him that our area was one of the highest votes for the SNP.  He was visibly offended.

“It’s OK.” I said “The even bigger houses down the hill still voted conservative, but we on the hill outvoted them because we are younger and more progressive.”

He slumped with relief.  There was still sanity left.  People with big houses voted for selfish morons and all was well with the world.

Between this and his views that renewable energy upset his view across the golf course, but fracking is OK because it is somewhere else and the Tory party said so, he declined massively in my estimation right up until it also became apparent that he had no intention of fulfilling his financial duties.  I coped despite this, and it was only when his selfishness and lack of ability to think for himself directly affected us that I kicked his ass.

It is unfortunate that politics, in most people’s heads, is a matter of personal identity rather than actual thought.

“I have earned the right to be a Conservative.”  is a quote from Billy Connolly, after he had become famous for espousing Glaswegian socialist views.  He was so hard-up for company on one visit to Glasgow that he impaled me to the side of a bar talking at me until I finally managed to indicate my displeasure and remove myself.

Being a Tory seems to mean that you

a) Got lucky and have a stable income.

b) Fear people who have not stabbed others in the back to gain similar benefits as being irrational and stupid.

c) Fear change of any kind.

d) Have a childish pre-dementia distaste for compassion and find inappropriate things funny.

e)  Think that it is OK to make other people suffer and actively block hearing about it as being their responsibility.  Basically they vote for other people to be shitty and then don’t want to hear about it.

f) Believe that it is OK to think only of themselves, and that anyone who does otherwise is stupid.

g) Believe that enhancing life for others somehow affects their own, because their status might be marginally reduced if other people are encouraged to do better.  Status is all that matters, after all.


Fortunately, not all posh people think like this, and not all conservatives are at all posh.  I would say the opposite.  If you lack compassion for others, you demean yourself as far as I am concerned. I have had more than one wealthy employer attack me for being perfectly happy to retain my relatively lowly status so that I remain free to use my perfectly serviceable brain for something other than benefitting them.

My ancestors lost their freedom and in some cases income making sure that scummy little people, who then use that to make assumptions about our voting habits and class status, had the right to vote.  We have this in common with many other ‘posh twats’ who have had no interest in voting Tory for the above reasons.  My take on this would be that the Tory party have a serious image problem.

When Boris is permitted to talk about Conservative philosophy, which is not often because it is the only bit that he is really good at, he amplifies the sensible bits of conservatism.  He does this because he, like me, has listened to hours of parents arguing over day-to-day points.  The principles, if you could call them principles, of conservatism are nothing to do with being posh.

They believe in opportunity at the expense of what they would call ‘mollycoddling.’  This translates as you having the opportunity to earn at the cost of taking care of your own kids or parents.  This is the part they have been misunderstanding of late.  They currently believe that this means killing or otherwise making the lives of disabled and poor people unpleasant and somehow ‘encouraging business’ by making the rich even richer.

Where Boris has recently differed from the party, and why he is currently being put in a Russian shitstorm of mammoth proportions, is that he did not anticipate the sell-off of public services to America.  This has massive implications for the daily life of the public, and he, like me, is well aware of this.  Quite apart from ultimately losing your right to healthcare, you are likely to see the introduction of capital labour, privately administered policing, and an increase in crime and incarceration.  Social care, which is already Labour infested and corrupt, will get even more so and your loved ones WILL BE AT RISK.

To avoid his accidentally talking about his, which will cost the investors money, he is now trapped in a pro-American plot to rifle Putin’s money, which involves bullshit from a mysteriously unequivocal figure at Portadown.  This means that Boris can be dropped from the Tory team at any time.  I can only assume that as usual, our civil service has made sure that he is unable to simply walk away from this unscathed.

Don’t get me wrong, the Labour Party are no better.  The corruption just takes a different form.  If you are, like my neighbour, a stupid old man, the corruption means that you are told what to do whilst your money is taken.  It is so much easier to simply blame someone else for your problems, that people then sit and argue over,  than take any action over anything.

Despite Boris’s childishness and insistence on redirecting any questions, he is the only one who actually cares what you think, so the future is entirely up to you.  Either you vote for the equally corrupt Labour party, who will simply fuck things up a different way, or you make moves for significant change towards a more sensible, open conservatism that doesn’t actually kill people.

I would suggest that our best approach to avoid losing our public services, our right to free thought, our expectation of human rights is to participate in politics.  Rather than blame someone else for mis-managing, people need to understand that they are just as capable, probably more so, than individuals such as Theresa May to run the country.  It isn’t someone else’s fault that you didn’t speak up.  It isn’t up to someone else whether your country is raped and your money taken.  That is what democracy is for.

