Paying the ultimate price....

One of my sons has signed up for the army. He’ll be joining REME and will be training as a helicopter technician – but as he is in the army, his first priority will be as a soldier. That means going to Iraq, Afghanistan or wherever else the closet dictators in number 10 deem to start the next war. It will mean servicing helicopters in those theatres of battle – but it will also mean going out on patrol....

I am not too happy about it at all. Fighting to defend your own country is one thing – but putting your life at risk in a God forsaken desert village to preserve Tony Blair’s flawed credentials is quite another. The problem is, there is nothing else to do around where we live – his previous job was working part time at Tesco.

All the labouring work has been taken by Poles, all the farm working jobs are being done by Latvians and all the engineering and production jobs that used to abound round here have all gone to China......

So there seems not a lot of choice if you cannot afford Uni' and are not interested in IT - so he has decided that the army is his chosen career move. And last week, the risk that is run when you join up was brought home to us in the most brutal of fashions... Sarah Bryant was killed in Afghanistan, courtesy of a roadside bomb. She was the first British woman soldier to die there.

Sarah and her Dad, Des Feely on her wedding day.

Although shocked, with the daily inevitability of casualties, I did what millions of others do when we heard the news. We tutted, we cursed Blair for getting us involved in the first place, we cursed Brown for stripping the defence budget to the bone..... But essentially, she was just another casualty of a pointless war..

And then last Thursday, I picked up our local paper and clocked the story about the tragedy in Afghanistan. It transpired that Sarah Bryant had actually been born in our village. She was the only daughter of Des Feely, the then landlord of the Red Lion public house, situated not half a mile from our house.

The Red Lion was my local, we used to go there around twice a week for a natter with Des. Sometimes he would organise a lock in and we would stagger out around 3 in the morning. Des loved the life, but then, his wife delivered him a daughter and suddenly his priorities changed. A pub was no place to bring up a child – so around 20 years ago, they sold the pub and Des took a desk job in a brewery. That was the last time I saw them, we had a right good knees up on his last night and wished him and his family all the best for the future.

And now his life is in ruins. His only child blown to pieces in a ‘snatch’ landrover (code for having very little armoured protection).

What a waste.

The NHS at sixty...

I wonder what Nye Bevan would make of it all?


The father of the NHS must surely be spinning in his grave at the state ‘his baby’ has got into, courtesy of New Labour’s reorganisation police...

Lord Darzi, one of Gordon Brown’s apparently bestest, most glitteringly talented of the ‘talents’ in his Cabinet of all the Talents is about to publish his seminal work on improving the NHS in England.

Lots of paper trailing has been going on. Health Secretary Alan Johnson has been doing the TV studio rounds over the last few days telling the gullible public that this report is all about radically improving the service across ‘the whole country’. As per usual, the BBC has been doing its not-level-playing-field best to queer the pitch. Key soundbites like ‘ending the post code lottery’ and ‘a fairer deal for patients’ have been spewing from the mouths of eager young BBC Brownanistas like a rampant case of the bloody flux....

Gordon Brown, the guy with the clunking club fist has posted his thoughts in the report’s preface - "It is a bold vision for an NHS which is among the best healthcare systems in the world - a once-in-a-generation opportunity that we owe it to ourselves and our families to take".....

Not really, is it Gordon? I mean, this isn’t even a sticking plaster solution to the problem. Because unless and until you give an extra £400 to every man woman and child in England and thus achieve parity with the spending per head in Scotland, Darzi is merely rearranging the MRSA infected furniture. We’ll still be denied the life saving drugs, standard to everyone else in this union of the unequals.

I mean, the English NHS isn’t even one of the best healthcare systems in the UK – in fact it’s the worst. Fourth out of four.

If the 4 healthcare systems were cars, the Scots would be driving a Roller. The Welsh a Range Rover and the Northern Irish a Mondeo..... And the English? A second hand Ford Capri.

What Darzi is proposing is a few go faster stripes, a new Magic Tree car scent freshener and a couple of furry dice hanging from the rear view mirror.
Tarting up will not do. The English NHS is still a shed. The tragedy is that Brown, the quisling Johnson and the rest of this government of occupation are perfectly willing to see English lives sacrificed for the sake of Celt Gelt bribery.


Our Health Secretary shows exactly what he thinks of the English sick

Youngest nation in Europe gets anthem.....

(so what about one of the oldest getting one as well then?)

Kosovo, Europe's massaged bright new nation, hewn out of solid Serbian dogma by freedom loving Tony Blair and Georgy Bush, has been living the dream via her very own national anthem. It got its first airing at the weekend amongst watery eyes, fanfairyness and Serbian teeth-gnashings in the shiny new capital of Pristina.

Even the BBC was there – reporter Helen Fawkes enthused “For the authorities, it is a crucial part of nation building and is something which is designed to unite the people of Kosovo”...

Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Apparently, according to the BBC, having your own national anthem is a crucial part of nation building....... I expect that’s why England doesn’t have one then?

Allowing England to have her own national anthem? Absolutely preposterous and dangerously seditious to even go there.... Why, we’ll be asking for our own national parliament next....

