bobby47

Well I for one am going to flip this issue of Little Bill on its head and propose we start looking at his trail of disasters from an entirely different angle of perspective.

Little Bill is not a violent man. To the best of my knowledge and belief he's never involved himself in any public disturbance, unless I'm wrong, he does not sell illicit tobacco, he rarely takes sick leave and I've never seen him down the Lugg fiddling around trying to sex amphibians, which leaves me to conclude that Bill, Little Bill, is either very unlucky or very bad at his job.

I do not accept that Billy is bad. Never! Little Bill is simply unlucky, probably incompetent and a public servant who for many reasons becomes to closely associated with poor decision making which result in him having to move about the Country to escape the bag of rats that he helped create.

Little Bill has so many good points that are often overlooked. For starters, he's never, ever been rude to me, he's never been thrown out of the Commercial and I'll fight any man who says that he doesn't give two jots about the dreadful rise in cases of The Syphilis. In short, Billy is just the same as most of us, other than, he is very poor at his job and he's placed very highly with his hands on the levers of power which, given our predicament is bloody bad luck for us the ratepayers of Herefordshire.

I'd say this! Instead of us gibbering on about how bad Billy is at his job let's show a modicum of gratitude and be grateful that he is not violent toward us.

Furthermore, I'd say that Billy is an inspiration to all the underachievers out there. He has demonstrated that no matter how bloody bad you are within your role and no matter how many disasters you helped to create, you can still survive, still flourish and with a little support from those around you who are as stupid as they come, you can be a success even though it can often defy all logically thinking.

And the Pilot said, 'we'll be landing shortly. Thank you for flying with us. Expect a little turbulence'.

Turbulence my right nut! If that's his idea of Turbulence I want nothing else to do with him!

And so, we began our decent from the sky. The first inkling I got, sat in the back seat watching my bloody offside wing light was that this rotten light, in relation to the runway lights, clearly indicated that at no time were the wings of the Boing 747 Airbus ever in a horizontal position.

Anyway, we hit the ground like a sack of spuds, bounced no more than five times, the Pilot hit the full thrust throttle and within twenty seconds, at an angle close to ninety degrees we shot off like a Saturn Rocket to an altitude of ten thousand feet.

All the loose change from the pockets and purses came tumbling down the aisle, women began to vomit, and I for one don't blame them at all, and for the most part, most people who were still breathing howled, 'Fu.c.king Jesus'.

My tormentor, the bloody wife, had been good enough to dig her long, sharp and well manicured nails into my left wrist and seeing a complete stranger sat to my wife's left clutching her arm for some human comfort didn't bother me one single bit. More than bloody understandable as far as I was concerned!

Then the Pilot said, 'sorry about that aborted landing. The crosswinds are extremely strong. We're going to fly around, get into position and do it all again'.

Imagine the worst fairground ride you've ever been on? Now multiply that by a factor of hundreds and you'll be halfway to understanding how bad this experience was.

Anyway, down we went again. Far more quickly than I would have liked. Again, I sat there watching the wing rising up and down, hearing the muttering of The Lords Prayer and thinking to myself, 'I'm delighted to know that if we do crash, hit the ground like a bullet and begin to explode at least, at the very least, I can console myself knowing I'll have access to a tiny whistle and a flash light that'll alert my rescuers that I'm sat on the back seat'.

As before, fairly predictably in my view, we hit the ground, happily, we only bounced twice and once again the Pilot hit the full throttle and we hurtled upwards at a speed that was no slower than three hundred miles an hour.

Course this time all forms of restraint and human dignity disappeared. After a number of screams, 'we're all going to die', I decided to lighten the mood and shout, 'The Lord is always by your side', at which point my wife hit me and some chap sitting further forward than me shouted, ' get stuffed'.

By this time, speaking for myself, I now no longer could care less. I'd resigned myself to the fact that that very soon I'd be sat on the Lords knee plucking my heavenly harp.

Then the Pilot, who's voice had alarmingly risen by one full octave announced that he was going to give it one last try. Me? I'd have much preferred it if he hadn't and instead chosen to ditch us in the ocean.

