I’m hating politics, I hating the hate culture and I’m really hating the peddlars of hate.
The racists who have all of a sudden come out from under their stones. What is their problem? It began with a newspaper, the Daily Mail, publishing crap about thousands, infact millions of Romanans and Bulgarians swarming into Britain as soon as they were admitted tho the EU. The Bulgarian part was airbrushed out pretty sharpish. Then a miracle happened, a few boats full of Libyan refugees were washed up on an Italian beach, including several dead. Ah, these were the bloody migrants! Oh, hang on, there were some Syrians, only a thousand miles away, but migrants all the same, again, some dead, children as well, which Katie Hopkins though was great fun.
Personally, I’d like to tie Katie Hopkins to a tree by her ankles and beat her with a cricket bat until the bat broke, then I’d get another one and continue beating her until someone stopped me. I doubt anyone would stop me.
My old work colleague Charlie, a fine upstanding reformed alcoholic, member of Ian Paisley’s Pentecostal Elim Methodist church, once said hate was a terrible thing. Then admitted he hated two things, and shaving was both of them. He did emphasise that hate was bad. This was okay except for the hate his “leader” Ian Paisley showed towards the catholics in Ulster.
Charlie amused me no end, told me swearing and getting drunk and smoking was all really bad, then I found him looking at pornographic magazines behind the lockers as I went out on my last minute rounds checking that things were locked down. This amused me even more, or at least his reaction did. I just used to wink at him all the time after that.
Fridays is a good day. Half day at work, then we went to a recital at Sheffield Cathedral last week. It was piano and oboe and cor anglais, which truthfully, I’d never heard of until that day. I enjoyed it. A morning at work then a relaxing 45 minutes doing nothing other than listening to perfect music. These really nice musicians posed especially for us.
Sheffield’s bus colours until Thatcher’s private companies polluted the scene, were cream and navy, the People’s Republic of South Yorkshire changed it to coffee and cream then all sorts of garish colours emerged, but to be honest, cream and navy are the best.
In the last hour I’ve consumed a full bottle of Californian Rosé and a couple of bags of sweet and salt Weightwatchers popcorn. I have calmed down, filled in a diabetes form and am listening to Die Puhdys. They are a really good (East) German band, with a vast repertoire. Essentially rock but musically, incredibly proficient.
I highly recommend you give them a bit of time and try to imagine what they went through trying to make an honest Ostmark in East Germany playing music. How did the SED portray their production quotas?
Just thinking, the bottle of wine and diabetes form kinda conflict don’t they?
Anyway, it all brings tomorrow, or today and rugby. Depends how you look at it I suppose.