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Im going to fight the Council.


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I am going to fight the Council. Yes I am. Bereft of hope that these huge management tiers and their vast salaries will ever be cut, I've invited Alistair Neill, Bill Norman and Geoff Hughes to fight me in a boxing ring outside Plough Lane on a date of their choosing.

Yes, Im going to fight them and I'll fight them all at the same time or one after another. It's of concern to me. Why? Because I have no fear. I am a stranger to fear and I shall prevail. Oh they may think that they'll beat my fat face to a pulp but they're wrong. You see, when you consider, as I do, that you have a mission to represent the bewildered, the dispossessed, the possessed and the meek and the bloody mild who've no hand break to apply to restrain the mismanagement of our public funds, you become a very dangerous and highly motivated opponent.

And that's me. Highly motivated and in fear of nothing. If they were with me now as I tap out this rubbish, Id say to them, 'have you ever in your lives encountered a complete tw.at. A headbanger who's detached from reality. Well that's me. Im your nemesis and I will box you all in the ring'.

Course, when I announced this forthcoming bout to the lads in the Commercial, it wasn't met with the universal acclaim I expected. One of the lads whispered from the back, 'If during this fight they beat the living daylights out of you, will you try and negotiate with the 'management'.

I said, 'I haven't heard a blind word you've said. Speak up'. Again he whispered, 'If during this fight....!

I said, 'it's no better is it? I ask you to speak up so that the human ear, which is what I'm equipped with can understand you and you speak more softly. A strange response from a follower. A very strange response indeed'. Again he whispered, 'if during this fight.....! I said, 'yes we all got 'if during this fight.' We all got that thank you very much. What we want to know is 'if during this fight, 'what'. What during this fight. That's what we want to know. What during this fight'?

Then, aided by one of the lads who was able to detect this inaudible whispering, I finally got the message which was, 'if during this fight Neill, Norman and Hughes kick the ever loving out of me will I try to negotiate with the management'

I said, 'lads Im fighting the management. Not negotiating with them. If it were my intention to negotiate with the management I'd have said Im going to negotiate with the management. I've said no such thing. I am going to fight the management. Not negotiate with them'.

Course, then it all gets out of hand doesn't it. Some of the lads start berating me, howling, 'he means to negotiate with the management. We'll be sold down the river'. 'Bloody hell', I yelled, 'I'm fighting the management. Not negotiating with them. I ain't selling you down the river lads. You'll not find me on a river, let alone selling you down it. I will never sell you down the river. If there's one thing I detest it's someone who sells the lads down the river'. And then, as the lads pull me pants down, throw me in a Morrisons trolley and wheel me away to be dunked in the Wye, the lads cry, 'Bobby come clean with us. Is there going to be a table in the ring upon which you'll be able to negotiate our rights to cover ourselves in our own excrement and gather outside Plough Lane protesting about God knows what'.

I said, 'lads, we've been covering ourselves in human shi.te for years and I'll be damned if I ever allow myself to negotiate away this simple but highly effective democratic right. I promise you lads you'll never regret it if you allow me to pull me pants back up and finish me ale in the Commercial.

And they did! The lads realised that I wanted to fight Neill, Norman and Hughes and not negotiate away our right to cover ourselves in sh.it and so, carrying me shoulder high, we all scrambled back inside the Ale House where I insisted we talked about women we'd like to cozy up to rather than bloody boxing the Council hierarchy.

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