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.
Friday, 9 April 2010
Saturday, 3 April 2010
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!
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!
Thursday, 1 April 2010
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.
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.
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