I slept like a log; over brekkie
I watched the last episode of “Trailer Park Boys: The Animated Series”.
It was rather good, but I’m now at something of a loss for what to watch over
brekkie.
I then had a look at the
Internet. Little had changed on Facebook really. I spent a few minutes looking
at some of the local groups. Anger and idiocy prevailed in equal amounts. Some
people go on social media to argue, others to express their ignorance. Such a
shame… In many ways the Internet is just like the Babel Fish: by effectively removing barriers to communication
between all sorts of people it has caused more squabbles and discontent than
anything else in the history of humanity.
With no emails of note I went up
the road to cast my vote in the local elections. Local elections aren’t like
national elections. For the national elections I will need to think about what
is best for the country. For the local elections I have to think about what is
best locally. I had a choice of four candidates. I got to choose between wanton
greed, well-intentioned incompetence, tree hugging and sending them all back on
the next banana boat.
Blatant opportunism and naïve do-gooding
wasn’t standing in my ward this time.
So… who to vote for?
Over the last few months I’ve
had dealings with the Conservative candidate. Whilst at no stage in our
correspondence did she actually say “f… off fatso”, that was clearly
what she had in mind during our communications.
I seriously considered voting
for the tree hugger, but every other candidate gave their address on all the
election information. This chap’s address was “(Address in Ashford)” and
his personal statement said he was “proud to be the youngest Ashford Green
Party candidate standing in the local elections…. and works in the town centre
in a catering role”. Had I not formed a mental image of “Johnny-No-Stars;
the trainee McDonalds cook living in the dustbins behind B&Q” I might
well have voted for him. The local Green Party have a serious problem with the
image they project. “Victorian Dad”
(out of Viz magazine) was standing in a nearby ward.
So who is left?
If we do send them all back on
the next banana boat there won’t be that many workers left.
In the end I voted for the only
candidate who had taken the trouble to come to my front door to ask for my
vote. I don’t believe in democracy, so this was as good a way as any to decide
who I should choose. I told the chap as much when I met him outside the polling
station.
I can’t see
why we needed elections today anyway. What was wrong with the last ones? (an
argument which seems to be used far too much?)
As I drove to
work the pundits on the radio were broadcasting from the University of East
Anglia (for no reason that I could determine). They interviewed
ex-tennis champion Martina Navratilova about her recent comments about allowing
transgender women to compete in women’s sporting events. She described doing so
as “insane and cheating”, and she went on record as saying: “You
can’t just proclaim yourself a female and be able to compete against women.
There must be some standards, and having a penis and competing as a woman would
not fit that standard.”
Needless to
say this had caused quite a bit of upset, and she had subsequently promised to
keep quiet on the subject until she had done some research on it. She’s now done her research… “and, if
anything, my views have strengthened” she said.
She’s got a
point… And so have those who disagree with her. Perhaps if those who were once
men decided not to compete in events for which they clearly had an unfair
advantage then this whole sorry mess might be cleared up?
There was
also talk of the ex-defence secretary Gavin Williamson. Having been accused of
being behind the leak in the Huawei scandal, he's loudly proclaiming
his innocence.
Did he do it?
Was he innocent? The pundits on the radio were saying it was odd that a leak
inquiry should ever actually come up with a finding. Personally I think the
Prime Minister has thrown the chap to the wolves in a shallow attempt to
bolster her own rather fragile position.
Despite heavy
traffic on the motorway I got to Aldi in time for a bit of shopping. Jam,
peanut butter, granola, armpit-squirt... I also got a little bug house too. The
bird box in the garden is completely knacked so I shall replace it with a bug
house.
I'm reminded
of a chap who used to go to the snake club back in the day. He kept pall manner
of insects in custom-made containers in the shed. The police called when his
daughter told the teacher about her father's buggery.
I'm reliably
informed that once it was all resolved they all had a jolly good laugh.
I had a
rather odd day at work, and came home to find that "er indoors TM" had already
walked the wolf-pack and was off out with her pals. Being “home alone” I took the opportunity to write up some CPD.
I think I
shall see what I can find on Netflix…
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