tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66634944304429257242024-02-20T20:50:19.625-08:00Darren WorrowAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-22682772611860074972017-09-01T12:48:00.001-07:002017-09-02T04:29:08.490-07:00No Surprises Living in Devizes: Musical Madness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVP32-DhfnCYhqiduwVaii1r_YjAgKrZX_uxXRr1FMIvHfiaLp1vKZKckm-YRa-aq6U1diWCwGWkSi_9ShhxGJBTDC70xZ-3hYVPbe7bW2wKUMtZwh9YipfHAl22v-cf7KolP4DM-xb_0/s1600/richie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="746" data-original-width="560" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVP32-DhfnCYhqiduwVaii1r_YjAgKrZX_uxXRr1FMIvHfiaLp1vKZKckm-YRa-aq6U1diWCwGWkSi_9ShhxGJBTDC70xZ-3hYVPbe7bW2wKUMtZwh9YipfHAl22v-cf7KolP4DM-xb_0/s320/richie.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Richie Triangle</div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Back yonder,
in the early days of scribing articles for Index, I reported my surprise upon
wandering in the Black Swan and finding it renovated to the charming place
Devizes hipsters know it as today. At the time, I was adamant I wasn’t there
for antique shopping, stating “I’m not David Dickenson; I’ve come here for
atmosphere, a pint and some live music, the quality of all above my
expectations. To suit the off-beat character transforming the place a young
Irish singer stands at the windowed alcove grasping his guitar with passion.”</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That singer
was, of course, Richie Triangle, and he bought a sense of cheerfulness with
spritely enthusiasm, good humour and talented performances. Alas his campervan
out back of the pub is no longer, Richie has been travelling, but we’ll still
recall him busking in the Brittox and just his short stay in our town, he
gained a local following.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Well it
seemed we’ve good taste in Devizes, as Richie found success on his adventures
and has hooked up with Adrian Sherwood’s ground-breaking On-U-Sound studio, to
record “Made from Broken Pieces,” an album of original material, all written by
him.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">In his own
words, Richie is, “describing and sympathising with all our situations. How
despite being broken, beaten and battered, we’re still here, alive and strong,
and have many crazy tales to tell.” The concept stemming from a rock climbing
accident Richie suffered while travelling India.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Paralysed from
the waist down, it was a struggle to make it back to the UK. “After much
determination and most of 2015 in a wheelchair,” Richie explains, “I managed to
rehabilitate enough to be able to stand, and in time, walk. I couldn't sit
around, and I absolutely had to get back in the music.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Good news is
Richie is back in town, playing the Crown on Saturday, thanks to the
magnificent Marland Music. This will make the ideal after-carnival party and hopefully,
he’ll have copies of this acoustic magnum opus, with hauntingly sublime backing
sounds, akin to a modern James Taylor or Neil Young. Or, you can download it
for a tenner here: </span><a href="https://www.richietriangle.com/"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: "calibri";">https://www.richietriangle.com/</span></span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>bargain. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Other
after-carnival parties are available; Stuart Beck performs at Times Square,
Mike Barham belts out classics at the Moonrakers, DJ Ramon’s getting funky at
the Southgate (with BBQ.)<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>What am I,
some kind of human event calendar now? Bloody cheek, might start singing in the
Market Square myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Fear not,
that will not happen, not with Black Rat Monday out of the way.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">While on the
musical subject, I was lucky enough to be treated to an exclusive preview of
the newly formed “Full Tone Orchestra,” at a rehearsal for their performance of
Iconic Themes on 16<sup>th</sup> September at the Corn Exchange. After just
three rehearsals I can confirm they sound totally awesome and this should be a spectacular
night as they accomplish numerous film scores.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Invited by
the ever-busy Jemma Brown, who is promoting the event with husband Anthony, the
conductor. I arrived fashionably late to which Jemma whispered I’d missed,
“Game of Thrones.” Fussed about this I was not, for it’s not something I’ve
followed, rather I favour I arrived just on time as they moved onto the Star
Wars theme with boundless energy, and this is much more up my street.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Having to
close my eyes and allow the music to envelope me, rather than let my eyes
wander over the school hall or the musicians attempting to concentrate, I could
almost imagine Darth Vader striding up the corridor like the headmaster from a
netherworld.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span><span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">An attempt to bring the uplifting sounds of an
orchestra to the Devizes masses, I’ve seen first-hand the hard work and
dedication the Full Tone Orchestra are putting into this performance, I heard
them still going for it hours later when the wind blew in the right direction
and I was taking the recycling bins out!</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">All this and
the anticipation of awesome Swindon based two-tone ska band, The Killer-Tones
returning to our Con Club on 21</span><span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><sup>st</sup></span><span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"> October, with Easily Led
supporting, courtesy of The Devizes Scooter Club, you can’t say for a town this
size, #nothingeverhappensindevizes hashytag or no hashytag.</span><br />
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For people having issues accessing Index recently, here is my mid-week special column again:</div>
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<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">No Surprises Living in Devizes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">“Is this… I mean, are we still in
Devizes?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWoUKZZljgVYWvJVeT8qbeDhum4g8Wb_sTzEskcHCVgGf_CieDZo2xcUDanjobeLlRYdyI0FlgDuAnWXpED8bvWtwSwFvBnypePyUKys9I2iyqayXji-b9NNubrQX4vGrhfT87jcHhV8/s1600/gail+foster+carnival.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWoUKZZljgVYWvJVeT8qbeDhum4g8Wb_sTzEskcHCVgGf_CieDZo2xcUDanjobeLlRYdyI0FlgDuAnWXpED8bvWtwSwFvBnypePyUKys9I2iyqayXji-b9NNubrQX4vGrhfT87jcHhV8/s400/gail+foster+carnival.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Photo used with kind permission of Gail Foster </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">I’m in the Market Place, minding my own, when grass verges
take human form and saunter. I gawk to the bottom of a bio-cup pondering how
many of these I’ve had.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">The taxi rank appears to have metamorphosed into an
inflatable slide on which toddlers merrily bound. The Corn Exchange has grown a
metallic structure, protruding from its façade, upon which a contemporary brass
band play a funky Jungle Book anthem. Circus strongmen in stripy leotards
mingle, showing off muscles and their Salvador Dali pencil moustaches, and a
little girl chats on an old phone while her chair and oak desk manoeuvres down
the Brittox and into Boots.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">Children queue at a Wiltshire Museum stall to make coins, as
the curator gives the press a harder thump and devotedly explains the process. There’s
a seadog in his sailing boat, with a cloud on a pole attached to the stern, on
the High Street, and at the corner by the bank there’s a fresh aroma of lemonade.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">People balance upon tightropes through the trees, and
children gather outside the Bear Hotel to play inventive wooden puzzles while
fascinated pensioners smile, casting off the pigeonhole which states kids
require electronic devises to maintain enthusiasm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">Everybody’s in their silliest hats, washing down Thai
takeout, soul food or kangaroo burgers with unique cider and ale, soaking up
the sun, of all crazy occurrences. They chat and laugh, asking each other, “is this…I
mean, are we still in Devizes?” while a romantic on stilts offers a girl the
hanging basket from the Town Hall. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">It’s not just me, things are abnormal I ponder, as children
sway on swing-boats near the monument where people usually squabble over parking
spaces, and the pubs and cafes mould into the surroundings, adding their own
entertainment and grub. Either it’s the fiesta rechristened, “Black Rat Monday”
by aficionados of the “British” (Lion) stand, I’ve had too many of them
already, DOCA have knocked the ball out of the park for another year, and we’ve
not even reached carnival weekend yet, or all three blazed into one glorious
celebration.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">Now you should know by now, this is a rant column, and I’m
not one to mince my words; if it needs criticising then look no further. Plucking
hairs, there could’ve been a DJ or at least some tunes during the intervals, the
music could have been sprightlier and I’d like to see an acoustic tent
showcasing local talent, although circus acts filled the gaps, I note Larkin
busking in the Brittox, and confess, shamefully, I missed the last band which
sounded right up my street and bashing my door down.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">Merrily I wandered home along the canal, since the
better-half drove the exhausted kids back earlier. Along the towpath life
continued as longboats sailed through the locks, seemingly oblivious to the
activities in town. I stopped on a bench past the café, where some swans
dredged their wings and an old lady looked out across the run-off pools. She
strolled over, sparked a conversation, explaining her family had temporarily
abandoned her to take tea in the café, but she didn’t feel she could walk any
further, and then she sat down. She was from Andover and among subjects of our
tête-à-tête, such as war years (she was 83 and proudly told me,) and children today;
she announced that she thought this place was lovely. I looked across the
rolling downs beyond Caen Hill and the sun which was setting above it, a scene
I’ve seen time and time again, and I humbly agreed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">I never get bored of the beauty of “this place,” and if we
can see that, as if we would for the first time, and we can go out and
celebrate life in our simple way, we don’t need a Glastonbury Festival sized
gala, just our humble do, we’re truly lucky my friend. So, as the celebrations are
to continue this week, some-kind of fun paint conflict, the bizarre Confetti
Battle, (Wednesday) the carnival parade (Saturday) and free side-events, such
Children’s Proms in Hillworth Park on Sunday, (2-4pm,) cast off petty
squabbling, our political, social and financial differences, and enjoy the
moment, hailing DOCA for the amazing show they’ve given us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">Now, where did I put my Black Rat? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">Yeah that one, the one the dragonfly just crash-landed into;
thanks, yeah, yeah, this is Devizes.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/No-Surprises-Living-Devizes-Annual-ebook/dp/B06X9MQ38J/" target="_blank">Get the No Surprises Living in Devizes Annual 2016-17</a></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-86372959011768686222017-08-05T09:05:00.000-07:002017-08-05T09:05:00.731-07:00Read Some Noize; Spannered by Bert Random
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’ve dropped the kids off and now it’s just you and the
open road. You take the Little Mix CD out of the player and slip one of your
own choosing in, intending to relive your misspent youth. Despite the fond
memories it may provoke, half-hour into your “rave anthems” you feel a headache
and need a little lie down.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you’re the forty-something who spent their younger days
bopping in a field with a posse you only just met, grinding teeth and sporting
eyes like saucers, but now the shebang is reduced to a couple of rave tapes you
couldn’t bear to bin and a head swirling with shards of misplaced memories,
then this could be the way to glimpse those heady days without menacing the
family with a chewed-up 91 Easygroove mixtape whilst washing the dishes.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Spannered by Bert Random, is a book which lacks plot but
compensates by sculpting a literary representation of an era habitually mislaid
by media. Photographically records are scarce, videos rarer; unlike modern
generations who take being filmed as regular, free ravers shunned anyone
pulling out a camera. So, we’re left with muddled stories passed down like
Uncle Albert with a glow-stick, and Human Traffic, a film which although had
the potential to be our Easy Rider, turned out too paisley to truly define the
period.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For Spannered centres first person narrative around a single
Bristol free party, set in 1995 it spares no mercy from eloquent, expressive
depictions of the music, culture and mad party people surrounding him, as well
as chronicling the views, sentiments and highs sloshing around in the protagonist’s
intoxicated mind.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It offers a uniquely accurate portrayal of the rave
generation and would be suitable, as I suggested, for all once-party people
looking for a stick to poke at their memories, but also anyone interested or
researching the mood of the period.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s no textbook, reveals no factual data of certain events
and makes no claim to be a bible of statistics; just an account of pure hedonism.
Although a few memorable parties are referenced, it’s basically an elucidation
of an illegal gathering and its aftermath through the eyes of an attendee. It
leaves those in the know tingling to return to that happy place through
gorgeous descriptive representations, acute observations most would have
forgotten in the mists of a comedown, and realistic portrayals of that once
popular scene.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At times, Spannered contains experimental syntax, with word
repetition or expanded terms to assist you visualise their status, if you’re
knowledgeable of rave culture, it works. It dips a toe into humour, in so much
as the free party was nothing but fun, and it washes the story out with the
gradual return to reality in such a way you feel like crashing out on a sofa
with a tinny or three, and perpetual beats rinsing your neurons.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A homage to life in the 90s, Spannered is a petite pocket of
psychedelic exposé, uncensored and definite, with musical references and some
appealing illustrated chapter divides. You need to digest this, whistle posse.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><a href="http://spanneredbooks.com/"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: Calibri;">http://spanneredbooks.com/</span></a></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-25018050704824022452017-06-11T05:44:00.001-07:002017-06-11T06:11:46.289-07:00No Surprises Living in Devizes: Sling and Stone<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No Surprises
Living in Devizes</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sling and
Stone</span></h2>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">David sleuth
Goliath with a sling and a stone, but this election reminded me more of the
scene in Independence Day when they fired their nukes at the mothership without
effect.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The promise Corbyn
would become prime minster if she lost six seats a fleeting illusion, but it
reflected the theme of the banned song; she’s a liar, she lost twelve. But we
knew that anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Too
thick-skinned to take a hint, the creature still breathes. If you run down a
rabbit and it’s fighting for its life, the humane thing to do is finish it off.
