Farewell to a Decent Lefty

Yes you read that right! I am about to be NICE about a unreconstructed old lefty!

Chris Mullins, Labour MP for Sunderland South, is standing down at this election.

Another old lefty who reads this blog (who has finally grown up and is now more centre right in his viewpoint :o)) gave me his dairies to read last summer whilst we were away on holiday. Mullins came across as a thoroughly decent man, a proper constituency MP, who did not do too well as a Junior Minister. He is writing in the Times today about his impending retirement and the fear he has about the future.

This is a man who still watches a black and white telly in his flat in London and his expenses were above board. An old fashioned left winger, with a respect for parliament and a duty to his constituents.

More Chris Mullins in Parliament and less Elliot Morley and Labour might be a more palatable party.

I look forward to reading the 2nd volume of his diaries later in the year and wish him a long and happy retirement.

Left wing music required for this post I think. Paul Weller then. His new single, complete 60s throwback, but very infectious - No More Tears to Cry.

Supermarket Sweep

Happy Easter Everyone.


Couple of updates for you from my previous post.

Mrs Macbeth advises that the Steve Davis/Thistle Window combo this weekend is for "chariteee" (they don't want to talk about it much). All very noble but my comments still stand. The charity angle is a ruse to get people through the door and I still can't see how getting Snooker Loopy to visit is going to make you buy a new door.

Now, here's a quote today from Labour MP Frank Field, one of the few of his ilk I have any respect for:

"I don't know how some of my young constituents survive, given the toerags they have as nominal parents."

Does Frank read Tragic Kingdom?! If he does, welcome aboard Sir and please do subscribe.

So I was working yesterday, lots to do so didn't even head off early. Mrs MacBeth wished to have a relaxing bath and requested I go to Tesco for some nice bubble bath. Why she can't use Fairy Liquid, which after all is bubbles, I don't know.
 
I was in there less than 10 minutes, but I was hacked off constantly. It started with the sheer amount of pensioners in there. Why are they roaming around a supermarket at tea time on Good Friday? The place was heaving with people just out of work stocking up on essentials for the holiday weekend. The elderly can shop anytime, why do they always seem to do so at lunchtimes and around 5pm when working people are in there.  Do they get an extra £5 in their pensions as "nuisance allowance" for doing this disservice to the country?

Thereafter as I walked serenely down the aisle, I was forced to take evasive action as a Susan Boyle look alike careered down the aisle with a trolley laden with sugary snacks.  Fatso is important and in a hurry.  Everyone get out of her way.  The horrible obese cow had obviously heard there was a sale at the crisps and doughnuts departments and needed to get there at the speed of light.

So wearily I make my way to check out.  I've got about 8 items.  Now I know it's not the student behind the check out's fault, she is only following orders, but honestly, "Do you want a hand with your packing".  Even I will manage to chuck less than ten items in a plastic bag.  And then I can't get the damned plastic bag to open.............it's like it's super glued together.............I have little fat fingers and this has suddenly become like the Krypton Factor for me.

The other two questions you are always asked nowadays at checkout are, "do you need plastic bags" and "do you have a loyalty card".  If you give the wrong answers here (yes to the former, no to the latter, which inevitably are my stock replies) the till dolly will look at you in the same manner they would if you had just admitted to being Ian Brady's penpal, with Gary Glitter as your lodger.

Meanwhile, behind me in the queue is a guy who has bought 30 pints of milk.  You did read that right.  15 x 2 pint cartons.  What the fuck is he going to do with it?  Is his wife Cleopatra, but has decided goat's milk is too difficult to come by?  Oh and Mr Cleo, thanks for standing hard up my arse in the queue, sighing and fidgeting with impatience, allowing me to inhale your rank halitosis, you harassing me really does make me go quicker through the check out doesn't it.  You utter, utter bell end.

Music recommendation today is the Happy Mondays, who are to headline the Wizard Festival in the North East this summer.  How's about some Step On?  Awesome stuff - off you all go now and twist your melon.............man!

Aged Snooker Player and Feral Youths

A couple of things to ponder tonight over your glass of something to get you through the day. I've blogged before about the feral youths who roam our village. They are small in number and stature, but high on nuisance value. You'd think we lived in some sink estate in Liverpool at times.