Down we went again. Rattling, shaking and the rivets loosening by the second, we again hit the ground but this time we didn't bounce, we didn't hurtle upwards forcing the flesh upon my fat face to contort and we remained upon terra firma.

The ordeal was over? Not for me and not for her. After collecting our luggage we innocently wandered through Customs to be stopped by a lovely lady who represented HMRC who enquired where we'd been and were we in possession of tobacco. I told her we'd been to the Canaries, we'd purchased a few kilos of tobacco as we were entitled to do because of EU legislation.

Then she told me! Despite the fact that the Canaries are a part of a member State, namely Spain, and despite the fact that they are governed by Spain and the Euro is the currency, the Canary Islands are not in the European Union which meant that all tobacco found within my suitcase was to be confiscated. The only good news was that because of the ambiguity and the mistake is a common one made by other poor souls who'd travelled my way I wasn't going to be prosecuted.

My reaction? I swore and I swore until I could swear no more. I begged them, 'have a little pity. Show me some compassion. I've fallen out of the sky three times. Death has been my companion for the past fifty minutes. I've no tobacco in my pocket, show me some human pity and let me keep a tiny handful so that I can smoke on my way home'.

Nothing! They'd give me nothing other than a smile and a little giggle that suggested they'd thoroughly enjoyed their encounter with yet another hapless headbanger who only wanted to smoke a cigarette purchased lawfully within the European Union.

Worse! It's all my fault. The HMRC did their job and now I'm committed to driving to Belgium, lawfully purchasing my tobacco hoping that the bloody boat doesn't hit rocks, sink and I end up in a raft whistling and waving my tiny torch light in the hope that some good soul will drag me aboard and reunite me with Blighty.

So, what do you think now? War!!!!... Not such a stupid and fanciful proposition is it? Yes, it's getting worse and before to long the Russian people of Estonia and Latvia will become uneasy, they'll look to Mother Russia for help and there'll be more and more of these skirmishes by Russia into the affairs of Sovereign states that'll create chaos and havoc into what is and what always has been The Wild Wild East.

And for what! The European Union hoovering up economic basket cases so that they could be delivered our version of freedom and democracy and taunt Mother Russia. And don't ever forget...this started when a lawfully elected democratic Government was booted from office by the Western Ukrainians who didn't want Russia and instead wanted the EU.

This entire madness, that'll lead us all toward a 'War' is the fault of the expansionistic policies of the European Union. Instead of treating Mother Russia with a little respect and a modicum of awe, like the Versailles Treaty that destroyed the German people's spirit, the Russians have had their noses rubbed in the mud and they've reacted. Sadly, badly, and this great big brown bear of a nation is pushing the boundaries and discovering that we in the West are impotent and are now unable to resist them.

Me? I wish that Berlin Wall had never come down!!!

Yes!!! I mean it. As awful as it is to say it, I wish that Berlin Wall had never fallen down. Despite the Cold War and the threat of nuclear oblivion, back then, in those happy days, we knew we were safe, we knew they were behind that wall and there was a manageable way of dealing with our ideological differences.

We, in the West are buggared!!! This is not going to be like the partition of Ireland where the West and the East of Ukraine learn to live side by side in a wobbly and uneasy sort of relationship. This is going to be War! And there is nothing that we can do to halt this slide toward yet another conflict created by European politicians who always think about the consequences of their actions much to late after they've created hostility and an 'us' against 'them' climate.

I'll tell you what the problem is within public service! Career advancement. Yes, that's the problem. In the private sector you tip up for a job that clearly says, 'we want a bloody welder'. You, being a bloody welder think, 'that's the job for me'. You tip up, they ask you some questions, they drag you off and say, 'weld that', you do it and they then say, 'you are a fine welder. The jobs bloody yours', and off you go welding two pieces of iron together for God knows how many years knowing that you will be welding that bloody metal together for as long as you can stand the drudgery of your role in life.