Maybe only an internal vote of no confidence will slay the conceited fiend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After
deflecting a self-harming manifesto targeting prime tory voters, as well as the
poor, with a campaign built on falsely claiming Corbyn was a terrorist
sympathiser, how did Mayday end? In desperation she jumped into bed with anyone
who’d have her, and a blanket of irony covers the country like a storm cloud,
because the only ones mental enough to grant her wish are a bunch of terrorists
themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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So we can
now add compulsory creationism class in schools and outlawing abortion and same
sex marriage to our burgeoning list of hateful and oppressive philosophies,
such as cutting police and school budgets, privatising the NHS and snooping on
internet usage. Miraculously she found the money tree, in a money forest, for
investment in Northern Ireland.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But despite
a £1,200,000 leaf was picked from said tree for sickening anti-Corbyn adverts,
and The Sun’s suggestion that you spike your teenagers with drugs to stop them
voting, ol’ Jezzer did alright-ish. He celebrated by slapping a boob; something
which only enhanced my respect for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/YWslURCokEo/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YWslURCokEo?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s just a
crying shame our backwards constituency couldn’t correspond with national
change; sad proof the majority here are selfish, brainwashed, or too posh to
care. I just want life to be a smidgen more peaceful; is this so wrong; they
shot John Lennon for it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I mean
listen to Imagine, no sane person could deny it’s simple but poignant message,
but it’s an idyllic dream. Easy to
romanticise about a world where all live in peace and harmony and whole
different ballgame to put into reality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Although John
wrote Imagine forty-two years ago, you’d think by now we could have at least considered
a theory for how we could go about it, being it’s such a cracking idea.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we, as his country of birth, could be the first to reach
out and make that change? Yeah, I thought so too; highly unlikely at the
moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/DVg2EJvvlF8/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DVg2EJvvlF8?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s
depressing; the political debating paused locally two days before the election
to agree on a post by Devizes Police where approximately hundred trees were
reported to be heavy pruned and sprayed with chemicals to kill them off at the
Jubilee Woodland project near Caen Hill. The event incomparable with happenings
in London, still the reasons for this calculated vandalism was met blank; quite
rightly, why anyone would do this was beyond understanding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s enough
to get Mr Happy down, but I promised we wouldn’t get political today; somebody
stop me! I’ve dispatched some friendly questions to Claire Perry, we’ll wait
for her to get back to me……..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But I have a
cure if you’re feeling down, discovered by bearing all at Calnefest last weekend,
and it’s raised a couple of points.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh no I hear
you cry, those crazy Calne-folk slipped Worrow a funny-fag and now he thinks he
has the answer for peace and harmony; not at all. See the photo, yeah
it’s Wilbur the Air Ambulance bear, but I’m his skeleton! What an awesome
experience, aside the fear I’d dehydrate in there, I’d recommend dressing in a
giant bear costume to anyone feeling down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For that
while you feel legendary, everyone loves you and wants a cuddle. The only issue
is when you “de-bear,” as those awesome air ambulance fundraising volunteers term
it; confusion rises, you think you’re still the bear and parents look concerned
that you’re waving enthusiastically at their kids!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’d like to
propose the election be fought in giant teddy-bear costumes, imagine the
entertainment value; Question Time would be attention-grabbing. Imagine Britain
First shouting their hate messages dressed as cuddly teddies! It mightn’t stop
Theresa from spewing fibs but least no one would be able to hear them!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The other
point about Calnefest was its simplicity and awesomeness; a great time was had
by all at the rec, with two stages, dance and comedy tents, plenty of food
stands and kid’s activities this really catered for all, and at a fair price
tag. I know we have events here in the Vizes, but we don’t have an all-in,
full-blown, family-sitting-on-the-lawn type festival. Somebody, take this
Calne-model and replicate it here; something I thought I’d never say! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-38970470143759149822017-06-07T11:04:00.002-07:002017-06-07T11:08:18.820-07:00No Surprises Living in Devizes (unedited)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Hello everyblobby, being it's the big day tomorrow and the last fortnight's worth of my humble column, with interviews from the our local Green and Labour candidates, have faced some pretty heavy editing, I thought it'd post the pieces as i originally wrote them; warts an all. <br />
<br />
So, hope you enjoy them and, ermm...... happy voting! (is that really a thing?)<br />
<span style="font-size: 24px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 24px; text-align: center;"> No Surprises Being Green in Devizes</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 24px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6skV17WFsKOpzMLZTU8FzghibBQrc0f-_TPontz4WLxPVVMRzx80xy85efv8O0l2mIpXJqMy-pmh7TEK8PafwbaWeOcWMq8gXabnXmw8hLH2yOBroOW49MSXj8TQ9S6fW8291QpSY9Ls/s1600/green+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6skV17WFsKOpzMLZTU8FzghibBQrc0f-_TPontz4WLxPVVMRzx80xy85efv8O0l2mIpXJqMy-pmh7TEK8PafwbaWeOcWMq8gXabnXmw8hLH2yOBroOW49MSXj8TQ9S6fW8291QpSY9Ls/s400/green+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">For scarce
local fruitcakes pondering amendment from the inflexible supercilious
Conservative regime mightn’t be a bad thing, I concluded with an acerbic but
obvious notion last week; the price we pay for amiability in this idyllic
location is selfish Tory dominance; bittersweet irony with cherries on top.</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The attitude
if you don’t like it you know where the M4 is, fading with the emergent tenet
Tories are kaput, and many media conditioned into assuming Corbyn is the kind
of hippy you avoid at Glastonbury, let’s look at another alternative; got to
try, or are there really no surprises living in Devizes?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What I find
most irritating is that it’s crucial now to address our environment, but such
issues are on the backburner in government and society, as if the world will
wait for us before it meltdowns. So I’m honoured to have a chinwag with the
Green Party Candidate for Devizes, Dr Emma Dawnay, to ask how they can increase
awareness of the subject.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“At the
moment most people tend to think of looking after the environment as something
we tack on to other policies –promoting growth and the consumption of ever more
things,” Emma says. “With these ideas if the economy is doing badly then
environmental policy tends to drop off the bottom of the priorities list.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“During my
lifetime we’ve become, on average, about three times richer than we were, but
are we any happier? It appears not much. Alternatively, it should be possible
to work three times less and still be able to consume as much as we did in the
1960s – but this is clearly not possible for most. Would you be happier if you
couldn’t buy so many things, but you could work less and have more free time to
study, be with friends, spend time with the children or look after loved ones?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Does that
need an answer? I’m happy with a fidget spinner and bag of onion rings as long
as it’s my day off. Emma continued, “What we need to do is to change the rules
of the economic system. This is what Green Party policy is all about; cutting
down on unsustainable consumption whilst increasing wellbeing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Emma
explained a decisive socialist strategy in which everyone receives a universal
basic income. “This has been shown to encourage young people to study, and
enables people to choose to look after their families. It avoids poverty traps
as no benefits are withdrawn if you start to work, so working always pays. This
is quite a radical change, so we’d advocate a pilot study first.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Radical
experimentation aside and looking at near-term ideas, The Green Party aims to
make environmental and financial benefits, such as home insulation. “We have
the least well insulated homes in Western Europe, making our heating bills
high,” Emma continued, “Pushing for national and local programmes to help
people insulate their homes better to save on heating bills makes sense; there
was a programme to do this, but cut by the Conservative government.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Talking of
Tories, who’ve thrown environmental issues in the unrecyclable trash, on the
assumption the Greens are a single-issue party, I put to Emma surely a tactical
vote in our constituency would be wiser. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“We are not
a single issue party!” Emma assured, “we have policies across the board which
will increase wellbeing and give people the financial motivation to live in a
more sustainable manner. For me our economic policies, on tax, investment and
the monetary system – are more important than rules on, for instance, plastic
bags, as they will have a far wider impact. I’m a political economist, and it
is the Green Party’s economic policies that convinced me to become Green.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Tactical
voting won’t make any difference here. We know that the Conservatives will win;
no other party is anywhere near. Why not vote with your heart and conscience?
But do please vote! Fewer Conservative votes will send them a message, you
might as well send the message you really believe in.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Prove it
then Emma, where do the Greens stand on the key issues; Brexit, the NHS and our
failing school system?!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Brexit,”
Emma was keen to point out, “Theresa May is going for an “all or nothing”
gamble with the EU, trying to get a special British-EU trade deal that has
nothing to do with the single market or the European Court of Justice. The EU
has clearly stated how they work, and such a deal is a non-starter. A hard
Brexit will be a disaster. We need a fall-back position. The Green Party
advocates giving everyone a vote to choose whether to adopt the final Brexit
deal or to remain in the EU, to make sure we don’t end up on a path which is
clearly not in the best interests of this country.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Cuts to
public services: The Conservatives believe this is the only answer to poor
public finances. It’s not – it’s a political choice. The government has the
option of borrowing (at 1% for 10 years, i.e. very cheaply) or taxing higher
earners and the wealthy more. The cuts the Conservatives are imposing are
almost all a false economy: cutting primary healthcare puts up costs as people
go to hospital more; cutting funding for schools means a less well trained
workforce for the future; cutting funding for prisons means more re-offending
and prison riots. We need to invest more in our public services!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“NHS: We
have a fantastic service but we pay less as a percentage of GDP than almost all
other rich countries. It needs to be better funded – not privatised. In the USA
there is much more private healthcare provision and they spend double the
amount we do on healthcare per person (and they don’t live as long). This is
not the way to go. The Green Party, Caroline Lucas, has tried to bring a NHS
reinstatement bill (to reverse privatisation) – and she’ll keep on trying.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m liking
this; but how do we defend our Utopia, I had to ask. I mean, what do we need
Trident for, if we're subject to nuclear attack we're pretty much dead anyway?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“We don’t
believe Trident makes us safer and the huge amount of money could make so much
difference to us if it was used elsewhere,” Emma told me. “I think possessing
nuclear weapons makes it more likely that we’ll be sucked into world conflicts,
which is a major worry with President Trump being somewhat erratic.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Somewhat
erratic being defined as stark raving lunatic in this instance, I might add. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Emma
continued, “Instead of putting so much effort into outdated irrelevant
technology, we need to make sure our service men and women are properly
equipped for the type of conflicts encountered today, and that we need to
develop a serious counter-cyber-attack capability for the future.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Phew, this
is like getting heavy dude, how’s about we bring it to a local level; local
matters for a local column? I was interested to know how much of an issue
pollution is in rural Wiltshire. Aside from congestion in our market towns due
to infrastructure, what other areas would Emma look into locally?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Air
pollution is one issue – levels in Devizes and Marlborough are about World
Health Organisation safe levels,” she informed. “Tackling this is partly about
having better alternatives to driving fossil-fuel vehicles: better bus services
and bringing rail links to Devizes and Marlborough, and by making cycling and
walking preferable by having attractive and safe cycle ways and pedestrian
routes. These are often likely to be implemented at the local council level,
however national laws affect what councils can do, and how much money they have.
The Green Party would re-nationalise railways.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Seems to me
there are plenty of small companies producing environmentally
friendly/biodegradable alternatives, but are shadowed by pressure from the
mainstream plastic and fuel industries. I wondered how the Greens would change
this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“There is a
huge problem that large multinational companies have too much lobbying power
and often can tilt the playing field to their advantage, through tax-loopholes
and by pressing for regulation that benefits their products. The Green Party is
trying to level the playing field to enable fair competition, and to implement
and support policies to encourage the use of environmentally friendly products.
This could be through increasing food and animal welfare minimum standards,
better labelling, or having higher fossil-fuel taxes to make products that use
less fossil-fuel in their manufacture more attractive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t
believe we can just persuade the majority of people to change to greener
lifestyles without changing the rules. Life is too complicated for most people
to bother about working out if the beans they buy in the supermarket are
environmentally friendly or not, and many people can’t afford the
environmentally friendly option anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
socialist idealism of the party may be a hard pill to swallow for many, in the
reality of capitalism, and one we could philosophise over till the cows come home, but the Green’s
baseline policies makes sense to me. I’d like to see these ideas having more
clout in Parliament; I’d like these guys to at least be given a fair hearing.
