On that rare occasion when I was
actually fast asleep at 4am the puppy started chewing my hand. That woke me up.
I got up, emptied the dishwasher and watched another episode of “You Rang M’Lord”. Captain Dalby had been
located, and Lady Lavender didn’t throw her porridge (which was seen by all as something of a result). When the DVD
finished I again found thet “Brideshead
Revisited” was playing. Charles was drowning in honey. He did that a lot in
the late 1920s.
I’d had an email overnight from the
Environment Agency telling me my fishing licence was about to expire and
offering me the opportunity to renew it on-line. That saved a load of farting
around.
I was just about to check Facebook when
an enormous crash from upstairs told me the dogs had just jumped off of the
bed. When they get up it sounds as though they are coming through the ceiling.
Once I’d tiddled them they both went back to sleep, and I then managed to find
that very little had happened on Facebook overnight. That was probably for the
best bearing in mind their antics in the news yesterday.
In the past I’ve reported the various
bits of filth that has been directed at me on that social platform and they’ve
done nothing. Over the last few days the BBC have reported to Facebook’s own
watchdogs one hundred pictures on their site featuring child pornography. In the
first instance the people at Facebook claimed that eighty two of these depraved
pictures didn’t breach any of their community standards, but when challenged by
the BBC they then reported the BBC to the police over the very pictures that
had appeared on their own web site. They quite happily run child porn but won’t
allow me to use an alias.
Go figure.
As I drove to work the pundits on the
radio were interviewing Michael Heseltine. The eighty-three year old chap is
one of the longest serving politicians of our age and he’s been sacked from his
position in government because he voted with his conscience rather than voting
how the Prime Minister wanted him to. Whether he voted for the right thing or
not is immaterial; he did what he felt the right thing was and openly defended his
position on live national radio.
Personally I think it sucks that the
Prime Minister didn’t have the guts to tell him he was sacked personally, but
did it via some press release.
I stopped off at Aldi to get some
bogroll. As I got out of my car I was harangued by a passing idiot. Did I know
where Borough Green Railway station was? I said I thought it was about fifteen
miles away. The idiot shouted that it was eight miles away and rammed his
mobile phone under my nose to show it on Google Navigation. Sure enough it was
only eight miles away. I conceded my inaccuracy. However the idiot was unable
to follow the voice directions from his phone. To work out where he was, he
wanted to know the name of the nearby road (Hermitage
Lane) and was incensed that I was unsure as to whether the other road was
the A20. He wasn’t impressed when I told him I neither knew nor cared what the
road was; I knew the way to work and that was enough for me. He started ranting
that he needed to get to the railway. I offered to lead him to Barming railway
station (a mile up the road), but he
wanted Borough Green railway station. I suggested he followed the directions of
the very sat-nav app he was still thrusting at me; he seemed to take this very
sensible suggestion as a personal affront.
I left him to it, and went to get my
bogroll.
I got to work and did my thing. And with
my thing done I came home. The pundits on the radio were discussing the
afternoon’s budget, but it was clear that the discussions and pontifications
were all rather spur-of-the-moment. Hopefully they will have a more considered
view in the morning.
Sometimes they do…
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