Course, that's not the case in the Council, the NHS, the Police or any other bloody public organisation. No Sir'ee! Beneath the umbrella of public service they set you on as the person who orders the stationary and they give you a job title that you can barely understand. Once in there, strapped behind your desk counting bloody paper clips, you learn that your position has several pay grades which mean that each time Human Resources review you and your job every twelve months, you can climb your pay scale if you manage to become outstanding at counting your paper clips and star binders.

But that ain't the end of it! Far bloody from it. Once you get to band bloody nine of your pay scale counting these bloody paper, you then become the Team Leader and that bloody position has nine pay grades that then lead you to becoming Supervisor, then Manager and then Regional Manager. And all the time, your business is the same, the counting of paper clips or ensuring the paper clips are counted or they are counted very well by a highly qualified and motivated much valued member of staff.

And what drives this relentless and bludgeoning Career Advancement? Bloody Human Resources and the ethos that everyone within the organisation can reach the top if they can climb their pay scale and please those that have created this business model of madness.

And how do you fuel this madness that sees some more qualified than others in the art of counting these bits of stationary? Bloody Courses and lots of them! And after you've been on the rotten Course? Well you shoot up another pay grade don't you and, because you are outstanding at what you do, Human Resources poach you, strap you behind a desk in their Department and off you go again appraising the employee who replaced you counting bloody paper clips.

And that's the problem with public service!

The 'Have This' was me about to press the bloody button three times but it didn't work.

I honestly thought that we'd stopped all this! We once sorted this out on the Hereford Times. We all agreed that 'double pressing the button' was a stain on the tapping community and it stopped.

Course, Mr Fancy Pants, our Paul Cardin has decided to press his button twice hasn't he. He ain't following the rules is he. Full of himself and certain that he can flout the rules and get away with it.

Well he can't. Have this!!!

At the very heart of all these horror stories that regularly come tumbling out from media outlets is that nowadays there is no public accountability. There is none. None whatsoever! We have absolutely no control of this group of people who've aligned themselves with Common Purpose.

Quite why we are in this predicament, I've no idea other than to suggest that 'they've' created the game, they've created the rules and it seems to me that they and only they enforce these rules. In the private sector, where life is harsh and there is no real chance of 'career' advancement, they'd be dismissed. There'd be none of this, that sees failure and incompetence rewarded by vast sums of public money and the golden opportunity to move elsewhere and do it all over and over again within some other public body.

As for this, this tale of woe, avarice and downright failure, it's of no surprise to me. It'll happen over and over again until some public authority refuses to play the game and takes the view that failure is not rewarded any longer.

Course, the rules don't apply for the lowly placed public servants. No such safe haven for them. They get thrown to the dogs so that 'they' who orchestrate this game can say, 'we demand the highest standards and we will not tolerate wrongdoing on our watch'.

Human behaviour is fairly predictable no matter where you are placed on the ladder of public service glory and wealth and if 'you've' been lucky enough to get your grasping hands upon a great big wedge of public cash, more than likely, you'll be happy to sanction another getting the same reward and the same glowingly and lovely testimonial that allows you to leave with your head held high and a bit of paper tucked inside your pocket that reads,'this person has transformed our lives because they were passionate about delivering positive outcomes to our service users in a robust manner.'

It's all a bag of rats!

Well I ain't going. Ever! They could write me a letter begging me to visit the Old Market and offer to pay me to park my car down there and I'd refuse. Why? Because I've got principles. That's why!

I'll never set foot in the place. They could arrange for dozens of beautiful busty wanton strumpets to gather in their Car Park chanting, 'we want Fortyseven to enter the Old Market development and make us all pregnant' and I'll howl, 'I refuse. I'm a High Town man. Get somebody else to fertilise your ovarian eggs, I'm supping ale in the Commercial and I refuse to join you and have my body violated by women who clearly have no self control and no sense of pride. Clear off. Go bother someone else'.

Yes! I'm a High Town man and I will never set foot inside of that place that is a monument to stupidity. It's of no concern to me how expensive or inexpensive it is to visit that salty hulk of a box because I ain't ever going in there.

I saw the piece on the news. Will this new era of enlightenment eventually fall upon the heads of all Councils who've mistreated Whistleblowers in the past?