So I thank Emma for her time at this vital moment and long for the possibility
of a coalition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Corbyn
though stated he’s uninterested in a coalition, but upon receiving a rather
horrific and petty bias standard letter with my postal vote, from the
crumple-faced Prime Minister herself, I quiver at their pulling power.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our own
Claire Perry litters our countryside with her campaign billboards. Wouldn’t it
be nice if she announced, “tell you what guys, being this marketing onslaught
is costly, and I’m going to win anyway, I’ve decided to donate the money I
would have spent to the Opportunity Centre or Julia’s House,” but she doesn’t,
she thinks we’d rather see her boat-race plastered over every view of our
countryside in some Orwellian fashion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now aside
from why Mrs May felt she needed to frighten me with a picture of herself on
the letterhead, as if I'd been living on the moon, she also seemed certain a
coalition was possible. Would the Greens consider a coalition with Labour if it
was on the table, my final question to Emma?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“The Green
Party would work together with any party to get our policies adopted. We do not
have a party whip: a Green politician can always vote as they believe best,
which may make a formal coalition difficult.
Both the Labour Party and the Liberal Democrats have adopted many Green
Party policies in their 2017 manifestos, so we would certainly support these
policies going through parliament.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Should you
have any more questions for Emma, please feel free to contact her on email:
greendevizes@gmail.com, Twitter: @Emma4Devizes, or Facebook: Devizes Green
Party.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No Surprises Living in Devizes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Labour of Love<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw3CY3Y12kMiMif9CH9er2r549c6e_6MWbMX0l7Z1VVfBXkM8vDGEhfu4f5uXYO9O4tqJMXOd3l6IG7a-gNXQjX8OuwEeK_mPuv5_AJSqO7yhKnj4J3-LTY7FmrDy0NlgEVRNCgZ_5i5o/s1600/lab3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="640" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw3CY3Y12kMiMif9CH9er2r549c6e_6MWbMX0l7Z1VVfBXkM8vDGEhfu4f5uXYO9O4tqJMXOd3l6IG7a-gNXQjX8OuwEeK_mPuv5_AJSqO7yhKnj4J3-LTY7FmrDy0NlgEVRNCgZ_5i5o/s640/lab3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I write this
week’s column on Friday aware news rapidly fluctuates, there’ll be a whole new
batch of whoopla and judgements to digest by the time you read this. Least we
can be sure; the Conservative Party will remain callous organisms, unreliable
as Charles Ponzi at the My Little Pony Friendship Club AGM.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No
apologies, this is not the Beeb. The chance of impartiality here equals the
chance of Tories sticking to their manifesto; someone sang the truth in a song,
incongruously forbidden from radio, akin to Johnny Rotten muttering truths
about loyal Conservative Jimmy Saville.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So the
right-wing scrap, Daily Mail complained the Beeb’s debate was “bias to the
left;” hold on a nanosecond, if it swayed to the left could it have been
because the Prime Minister was too chicken to turn up? She’d rather chant
unbelievable soundbites from a protective podium, and spend her time praising
London’s homophobic Jesus House Church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They’d cry
Thatcherism was too soft on the poor; they hailed the opening ceremony of the
2012 Olympic Games was “leftie,” because Danny Boyle depicted the NHS for what
it truly is; the envy of the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For crying
out loud, when will this barbaric folly cease? Surely even Conservatives will
now acknowledge she’s made diabolical chaos of their campaign for the flash
election she pushed, despite promising she wouldn’t? And with that in mind, how
on Earth or any other celestial body can you possibly trust her to obtain us
the “best deal for Britain” at the EU? I wouldn’t trust her with my fidget spinner
on a bouncy castle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s getting
to the “fed-up” stage where I long to see social media return to Candy Crush
requests and cat videos. Nauseating is the notion we’re wedged in the mucus of
Tory central for our desire to reside somewhere aesthetically pleasing. Think
alternative, and get it into your nostalgic cranium; this is not Thatcherism.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So here we
go one last time; come on Rodders, you know it makes sense. Labour, is the
alternative gathering pace elsewhere in the country like Lewis Hamilton at the
driving school in Legoland; are we to shame ourselves again like a soiled baby
and cry for convention?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If I slip a
Whoopie cushion on our safe seat it’d only be pushed aside, so let’s hear from
our fresh and mighty brave young man, Imtiyaz Shaikh who is surprisingly
optimistic in his attempt to gain against the bigger kids in this game of
musical chairs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Has he been
given a doomed constituency, is it best just to hold onto the few Labour
supporters and cross his fingers, and toes? “The Labour Party in Devizes is
better organised that you might think,” He tells me, “and is growing fast.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“There are
lots of unlikely Labour supporters out there who are beginning to get active
across age groups. Unfortunately there
are still a lot of people who one would expect to vote Labour “the more hg\likely”
who are quite frankly alienated from the whole process of democracy. This is
partly our fault and we are trying to change it,” Imtiyaz explains. “Claire
Perry acts as if she has a God given right to be our MP, and her wrath is
frequently directed at those that oppose her, but no, we are not crossing our
finger and toes, we are too busy campaigning.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Asking the
wealthiest to pay a bit more affects this c</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">onstituency, they reside here. I
asked Imtiyaz how Labour could change the ethos of that majority.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes many
people in the constituency are very well off,” he notes, “but there are pockets
of rural poverty in this area which is unseen, or worse ignored. Even in Marlborough the food bank delivers to
families who are not just struggling, they are sinking. In some of the villages
it is worse because of lack of transport links and rural isolation. I think the
majority carry on believing that everything is good because it is good for
them. Austerity measures introduced by this government hasn’t touched them,
nearly all the cuts have been on the incomes of the poorest. It will change because it has to. The charity
of the churches and the voluntary sector can only go so far in plugging the gaps
in welfare; the present level of inequality is just not sustainable.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Corbyn seems
adamant a coalition won’t happen; does Imtiyaz feel about a coalition might be
fundamental in our constituency?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“A coalition
is not the answer in this constituency.” He explains, “Although we have more in
common with both the Greens and the Liberals than the Conservatives, a
coalition of the progressive parties in this constituency would not be enough
to topple the huge Conservative majority.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“For the
last few years in this constituency labour and the Greens have been working
together on issues they agree on; Europe, the Environment and anti-poverty
strategies. I haven’t been involved in this but I believe that at local level
collaboration and co-operation is essential. At National level what is needed
is a change in the voting system, so people can genuinely vote for the party of
their choice. I am a Democrat and the first past the post system is not, in my
opinion, the best way of running a representative democracy. If elected I would
campaign for a change in the voting system and although this is not yet Labour
policy I think people in the Labour Party agree with me.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One hurdle
is the insular population of Devizes, quick to point out Imtiyaz is based in
Swindon; I’d wager they ponder how this reflects on his knowledge and
dedication to Devizes. “Swindon is not a million miles away, Devizes is a huge
constituency,” he tells me, “The problems faced by people in Devizes town are
not so different from the problems faced by people in Swindon.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“The
difference is the rural areas in this constituency have no transport links and
are isolated communities. Pensioners on low incomes and young people without
transport in some of the villages are significantly worse off than those in the
towns. I don’t pretend to know this area as well as the area I live in but if
elected I would be a full time politician in this constituency, fighting in the
interests of all the people in all parts of this constituency.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Remember
when I started this column last year; we kicked it off with an opinion poll of
what past facilities we would welcome back? The hospital was only one under a
train station. Think of the relevance of this now; does he think the NHS care
centre is sufficient for our needs, or is the lack of health services here an
unpleasant sign of Tory’s tenet to privatise it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“The
population of Devizes has gone up,” Imtiyaz begins, “The NHS Care centre in
Devizes is too small to meet present demand. Across the county health services
have been depleted. Labour would ensure
services meet local demand by investing in them. One of the problems in our area is
recruitment of staff. There are not enough Doctors and Nurses to fill current
vacancies. The Tory policy of getting
rid of nurse bursaries at a time when there is a huge recruitment problem is
simply crazy. Capping pay rises for nurses and other health professionals at 1%
for six years is equally crazy. More and more nurses are leaving the profession
because they simply can’t afford to feed their kids.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You could
say the only good thing to have come from this Tory administration is that the
young have realised there’s better things to be voting on than “Britain’s Got
Talent,” but right now, the NHS is surely the kingpin to persuading lifetime
blue supporters to change. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“It takes 3
years to train a nurse and 7 years to train a doctor,” Imtiyaz continues, “If
more EU citizens leave our NHS will completely collapse. What better way to
achieve a private health care system, than under-investing in the NHS and
making private health care the only option. With another Conservative
Government people won’t just be having their houses confiscated when they die
to pay off social care costs, any assets they have will be used to pay-off
their health care costs too. This already happens in America, although to be
fair in America this happens before you die.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I admit I
have nightmares where Dr Nick of the Simpsons comes to my bedside, but giving
out Labour leaflets the other week I was faced with an averagely well off
elderly chap who threw it back at me. He stated, “I in’t never voted fer ‘em
be-fur, why should I’s start nare?” He has no hope of benefitting from thinking
this way. What would Imtiyaz say to people like that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“If every
one really did vote in their self-interest we would have a Labour Government!”
