Lineker and the 'rich'...

So Lineker wants 'rich' people to pay more tax to the 'government'.

My charity of choice is the Hospice in The Weald and they have just sadly announced, that because of the drying up of funds, government support etc., they'll have to close their children's unit.

It's an absolutely heart-breaking decision for all these good people who tirelessly look after such vulnerable, sick and dying children. They were fabulous in looking after my dear Senora, and while I support them when I can, the lack of cash for such a well-run local institution is just disgraceful.

Can I suggest that all these virtue-signalling 'millionaires' could just keep their traps shut, quietly pop a few cheques in the post to good places like my local hospice, and just feel as though they've actually achieved something, not conflated their rather ugly existences.

Our Ann...

Ann was our MP for years until boundaries changed and we finished up with the debacle which is Tunbridge Wells. (Lib Dem now…Paaaah).

Very early one morning, many years ago, I arrived at Staplehurst station for my trek to the original London, before it was wrecked by arrogant socialism, and uncontrolled infestation.

I’d just parked the car in the gloom, and was making my way over to the ticket office, when a young, pleasant lad thrust a pamphlet in my hand, which gave me all the information on the great lady just before her re-election.

Of course, as ‘the perfect gentleman’, I replied ‘Oh yes, and God Bless the lady’, to which came the carolled unmistakeable voice in response from way over beyond the 4 x 4s, ‘Thank you’!

It made my day.

I’m so sorry she’s gone, far too early really; she was only on Talk a few days ago – it may still be on ‘catch-up’.

RIP.

Nobody takes the stage at Sodden Prickney...

So, there was the usual turmoil at Sodden Prickney's meeting, to advise Cllr Basil Kalashnikov that he was a waste of space and had to be replaced A.S.A.P.

It was a pitiful gathering, the windows had been painted shut by Nibble and Co, during their five-year maintenance programme, so the room was stiflingly hot, and Cllr. Edwina Baggage decided to strip off to her 'intimate' bicycling attire as the temperature reached nearly 90 degrees! Cllr. Ron Wibble decided that enough was enough, and slackened his braces by three notches, which was viewed with some concern by his main squeeze, Cllr. Amelia Newt! The two events were not necessarily connected, just that such moments of inert passion, had been observed before in different circumstances!

'So', as politicians always start their excuses, the requirement to elect Cllr. Kalashnikov's successor had to start, sooner or later, and immediately, Cllr. D'Artagnan-Minge shot her hand in the air to demand a recount, much to the annoyance of her companion for the evening, (among many), and as nobody had actually voted, there was a certain amount of confusion...

'So', While Cllr. Ron Groat was fiddling about with his smartphone, he muttered an obscenity, which rocked the meeting! He was asked by another Councillor present, Cllr. Dr Norbert Iodine, to explain himself, or subject his body to an internal inspection via a Victorian Anal Inspection Device! Cllr. Groat immediately apologised, but in his defence, there was no indication as to what on earth they were all doing here, apart from telling Cllr. Kalashnikov that his reign of terror was being terminated forthwith!

So, a panicked phone call to a relative of Cllr. Molestranglers' third husbands' mistress, produced the telephone number of a rather callow youth, who had apparently been some sort of councillor in an unknown village somewhere in West Wales.

'So', the 'saga' of the arrival of a foreign nonentity from an unknown country will continue, probably with tiresome disinterest from everyone in this sainted village!