I made significant efforts to befriend the Tory across the road.  I tried to help him, because I know how much work these houses are, and I know what it is like to be lonely.  He rejected this on the basis that he believed that I wanted something from him, to the point that he failed to help when he could have done even though it was his legal duty.

He is sitting on his own with a bottle of whisky wondering why he has no friends now.  Soon he will be removed from his beautiful house, his belongings will go to auction and he will be murdered in a Tory care facility by Labour-voting nurses who believe that they are doing a good thing by carrying out Conservative social engineering policy, just as they did to my Tory mother.  Conservatism is great, isn’t it?




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Tony Robbins – so he’ll be wrong then


I am not a fan of Tony Robbins, however the reaction to this has been hysterical.

One of the many things that Americans do not understand about their own culture is that it is extremely male.  America does not like women.  Women are supposed to concentrate on looking good then perhaps being clever enough to help a man do something unspecified and terribly important.

Michelle Obama said it best when she announced to some schoolgirls that they should be ‘serious and study hard, because if she hadn’t been serious and studied hard, she wouldn’t be married to the most important man in America.’ (sic)  This absolutely enraged me at the time. IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO, MICHELLE?

In comparison with that bit of backhanded anti-feminist abuse, I do not find Tony Robbin’s open expression of American maleness particularly offensive.  He is telling it like it is.  Successful people in his world are people who do not take other people into account.  They want what they want, and hell mend you if you get in the way.  To stop and ask them to consider your issues is victimhood.  Do you really want to be significant for being a victim? Isn’t it better to use that energy to push past the asshole ignoring your feelings on his need to stick his hands up your skirt?

Tony Robbins is a branch of the same tree I have been cultivating for the last few years when dealing with my feelings.  (regular readers will know that this is literally the case, given that the material we are discussing right now has itself grown from the same summer camp attended by both Robbins and Wolfe many years ago)

I started on that tack many years ago.  I was sexually assaulted a few times before I chose to become a chef.  During the nineties in the UK, female chefs were thin on the ground so I made a point of making it to Head Chef in charge of seven men within five years.  That was my response to weakness.  I outworked them, then I controlled them.  This, by Robbin’s logic, is a far more positive and progressive response to unfairness and assault than joining a cult of complaint.  Likewise, following a few violent relationships, my overwhelming feeling was that the abuser needs as much if not more help than the abused.  Balanced viewpoints are often not very pretty.

Let us not forget that Robbins himself had a rather shaky past, and in common with many ‘significant’ figures, made himself so as a response.  The fact that the public, and in particular the abused female public, now choose to use his financial success to say that his opinion is not valid is more abusive than his opinion.

Dealing as I now do with somewhat larger problems than the average person, I often ponder that humanity has failed to develop  much beyond ancient Greece and Rome.  Humans still mis-use information to suit an agenda, they still use people’s foibles against them, and progress is stilted as a result.

In my immediate case, I am currently strategising on behalf of a very popular individual who is being repeatedly knifed in the back by colleagues who fear him as a threat, and who have a great deal of financial interest in selling my country to an economic enemy (the USA).  My response, as a historian, is to look on this as minor scuffling, although to the protagonists it seems like the end of the world when it is actually happening.

There is nothing new under the sun.  Men are socialised to take what they want.  Women are socialised to respond by complaining when they are dissuaded from getting what they want to service that.

A true protagonist, however, ignores all that.  A true protagonist views such events as being unpleasant but a learning curve on the way to attaining a position in which they can take action to prevent it ever happening again.

Since you choose to remain very small and whiny, you may not understand this.

We who are bigger have no time to care, sorry.  That is what you should take away from the words of Tony Robbins in this case and I am sorry to say that he is right. That is where you should want to be, and if you are wasting time on anything else, you are not going to get there.


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The Best Boris Johnson Ever

The Best Boris Johnson Ever

I know he is in his final stages, and he still needs a little work, but as I was aware that Boris is gagging to see it, and needs a little cheering up   I thought I would put out a couple of previews. (I did try to warn you about the hell that is other people)

This has taken weeks, but I am fairly pleased with it.  The eyes are good, the lips are good, I made some improvements to his nose, which in my view is a little small in reality – as you know I am partial to noses.

I may need to make a second Boris, as this one is really for natural light and as you will see when I put the ones with flash at the bottom of the post, you need a separate one for electric light to be truly effective when doing a lot of filming.

Other pitfalls include ventilation and the weight, but at least I have now created a basic image.

We did an experiment with Ina and Boris tonight and had a bit of a dance, but the director was unhappy with the lighting so you will just have to wait for our Fred and Ginger debut.  I am finding that the No Glass Walls costume is a little big and I am a little too curvaceous to be bouncing around inside it at present, so either I will have to reduce the size of my outstanding rump and tape up my balcon or make a smaller costume.

Decisions, decisions!

Much affection,



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