he points out amusingly, “I too have met people like him. No party is perfect but I believe that Labour
has the best policies for a UNITED kingdom.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“The choice
in this election is about what direction you want this country to go in; further
erosion of our public services and a country where only the wealthy have access
to decent health care, education and housing, or a country where everyone
benefits from a Labour Party which will invest in these essential services for
the benefit of everyone. For the many not the few is more than a political
slogan, it encapsulates everything I believe in.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So
conclusion is nearing, the ref is checking his watch. You could entrust your
vote to Claire, locally safe bet, but you know she crumbles on the train to
London and despite her claims she kisses the feet of hierarchy. I’m certain we
need the backbencher who isn’t afraid to take their ethos to Parliament. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve been
mightily impressed by Imtityaz’s response to my questions. I thank him and wish
him all the best; next week we can return to a shorter column, whinging once
again about favourite chip shops and so on. For now though, please don’t accept
the media assault against Corbyn; it’s false.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I mean, can
we be sure there’s only one Jeremy Corbyn? Seems like we have the real McCoy
and another the media seems to report on, I asked Imtiyaz!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“We are just
beginning to see Jeremy Corbyn uncut. In an election campaign coverage is more
balanced and he can speak directly to audiences rather than having his message
filtered and distorted by the media. What you see is what you get; a tough man
with integrity, someone who genuinely believes what he says and someone who,
against the odds WILL deliver.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Jeremy
Corbyn is not a man who backs down at the slightest hint of attack. He will be
attacked, he has been many times before, but he won’t run away from a fight
with vested interests. He will stand up
and fight for what he believes in; a fairer more equal society.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-18718718243067785722017-05-22T12:35:00.000-07:002017-05-22T12:39:53.909-07:00I know Steve Andrews, read about him in The Sun.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Why should we take heed of what mainstream media publishes as "news" yet disregard what the free press issues?</div>
<br />
Politics aside for this, here's a shining example of my point. The tabloids go to town on singer/songwriter Steve Andrews this week because he appeared on Britain's Got Talent.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.thesun.co.uk/tvandshowbiz/3618214/britains-got-talent-star-steven-andrews-is-a-wacky-wizard-who-grows-mind-altering-drugs-at-home-to-boost-sex-life/" target="_blank">Steve in the Sun!</a><br />
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Here though is a page from my very first publication, the crazy comic zine Toonedelic Times from 1994; scream if you remember it!<br />
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Yeah its raw, its hand written and photocopied but displays Steve Andrews singing is hardly news; the guy's been doing it and loving it for an age.</div>
<br />
The other significant difference from my report to today's tabloids is I concentrate on his music rather than his beard.<br />
<br />
Too keen are the tabloids to point out Steve experimented with psychoactive plants as if man using such herbs for hallucinogenic properties is some new-fangled trend. This is not news, folk been doing that since the dawn of the neanderthals.<br />
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<br />
Not necessarily reflecting negatively, Steve is relishing the media attention and laughing off the eccentric image it portrays of him. Our zines and punk-paste publications could never achieve anything near the same distribution.<br />
<br />
I only wish these Fleet Street drones could latch onto the real story as I know it; Welsh guy loves entertaining and writing encyclopedic guides to mind altering substances, has been doing it all his adult life and has achieved respect, admiration and light -hearted mirth for it. <br />
<br />
In my opinion there's nothing here to mock. So I suggest you scan the headline and occupy your time better by searching for Steve Andrew's musical talents or checking out his books rather than reading more than you need to of the spoiled garbage newspapers shove down your throat.<br />
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For one it has altered the way I view contestants on these talent shows, the ones the media mock and rip into.<br />
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Damn these guys got up there and did it, with a variety of professionalism and skill, but still they did it and you slump on your sofa stuffing pizza into your cake-hole and criticise their every movement.<br />
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Steve was among the talented here but would never fit the needs of the show, others strive to apease the masses, while he did what he always did and bought about a togetherness through his music by engaging the audience and making them part of his act.<br />
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These are the points the tabloids should focus on but being I know the whole story I know how inaccurate these articles are; makes me ponder the facts for the articles I know nothing of.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-62711853757989736642017-05-21T09:02:00.002-07:002017-05-21T09:18:46.602-07:00No Surprises Living in Devizes: A Country Gone to the Dogs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">No Surprises Living in Devizes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A Country Gone to the Dogs</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Darren Worrow</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tories dubbed Labour’s nationalisation manifesto as “a return
to the 1970s,” while our titanium-lady called for a return to ripping foxes to
shreds, pulling wheelchairs out from under the disabled and squabbling with
Europeans akin to Sir Francis Drake. Whatever fluctuations, Mrs May is certain
we’ll face them together; no dinner for her then.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What British
institutions will she reintroduce next on her maniac “mainstream” death-tax-manifesto;
voting restricted to gentry, public executions, the slave trade, or burning
witches perhaps? Bell-bottoms and <i>Love
Thy Neighbour</i> aside, if we’re going backwards either way, I’d rather return
to the 1970s then the 1570s.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTNh7d_R43SNLbaDdmRbY0t6x66_Krv9qgM_hPCd4vyNExyIJj1MQmbds6YartY0enUTLiBo9rp0fOZvY5kj6hy6CI-E5K0N62YZBJHWyjv7EoDaaFK7UHzAhI4d0Zb59AUXK5Kw-7rQQ/s1600/1oepsx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTNh7d_R43SNLbaDdmRbY0t6x66_Krv9qgM_hPCd4vyNExyIJj1MQmbds6YartY0enUTLiBo9rp0fOZvY5kj6hy6CI-E5K0N62YZBJHWyjv7EoDaaFK7UHzAhI4d0Zb59AUXK5Kw-7rQQ/s320/1oepsx.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Can we expect
the return of plague (solving NHS underfunding,) a reappearance of grave
robbers maybe? Or will <i>Jim’ll Fix It</i>
be back on tele? Can we hope to see white dog poo again?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just because
things happened in days gone-by doesn’t make them right. Our fondness for a
bygone era is shrouded with nostalgia; crushing white dog poo underfoot and
hurling brown snowballs really wasn’t as much fun as you reminisce.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh dog poo;
a subject I’ve avoided to date, primarily because it’s a national issue and
secondly, because I talk enough toilet already. However nothing floods local
Facebook groups with comments like a dog poo rant; election, Brexit, even bad
parking doesn’t compare. So I’ve been driven to slip in the matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Believe it
or nuts, dog fouling has been illegal for twenty-one years. Turd bagging has
become as second nature as Facebooking a picture of your tea. Now though, owners
are fed up with pocketing poo and have returned to antiquated methods, covering
with environmental excuses. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Alas I know
nothing of the thrill of poop scooping. So blindly pondering; who here packages
biodegradable matter in an imperishable bag and who opts to stick-flick it at
passing ramblers? And what to do with your bag of poo; take it home, try find a
bin not teetering already or post it to 10 Downing Street?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m told some
opt to tie the bag to a tree like an undesirable Christmas decoration; well
done you, double whammy for irresponsibleness. While five-pee reduced our usage
of plastic shopping bags we’ve upped other uses; dog poo, nappies and sick bags
every time Katie Hopkins Tweets.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzaMK0bY6DY1bv_uIPbnDV8-YlQFblzD54vRmZdEg3_bvPJSiBFXWHN8hEoqHl9XNp_L1YTC0S5oMZQz-CrqEgVVlX5c4tRJrQy5YeWvS7LwT9_MXnvIhusReJiuN9dZcM41qlvHUnTnw/s1600/Screenshot_2017-05-18-17-23-40.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzaMK0bY6DY1bv_uIPbnDV8-YlQFblzD54vRmZdEg3_bvPJSiBFXWHN8hEoqHl9XNp_L1YTC0S5oMZQz-CrqEgVVlX5c4tRJrQy5YeWvS7LwT9_MXnvIhusReJiuN9dZcM41qlvHUnTnw/s320/Screenshot_2017-05-18-17-23-40.png" width="237" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Our
villagers travel afar sanctioning their pooches to defecate along the school
path, because we live in such an urbanised area with lack fields to walk dogs.
“Just taking Fi-Fi for a dump on the council estate honey…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Unsure if
they uphold increasing our children’s immune system, they figure it’s harmless
because they bagged it, or they simple don’t give a shit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My
confusion; how can baggers be sure they've collected all the pulp matter,
doggies squish too?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Owners shriek,
“what can I do, I’m doomed if I bag, doomed if I flick?” The answer is simple,
to other single-celled organisms and above. Buy a flipping reusable lunchbox
and a bottle of water, scoop your doggie doing in it, wash down the affected
area, and take said lunchbox home for washing. Is that as hard to grasp as
squelcher?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVCCQ4mqE78tN-KzW7T-7ehx46QpVjZ9Vazgsiuamfn3n3oHAsHaUYekil2gsvzyrlevxYjH5LLXlEJVrO-gopV84EX6Aedo-OhZhOxEd37xGmHoSw7p6GCuSH16lwAHMaUOpalihyphenhyphengI/s1600/pooper_scooper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVCCQ4mqE78tN-KzW7T-7ehx46QpVjZ9Vazgsiuamfn3n3oHAsHaUYekil2gsvzyrlevxYjH5LLXlEJVrO-gopV84EX6Aedo-OhZhOxEd37xGmHoSw7p6GCuSH16lwAHMaUOpalihyphenhyphengI/s320/pooper_scooper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Better
still; train your pooch to poo in your own garden rather than leave it to the
heroic CUDS and Wiltshire Council Green Party candidate Geoff Brewer, who have
been tidying discarded poo sacks in Drew’s Pond Wood, the worst affected area
of Devizes. At last, here’s a councillor cleaning poo rather than dishing it
out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Why do we
make an issue of dog’s doings, while cats poo at liberty in neighbour’s
gardens, or roadkill sprawls over our highway; a testament of our need to speed
to work, or even, particularly in Wiltshire, horse poo is legal tender; they’re
permitted to produce a mountain of the stuff in any road and no one raises an
eyebrow?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Someone
always brings horse poo to the table on any online dog poo debate, but it’s
fiercely defended because we love a bit of that round ‘ere; spread it over yer
field, proper jarb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One
memorable response I read appealed you couldn’t expect a horse rider to
dismount to clean as the horse would bolt. These folk never watched westerns;
cowboys been tying horses to posts for centuries to go play poker in the
saloon, drink a bottle of bourbon and have a gunfight; I’m sure you could tie
yours too for the duration of a quick shovelling.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Opps a daisy, did I offend
the wealthy again?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I asked this
and the response was; “not all horse riders are wealthy what-what?” Slightly
misguided in a country where nurses need food banks; looks like my column has
come full circle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Is dog poo
as bad as the poo spluttering from Theresa May’s lips as it quivers under the
weight of progressive alliance and the young tactically voting? The media walkies
the right-wing; fouls the campaign trail with obscene budgets and slogans derived
from Mein Kampf (true,) but cannot dump over the freedom of social media (yet;)
snooper’s charter, pooper’s charter.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdxAcLWRXs6kzI6qNeWDJn_UoRy8j-n-JI2Iu_bniVW6a1IA-78AFlP_2f0QjgnVbhLy4BO5NZJFWsMlFX_-FhxGri2eNv78f_3pm-X-qRcF79GshmUTSD29C41_45_fpKLxsEwujd3c/s1600/mk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdxAcLWRXs6kzI6qNeWDJn_UoRy8j-n-JI2Iu_bniVW6a1IA-78AFlP_2f0QjgnVbhLy4BO5NZJFWsMlFX_-FhxGri2eNv78f_3pm-X-qRcF79GshmUTSD29C41_45_fpKLxsEwujd3c/s320/mk.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sure we’ve a
responsibility to maintain the cleanliness of our streets, but there’s a
mountain of other faeces to sort; and its rotting our country. We have a duty
to vote in this strategically placed election, to turn tables, but
unfortunately here in the Conservative safe-zone we can hope only to scoop a miniscule
dog turd against the mountain of manure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I don't know what came over me as checked Facebook before my mid-morning nap. Saw this news post from a site I'd not heard of before, Index: Wiltshire. I quickly despatched a message to them, without any real thought as to the implications of my actions. That moment of lunacy is why we are here today, with this book; all I can do is apologise. Forward wind a year and No Surprises Living in Devizes has become a bit of a "thing," the best description I can come up with. Every Sunday a new episode goes live like the unleashing of a crazed dragon on steroids. I face a plethora of responses and feedback; some are nice. There's brute honesty in the causerie journalism doesn't usually convey in this day and age. It also brings a straightforward view on life in our traditional market town, with wonky edges.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Relive last year's No Surprises columns with this gorgeous paperback or kindle book, 'cos you're worth it.; 6 quid paperback or 2 for the ebook!</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Surprises-Living-Devizes-Darren-Worrow/dp/1326959719/" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;" target="_blank">Paperback on Amazon</a><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Surprises-Living-Devizes-Darren-Worrow/dp/1326959719/" target="_blank">Kindle on Amazon</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/no-surprises-living-in-devizes/id1211005380?mt=11" target="_blank">iBooks</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.foyles.co.uk/witem/humour/no-surprises-living-in-devizes,darren-worrow-9781326959715" target="_blank">Paperback at Foyles</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-61549795128241766192017-05-07T11:37:00.001-07:002017-05-07T12:25:48.052-07:00No Surprises Living in Devizes: Feeling Lucky Punk?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjh9KXdMCZmjO3g0JIlowzTFjdRQTMgBu8q8seLkdi7dn9tTB_mjyCwUjewfMiUCwqFn6X4a3TpWmlqT1yXA0d-8fPSjCVrn1DSmO55uq2RwYjTP2Ivea1GOJnsiU8nfGb1mNoegdc44k/s1600/taser-Steve-Belshaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjh9KXdMCZmjO3g0JIlowzTFjdRQTMgBu8q8seLkdi7dn9tTB_mjyCwUjewfMiUCwqFn6X4a3TpWmlqT1yXA0d-8fPSjCVrn1DSmO55uq2RwYjTP2Ivea1GOJnsiU8nfGb1mNoegdc44k/s320/taser-Steve-Belshaw.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I can tell it’s Taser when my eyes are shut.<br />
<br />
Okay, joke may go over the head of younger readers. You don’t see the citrus fizzy pop much these days; it’s all about electrical weapons.<br />
<br />
Being Wiltshire has one of the lowest crime rates in the country but peculiarly police Taser usage is above national average, how does Chief Constable Mike Veale celebrate this incongruity? He gives out Tasers to any old PC Tom, Dick or Dirty Harry. And even more bizarrely his reasoning? You guessed it; it’s all these darn terrorist attacks happening in our God forsaken county.<br />
<br />
Fear of terrorism resided over common sense, again. Take heed of Yoda’s words of wisdom this Star Wars Election Day, “fear is the path to the dark side.” With zero terrorist attacks here and the obvious effectiveness a Taser would have against a nutcase with machine gun, explosives or a lorry through a shopping mall, absurd uneasiness procures the unsuspecting masses.<br />
<br />