It most certainly will. I've no doubt that this ball will run and run, it'll gather more and more momentum and the full enormity of what Councils and other agents acting on their behalf have done to the Whistleblower will come down crashing upon their heads.

If I were a Director at Hereford Council and I'd seen that piece on the news I'd be frightened. Very frightened! Now this genie is out of the bottle there'll be no ignoring it or shoving it back in.

Thinking about it rationally, there's now no better time to step forward and blow the whistle on wrongdoing. I'd do it and whoever the Council Whistleblower is I'm certain that he or she will be heartened to know that the pendulum is swinging back in their favour.

Bloody hell! Bloody politicians. They're so disconnected with all of us. I'd like to see just how low they're prepared to reach. That'd be something to behold. I'd like that!

Let them cuddle up to a Leper. Let's see how many of them step forward for that little opportunity to get their face upon a newspaper page.

They'd be more than worthy of my vote if one of them agreed to cuddle up some poor soul riddled with Leperacy. Or Ebola! That's just as good. Let's see how keen they are to cozy up to someone displaying the full blown symptoms of the Ebola Virus. That'd make them think twice. That'd sort out the wheat from the chaff!

The Mole, it's very good to read you pal.

Bloody hell! Again. Bloody censorship!

The word was ***.in.a!

Regarding my dear friend Cardin's post, I'd like to make it clear that I've no wish to be involved in a fight with Andy McNab and I don't appreciate Paul flagging me up as a potential target for this celebrated author.

Mind, that said, I ain't scared of him. Not one single bit, and if ever he decides to pop round here, affix a looped climbing rope to my Chimney and abseil down, delivering me a few flash bangs to disorientate me as he hurtles in intent upon kicking the ever loving life out of me, I'll not be found wanting in the courage department.

If ever he's foolish enough to smash his way into my bedroom whilst I'm sat there minding me own business, nibbling upon pork rind and swigging back me ale whilst laid in bed waiting for the latest news that Kerry bloody Katona is pregnant again, he'll be making a big mistake.

Yes! He'll soon discover that like him, I've got a similar set of unusual skills. I to can manage and control my adrenalin and fears and I'm more than happy to defend myself against his unwelcome and uninvited intrusion into my life. I'll tell him, 'clear off McNab. If you are desperately keen to take up yet another challenge, go find Kerry Katona of Atomic bloody Kitten and place her ****** under surveillance and stop these relentless pregnancies that I'm sick and tired or reading about'.

It's a bloody disgrace!

Yep! I'll provide a contribution. Good idea.

It is Dippy. The very same one.

It's an absolute disgrace! That's what it is! I've been evicted from the House and despite what they tell you in the Bible, knock and the door shall be opened, they won't let me back in. It's a bloody injustice. Yes an injustice and I demand my inalienable rights to be served up to me forthwith. Open that door and let me in!

What's the tapping world coming to when somebody can get shoved through the door without as much as a by your leave, thank you very much, now clear off the boring fat fool. I know what I'll have, what I won't have and what I will have if they bet me fifty quid to have it and I ain't having this. I'll be damned if I do!

If there's anyone out there, who's got nothing else better to do, I'm begging you, yes begging you, to get yourself into that Bulls Banter House and get me back in.

The Meadow End has been won. When our new club takes up the tenancy, the Council have agreed that our supporters will have access to it and the only hurdle now left is the length of the tenancy.

It'll be between five and seven years. How do I know? Because I do. Course, the fact that I transmitted the knowledge that we would win the Meadow End, despite all around howling, 'this is the end', because the two ends were not incorporated into the tenancy, nobody is ever going to revisit the confusion upon Bulls Banter and acknowledge that I was correct.

No such glory for me. I'm bloody banned and as far as the howling mob are concerned I'm just another conspirator who, because I could think for myself and expressed myself without having to sniff amylnitrate and call people names, I ain't getting back into the Bulls Banter House.

And who do I blame? The attack dog Spencer who's numerous written offerings moreoften than not include the phrases, 'who are you'. Essex Troll. F..off and snide remarks that signal to the other members of 'the pack' that they've found another target to belittle and call names.

