Thursday 15 January 2015

Why, why why?

Optimists tell me that spring is just around the corner which I find pretty hard to comprehend, especially as I struggle to even trudge around that corner to the shop, at a 45 degree angle, defying the laws of physics as wind, rain and (today) snow hamper my progress. It only seems a few weeks ago since Christmas, when I made the same journey, stopping at the post office to be greeted by the latest ridiculous round of legislation:- that I am no longer allowed to buy stamps over the counter. Apparently, licking the gum myself is now against the law in case I get addicted. To me, this conjured up images of incredible desperation, with spotty youths gathering behind the tennis courts to lick a book of first class, at a couple of quid a go. A few years ago I would have been stunned by such nonsensical administration but perhaps in my older age I am beyond caring. I must admit that, before I could stop myself, I did mention rather venomously to the post master that ‘no wonder the village post office will soon be closed and replaced by a curry house, putting you out on the street in the snow, you pompous old fart!’ If nothing, I still have a way with words!
And it is words that bring me round to my next tranche of rantings. It appears that my auld allies, the Welsh, have something composite to moan about for once, in that their sturdy, if elderly, patriarch, Tom Jones is under threat. For the last 40 years, the terraces of Cardiff have rung out with a hearty rendition of ‘Why, why, Delilah’, of which, to a man, every home rugby supporter knows the words to all four verses. Well, it seems they will no longer be allowed such liberty. Someone, somewhere, somehow, has decided that good old Tom is actually encouraging domestic violence with his passionate hymn. Apparently, ‘when she sees the knife his hand’ he hasn’t come to carve the Sunday roast at all, so she really had better stop laughing, right this minute! Whilst down that neck of the woods, I listened to a bearded twit on the radio advocating that old riotous songs such as these should all be banned, in a bid to save the human race from self destruction. Other considerations were that in England’s counter tune to this about driving their Chariots around, ‘a band of angels coming after me’ could be seen to depict Hells Angels on their Harleys. And as for the Scots sending Proud Edward home again, well, what a despicable act of racism? Meanwhile New Zealand’s own blood thirsty song about slicing their opponents into tiny pieces with a machete is, of course acceptable, as the Maori tribes are in the ethnic minority, so that’s alright!
Oops, better be careful what I say there. Meanwhile, back in the land of my chosen habitat, the locals are beating ploughshares into swords after a violent attack on their own freedom of speech. Once again we see the sectarian element of a religion grossly over-reacting to a little light hearted dig at their prophet. It was, of course, an abominable and barbaric act, which should be condemned from all sides but – and it is a personal but here – was the correct action from the French to then print yet more propaganda against Allah in the subsequent publication of Charlie Hebdo? France may believe in Freedom of Speech, and quite rightly so, but this is surely the equivalent of Salman Rushdie (remember him) selling copies of the Satanic Verse on street corners in Baghdad.  Monsieurs: petrol does not put out flames – not even at 99 cents per litre!
While on the subject of Muslim attacks, I did have a wry smile to myself, concerning the people near the Severn Estuary. It seems that some student terrorists had managed to hack through the internet into TravelWest, believing they were disrupting the entire travel plans of the Western World. However, when it transpired that the website was actually a local bus timetable, the fiends were left with less credibility than Tony Blair in a confession box.  Although very little disruption was reported, a third of the population of Bristol were a day late collecting their giros!
Meanwhile in the East, it was Putin’s turn to yet again put the boot in (oh the irony of how that rhymes) by coming up with a list of people who were no longer allowed to drive cars. The register included all transsexuals, cross-dressers, fetishists and exhibitionists as well as, of course, paedophiles.  Exactly what these genres contribution to the 30,000 road deaths per year in Russia was unclear, unless perhaps, they were partaking in one or some of these acts whilst at the wheel. A rumour that the entire senior membership of the Catholic church was also included are unfounded.
On a subject more close to home, I am delighted to note that GM crops will now be allowed to be grown on UK soil after a lengthy ban. After years of instilling lies through the media of how giant sweetcorns are going to creep out from the fields under cover of darkness and strangle us in our beds, it turns out that they are actually no more harmful than a tub of yoghurt. Wheat that has been bred to give higher yields and be resistant to disease will not actually make us choke on our morning toast, nor poison the entire dormouse population. To the contrary, what it may do is afford the farmer a slightly better livelihood, and subsequently bring down the cost of food. For those of you who head straight to the organic aisle in Waitrose, wearing the smug self-satisfied grin normally reserved for politicians, please carry on saving the planet with your bug infested vegetables. Having worked in the agrochem industry, I assure you that not all is as clean as it seems. I, for one, will opt for a cheaper loaf and some well-fed pork. Still, you are what you eat, so they say. Not sure what that makes me!
Now that genetically modifying crops has at last become acceptable, one hopes it wont be too long before they start on humans. With some research, in a generation they could breed out all those morons who drive too close behind other cars causing everyone but themselves to have accidents. Scientists could also create some honest taxi drivers, pension salespeople and news reporters. Oh, and terminate anyone who laughs at ‘you’ve been framed!’

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