I never the envy the job of the police, if there’s two muscular louts knocking seven bells out of each other in the street most would cross and walk on the other side, whereas Bobby has to go and sort it out.<br />
<br />
The thing we need to learn is, if you’ve got a beef with another bloke that’s an issue between you both; best not involve anyone else, especially someone trying to prevent you from having your head smashed in.<br />
<br />
Try to remember no matter how drunk, beneath the uniform there’s a real person, maybe with a family, with a life, just with a job to keep the peace; sumbuddy’s gotta.<br />
<br />
In turn the police need to drop the condescending discourse and treat civilians as equals. Unfortunately if you’re pointing an electric-shock gun at someone, you’re immediately intimidating.<br />
<br />
If you ask me the police need training by Doctor Who scriptwriters, cos the Doctor has been talking down entire alien races hell bent on destroying mankind for eons, never used a Tazer in any time-zone.<br />
<br />
The police need to understand life is a struggle and our government are not making it any easier. Anyone can have a bad day and flip out, it doesn’t’ make them a terrorist; like the man killed by police Taser in Warminster in October.<br />
<br />
Neither does throwing your pants deserve a Tasering, Tom Jones would never get through a song. But despite being caught on CCTV, the Melksham officer who superfluously zapped a naked suspect for such a petty wrongdoing was cleared of assault.<br />
<br />
This is not NYC, as much as I sympathise with police tasks, a lethal weapon is not bridging a divide between officer and civilian. It’s a responsibility I trust with most, but you know there’s always one bad egg. My other concern is you don’t bring a knife to a gunfight; if cops are armed the robbers will match.<br />
<br />
Make no mistake; in the aforementioned street fight scenario I’d have Tasered both rather than wrestle them. I’d Taser anyone if my boss gave me one; lucky I’m not a police officer and just the milkman. Still, Mrs Smith, you can put those away you filthy cow, if you can’t pay your two pound eight pee this week I’m going to have to Taser you.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I’d Taser anyone; kids arguing over the best X-Box controller; I’m going up there to Taser their heads together. Local election candidates’ campaign-posting on the Devizes Debate Facebook page; TASERED. Lad tying a soiled dog poo bag to a tree in Drew’s Pond Wood; TASERED! New owner of a landmark pub suggests its ceiling needs a lick of paint; TASERED! <br />
<br />
Dress up as a Muslim to protest against the cancelled May Fayre; TASERED! Ye gods, let’s get this one cleared up shall we? The complexities of a safety form prevented Wiltshire Council and Lions Club arranging the fayre this year; it had nought to do with Islam. I don’t know if it was satirical discord which badly backfired, but whatever was going on, it was in exceptionally bad taste.<br />
<br />
While I never disagree with protest, perhaps the organisers of it could have concentrated their efforts on arranging a fayre instead; give it a go, see if it’s so easy. But because the tabloids went to town over the bullet-point of covering for a possible terrorist attack, no matter how absurd, some idiot decided to dress in Muslim attire. As suspected, this terribly tenacious link sadly deposits Devizes central on the xenophobic map.<br />
<br />
Yeah this week, local Facebook group members went hammer and tongs over this, scrolling comments got as far as screenshots of Koran and Bible passages when really, the May Fayre has nothing to do with any of it.<br />
<br />
Forgot the bank holiday is Beltane? A Gaelic festival anglicised forcibly by Christians, back in an era prior to this religion being all tea and cupcakes on the village green, but in a day when fear and terror were trappings thrusted upon heathen folk to accept the word of God or be burnt on a plinth. Irony, just a tad, we attempt to clear our town of dog poo, when there’s a lot of other fetid matter we need to sort out.<br />
<br />
Maybe there’s the police’s confusion, the difference between a terrorist attack and a terrier attack. And not from the barking, biting end but from the depositing end. Oopsy daisy, now I’ve opened a whole new Pandora’s pooch poo bag, without the time to finish what I started.<br />
<br />
So, it’ll be a scatological themed next week; if I’ve not been Tasered by then. I hope to chat with Wiltshire Council’s Green Party candidate Geoff Brewer who along with Zena’s CUDS and other volunteers, have been clearing Drew’s Pond Wood of littered dog poo bags. At last here’s a politician cleaning up shit rather that talking it. <br />
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<br />
Now you can relive all last year's No Surprises Living in Devizes column; ewe lucky buggers.<br />
Fer yer Kindle:<br />
<br />
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/aw/d/B06X9MQ38J/<br />
<br />
Fer yer bookshelf:<br />
<br />
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/aw/d/1326959719/ref=mp_s_a_1_20?<br />
<br />
Fer yer ipad, iPhone thingy-mi-jig:<br />
<br />
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/no-surprises-living-in-devizes/id1211005380?mt=11<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-21979453243566236222017-04-23T02:59:00.002-07:002017-04-23T08:26:47.778-07:00The Rise and Fall of Doctor Risenfall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7P5AnepxVPGh3trxbPDvtEx0bKCBUnqSKpTcDMgojgxGXB6YTxtSeG-iCUVx9Ck0XBSgUH179iDSIytvJhJix9Df9sPtVKVI_7m05nSKfzvRTX0GqCnZyBQ7I8_ZojIPtZp_pjqZzZM/s1600/risenfallcov.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7P5AnepxVPGh3trxbPDvtEx0bKCBUnqSKpTcDMgojgxGXB6YTxtSeG-iCUVx9Ck0XBSgUH179iDSIytvJhJix9Df9sPtVKVI_7m05nSKfzvRTX0GqCnZyBQ7I8_ZojIPtZp_pjqZzZM/s640/risenfallcov.jpg" width="466" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m just a
young lad, been delivering this crazy old man’s newspapers for so long I cannot
recall a day when I didn’t. I never see him but despise walking up his cluttered
path. There’s a variety of chocolate bar vending machines in states of
disrepair, heaven knows what he needs with them all, or even worse, what he
uses them for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sauntering
up that same old path again, leaving his newspaper on a pile of old newspapers,
worn and yellowing; he orders them but never picks them up. It was just another
day in my tedious life, until in boredom I kicked that mountain of newspaper in
frustration to note they were all dated the same day; today.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This
disturbed me, every newspaper was identical, today’s edition. It couldn’t be, I
thought, the top one I delivered yesterday, and the one underneath on
Wednesday. Anxious I bit my lip, raised myself from a crouch in confusion. It
didn’t help that I sighted another newspaper delivery boy, sauntering up the
path; was he meddling on my patch? No, he was me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He looked
like me in every way; he strolled past in my clothes, ignored me as if I did
not exist and plonked today’s paper on today’s paper which I just laid. I shook
myself, was I dreaming?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just then
the old man appeared in his ragged, stinking clothes. He held his hands in the
air and cried “Eureka!” Then he noticed me, I backed off a step. That smelly
old man in his filthy white lab coat smiled, “Welcome to the land where time
stands still!” he bellowed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh,” I
replied, “how long has it been like that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well I
don’t bloody know, do I?” he simpered and with that he beckoned with bony
finger that I follow him inside. Normally of course I’d refuse, but given my
other-self had moved inside too I figured what the heck, I might be missing out
on something here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">His house
was as equally messy as his garden, broken machines rusted in corners and
contraptions of a bygone era whirled and flashed lights at me. He span on one
foot to face me, jeepers he looked creepy. “I am Doctor Risenfall,” he
explained, tripping over live wires as he stumbled his way through the mess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I gathered
my suspicions and laid my cards on the table, “are you some kind of inventor?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He returned
an apprehensive frown, and then announced, “Behold, my thyme machine!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now I
understood why I saw myself back there, as unnerving as it was. “You’ve made a
time machine, like out of chocolate bar vending machines?” I asked in a
flabbergasted manner, “Can I see the future?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The doctor
slipped some seeds in one end of the giant contraption, “No,” he answered
bluntly, “I said it’s a thyme machine, you put seeds in this end and…..” The
machine wailed and puffed a cloud of dust into the air, the cat hid under a
table. “….And fresh thyme comes out this end; no need to cultivate it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh right……”
I replied as the machine plonked some scraggly strands of herb from its far
end.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Doctor
gave an awkward sneer, “It will change the herb industry, if I can get it to
work on basil too.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He looked annoyed
at my disappointment. “I’m sorry doctor,” I confessed, “I thought, you know
what with the whole meeting another me, and you saying about this being the
land where time stands still, that you had invented a machine which could
travel in time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The doctor
twirled and covered his face in frustration, “I once toiled with the idea of
building a time machine, but it’s all in the past.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He threw
himself down on a wooden chair by a desk and rubbed his forehead until it
reddened. “Oh that’s a shame, be wicked that would, a time machine,” I offered,
“but a thyme machine, you know, pretty cool as well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh I did
invent one of them too,” he waved an arm randomly in the air, “but I never use
it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I followed
the direction of his arm with my eyes and there, covered in dust and cobwebs
stood a vending machine converted with wires and beeping gadgets hanging haphazardly
from it. I wandered over to it and noted on each arm of the vending machine sat
a separate glowing globe. Images from within the globe, as I drew my eyes level
to them, depicted an animate display of a bygone era. One was of a Victorian
street, another with a castle and lastly, one with dinosaurs roaming around. I
was awestruck, “Oh wow, that is so cool; how come you never use it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I was going
to be famous,” the doctor groaned, “it could have revolutionised the
travel industry, confirmed historical reports and given man a chance to amend past errors, but there was no future in it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Can I
borrow it?” I asked, well it was worth a shot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The doctor
gave a suppose-so shrug, “If you bring it back by yesterday.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This was
freaking awesome I reckoned. “How does it work?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Just as a
conventional vending machine, put your money in the slot,” informed the doctor,
“and make your selection.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Without
thinking I fumbled for change in my pocket and scanned the spheres of time, wondering
which one I’d like to try. I spotted, above all, one which displayed a grand
Edwardian hall where dancers pirouetted and chortled; a period of history I
always admired. So I made my selection, pressed the corresponding code, B56
into the panel and held my breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The spindle
began to twirl, my excitement bursting. It pushed the globe and I shrilled with
delight. The doctor swung his head from side to side and scanned the contents
of the table.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Butterflies developed in my stomach as the globe began to fall
towards the collection slot; what will happen, will I find myself back in that
era, what will it be like and will I be able to get back? So many questions I
hadn’t cared to contemplate before flooded my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“This was my
only problem,” sulked Doctor Risenfall, “the idea was ingenious, the design
faultless, just the damn……”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I ignored
his moping, too excited to listen. The globe dropped but got stuck between a
protruding globe and the glass cabinet. “NO!” I cried and attempted to push the
machine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The doctor
continued, “…….mechanism.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I slammed my
fists against the glass, I kicked the bottom, I wobbled the machine but the
globe wouldn’t budge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“It will not
work,” informed the doctor miserably.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I dug my
fingers to the bottom of my pockets but could find no more cash. “This cannot
be,” I muttered, “it has to work.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh it works
alright,” sighed the doctor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hold on,
you said it didn’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“When?”
asked the surprised doctor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Just a
second ago,” I informed him, crazy old man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Yes, that’s the point, seconds,” he sighed, not
looking up from his table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I didn’t
need this foolish madman, I had newspapers to deliver. “I’m coming back
tomorrow……”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“No you’re
not.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“…..to give
it another go,” I declared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sorry,” the
doctor sighed, “I was once as optimistic as you, which was tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now I was
angered, “I can’t leave it like this,” I told him in no uncertain
circumstances, “I have to try, have to see if it’s possible.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh it’s
possible alright, but it just gets stuck, none of the time,” said the doctor,
still unmoved, “you can try again, but it won’t be tomorrow.” Slowly he stood
up, sauntered over to me and faced the machine. He pointed into its left hand
bottom corner and I again followed the direction of his bony finger. There was
a globe already stuck close to the bucket slot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I crouched
and stared into the sphere. I saw a young boy delivering a newspaper to a
dilapidated house. I gasped; it was me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Welcome to the land where time stands
still!” he bellowed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-36753505264751925272017-04-01T08:24:00.002-07:002017-04-01T08:32:32.682-07:00All Fools Day.......<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Brexit reminds
me of Terminator 2, when they bust into the home and destroy the study of the
scientist who created Skynet, Sarah Connor narrates they face the world with an
uncertain future for the first time. There’s a degree of optimism at that point
in the movie; wish I could say the same for how many feel in the United
Kingdom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Recently
I’ve been pondering writing about Brexit on my local rant column for Index but
I’ve been instructed in the past to avoid the burning subject, plus I have to
uphold it to a local level. So I posted on local Facebook pages for opinions on
how the change will affect us on a local level and the response was minimal.
Leading me to conclude either no one gives a shit, or really knows; I favour
it’s the latter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s the
issue here; no one nationwide really knows the outcome. Everything you read is
wildly bias speculation. So I flavour bringing my wildly bias speculation to
the table, apolitical, just plain old, ready-salted how I feel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One comment
on the fox hunting episode I wrote for the column said, “….that is ill informed
and biased. Much rather read a balanced argument that draws a conclusion,”
which kind of defeats the object of writing an opinion piece, which is what “no
Surprises” is after all; fucking pompous savage twat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">How can I not
mention it when it’s on every lip? How can I balance this argument when I feel
so bitter about the result? I’ve tried to remain optimistic throughout; I try
not to fall into the pathetic “remoaner” banner, and honestly I hope it works
out, pondering there may be a few fair points to be made in the leave campaign.
