Britain oh dear Britain

Interesting item about an outbreak of ' ice cream wars' in jolly old Blackburn Lancashire. It appears that a turf war erupted between a Mr. Softee and Mr. Creamy or whatever stupid name is involved that resulted in weapons bared and a court appearance before one of Her Majesties judges.
Now it's not the rights and wrongs of the matter that are of interest but the names of the involved parties. Mr. Softee is Ibrahim al Jacuzzi and Mr. Creamy's moniker is Abdul Abulbul Emir or similar. The crowning piece is that the video footage taken by a bystander and filed on U Tube is credited to Alal Abdullah the Fourth. Distinctly not traditional British names.
I noticed at the school today that this weeks studies were all about Diwali and the reading stage was on a book about Sita. As the village has four takeaways staffed by people who live elsewhere I enquired of one of the teaching assistants the necessity for such a lesson. It was explained to me that it was part of the curriculum as all religeous festivals were at the appropriate ti9me of the year. With such a generous approach to education I enquired what Christian festivals were incorporated. 'Ther's the nativity play next month for any that are interested' was the reply.
Britain oh dear Britain

Another wet, miserable, pissing it down day that endears the English climate to my wistful soul. The local river bridge has been closed  because of an extra high tide and the only pub open on this side is populated by persons of the Romany tendency. Fortunately the local ASDA produced sufficient cans and bottles of an alcoholic nature that should keep me in blissful ignorance of the country and floods until tomorrow at least.
I don't usually watch the MSM version of what lies they consider news but pick up on relevant points from the internet and other bloggers. It was interesting to note that the chairman ,sorry chair, of the Chelsea Supporters Club has threatened to keep the current hate against their new Spanish manager going until the end of the season. This must please the proponents of multi-culturalism as the his name is Baggoretini or similar and twenty supporting comments came from people with very un-British names.
Iwonder if the orange dog turds around my district are anything to do with football or any other sport for that matter as their appearance is of a most regular nature. If not I'll go along with the post office owner who declares that it is all down to Jimmy Saville.
If there are any readers out there please feel free to post a comment even if it's only 'fuck off you boring twat'.

General Thoughts 2

Orange dog turds and young mothers are totally out of the window today as for various reasons I've only made one trip to the holding cell six and a half hour long environment that our glorious goverments grant us for children relief.
Reading the comments and 'news' items on other blogs I'm reminded of three very pertinent things;
1. All CEOs of fake charities (Alcohol Aware, Banardos, ASH etc ) are either women or men who have totally embraced their feminine side. ( whatever the fuck that is)
2. All of them, especially the women, are horrendously ugly.
3. People appearing in our courts have distinctly un-british names.
4. People representing them have distinctly un-british names.
5. Judges handing out the sentences have distinctly un-british names.
6. Persons stabbed or shot in the less salubrious regions of our cities have distinctly un-british names.
7. Footballers and managers in our great and famous Premier League have distinctly un-british names.
Can all be the cause of Global Warming?

General Thoughts

I had a quick recce this morning on the school run but the scything rain that lashed the backs, fronts and heads of the staggering children had washed away any remnants of the orange turds. Pity as my mode of transport, slowly crawlimg in the car, would have been an excellent method of catching up with any defecating animal, Pikey, resident, or frightened alien. For those who wonder why I was crawling in the car it was to keep pace with the children who were of course walking.
I did exit the vehicle at the school as the headmistress has some objection to motor vehicles in the playground, doubtless caused by travelling families who think they can park anywhere and totally ignore using the swings as a simple drop off point.
Carefully scanned the young mothers but quite naturally their tattoos were concealed by layers of rain proof clothing. Pity as I have a theory that some of the cheaper Ts may well run in wet conditions and bugger up the chinese menus printed on some necks. A chicken Chow Mein could change into Fried Prawn Bollocks and cause chaos in the lifeof the innocent passer -by who copied it down in good faith. Always use the printed menu I say and then you've got 'em in black and white.
I notice the news feed is trumpeting about the Cof E telling women bishops to bugger off and of course all the all knowing MPs critisising them for it. Why can't these useless morons in parliament stick to fiddling their expenses instead of shoving their noses into matters that don't concern them. Ye Gods any married man must shudder at the thought of giving these pushy women any higher standing to blow their own trumpets and inflict their will upon everybody else.

Not much to report this day. The howling wind caused the young mothers to wear tattoo concealing clothing and even the trousers seem to be more warming than skin tight.
Still nice to see that the Israelis are still chucking shit at the Hamas mobsters. It might be an idea for the pillock Cameron to encourage Israeli immigrants to settle in some of our major cities. Bradford, Leeds, Dewsbury, Birmingham and London spring to mind as being places that a little more multi - ethnicity might improve.
Tremendous amount of the orange dog crap around today including one stretch about a twenty yards long. Theories exchanged with the school crossing lady include the possibilities that the cause could be a slightly mad resident or ab alien visitor whose spacecraft is stuck in the local slagheap and has no way of emptying his inter-galactic midden. We shall see.

I have not been very informative on the subject of orange dog turds recently but never fear that I have grown tired of the seemingly relentless task of seeking the perpetrator. It was only last Friday that I spotted a deposit on the pavement outside the entrance to the vaguely Asian newsagents emporium and, for early afternoon, it was still steaming. As you will know these mouldering satanic piles have always been found cold and dried after a darkened night of mysterious happenings, so does this indicate that the canine dropper is getting careless or perhaps too confident in its actions?
I will remain 'qui vive' even though the school run convoy duties caress so much of my time.

After five months of a non blogging nature I find myself drawn back to an incomprehensible desire to express my own thoughts to the public in general.
I'll start in a gentle fashion leaving such things as the 'alien' orange dog turds and the reprehensible behaviour of the local tartetry for future posts. I will indeed try to write daily although the weekeds may prove to be difficult in which I'll be a five day blogger!
To sum the day up I've consumed three pork pies ( extra to to my meals of course), mentally smoked two full packets of brightly coloured and manufacturer impressed cigarettes, partly supped through several bottles of reasonably strong ale ( the rest is to follow), and spent a very pleasant time following an old alchemist instruction on re-creating the Pied Piper.
I think that fills all my social obligations for one day.