I am really getting sick of this Blair government telling us what to do on the one and hand, and making life suck for loads of people on the other. Whilst being told not to eat ‘junk food’ (which now apparently seems to be everything apart from veg and salad – I am just waiting for Cadbury’s to sue them!) the infrastructure of services is under threat which many commentators refer to as ‘unintended consequences’ (is this code for 'don't know what the f*** they're doing'? Hmm!) This has been applied to everything from money being taken out of adult education to meet the 16-19 agenda, to targets for doctors meaning you can’t make an appointment more than 48 hours in advance to see your GP.
Well, I’ve decided I’m going to do more ranting about all this, Before we lose everything for ever – so watch this space (and others!)
Monday, November 27, 2006
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Shirkers Beware!
I just had to write about this as it is one of those things you’re not sure you should mention.
I was in meeting this morning, and a woman from the Job Centre was updating everyone on changes in approach to giving out benefits, particularly for incapacity benefit, which is going to changed over the next couple of years to make it nigh impossible for people who are sick or disabled to avoid getting a damn job. Anyway, they have a saying in the jobcentre which is part of the Department for Work and Pensions and thus by default beholden to Our Glorious Leader (sic) which is ‘work is the best form of welfare’.
Well, call me cynical, but doesn’t that sound a bit like ‘Arbeit Mach Frei’?
Now who was it said that…..?
I was in meeting this morning, and a woman from the Job Centre was updating everyone on changes in approach to giving out benefits, particularly for incapacity benefit, which is going to changed over the next couple of years to make it nigh impossible for people who are sick or disabled to avoid getting a damn job. Anyway, they have a saying in the jobcentre which is part of the Department for Work and Pensions and thus by default beholden to Our Glorious Leader (sic) which is ‘work is the best form of welfare’.
Well, call me cynical, but doesn’t that sound a bit like ‘Arbeit Mach Frei’?
Now who was it said that…..?
Monday, November 20, 2006
The English Language is a wonderful thing
I have hardly stopped laughing this weekend – trust the Hebden Bridge Times to give us a good giggle.
There was an article in about a talk at the Local History Society about the Fustian Weavers strike which ran from 1907-09 (the longest ever in the textile industry apparently). The strike was over pay as the workers here got paid less than in Lancashire, and when scabs were brought in from other factories to work they were nicknamed ‘nobsticks’. Now call me 9and several of my mates) childish, but we were rolling about at this but of news. Not only because it is such a Yorkshire-sounding expression, but also because the article reported it in such a matter-of-fact way, obviously not getting the joke!
Talking of double-entendres, this is apparently the best joke in the world (according to Sid James)
A woman goes into a pub and asks the barman for a double entendre
So he gives her one.
There was an article in about a talk at the Local History Society about the Fustian Weavers strike which ran from 1907-09 (the longest ever in the textile industry apparently). The strike was over pay as the workers here got paid less than in Lancashire, and when scabs were brought in from other factories to work they were nicknamed ‘nobsticks’. Now call me 9and several of my mates) childish, but we were rolling about at this but of news. Not only because it is such a Yorkshire-sounding expression, but also because the article reported it in such a matter-of-fact way, obviously not getting the joke!
Talking of double-entendres, this is apparently the best joke in the world (according to Sid James)
A woman goes into a pub and asks the barman for a double entendre
So he gives her one.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Bonfire of the Varieties
The town I live in is well-known for the big bonfire and fireworks display that is organized for the nearest Saturday to November 5th. It is the busiest night of the year by far, with the streets, pubs, restaurants (not to mention the park where the event actually takes place) absolutely rammed. You are almost guaranteed to see everyone you know in one night.
This year we went out a bit later than normal as we decided to have dinner at home, with everywhere being so busy – a lot of places stop serving food early in true Yorkshire style, because they can’t cope with the demand. We had time to queue for one drink and chat to a few people, before crossing the street to get a good spot on the Marina (well, the park is much too muddy at this time of year and full of kids!) to view the fireworks before they started. The fireworks were really good actually, although Catherine said they weren’t as good as last year (sic), Phil said they weren’t as good as Blackpool (international fireworks championships in September – well duh!) and Teresa said they weren’t as good as Spain (she could be right). After the fireworks we went to another pub with a bunch of women, most of whom I know by sight and some to chat to. But we only got to know them better through Catherine and Teresa. We had a really good night chatting shit and having a laugh and got far too drunk. Some idiot guy in the pub kept going on about ‘bloody lesbians’ and his name was Les so I said ‘is that short for Lesbian’. He didn’t think it was funny. I also challenged him to justify his existence if he was so great, and gave him ten seconds. What did he come up with? “I’m here to drink beer”. Fantastic!
Anyway, the flip side of all this bonfire night frivolity and merriment, is that 13 years ago, a friend of our’s daughter went missing and was found murdered down the canal a few days later. They never found her killer, and every year, Geri and her closer friends put round posters and talk to people and get them to try and remember that night. There is usually an article in the local paper and/or on regional TV news, but I didn’t see anything this year. What I did see, though, was an article she wrote in The Guardian. I was really pleased for her that she got in a national newspaper, and it was quite a good article and there was a nice photo too. I told her it was great and she said it took about 5 hours to get the photo. Bloody photographers! What’s wrong with a few snaps?
Geri’s younger daughter is now the age that Lindsey was when she went missing so it’s really hard for her to let her have her freedom, but she’s a really strong woman and copes fantastically. I really hope she finds out one day who killed Lindsey.
This year we went out a bit later than normal as we decided to have dinner at home, with everywhere being so busy – a lot of places stop serving food early in true Yorkshire style, because they can’t cope with the demand. We had time to queue for one drink and chat to a few people, before crossing the street to get a good spot on the Marina (well, the park is much too muddy at this time of year and full of kids!) to view the fireworks before they started. The fireworks were really good actually, although Catherine said they weren’t as good as last year (sic), Phil said they weren’t as good as Blackpool (international fireworks championships in September – well duh!) and Teresa said they weren’t as good as Spain (she could be right). After the fireworks we went to another pub with a bunch of women, most of whom I know by sight and some to chat to. But we only got to know them better through Catherine and Teresa. We had a really good night chatting shit and having a laugh and got far too drunk. Some idiot guy in the pub kept going on about ‘bloody lesbians’ and his name was Les so I said ‘is that short for Lesbian’. He didn’t think it was funny. I also challenged him to justify his existence if he was so great, and gave him ten seconds. What did he come up with? “I’m here to drink beer”. Fantastic!
Anyway, the flip side of all this bonfire night frivolity and merriment, is that 13 years ago, a friend of our’s daughter went missing and was found murdered down the canal a few days later. They never found her killer, and every year, Geri and her closer friends put round posters and talk to people and get them to try and remember that night. There is usually an article in the local paper and/or on regional TV news, but I didn’t see anything this year. What I did see, though, was an article she wrote in The Guardian. I was really pleased for her that she got in a national newspaper, and it was quite a good article and there was a nice photo too. I told her it was great and she said it took about 5 hours to get the photo. Bloody photographers! What’s wrong with a few snaps?
Geri’s younger daughter is now the age that Lindsey was when she went missing so it’s really hard for her to let her have her freedom, but she’s a really strong woman and copes fantastically. I really hope she finds out one day who killed Lindsey.
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