But the reasoning for leaving has been high jacked by lying right wing bastards,
patriotic to the point of xenophobia and generally makes me ashamed to say I'm
English; which I’d never imagined I’d say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I fantasised
this new century like The Jetsons, little flying cars and conveyer belts taking
us through a bubble city where everyone is at peace. What a naïve fool, take me
back to 1999 to start again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So the
country has never been so divided, thank a pig shagging deserter for that. I
search for sanity from the other side of the argument but cannot see it through
flag-waving idiots who only voted to clear our country of brown skin or were
suckered into believing the outright lies of Nigel Farage, which although he
openly admitted he bolshily bullshitted the nation in front of billions on TV,
still they salute him because he's British enough to be seen downing a pint in
a pub at any available opportunity. The idiotic irony makes me sick to the
stomach, let alone allowing it to motivate me to write a “balanced argument.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Please, I
beg the ones cringing when reading this and not the pre-converted, try get your
thick skull around this; Farage talks absolute crap with or without pint in
hand, and like his American President bum-chum he openly admits it, and then
rubs your face in it. And still you worship the ground he walks on; he's pissing
a puddle behind him and you blindly lap it up. That then is the crucially cringeworthily
reason why I fear the outcome of the battle-axe triggering the fucking
wretched article 50. I’m not moaning for nought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Or maybe I’m
just in a tetchy mood for no reason, but that’s just so not me. In fact not for
the want of trying, the only comment I've read in favour for accepting the
decision which made sense, maybe, was "when we went in I voted against it,
had to accept we were going in at the time."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yep, we have
to respect democracy, when it’s not based on complete selfish bollocks, and we
have to respect the opinions of others, based on lies or not, but this was in
1973; if you're a baby boomer old enough to vote at the time, nowadays you’re
old enough to have built a financial base, from the assistance of a Tory
government who backed the free market, yanked us out of recession with an iron
fist rule, downtrodden working classes, came very nicely out of the era of
prosperity and pulled the ladder up after you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To me,
without sounding ageist, their opinion only matters for a few years of free bus
passes, when the ones really affected by the change didn't even get a choice.
Had the government allowed under 18’s a vote on this one critical issue, you
know you'd have a very different result.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I covered on
Index prior how youth today are articulate and sensible enough to cast an
opinion and interviewed ones from a group who have more political knowledge in
their little pinkies than me, you and definitely the current government.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I estimate
most remainers are parents who fear what it’s to become for their children's
future; how the fuck can that be pointless whinging? Let's face it, every time
she uttered the word Brexit, prior to the triggering of article 50, we saw the
pound crashing to a further all-time low; subtle omen?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You have to
understand, it's not Churchill's government, not even Thatcherism; she was for
the free market. It's a just a sad, old stubborn bag-lady who is only in it so
her husband's tax-avoiding financial dealings are protected. You have faith in
her? I don't believe you anymore than I believe she has a Scooby-Doo what she’s
doing. To think you can leave a club then dictate the rules regarding how they
react to it is pure idiocy. Europe will decide how and when to deal with us,
and it's not going to be pleasant being we've stitched them up by pulling our
fairly secure economy out of the club.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If I left
the cub scouts and my mum stopped the direct debit, could I still brashly smash
through the doors, tell everyone I want my home-help badge and expect to be
taken seriously? No, cos I left the fucking cubs. Sort your woggle out Mrs May.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So we’ll
deal with this complete mess by, apparently "pulling together" how
can we pull together in a crashing market which only benefits multinational
corporations and sends small business to liquidation and its lower class to
hell? How am I supposed to even pull my coat around me to deflect the icy blast
when the buttons have fallen off and I can't afford a needle and thread?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When we look
at a child’s history book covering either world war we think “how could they
have been so stupid not to see it coming?” As that generation dies we forget
what they fought for, they fought not for Britain but for a Europe without
fascism, yet fascists exploit war imagery as propaganda; protecting poppy
sellers from a Muslim attacker; it’s an insanity that’d turn our grandparents
in their grave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">These people
need to time out of verbally assaulting people on trains and read a fucking
history book, for they will see no example of where fascism did anyone any
good, ever. But of course they need not deter from their actions when
encouraged to do so by newspapers; and now feelings like the government is
giving them a licence to continue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The war
generations didn’t see it coming as the trouble didn’t erupt like a volcano, it
was gradual, just as these turn of events we live with today; the plastic
melted figure of He-man standing as President of the USA with his blatant
racist agenda, the movement of right-wing politics sweeping the developed
world, a Russian psychopath, the breakdown of the United Kingdom and religious
extremism from both sides. And the follow-like-sheep policy of our own
government, hoping Uncle Sam will give us a trade deal, cos no other cunt is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You’re not
getting your country back you fucking brainwashed idiot; it was never yours to
get back. They will get it back; to do whatever the fuck they want to do with
it; the repeal bill proves it much in same way the banker’s cockup proved the
financial collapse; they stood there and admitted it was there fault, blew a raspberry
in your face, stuffed all the money in their ears and waited for the taxpayer bailout;
still you insist to blame immigration, because that’s what a racist media tells
you to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Face it, get
off your high horse and lower your union jack (it'll be a flag only seen in
history books soon) and wake up to the notion the chances of this working out
best for Britain is nil to nought. One perpetrator (or traitor) who admits
freely if it doesn’t work out for him he’ll take the cash he’s stolen from the poor
and move abroad, despite supposing to be a xenophobic bigot, it must be your
round soon Farage? No, oh okay. That is how low and selfish the people you
follow are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The best we
can hope for is that, under the repeal bill they are kind enough not to
reintroduce a Henry 8th style rule and bring us into an era Orwell warned us of,
but I doubt it, it’s what they want; mass control and absolute power. An era
where fairness and equality is void, where institutions based on non-bias
entertainment, like the BBC, are but government service announcements, where
only the rich can afford health and the poor die in their own shit, where the
NHS is a fleeting memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The making
Britain great again slogan is alright, if the Great, like The Great War, isn’t
the same definition as we’re making it. It is “great” as in big, an empire,
built on theft, hate and genocide. A burden we all carry across our beautiful country
and it is a beautiful country and I love my country; only difference from me
and the supporters of the right wing is I care about the people living in it. I
cannot see the problem with that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Great in
Britain should be that we’re educated and intelligent enough to have learned
from our mistakes and strive to ensure they never happen again; chew on that
while you’re in the bread queue in a few years’ time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There’s
nothing unpatriotic in this, in wishing the best for our country. Simply
because I’m pessimistic about the current decisions and the ability of the
current government to sort it out, surely makes me love my country more than
someone aiming to destroy all which is good about it, yeah? No? I hope you don’t
need the NHS anytime soon, bleeding nig-nogs working there I tell yer, "get yer hands off me foreigner and stop saving my life!" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve had
enough of turning, twirling Theresa May; I didn’t vote for her, nobody did.
It’s time for a vote of no confidence in our government, a general election and
of course, a second EU “bullshitting free” referendum. Or else we keep calm and
carry on, suffering in our own reserved fashion, gawking at EastEnders with a
microwave sweet and sour chicken on our laps; Rule Britannia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-68398890617490637842017-03-25T10:22:00.001-07:002017-03-25T12:25:56.479-07:00Prejudice Assisted Pop <div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A Lambretta
scooter propped up against the railings on the Brunswick Docks awaits the
return of its owner. A young, upper-working class guy, attired in an Italian suit
scans the flotsam washed upon the shore. He’s hunting vinyl, the London fashion
of Mod culture still in its infancy here in late 1950s Liverpool.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Succumbed by
the beatnik adoration of French philosopher and playwright Jean-Paul Sartre,
the finesse of an Italian lifestyle and the melodic African-American rhythm and
blues, these youth, jaded with the dowdy status-quo, breach the chic coffee-bar
culture and combust a fresh subculture progressively to commercialisation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Unlike the
pubs with strict closing times, the bohemian coffee-bars are lively until the
early hours, part of the attraction for the early mods. The jukeboxes are
occupied with jazz; the “modernist” youth though crave a raw rhythm and blues. Dancehalls
in England’s cities are yet to cotton-on; the house party, with an ethos of
“bring your own records” is the trendy way to congregate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The only way
for our beachcomber to impress is to find American R&B records, discarded
from transatlantic vessels; vinyl is not cheap and seldom the genre obtainable.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The records
have been jettisoned from mess-hall jukeboxes of US Navy ships by Caucasian
country-and-western loving servicemen who do not favour R&B, the era of
segregation awards them superiority and the right to rid their vessel of “black”
music.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ironic and
shameful to think these days, with perceived equality in the music industry and
campaigns like Rock against Racism, that in substantial quantity, racism has
assisted the spread of musical styles and shaped what we now know as pop music.
Undoubtedly but sadly I consider, pop music would not sound the same if it
wasn’t for the very thing it’s supposed to reject; racism.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now please
do not misunderstand me, quite the opposite from condoning racism I despise it,
but akin to the development of computers via the WWII Enigma code-breaking
machine, perhaps some good has spawned from a terrible thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It backfired
for right-wingers, attempting to stall the merge of musical styles in line with
their discriminatory views; it incongruously spread the idea across the globe through
a rebellious generation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If it wasn’t
seen as outrageous for a white country-boy to sneak into negro blues dances,
maybe the young Elvis Presley wouldn’t have, and the archetypal American folk
wouldn’t’ have seen a white man offensively
gyrating like a black-man on television and thus, rock ‘n’ roll may had never
seen popularity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Through all
criticism, the watered down rock ‘n’ roll of
conforming artists such as Pat Boone created admiration for blues and
black rock ‘n’ rollers from his largely white audience through his plagiarisms
of original sounds.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Fats Domino showed a diamond ring to the crowd at a concert in the 50s, announcing Pat Boone’s version of “Ain’t That a
Shame,” paid for the ring. Even if Boone wanted to change the title to “Isn’t
That a Shame,” radio listeners liked it and ventured to find its roots,
discovering black R&B. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now the
duel-race citizenship of rock ‘n’ roll will shake the foundations of pigeonholing
xenophobic Americans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/xbfMlk1PwGU/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xbfMlk1PwGU?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Similarly
back in the UK, if the US Navy didn’t discard records because of their racist
ideals, the mods in the northern cities may never have discovered the soul
sounds which hatched the blues-inspired Mersey-Beat scene, a cradle for the
most influential pop band of all time; The Beatles.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Northerner’s
love of R&B and early soul christened a later genre when they ventured to
London to search for such records. In jest the staff in the record shops put
the older tunes aside for the northern customers, labelling them “Northern
Soul.” A name-sake built on north-south divide prejudices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As we’ve
discussed records didn’t come cheap, but if you only have to pay royalties to
third world artists the price can be cut significantly to persuade people out
of your target audience to purchase them. This is true for Trojan Records who
in an attempt to cater for the Jamaican immigrants in London priced their
records accordingly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They bought
cheap licences from Kingston’s Studio One and Coxsone Dodd to create the
compilation album series “Tighten Up,” but because of its respectable
price-tag, the white mods bought them up and thus gave birth to a second wave
of reggae and ska, in a unique British fashion; so emerged the “skinhead,” with
an appreciation of all things Jamaican.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But reggae
was still considered “novelty” music and not to be taken seriously, a prejudice
Chris Blackwell would put to rights when deciding to dispel the myth and sign
Bob Marley and the Wailers to his Island Records label.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Similar to Pat Boone
plagiarising but therefore assisting the attention of a wider audience to black
R&B artists, Bob Marley and the Wailers found a universal audience in the
1970s through Eric Clapton’s cover of “I Shot the Sheriff.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bob Marley’s
intelligent lyrics would pave the way not only to superstardom but spread
reggae globally and enhance the career of other reggae artists. Richard Branson
assigned Johnny Lydon to take a holiday to the Caribbean island and sign as