Like many in society nowadays, they've lost sight of their purpose, they don't do their job properly and they've been cursed with this desperate need to be liked.

Yes, they want desperately to be liked by everyone and unfortunately for those they are supposed to represent, this includes the group they are supposed to be up against the bloody management.

It's the way of things sadly. Many of these Union people from Unison haven't got a sharp tooth in their jaws and are ever so keen not to pick up enemies from the hierarchy who might one day remember their weakness and incompetence and hand them a life line and a job if ever they feel the need to bathe themselves in Common Purpose, climb aboard the beast of burden and become a suit beneath the haven of public service and Plough Lane.

All the tools that were once required to be a Shop Stupid are now no longer required. They are all now skilled in the art of cozying up, behaving pragmatically and displaying gushing buckets of compromise and 'let's all be friends, make friends and never ever not be friends'. This is the way it is and from what I know from my sources within Plough Lane my description of them is fairly accurate.

There was a time when the Shop Steward was a horrid man. A dreadful sort who you stayed well away from in the battle cruiser because you didn't want to fall out of favour with him because you'd presented a proposition that he didn't agree with and he would moan and nag you all night long as you supped your pint vowing never again to ever disagree with him and place yourself in that terrible position.

How things have changed. They exchange friendly emails, Christmas cards, and warm pleasantries like, 'let's touch base sometime over a coffee' completely forgetting that you are up to your knees in shi.te, your job is hanging by a thread and there's a bunch of psychopathic suits salivating upstairs desperately wanting to see your corpse laid outside with your P45 stuck inside your back pocket.

Faith in Unison? Not one tiny bit and anyone who thinks otherwise is a stinker, a rotter and no ally of mine.

Hello Stilton. It's good to read you. Welcome to the bear pit. Regarding the Blair thing, there are of course two. One is more oily than the other and it's the slimy'er of the two that regretted it. Bloody Tony Blair!

Rslicker, By far and away, your posting handle is the best I've ever seen.

Very well explained Gdj. It's this very reason why the liar Blair once said, ' the only regret I have is bringing forward legislation called the Freedom Of Information Act'. He went on, 'with hindsight this was my biggest personal mistake'.

The fact that this lying, tap dancing devil of man considered FOI to be his only mistake tells me that this was a wonderful error on his part and I thank Jehovah he made it.

If I could be bothered, I'd send a request every single hour of the day. Because I've become bloody lazy I now much prefer to buy a source a pint and get them to tell me what they know.

And just let the Moderator of Bulls Banter try! Let this good soul and his well trained lap and attack dog Spencer come down the Commercial and even think of discharging their bloody voltage in my direction and they'll soon discover what it's like to take on a complete headbanger who lost any sense of fear many years ago after a regrettable confrontation with a beast of a man I had no business ever thinking I could better.

Just let the pair of them try! I'll be damned if it bothers me. There's three settings on that dreadful device. Fire and stun. Fire and make the recipient empty their bowels and writhe in agony and Fire and nearly kill the poor fool. They'd do well to fix their dreadful device on the final and ultimate setting because if ever I manage to get up again, douse myself in water to cool the heat upon my flesh and bone and recover from the terrible ordeal, I'm going to be reporting them to the Constable.

Why are the Police so fascinated with electricity and why do they seem intent upon electrocuting those of us who display a little public disobedience.

Never a day goes by when you read that they've made another poor soul ride the lightening bolt. Whether it's some guy up a tree howling at the moon and refusing to come down and be nicked because he's drunk and disorderly or the chap who's threatening to throw a slice of hot food in their direction, they get three unholy barbs fired at them and subsequently wriggle in agony for thirty seconds as fifty thousand volts find their way out of the poor so.ds body and down to toward the good earth.

It's my understanding that the Police Federation have placed a proposal before the Home Secretary requesting that every single Officer be issued a Taser so that the electrocution can continue.(I'd expect Roger to post a response)

I can't say I know a lot about Taser's and why they were issued to the Police in the first place, but I do know that the original purpose was to avoid lethal force, namely getting shot dead. So why, given that was the original intention, and I'm certain it was, why are the Police now punishing people for civil disobedience.