Gordon Brown doesn’t do kissy-kisses.....

(but then he does, and obviously gets it hopelessly wrong)

Did anyone see Gordon Brown and his lady wife greeting the Bushes yesterday outside Number 10? If you did, it would have told you absolutely everything you needed to know about what is wrong with our man at the top.

George and his Missus, got out of their huge stretched limo, (does it do hen night tours at the weekend?) and strode over to the Browns. Gordy stretched out his great clunking fist and shook George’s hand. No problem there. Mano e mano – Scottish Son of the Manse meets Southern Bible basher.

And then Brown moved onto the l’il lady. He shook Laura Bush’s hand as outstretched as he could make it. The Broon personal space was left secure as Laura was kept at arm’s length from the great moral crusader. They disengage. Laura isn’t going to get a kissy smooch from Gordy – she looks relieved. Unfortunately, George Bush has, by this time moved onto wasshername. Mrs Brown and George exchange a light cheek to cheek kiss – hardly surprising I suppose when you remember that the Bushes have just flown in from Paris.

As all this up close and personal was going on, Gordon looked over his shoulder at his wife’s tete a tete. Obviously, if his missus is doing kissy kisses, then he is going to have to do them also. With that, lips puckering for Scotland, he lunges at the wilting flower that is Laura Bush. The First Lady turns her left cheek in readiness to accept the peck. Unfortunately, Gordon has decided he is going to kiss her on her right cheek.

Awkward. Cringing. Embarrassing.....

But as the pro she is, Laura Bush readjusts to accept Brown’s puckered lips. He plants a big slobbery one on her right cheek. You can almost see her sigh with relief. Thank God that is over..... Except, it isn’t. True to form, Brown the unetiquetted slob just doesn’t get it. He’s kissed her on the right – now he’s going totally OTT and giving her one on the left, also.


The whole episode sort of sums up what Brown is all about. Nothing is natural with him, nothing is spontaneous..... it’s all connived, 100% robotic, 100% false. Anne Widdecombe once famously described Michael Howard as having “something of the night” about him..... But what is it about Gordon Brown? If John Redwood is a Vulcan, what is Gordon Brown? Some say he’s a Klingon, others think he’s a moron. One thing’s for sure, he’s a guy devoid of social skills, he has no idea of social intercourse – his people skills are about as sophisticated as a knee in the groin...

Dianne Abbott said last week on ‘This Week’ that in an effort to get her to vote for the 42 day detention proposition, Gordon Brown actually rang her. Abbott said it was the first time he had talked to her in over 20 years.... She then said it wasn’t that unusual as he hadn’t even spoken to some of his own ministers..... Gordon Brown doesn’t do communication – he’s lost in a world of hair-shirted self repression and puritanical zeal.....

I would suggest he has ‘something of Marvin, the paranoid android’ about him.....

42 DAYS – the great conundrum...

Today, the Labour rebels will have to decide –

Vote for 42 days without charge – and save Gordon Brown from a crippling defeat that may well trigger a ‘government in office but not in power’ scenario – which will then spiral to an inevitable early General Election.....

OR,

Vote against 42 days without charge – and uphold the ancient traditions of this country - and of our hard won and precious freedoms, even though this may well trigger a ‘government in office but not in power’ scenario which will then spiral to an inevitable early General Election, and to inevitable landslide defeat.

Lots and lots of rebel Labour MPs will lose their seats, lots and lots of them will end up out of a job and unemployable, save for flogging their parliamentary paper clips on eBay...... No more 125k package, no more ‘with balls’ pensions, no more think of a number, double it, then treble it, then add a couple of zeros, expense claims. No more free second homes, no more free Sky TV package, no more free food, no more claiming 30k a year for secretarial services provided by the family dog, no more ‘research trips’ to the dregs of the world, like Barbados, Acapulco and Monte Carlo, no more 18 weeks paid holiday a year....

I wonder which way they will vote?

Labour admit to being ‘bigotist’ towards the English....

It’s official, the NuLab project of annihilation of all things English has reached the end game. England’s very own Culture Minister, the flawed and deeply unpleasant champagne socialist Margaret Hodge has admitted that over the last 2 years, a pathetic 230 quid had been spent by her department on celebrating St George’s Day. Three years before that, they spent bugger all.

This year, their £120 budget amounted to around 0.0000023 of a penny for each of England’s 50 million souls.....

It makes Justice Minister Jack Straw’s recent declaration that “the English should reclaim the day from 'bigots'.....” all a bit of a sad, sick joke. Jack, baby. The only bigots in town appear to be yourself and your Brown nosing Cabinet colleagues.

I wonder how much money England’s very own Culture Minister has given to celebrate St Patrick’s Day(Ireland), St Frumentius Day(Ethiopia), St Casimir Day(Poland), St Francis of Assisi Day(Italy) and every other Saint’s day you care to mention over the past few years?...

Nu Labour are practising cultural genocide on this country – pure and simple. England’s 50 million people are being rebranded and repackaged as Britain-Lite, while England the country, the entity, the cultural giant is left to wither and die.

New Labour - English-hatin', gobsmackin', awful-governin', control-freakin', lyin'shits...