Post 264. YEP, MORE POLITICS.

FOR YOU PERHAPS.
Not for me.

Following that Bristol lady Brenda's much publicised disgust at Teresa May's snap election decision, the respected (by me, anyway) i columnist Simon Kelner hastened to decry Brenda's attitude on the grounds that we should all welcome every opportunity to vote, however repetitious or inconvenient we may feel it to be, because many people fought and died to give us our voting rights.
Whilst I instinctively side with Mr. Kelner on just about everything, I really do not think that people inveigled into two world wars saw the voting rights of future generations as their prime reason for going to war, let alone for enduring the all too oft ineptitude of their top brass. Neither do I believe that most wartime conscripts sent to the front gave a toss about what sent them there; most of them went because they had no choice and because they wanted to get the whole mess over with as quickly as possible, to get back home and to never talk about it again.
No. When it comes to it, I'm with the lady from Bristol on this one.
Another election? Not for me, thanks.
Oh, I'll go to the polling booth. But I know, no matter how much of a wet plank it may be (viz the one who has just resigned) or whatever guise it adopts, a Tory will be elected over here.
And if I wasn't so bloody-minded I'd stay at home.
C'est la vie.
TELEVISION.
Our recent choices.

 Broadchurch (ITV): we watched series 3 and were reminded yet again that Britain is home to some of the finest acting talent in the world.
The Wright Stuff (Channel 5) frontman Matthew Wright apparently does not agree with that opinion. Well, not when it comes to Broadchurch anyway. In advance of looking in on the last series he dismissed it (to television critic Kevin O'Sullivan) as "more over-acting."
Hell, what does he know?
The Boss (BBC 1) is a new daytime quiz show hosted by Glaswegian actress, writer and comedian, Susan Calman. She is good. The format is tiresome.
World Snooker (BBC 2) We have been mesmermized again by those skilful enough to grace the tables at The Crucible, Sheffield, this year. My Leader has taken to calling me away from my computer when one or another of the participants is making an interesting break. Y'don't get more hooked than that. Not in this house y'don't.
I would look in more, but I get fed up with the verbal diarrhoea that engulfs every shot: John Virgo is particularly guilty. I do wish he'd shut up. Don't tell me it's for the visually impaired. He just likes the sound of his own voice.
Ah well. 

 

Post 263. AND ANOTHER THING

ABOUT GROWING OLD.
You sleep a lot.

When you grow old (unless you are a nocturnal nonagenarian or an indefatigable insomniac), you are inclined to sleep a lot.
The cat Shadow and I can sleep for England. It is our chosen sport. He is kipping right now in one of his favourite spots, my old armchair. Background piano music courtesy of John Ogden and Daniel Adni - a very elderly tape - and me here at the computer trying to look as though I am not at all likely to fall asleep at any second. It's our sort of afternoon. Before I do doze off, though, I must relay my thanks to all of you who expressed concern and sympathy at Shadow's recent brush with the more dangerous side of cat life. I am glad to report he is making excellent progress.
ABOUT THE DVLA.
You instinctively know.

When you grow old you instinctively know there will be no fucking justice. My Leader insisted we make an approach to the money grabbing political pawns in Swansea to seek a possible reversal of the eighty quid fine imposed on us for our wholly unintentional failure to pay the thirty quid or so vehicle license on our little car last year (Post 259).
I was agin any further dealings with them.
“They've been paid more than three times our annual fee now,” I said, “and no matter how good you think your argument is, they won't give a penny back. Trust me.”
But, bless her, she is still soft hearted enough to believe there might be kindly reason out there, so she drafted a letter and I signed it and off it went and in due course we had a missive from a minion described as an Enforcement Officer saying that s/he had reviewed the information provided and had “found nothing to support withdrawal of the Late Licensing Penalty.”
(In other words: Up Yours!)
All the letter actually amounted to was a lame set of reasons why the DVLA can never be wrong. e.g. “Your driver's license details are separate to those of your vehicle, therefore you are required to notify us separately using your V5C.” (Your what?).
Well, they do proudly boast that they collect around £6 billion a year in Vehicle Excise Duty (VED). And now that the Brexiteers are in power they are going to be collecting even more (at least £130/£140 per car per year w.e.f. April Fools' Day 2017 – ain't that appropriate?).
Furthermore, their offices are in Swansea (which cannot help but remind an old geezer like me of the nursery rhyme Taffy was a Welshman).
So the Enforcement Officer's decision (on behalf of the Secretary of State for Transport) “concludes the dispute process and we will not consider any further information from you about the case.”
We-e-ll, I never thought they would, so it's water under the bridge.
The future for the motorist in this country was settled years ago with the MP (probably a transport minister) who snootily proclaimed: “The motorist is a buoyant source of revenue.”
Motorists in this deferential little country have been finding out just how bloody buoyant ever since and, no doubt, will continue so to do ad infinitum.

                       (see W.Heath Robinson)
Happy driving, buddies.