Not so long ago some poor man who was blind was walking up the road, minding his own business when the Police approached him, told him to drop the weapon which was a white stick and when he didn't, he to was made to ride the lightening bolt.

Why is this happening? Have the Police been able to shift away from the original pledge to only use the Taser if a life was threatened or are they now in an area that allows them to electrocute us if we present a threat to public order or we might punch someone.

Course if the latter is correct and they can now lawfully use this weapon to prevent civil unrest and punish, then my guess is it'll be down to the threat level an individual Officer feels before they decide to pull out the Taser and make you writhe in agony. So what happens if I come out of the Commercial acting like a fool and I come up against a seven foot beast of a copper who can quite easily deal with me. My guess is, I won't get electrocuted. But, if that Officer happens to be a young slip of a girl who's threat level is considerably lower, my guess is I'm going to ride the lightening bolt.

Not too long ago, I firmly believed that Anarchists were mad, Anti Capitalists were deluded dreamers and Globalisation was something that would only serve to help people throughout the World lead happier and prosperous lives.

Now, within a few short years, I no longer feel the same way. I'm more than happy to admit that I'm becoming an anarchist, I despise capitalism and if it could pull up the drawbridge to escape globalisation I'd happily do it.

Oddly enough I've started listening to Lennon's Working Class Hero and God and as I sit there listening to John grinding out these rasping songs feeding my fat face with Scratchings I'm becoming more and more convinced that social unrest, public expressions of distaste for the way things are will, sooner if not later become inevitable.

The video attached to Paul's piece is well worth you all sitting through it, listening carefully and thinking a little about the impact these giant corporations are having throughout our world. On a much smaller scale, it's happening to us in the West Midlands.

Yes it is. Ever so slowly Parish Councillors are becoming an irrelevance, the powers of County Councillors have been seriously eroded and much of our local economy is driven and steered by people we never met or even voted for.

Our Country is now dominated by 'business' and the Gordon Gecho mantra of 'Greed is Good'. Huge business conglomerates, all linked like a spiders web with one another are buying up everything we love and value. To think that they'll be able to pursue us in the Courts if our way of life impacts upon their business activities and the profits they need to fuel their greed and reward the rich who've managed to purchase a slice of their cake.

These things ain't scare stories that are things to worry about in the distant future. They're happening now and they are happening to us.

Look at the Bankers! They still get wined and dined by the great and the good and yet, through continental agreements and treaties, they'll pursue Edward Snowden and Julian Assange never thinking for a moment that perhaps the law, our law, is being stretched, twisted and distorted in order to pursue something that only Governments and big business want to do.

It seems that we no longer matter. Some fool does something wrong, they quickly rush out another piece of legislation that keeps us scared, keeps us in our place and allows them to carry on raping the wealth of Nations without us paying to much attention.

If they think that by punishing us for not allowing them to Frack our shale gas. What next? Will they ever start charging us extortionate sums of money for our water, our electricity, our oil and who knows, even the air we breathe.

How far will this go. It seems the pieces are all in place, they're ready to go and create vast unimaginable wealth for only a few thousand people. They are the ones running our lives and it seems, the entire Western World. It's certainly not the elected democratic government we vote into office because we say we are a modern and forward thinking democratic society.

Not so long ago, many, including me, concluded that after the completion of the Old Market development, Stanhope, with the help of others had successfully asset stripped our County. They did it because they could and there is absolutely no reason at all why this form of corporate greed, cunning and guile can't be successful in asset stripping an entire Continent.

As perverse as it sounds, and it is, I welcome the emergence of these far left and far right groups who've shown me that at least now people are thinking for themselves and concluding they don't like whatever it is they're being asked to swallow. Like most things, people get frustrated, angry, they shoot to an extreme end if the political spectrum and then........bish,bash, bosh! People decide they want change and they ain't putting up with Shiite any longer. Rather like the rise of UKIP. The main parties get shocked into addressing changes that they'd sooner ignore and then we see a process of change.

The TPP agreement/arrangement? It scares the life out of me and I desperately hope it frightens you as well. It bloody ought to!