There's a new kid on the block. He is not from our street, but is obviously hero worshiped by the gang from our hood. I can see why. He is a couple of years older, wears baggy clothes akin to a hard ass rapper and has ear-rings in both ears. He must be 11 or 12 years old and thinks he's a Deeside White Dr Dre. Motha Fucka.

Dre and the Hood gang were standing outside our house when I came home tonight. They were behind Mrs MacBeth's car and as I drove up to park behind her, our street's home boys moved. Dre didn't move an inch, instead turned and stared at me. As I parked, he mouthed "wanker" at me. As I got out of the car, this little hard man summoned his new hood to walk at pace away from me.

I imagine this horrible little bastard is going to cause all manner of problems as the nights draw out. Keep reading for more installments as the year unfolds.

I don't think I told you all about an incident last summer I witnessed. One of Dre's followers this evening stays with his grandparents and mother a few doors away. Dad? God knows. He was playing with the gang one evening when his Grandfather shouted him in for his tea. To which Grandad was informed "Fuck off, I'm not coming in, it's a free country".

What in the name of Allah are you meant to do with these kids? I'd never have even thought of speaking to my Granda like that, essentially because of my sheer love for the man and, if I had ever done so, he'd have kicked my arse from here to Kingdom come!! And rightly so. What's happened to respect? I know many who'd blame a woman who left No 10 Downing Street at least a decade before these kids were even born. Thatcher's always a great scapegoat for this country's ills.

On a completely different tack, Thistle Windows in Aberdeen have an really fucking irritating radio jingle (call Thistle Windows Aberdeen 706 treble 5). They're now urging us all to head to their showrooms this weekend to meet Steve Davies. Why meeting a guy who's sport (snooker) has been on the wane popularity wise for years and who's claim to fame (apart from winning 6 world titles) is being a boring sod will make you part with your hard earned for a conservatory or double glazing is unclear to me. Maybe that's why I'm a recruiter and not a PR Guru..............

Until next time, let me leave you with another song recommendation. Tonight it's going back to the original line up of Fleetwood Mac with the legendary Peter Green on board. It's difficult to remember that they weren't always a middle of the road rock band (saying that I love Big Love and Little Lies from Tango in the Night). But here's them at their smoothest, sassiest, sexiest blues best. Need Your Love So Bad. Listen to the string arrangement behind the guitar. Sublime. Download it immediately.

Labour with a Working Majority

Hello Everyone!

Well I apologise profusely for the distinct lack of blogging. No excuse really, just the usual busy life, both at work and home. Not complaining, being busy at work is great and long may it continue.

Tonight's title is my prediction for the forthcoming General Election. I had a bit of an epiphany over the weekend in this respect. For months I've been watching with astonishment as the Conservative lead had dwindled. I was thinking, who in their right mind would vote back in a party that's led us to the state this country is now in. And this weekend I figured out why.

I was coming from this as the employee of a small private sector company. Someone who pays his taxes and works in a sector that is dependent on a strong economy and wealth generating organisations continuing to recruit skilled technical personnel and senior management with the business acumen to continue growing the business in a profitable manner.

I now concede I am in the minority in this country. And people like me are despised by this Government.

There is an army of people in this country who are dependent on this Government for their livelihoods. We have a Public Sector which would make the old Soviet Union envious. A clear example of how mollycoddled from the real world these people are is the recent strike. Why were they striking? The Government for once was trying to get them to agree to a more reasonable settlement in the unlikely event they were made redundant. No chance, everybody out.

Then we have the 8 million people who are "economically inactive" - all sitting at home on nice cushy benefits, again paid for by the tax payer. Of course there are some of these people desperate to get back into employment, but for every one of them, there's plenty happy to sit on their backsides and hoover up every penny they can get their hands on.

Only in the UK can you walk up a street, look at the cars parked outside houses and safely assume the newest, shiniest ones are owned by people who don't work.

So there you have it. Millions upon Millions of people in this country are totally in debt to this Government for their employment/benefits. The minority support them all. Turkeys don't vote for Christmas. Brown back as PM with a majority of around 20.

And fuck knows what us in the minority will do then. He hates us with a passion and he'll do everything he can to destroy us.

Only one song sums my mood up tonight. It's a stone cold classic. The Rolling Stones. Paint it Black.

