Sunday 26th June – Bonkers Britain is getting scabby


I’m bored with talking about Europe.

Annabelle is bored of me talking about Europe.

The dog has been spotted staring longingly at the shelf where we keep the Thai travel guides and Mike and Ike, the hamsters, haven’t been seen since Thursday night.

So given that it appears that my Dalmatian would rather run the risk of emigrating to a country where he would likely end up as ‘Pad Krapow Woof Saap’ rather than listen to any more Europe talk, and before he packs his wormers and chew toys for good, I must implore that we bring an end to Bonkers-Britain.

I think that Outside-Europe is better than Inside-Europe for lots of reasons but, it has to be said, the issue of lightbulbs is quite high up my own personal agenda and really, I’m not sure if it’s worth getting to the point where we are revisiting the miners strike over interior lighting.

tsdoasm21Social media has turned into a verbally frenzied war zone which, it is absolutely true, I’ve gleefully engaged in.

In my defence though, I thought we were all just having a bit of banter for a laugh.

My intention in adding my two pennies was simply and only to wind people up for a bit of sport (you know, first one to make his ears bleed wins) it rained a lot of yesterday and I didn’t have anything else much to do.

I was Scooby-Less what to say when one old schoolfriend of mine labelled another old schoolfriend of mine ‘thick as shit’ and a ‘grubby little moron’ – plans were being madetsdoasm21 last time I checked in for Friend-One and Friend-Two to meet up at a local pub and kick the living sheet out of each other.

Back in the mid-eighties the term ‘scab’ was thrown about to refer to a person who didn’t agree with another person.

Charming right?

Yesterday in Peterborough people were leaving notes telling the Polish vermin to go home?

Yesterday on Facebook, people were calling Brexit voters scum.

Hector the dog can’t be the only one to think this reaction totally bonkers.

I no longer care whether we are in or whether we are out, it really isn’t worth losing my friends or my hamsters over.

If this situation gets any better, by noon tomorrow we’ll all be rolling in glass.


Friday 24th June – Independence Day

Well I need some new underwear.

I watched all night and around two-thirty this morning, the exit campaign was looking a bit shaky, but here we are; the voters voted, the electorate elected and the upshot is that, just as the Americans did back in 1776, Britain has opted to declare it’s independence from remote rule.

For the baying mob that attacked Boris Johnson outside his house this morning, well that was classy and sure did make me proud not to be a part of their version of what’s British.

Nothing supports a political perspective more than a bunch of petulant children chucking their toys out of their pram because things didn’t go their way, I don’t know quite what the torch-wielding villagers hoped to achieve but, from where my bloodshot eyes were peering at the tele, it appeared to fly directly in the face of the ‘Bremain’ claims of tsdoasm21tolerance.

Anyhoo, I shall, as my mother taught me, give gloating a swerve and I think it’d be super cool if the torch-wielders could remember that nobody likes a sore loser.

For me, the real tragedy here is Dave’s decision to throw himself on his own sword.

Back in May 2010 I wrote this diary entry about the results of the General Election.

At that point in my life I was pretty firmly in the red camp and wasn’t terribly impressed with the idea of a Tory-Boss-Man but with the passing of the intervening years, watching David Cameron at the helm of our country, I have been forced to eat my own words.

When I’m wrong, I’m wrong and I’m happy to put my hands up and say so.

I have been interested in politics since I was still in long socks, it was unavoidable in my home as every meal was accompanied by political debate. Over the decades I have seen Prime Ministers come and go so, despite my being late to the Camp-David party, I have to say, unequivocally, that I have been more impressed with David Cameron’s political dignity and statesmanship than ever before.

By anybody.

He won me over because he led this country from the front and I’m gutted that he isn’t going to be the guv’nor during the challenging months and years that Britain now has to come.tsdoasm21

Thank you for your service and contribution Mr Cameron.

Thank you for giving Britain the opportunity to decide whether it wanted to be in the European Union or not.