many reggae artists as he can to Virgin; lucky punk.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is
reggae inspired by the wisdom of Rastafari, a faith in the emancipation of
black slaves. When these revelations first came to light at the crowning of
their god, Ethiopian king Haile Selassie in 1930, the Rasta’s were viewed by
the Jamaican government as terrorists and after they flocked to the shores
expecting Selassie to have called upon the monarchs of countries that profited
from the slave trade to provide them with ships back to Africa, they were
pushed underground for some time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was only
after the rude boy culture of 1950s Kingston caused the government to enforce a
curfew that the cultivation of marijuana trade blossomed, introducing youth to Rastafari. Prior to the trend Rastas were viewed as hermits and "Blackheart men" (bogeyman.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is why the music
slowed from ska to rock steady and then to reggae. Without the racist slave trade then, we wouldn’t
have reggae or its influence on modern pop; from dubstep to Sean-Paul toasting
over Little Mix tracks, and possibly, all hip hop, punk and two tone ska.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Meanwhile
reggae’s predecessor Ska, with its up-tempo brass style, breathed again, but
Two Tone’s bitter undertones were a haven for nationalists to build an army out
of disgruntled youth in a Britain obliterated by recession. Racism killed the
scene off just as it reached commercialisation, preying on Pakistanis initially
and progressing to an ironic hate for the Afro-Caribbean immigrants who gifted
them the music in the first place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As it is
with all fading youth cultures diluted with commercialism or ironic hate and
racism, the death of the skinhead movement would only be replaced by a new ethos
to be exploited by mass media. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The first I knew of Americas separate pop charts,
divided by colour, was when George Michael touched number one on the “black”
chart in the USA with his album aptly titled “Faith.” For us in the UK there
was only one chart and we tended not to separate them. Still soul broke borders
in the 1980s, ask Vanilla Ice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe the
bottom line that most modern musical styles originated in the US is because
segregated ideals challenged new genres to develop. Of course I could consider
the birth of hip hop actually stems from the New Yorker Kool Herc and his
innovative DJ skills, who originally emigrated from Jamaica where, just like
pioneer producers King Tubby and Lee Scratch Perry, was the proud owner of a
sound system.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dub reggae not being New Yorker’s cup of tea caused Herc to experiment
with funk and soul music, moving into a miss-mash of differing styles. However,
to argue reggae mothered hip hop is to neglect that American R&B inspired
reggae’s older brother ska; swings and roundabouts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was in awe
of BBC’s early 1970s TV program “Tomorrow’s World,” when a group of Germans,
stiff as posts and nerdier than Walter the Softy; Ralf Hutter, Fritz Hilbert
and Henning Schmitz made music entirely on computers; it was an abomination for
the elder generation but we, the kids, knew Kraftwerk was a vision of the
future. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It took the
creative genius of Italian, American and British artists and producers to tweak
the new-fangled technology and create a soulful or spritely sound. Giorgio
Morodor showed us how computer generated music could change funk into disco
with Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Afrika Bambatta, Arthur Baker and Grandmaster Flash spurred Electro and hip hop in the US, whereas the more British punk approach saw the development of a
fresh electronica sound, birthing New Romantics, and bang, we had New Order,
Joy Division, Duran Duran and a plethora of electronic pop icon posters to pin
on our walls. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Disgruntled
with the immediate debasement of technology by “Hit Factories,” such as Stock,
Akien and Watermen, again the next generation sought a way of keeping it
underground and England blessed the Chicago-based sound created at nightclub,
“The Warehouse.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">House music
was the epiphany of racial unification, rather than being a youth culture with
uniformed style and sound, it was akin to early hip hop, a musical melting pot
where anyone was welcome to bring in their influences and calmly discuss them
over a bottle of water and some chewing gum. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
burgeoning rave scene did break down barriers; a euphoric psychedelic
experience was enough even to dull down football violence in the 1990s. Surely
racism did not stand a chance now. But the “hardcore” sound of rave divided
equally into Drum and Bass/garage, largely reggae inspired sounds for a
majority black audience, and “Happy Hardcore” driven by sped up BPM madness and
smiley-faced white kids. I recall those kids defining D&B as “Jungle
music.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Still though
it was more unified than previous youth cultures which sought to fight out their
differences; mods and rockers, skins and Teddy-boys, as while there was an
alternative to bleeping repetitive bleeps, it’s term coined from independent
labels, “indie kids” and ravers kept themselves to themselves; ravers too
obliterated into their own scene to even realise there was an alternative until
the likes of the Prodigy, Chemical Brothers and Fatboy Slim aligned them again.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Truth be told, indie developed from the raving Madchester scene which bought us
Oasis and the Stone Roses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you
compare a free party’s “trance” sound to an African shamanic drumbeat in which
the trance it produced acted as healing, the last great youth culture, the
raver, has bought it full circle; all aforementioned genres stem from folk
music, different geographical places mean different instruments but still, it’s
all the same. The only fresh concept the rave generation really blessed us with
was the technique of using technology. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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So, make some folking noise.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Of course
now there’s a washy insignificant difference between pop styles where acoustic
sounds seem to influence or electronic R&B thrives, a world where a rap,
ragamuffin or hip hop fashion, can be slotted into any track and with that the
idea of discriminatory concepts being involved is thankfully uncommon, but the
roots will never be wiped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For today’s
downloading, twitter generation who listen to identical tinny beats through a
phone’s speaker, and where street dance is taught in COE primary schools, it’s a
far cry from the image of our mod beachcombing for records washed ashore by
racist American navy servicemen, or a</span> <span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Caucasian dancing like a “black guy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But as our
stable world crumbles before us and right-wing politics appears back on the
agenda its possible influence on music concerns me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Last year’s 50<sup>th</sup>
anniversary of the Country Music Awards sustained a grave repercussion in
Trump-favoured Tennessee, when Beyonce performed alongside The Dixie Chicks,
racial tensions in music clearly hasn’t evaporated. After the show raging
racists took to social media to express their abhorrence at a black artist
appearing on a show clearly perceived as something wholly “white.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">How
erroneous these idiots are, if they love Country music they should see beyond
the contemporary redneck, Confederate Flag connotations, their style of music
belongs just as much to African-Americans as Caucasians. Despite the African-Americans
probably wouldn’t admit they listen to modern Country, the very essence of
country is rooted in their culture. The notable instruments of which, such as
the banjo and fiddle, were formed by African-Americans. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so the
world turns on its axis, history repeats and the beats go on; music is supposed
to be an escapism, a moment to let ones hair down and enjoy life any from
niggling issues; in order to do that you can consent its history lays in
prejudges, but try to celebrate its cultural diversity instead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-36544618300080328962017-02-13T13:40:00.001-08:002017-02-13T13:40:28.425-08:00Ye OldeBook Shoppe Pt5<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfK11gUKJkzllPT91SfiO8wqPUqSrZzzyZ4fRvOMkNw02a6ER4A_R24FiRUPzr2IRxJRnmrYRsLFRsEI96mjQwsTmhrz6oD1FBnkAM7a7yXq-zb8uVDYuwNGlgQ7CsUKh1RVzXHT-Z9H0/s1600/yeoldebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfK11gUKJkzllPT91SfiO8wqPUqSrZzzyZ4fRvOMkNw02a6ER4A_R24FiRUPzr2IRxJRnmrYRsLFRsEI96mjQwsTmhrz6oD1FBnkAM7a7yXq-zb8uVDYuwNGlgQ7CsUKh1RVzXHT-Z9H0/s400/yeoldebook.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<h2 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center;">
Ye OldeBook Shoppe Pt5<o:p></o:p></h2>
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Armageddon Time<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Darren Worrow<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few years ago an author suggested I join a Facebook group
called the Book Review Depot. The idea being you purchased six selected books
and reviewed them. Then, once complete, your own wares could gain access to the
“active list,” and you’d receive sales and reviews. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It sounded like a plan and a great way to network. I met
some great authors but sadly, the group fell into disrepair; perhaps due to too
many people joining or some trying to mimic the idea for their own profit, or
maybe it was me ruining the neighbourhood; the latter most likely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, one book I picked was a fairly lengthy read and once
done I announced its completion to the admin, only to find out I totally had
the wrong book , this one was not on the list, or even known by the group; d’oh!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I tried to appeal, but them were da rulez; the admin were
like mafia (not really.) Still, I shrugged; it was a darn good read! Enough to skim
onto my on-going bucket list of self-published books to read before you either
die or go buy a book from a big publishing house.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7n9ZnqrZxHjYx_eutDw3GhE_U6zdCnmlI8m5hzV4iIgDngH_c_E_XbeM67i4zwGp53oU-3jPnrfY0JkrHgYjQTtfAjr18qgmo3vdw9BQoiVP1L_g1ozgM6fecawnCde2oi-K3Teo3xOU/s1600/clockwork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7n9ZnqrZxHjYx_eutDw3GhE_U6zdCnmlI8m5hzV4iIgDngH_c_E_XbeM67i4zwGp53oU-3jPnrfY0JkrHgYjQTtfAjr18qgmo3vdw9BQoiVP1L_g1ozgM6fecawnCde2oi-K3Teo3xOU/s400/clockwork.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of the steampunk genre, it was called “Walking,” and part
one of the “Clockwork Twist,” series by Emily Thompson. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not for the sake of interest, just purely due
to time I admit I’ve not read much steampunk. I love ninth art legend Alan
Moore and savoured in the eleventh Dr Who series, with its gorgeous Victorian
portrayals but still, I’ve not got the googles yet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As the genre matured it developed meandering tangents but,
if you’re undecided, I’d recommend Emily Thompson’s uniquely designed fantasy
world, wrapped neatly under her own banner of “clockpunk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It combines a geographically diverse universe of classic
mutations, creatures from anthropomorphised spirit guides, vampires and some
truly original creations, of which the protagonist is of no exception. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The clockwork professor “Twist” has a completely original
persona and a magical power which sees him headhunted by airship pirates for a
mission to fix a clockwork princess. Whisked out of his hermit life in the
dark, dank streets of Victorian London he takes off unwittingly on a Gulliver
style adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Despite its setting and fantasy element it’s not written in
an archaic style such as Verne or Dickens, rather it reads contemporary, verging
on modern American TV series. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The only area it irritates is by the relentless usage of “said;”
no one here seems to yell, shout, bellow or whisper. With an extensive arsenal
of vocabulary at her disposal, it was overlooked by the author. A minor
criticism you ride out due to the original concept of the book, its engaging fantasy,
unique in popular style and reads without riddles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Even though I feel like a window-shopper at the steampunk
store, doubting I’m trendy enough to enter, I still enjoy traditional apocalyptic
themes in sci-fi ; more popular than beards for 20 somethings, and if you’re
looking for something completely faultless and original in this area, I cannot
recommend Iron Mike enough.</o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6U49GRxMzOBUiGbfMbNu4wl8CCNIT_5HqTALMu1KAfSLispR5Zp2onWlcBfV6vjmU5hUmLEXbD7lLDgUDJvFzcAk78tz-s6QzREYEtp3B8nr_EwKI3_dfbrD3MGInXHiPZ8ctnuJEw9s/s1600/iron+mike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6U49GRxMzOBUiGbfMbNu4wl8CCNIT_5HqTALMu1KAfSLispR5Zp2onWlcBfV6vjmU5hUmLEXbD7lLDgUDJvFzcAk78tz-s6QzREYEtp3B8nr_EwKI3_dfbrD3MGInXHiPZ8ctnuJEw9s/s400/iron+mike.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s one I intended to get while the book review depot was
still active but maybe the title put me off, as here in the UK the term “Iron
Mike,” connotes the nickname of boxer Mike Tyson. You could double-check, but
I’ve done it for you and can confirm this read is definitely not a biography of
Mike Tyson!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is in fact, the first book I should have picked from the
review depot scheme.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Iron Mike in the States is slang for men who are tough,
brave, and inspiring and now a de-facto for monuments commemorating servicemen
of the United States military. Patricia Rose’s magnificent novel has a militant
side, the protagonist coming of age during an alien invasion and learning the
worth of human life, but it has so many other key elements which make it stand
out from the rest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the beginning I was dubious, unsure if this was going to
live up the hype. It read like many, aiming to be an adventurous movie script.
Stick with it, because as the story develops it sucks you in like the alien vegetation
which cultivates across the land.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The narrative is interesting, using a different character’s
POV each chapter is no innovative notion but Patricia weaves it into some fascinating
junctions. Yes, we have Mike and we have his love interest and the militant man
struggling to keep command under pressure, but the point of view of the dog Hershey
brings it something special, down written to reflect the mind of a domestic dog
attempting to understand what is going on is sublime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Where Iron Mike soars above and beyond your average story
striving to be a Hollywood blockbuster is where we get to read the POV of the
invading aliens too. I often argue HG Well’s longstanding War of the Worlds has
a far better plotline than the popcorn-munching mush of Independence Day.