Bully Boys

Bullying in the workplace is in the news. Our esteemed Prime Mentalist, erm I mean Minister has been accused of all sorts of bullying of his staff and Bruce Robertson, Education Supremo at Aberdeenshire Council is ‘on leave’ following allegations of bullying Head Teachers (and “inappropriate behaviour” with a member of staff).

Only in the Public Sector can someone be put on leave pending an investigation. What’s the bet Robbo the Beastly Education Boss will be sitting at home on full pay for months now. I also laugh at the “inappropriate behaviour” piece – only Councils still speak in this manner, like it’s still the 1920’s. What next – if it’s proven they will inform us they have “carnal knowledge” of each other and that he is a 'beastly bully"....

Now you know I’m not a big fan of the one eyed Fife money spender. But on this occasion, I’ll back him up a little. The allegations against Brown and Robertson smack of the kind of lilly livered nonsense that prevails in the public sector. For Bullying, I suspect we could insert “getting shouted at a bit" instead.

In the private sector, you get shouted at by the boss when you’ve fucked up. You take it, shrug your shoulders and move on. In the public sector, if you’re shouted at for fucking up, you get your feelings hurt and the nanny state goes into overdrive. Counselling. Grievance Procedures. Suspensions. Investigations. All paid for by Mr and Mrs Tax Payer – as is any compensation that is inevitably paid out in respect of a breach of their human rights.

It really is pathetic. Quick message for the Public Sector – toughen up and get on with it you shower of wet lettuces.

Music tonight - how about some smooth 80s Soul? If so may I direct you towards Alexander O'Neil's "Criticise" - now that's a voice.

Loyalty and Respect

I've deliberately taken a few days since Aberdeen's debacle on Tuesday night before I blogged about it.  When emotions are raw you end up ranting and looking back at what you've written a few days later and think, "that's a load of shite I've written there". The anger has not abated so this will still be a rant I feel.

I'll start with the team.  They are a fucking disgrace.  A shower of overpaid, under performing shysters, cheats and sulkers.   They swan around the city thinking they are something special, only trying when the television cameras are in town in order to assist in their latest machinations to engineer a move away from the club.

These fuckwits seem to think they are bigger than a club with two European trophies to its name.  None of them are fit to wear the jersey, either because they are lazy (McDonald), under-performing (Kerr), in a comfort zone (Langfield, Foster) not good enough (Mackie, Young, Duff, Ifil, Grassi) or sulking (Aluko). This shower of shite can leave any time they like.  These bastards cannot get it into their pea brains that Aberdeen is the biggest club they will ever play for.  From here it is a one way ticket to oblivion.  It is all they deserve.

I exempt the youngsters (Paton, Fyvie, Pawlett) and the loan players (Paterson, MacLean).  Diamond is just back from injury and though limited, he gives 100% and should be captain.  Mulgrew has been our best "senior player" this season and was badly missed on Tuesday night. 

Mark McGhee is hurting.  Badly.  You can see it in his press conferences since the game.  He is also, quite rightly, angry.  He has been let down by the above mentioned retards.  Many of them are the old Manager's boys and have obviously not taken to Mark's style of management.  But instead of being professional and doing their job of work to the best of their ability they decide to sulk instead.  How many of us have had bosses we didn't like or respect?  But for your own pride you "got on with the job" (copyright one eyed money stealing Fife arsehole). 

McGhee's hands are tied behind his back, he has been left a "pig in a poke" with the runt of Calderwood's awful team, and no money to rectify it.  My only criticism of McGhee would be (and this is hindsight, always easier) that his own initial signings, following promising beginnings, have fell apart (Ifil, Grassi, Marshall).

Which brings me to the board.  Stewart Milne has overseen disaster after disaster at the club.  How a man who has ran such a successful business can make such a pig's ear of running a football club is beyond me.  I understand his wish to run it like a business, but he must know that starving a business of all spending power is ultimately futile, as you stagnate and die.  Unless there is a little speculating to accumulate in the close season, we are in for many more Raith Rovers results.  And where the fuck is Martin Gilbert and the rest of the invisible men?  And I include the "fan's representative" Chris Gavin in that.  Lord Lucan has made more appearances than he has over the past few years.