That was a brave decision and I am convinced that it was done because you put the British people’s wishes ahead of your own career ambitions.

Annabelle and I heard your voice break during your speech this morning and my fourteen year old daughter went on to sob that she will always remember you as the politician who behaved like a grown-up.

I however, will always remember you as the Prime Minister who allowed Top Gear to undertake a trade mission to India.

Which was awesome.

But, irrespective, one thing is for sure; after the events of the last twenty-four hours, I think we can all agree on one thing.

You will definitely be remembered.


Tuesday 21st June – In or out?

Whether I am in, or whether I am out appears to have become a hot topic lately and whilst the thrust of the in/out discussion is heavily slanted towards Europe, for me, there is a far more pressing take it or leave it area of jibber-jabber to masticate upon.

New Top Gear.

Not really Top Gear.

Flop Gear.

Now it may well be that not having Jeremy Clarkson on the payroll was a decision that the BBC felt was unavoidable after the ‘incident’ and it may well be true that, whatever the blur and the blah of the whole fracas, that a message had to be sent to the public generale that armed combat is never the solution to supper related disagreements.

It may well be that hands were tied and corners were well and truly backed into.

But that’s not the issue here at all.

What I’m really grinding on is that the BBC think it’s okay to try and replicate their cavalier disregard for character continuity (a la Eastenders) and are hoping we won’t notice that the show created by the genius of Clarkson, May and Hammond is continuing as if nothing ever happened.

Perhaps the BBC had one of their vveerrryyy long meetings in one of their strangely named meeting rooms and decided that slaying the Top-Gear-Goose would constitute a financially related dick move of epic proportions. Perhaps they figured that the format inspired by the three amigos’ unique creativity, talent and industry knowledge was just too golden-ticketish to shelve.

Perhaps they thought they’d just try and turn Clarkson into lemonade.

Perhaps they thought it was more environmentally friendly to keep the money rolling in whilst dumping the brains-ziz behind the show.

Well, not if the environment is my bloody sitting room.

I haven’t watched it.

I cover my eyes when the trailers come on.

Shall not. Will not. No. No. No. Ain’t gonna happen.

I don’t care what Chris Evans thinks about cars, I don’t know why his opinion on cars would be of any interest to anybody, I mean, what’s his pedigree here?

I know the show’s about cars and I know that he does indeed have some but, to be fair, so does my Aunty June.

I wouldn’t seek out her opinion on one of the largest purchases I’m ever likely to make either.

The woman makes a mean cheese omelette, and it sure does make me giggle when she insists that people who work in car-park ticket booths do so because they have tails, but her depth of knowledge on anything four-wheeled is limited to switching it on and switching it back off again.

I really don’t want to see the japes and scrapes synonymous with Real-Top-Gear frantically recreated with uncomfortable desperation in order to drum up some humour
and laughs.


And The Stig? Well he belongs with JC, it really is that simple.

I have to be a little careful here because I love Matt LeBlanc, I mean he’s Joey, it would be sacrilege to malign but dude, dump this gig like toxic waste, concentrate on Episodes (which is fab by the way) the British public love you but very soon Real-Top-Gear will be returning and the novelty of Flop-Gear will wane.

No, as far as I’m concerned; when it comes to the matter of Flop-Gear, I’m most definitely out.

Interestingly when it comes to the matter of Great Britain remaining in the EU, I’m also out.

Maybe I’m alone in this, maybe I’m all kinds of wrong, maybe my mood-ring is just a filthy shade of muddy-brown today, but I’m a believer in the fact that what’s good and what’s original should be left intact and unmolested.

Admittedly the BBC don’t have the best track record when it comes to identifying when things are in danger of being molested, but you’d’a thought they’d’ve become a bit clued in by now.

And while we’re at it, let’s get Europe’s hand out of our underwear too.

So, to summarise, mystery unmysteried.

I’m out.

All the way out.