HEAR'SAY
Good morrow and hello all you world -wide readers of this hearsay column. Well here we are
again and at this moment I am as gleeful as a London bankers overdraft. Yes spring is here
along with British summertime. And along with Sheringham's silly season for no sooner did
Sheringham kiss goodbye to the Easter throng, did it conjure up the odd idiot or two who
happened to think it prudent to jump into the North Sea at midnight one Saturday night. I
guess they didn't do it for the attention of the coastguard and all the other emergency
services. If they wanted to know the spring tide water temperature all they had to do was
read the paper. And even if they happened to be extremely dyslexic and or had the reading
ability of an average primary school child (your governments own figures, before we get
any bad letters), surely the snow at Easter would have been a bit of a clue! It's been
that cold down there in recent weeks that even the dogs think twice before defecating
their load on the prom during a bracing easterly. I guess however even that steamy subject
would add a slight thaw to the icy stand off in the ongoing Tesco debacle.
But to the contrary when it comes to celebrating our very own St George's day. Up the
Empire I say! Alas however, one empyrean household in Sheringham, had their Flagpole and
flying St George's drapery pinched? Is it me, but how in Satan's name did they get away
with nobody seeing anything? Come on folks it couldn't have been that hard to miss. I know
it was early morning but! How many jousting cyclists do you get marauding around here to
the penny then? Or perhaps they nipped off with it in the back of a car, no doubt some
folk thought the protruding pole out of a side window or the sunroof was some sort of
thoughtful warning. " Oh don't worry dear, it's quite alright that speeding car that
just sped past us was truly British" Or perhaps they just hoofed off with it on the
back off a lorry to be fly tipped somewhere just out of habit? Was it just a joke? Or
possibly some poor impoverished widow, who was in need of a duvet cover with style, for
one of her seven children by different father's bedroom quilt? Or was it done by some
other person or persons with a more sinister motive and if that was the case has anyone
sold a tin of lighter fuel and a box of matches anywhere? Who knows?
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I tell you all now, I think its all part of a
wider government conspiracy, to rid us of all things indigenous. Thus smoothing the way
for a new area of "Euopricia" (my term) for the new European state, funded
exclusively by all states just as long as they have UK in their title. In return for
our efforts we would see the creation of tens of thousands of office boys, bankers, (I
chose the first letter carefully) and clerical idea stormers, all working to the common
goal of official red tape and directive nonsense.
With all the cloth from our flags they collect, they would then recycle the material
and turn it into just enough rope to hang themselves collectively. Justifiably the rest of
us commoner non public school nobodies, could go out and rejoice in the best days work
they'd ever done for us, and celebrate with a new bank, or to be politically correct, a
new peoples republic holiday! Preferably after the powers that be set in stone the annual
Easter weekend, with his eminence's permission of course! Return our "time"
permanently to Greenwich Mean Time, gives me the right to actually get through and speak
to a doctor at 8.30 on a Monday morning, and not forgetting to take the tax of petrol and
put it on hoodies and police cameras instead!
Then, just then might I feel like we were beginning to move forward into the twenty first
century. With just a little to look forward to. Instead of, as now, being in the knowledge
that I, like many others are now going to be over two hundred quidsies down a year. Well
bang goes my Grand National flutter next year for a start, along with my subscription to
Mortgages R Us, and my biannual trip to Crich Tram museum with the small post office
workers general union! And with that cheerful note I'd like to say keep up the good work
Mr Lamb. I'm sure someone up there in president Blaire /Brown's (Change the name not the
letter married for worse and not for better) office will take note, log and inwardly
digest all your efforts, and then, quite politely tell you where you can shove it. They've
been doing it to us, the general public for years.
So good luck folks. And on that note I will bid you good bye until next time, take care
now,
Vic. |