Willie Miller was a hero of mine as I grew up.  He seemed a colossus to a teenager watching him as he kept world class strikers at club and international level in his back pocket.  A gasp and shudder went through the crowd when we lost a goal.  Disbelief when he made a mistake.  I can't remember many mistakes on the pitch.  There's plenty now.  I applaud his work to get the youth system re-established.  But his work as the Director of Football is average at best and his six figure salary is looking very expensive.  His well publicised business problems outwith the Dons are a distraction and, much as it pains me to say it, he needs to consider his position.

And finally the fans.  What a bunch of fucking arseholes we have in our midst nowadays.  Screaming for the boss' head after half a season.  Spitting and throwing stuff at him.  Get over yourselves you dicks. This is the Sky generation's reaction.  Lose one game and hairy hands Keys is asking Jamie "tight trousers" Redknapp if the manager is under pressure.  No wonder it then filters into the cranially challenged that this is how you behave.   I swear there were people there on Tuesday who wanted us to lose just so they could lose the plot.  I'd rather there were only 4,000 of us left in the stadium and these neanderthals just fucked off. 

The saddest thing is that if the club went to the wall tomorrow there's about 7,000 of us that would be bereft and wonder what in the world we were going to do on a Saturday from now on.

The rest of the City and Shire would read about, think "och that's a shame" and get on with their day. 

Loyalty and Respect - they died a long time ago, along with my football club's reputation.  And there's no one person to blame - all the above have played a part.

Music tonight, well after that depressing post I need cheering up - so here's some 80s Rock for you - Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again", get on You Tube and check the video - big hair, lovely ladies, Jags being driven, all good boys own stuff - enjoy!

Union Terrace Gardens

Sir Ian Wood wants to concrete over Union Terrace Gardens and turn it into a "city square".

Jesus, where do I start with this.  Have you seen the plans.  Concrete central.  As a sop, there's a few trees thrown in for good measure, but essentially this is a slab of concrete.  Just what we need. 

Supporters claim there's more greenery than in the gardens as they are just now.  They've wheeled out a tame horticulturalist who claims all the plants and trees are dying in the gardens as they get little sunlight. Tenuous stuff in the extreme. 

Of course the idiots in charge of the city are in favour and the pathetic local rags are also in support.  This cabal of delinquents are so in awe of the likes of Sir Ian Wood and Stewart Milne (who is unsurprisingly also in favour) that if they suggested building a leaking nuclear reactor in place of the Gardens they'd enthusiastically back the plan.

The £50m pledged by Wood has to be supplemented by the Council to the tune of at least £60m.  Where in the name of Allah are they going to find that? 

It's very magnanimous of Sir Ian to wish to leave a legacy to the city, although there is worrying talk of businesses in the city being pressurised into backing the plan and I've yet to hear a "normal" person in favour. 

The likes of Union Terrace and Broad Street are windswept, cold places even on a decent summer's day.  We are not Barcelona, Florence or Paris.  We are Aberdeen and with our 5 days of nice weather a year, the last thing we need is a place to promenade.  Think of the mess the place will get in on a Saturday night!

Now I know the Gardens are not wonderful.  They are a no go area for many as they are full of junkies and winos.  But the plans already in place for the regeneration are solid.  Peacock Arts have a innovative plan for an Arts Centre, which already has planning permission. 

The Victorian toilets, closed by the monkeys in charge years ago, are a work of art in themselves and there's plans to turn them into a restaurant.  Spruce up the foliage, add a few cafes and coffee shops, get the Police to actually do their job and get rid of the jakeys, have the community wardens patrolling frequently and bob's your uncle.  It'll cost a shedload less than £50million.

If Sir Ian wants to spend £50m, might I suggest he volunteers to clean all the granite buildings on Union Street, regenerates the original city square at Castlegate , buys some more art for the already excellent Art Gallery and assists demolishing St Nicholas House and that glass carbuncle they've thrown up on the side of His Majesty's Theatre and give me the change.  :o)

But if he insists on concreting over the only greenery in the City Centre, then by all means do so as the New Pittodrie Stadium. 

Music tonight - how about a bit of jazz?  Cry me a River has been covered by every man/woman and their dog.  For me, Julie London's version is the definitive and best - download it and judge for yourself, you will not be disappointed - tremendous off key double bass, sultry, velvety vocals, sublime and haunting.