Rather than having humans triumphing by Jeff Goldblum breeching the mothership
and Will Smith punching aliens bare-fisted, in War of the Worlds the Martians
overlooked the simple element to life on Earth; bacteria. This unpretentious
twist may not appeal on a big screen but you’ve got to admit, it’s far more
likely and ingenious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Iron Mike goes one better than this, and for a book I doubted
at first going one better than HG Wells leaves you putting the book down at its
end and nodding a “wow.” You see, while you’re fighting the aliens alongside
the heroes in traditional methods, this alien POV is building a political
system within the extra-terrestrial social structure and its regulations needs a
campaigner for moral justice; this is where Scientist-Farmer glides in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It leaves us with a truly original, breath-taking finale, one
where you now realise what all the fuss was about with this book and one which
makes you glad you stuck with it. I cannot recommend this read enough, digest,
enjoy and relish this unique story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I did have one more book to mention here but I’ve used
rambled on far too long and Mulp with have to wait until next time. For now,
keep reading!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-15238811896259534922017-02-12T10:12:00.002-08:002017-02-12T10:12:39.491-08:00No Surprises Living in Devizes: Crying out Loud<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzp99w158zOsdAh9V3WhtqI7bl1-uh4z6y99433mJKdkT3yoe2QaYZqTCvtjpJWftGSskRRqhB3PhCSv084afREMFfbDhqls4o69W4D_uAyHn_7oH3_de1PYp05ZMxO5TYvS2fzzncW50/s1600/cp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzp99w158zOsdAh9V3WhtqI7bl1-uh4z6y99433mJKdkT3yoe2QaYZqTCvtjpJWftGSskRRqhB3PhCSv084afREMFfbDhqls4o69W4D_uAyHn_7oH3_de1PYp05ZMxO5TYvS2fzzncW50/s320/cp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<h2 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">No Surprises
Living in Devizes<o:p></o:p></span></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Crying out
Loud<o:p></o:p></span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Darren
Worrow</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You lucky
people; been cutting a fine deadline, writing your least favourite causerie as
I’ve been gallivanting again; so I hope you appreciate the last minute blood
and guts I’ve emptied over it. The question being, whose guts are they this
week?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The intention
was to continue the subject of youth making a positive difference. From afar I
admired the shared video of extraordinarily talented Arthur Plumb, doing his
fire-juggling on a unicycle in the Brittox and Bath. Arthur is out to promote
his skills for booking at private occasions, let’s get behind this lad (but not
too close when he’s on his unicycle.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I figure
this is going to be a walk in the park, there’s so much to cover on this “kids
rock” theme. Then, oh dear me; I go away for five minutes, look what happens.
Who’s been letting the side down? Teenagers accused of arson on a toddler’s
slide in a playpark perhaps, others hurling snowballs at swans, or the “grownup”
local MP supposed to be setting a good example?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I was flabbergasted
and mesmerised with Claire Perry, standing against her Bory party this week, blathering
cringeworthily comparisons; hysterical Brexiteer MPs as jihadists, they made
her narcissistic scoffs on Twitter seem tame.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It was more
irrational outburst than a cheap-shot rebellious kvetch, her only intention seemingly
to earn a permit to appear on the tele-box. Did you catch “the World According
to Claire Perry Show,” with guests including David Dimbleby, incorrectly scheduled
by the BBC as Question Time? She fumbled humble pie but it fell on the floor
before she had the opportunity to eat it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Wow, she can
unleash some serious drivel. Certain she had all the answers, to everything,
her omnipresence brashly drowned the entire panel and audience, with rude
interruptions, tactical equivocation and broad fibbing through her teeth. It
was a shameful show leaving me embarrassed to confess she’s our representative.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">At only six
minutes in I felt my stomach churn when Claire explained the issue of Syrian
refugee children. In a chinwag with the home secretary apparently there never
was a number suggested, despite rash Dimbleby quoting a figure of three
thousand from the original immigration act of 2016, which was quickly dispatched
by her majesty as codswallop. She continued unabated, “all children put through
such a horrific situation would be given as much support as we could give
them.” Thus the blame she turned to councils that refused to accept more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now I’m
confused, is there another Claire Perry MP, who back in April signed a
rejection to the amendment accepting three thousand Syrian refugees who landed in
mainland Europe without parents or guardians? Claire blatantly avoided the
question by celebrating Britain’s previous track record, rather than focusing
on the issue now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nauseated I
felt the need to skip the NHS debate, such a delicate subject at present I fear
I’ll end up on a bed in a corridor if I continue. Nothing more than lack of government
funding is crippling the health care system, because this regime are hell bent
on terminating our only establishment which remains the envy of the sane world.
Underfund it so everyone thinks its closure doesn’t matter; it was
dysfunctional anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I got home
from a major hospital in East Anglia, where nearly all patients were Caucasian
British, and nearly everyone slaving through extended epochs to help them were
foreign, only to watch an opinion piece by a contemptuous old fart stating the
BBC was bias, blaming immigrants taking up beds. It’s pathetic ironic dribble
of the highest order. The kind Jeremy Hunt sniggers at behind closed doors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m sorry
Claire Perry; while you support this corrupt government you don’t represent me.
While financial backing is needed in so many areas of Devizes from healthcare
to potholes, I cannot abide the cash spent on splashing your smirking face on
campaign posters in a constituency of full-gone conclusion conservative
dominance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Obviously
she seethed through opposing opinions from Labour MP Owen Smith and blanked
leftie folk singer Billy Bragg, but she even chose to ignore senior obnoxious
cow, Anne Widdecombe as she threatened to pop Claire’s ego-bubble with the
stern waving of a pen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You’d have
thought she’d have respected Widdecombe, who was conniving in Parliament when she
were mere fagging in Brasenose. See how Anne expertly scoffed in the face of a
teenager who pointed out Brexit was not proportionate as she was under voting
age during the referendum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m with
Whitney on this one, I believe children are our future, teach them well and let
them lead the way. While we roll out the red carpet for an orange American
chauvinist, we reject desperate children who could be nurtured to upstanding
citizens of our future; acting like this AND expecting youngsters not to throw
a snowball at a swan, oh my years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The ones who
burned the slide should try to recall a time when they were toddlers and
enjoyed swings and slides, don’t mature sharing our generation’s selfish
attitude; you have your own mind; use it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-19958167439281426672017-01-08T08:09:00.003-08:002017-01-08T08:09:47.467-08:00No Surprises Living In Devizes: <h2 style="text-align: center;">
No Surprises Living in Devizes</h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Getting Foxy</h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Darren Worrow</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLZxe6KaZ5JSGhkaYe70J1Hv4nDiMiDm6sjdiqfmXK5nUDPMhr_WEhaEUuQJZ2KDgfnHLc0biOEQARQRb2mc0DTwj2tw7md_-_748dGnzmXRVbxcYOiApJAT27kJ2R_kuffk8I4nv_HU/s1600/fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLZxe6KaZ5JSGhkaYe70J1Hv4nDiMiDm6sjdiqfmXK5nUDPMhr_WEhaEUuQJZ2KDgfnHLc0biOEQARQRb2mc0DTwj2tw7md_-_748dGnzmXRVbxcYOiApJAT27kJ2R_kuffk8I4nv_HU/s640/fox.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
year of our Lord, 2010; I find myself amidst an impenetrable crowd of buoyant
rural folk hither our nation’s capital, contemplating this city hath never seen
such a horde of bumpkins descend upon it since the Countryside Alliance march
of 2002. Misfortune the outcome of both affairs; this occasion Paul Robinson
scored at the end of the first-half, leading Millwall to a one-nil win against Swindon
in the League One play-off final, whereas, rightfully, The Hunting Act was
passed as law in 2005.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Although
there were various mini-issues to the protests; protecting British farming,
rising fuel costs and the right to wear green wellies on a dry street, it was
and will always be a method to boost numbers rallying for the right to brutally
slaughter innocent mammals in the most bloody-thirsty means possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Thanks
to the “Countryside Alliance,” city-dwellers believe the countryside is united
under one flag; one fox-blooded flag proudly waving against the winds of
change. However, while most approved the mini-issues, no other subject has
divided country folk more than the notion we have the god given right to tear
animals to shreds for the mere thrill of it; can you guess which side of the
fence I stand yet?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Start
the year as you mean to go on; I’m on a wind up because, despite its illegality,
thousands gathered on Boxing Day, no better than heroin addicts, to blatantly
flaunt the law and, just like their children, they rub the blood in the face of
anyone who might feel it slightly unfair on the fox by unveiling their crime in
the native newspaper, as if what they did was acceptable behaviour; shame on
the Gazette for passing such conceited pugnacious dribble off as an innocuous
pageant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Don’t
get me wrong, I’m no tree-hugging, bunny-loving beatnik, I just don’t
understand the attraction in the barbaric and pompous act of fox hunting. So
you’re not flabbergasted by their articulate defence upon meeting snobby
barbarians, which is inevitable around these parts, I wanted, not to pledge my
case against, but merely outline the facts regarding hunting foxes, so you don’t
get weighed down with their timeworn but privately educated excuses; fair
enough innit?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Foremost,
the average hunter will tell you what they do is legal and on the surface they’re
correct. The flushing out of wild mammals as vermin and humanely shooting foxes
are exempt, coupled with the laying of an artificial scent for hounds and
heroes to pursue. Who are you trying to kid? Who stops them should the vague
law “accidentally” be encroached? Like the enemies of Michael Knight, these
criminals operate above the law.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fox
hunting is not about culling a pest. Why would you breed a pest? Yep, blowing
this pathetic excuse out the water is simple, for foxes bred in captivity have
been discovered on many hunting estates. Even worse than hunting a wild fox, they
release their unwanted pets and for just a brief moment the fox has a taste of
freedom, a freedom it’ll never know. Then, it’s chased in the most terrifying technique
conceivable until, nerves shot and physically unable to proceed, hounds
leisurely tear it shreds. It is not, as suggested, killed quickly. After the
petrifying hunt they withstand abundant bites and lacerations, so too do the
hounds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The
fox has a fair chance,” they drivel. This one interrogates its term “sport.” Sport
is competitive; look it up in the flipping dictionary. If I bricked up my goal
prior to the football game you’d accuse me of cheating. A Fox’s natural means
of escape is to hide underground, why then are burrows and badger setts
deliberately blocked up prior to the hunt?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Foxes
are vermin,” because the simple erection of a secure electric fence has never
been conceived until just now; I need to patent that. Besides the fox’s
favourite tucker is rabbit and they breed like, well. Eliminate the fox; you got
yerself a rabbit problem. We share this planet with other species; get used to
it or tally-ho to Mars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
most hypocritical excuse, “foxes kill for sport.” They bury excess spoils for
consumption at a later date. Should you have to hunt to feed your family and
were fortunate to break into Ginsters one night; you’d take all the chicken and
mushroom slices rather than only what you need for a quick snack, for Ginster’s
security guards will be on the prowl tomorrow. Chicken carcasses are left in
coops when the fox is scared off; unable to pop down Morrison’s for a chicken
chow-mein ready-meal for one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Certain
this week’s column will face heated debate, which is dandy; but please, don’t
try to convince me otherwise. This is my opinion, an opinion shared by the
majority, that is why it is law; democracy yeah? Nothing you can say will cause
me to change my opinion and therefore your time spent spouting manure will be
pointless; capisce? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-70753876909790403502017-01-03T10:47:00.001-08:002017-01-03T11:35:59.452-08:00Introducing Sheldon!<h2 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Introducing Sheldon!</h2>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRdzZwXg7vmbn5ME9UnO03mvzwmWovrQJLJ14nmwtfGdukoyijHGbChhRp_MBSYio1CMSZE3BHAr984yF50Y8Lj0muBq6c3Gr5Z6GTi6p7EeR5S6LY-FVSyxqa3tEUglmCYxkIJZzQXE/s1600/sheldonmock1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRdzZwXg7vmbn5ME9UnO03mvzwmWovrQJLJ14nmwtfGdukoyijHGbChhRp_MBSYio1CMSZE3BHAr984yF50Y8Lj0muBq6c3Gr5Z6GTi6p7EeR5S6LY-FVSyxqa3tEUglmCYxkIJZzQXE/s640/sheldonmock1.jpg" width="452" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When
I started my milk round I’d have to check through my folder every few minutes
to remind myself of the following customers who required milk, as each day is
different. Now days I don’t need to refer too often, memorising parrot fashion.
I was on Church Lane, in the village of Woodborough when I checked, noting I had
only one house called “Sheldon” before the stop at the garden centre. As a
quick reference I said to myself “Sheldon, shop.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well,
the phrase rang a miniature bell in my peculiar bonce, thinking it sounded
catchy I dreamed up an idea for a children’s book; in a pet shop, a bulldog
called Sheldon is under the illusion he is the boss. By the time I reached the
house the character was foggy in my head and a minute later, upon reaching the
garden centre the plot had unfolded before me; I even remembered to deliver the
milk too!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I
wrote the story in rhyme; it’s fun, cheeky, with a moral. I pondered the idea
but put it on the back burner, aware children’s books are tricky to
self-publish and market. I read it to my daughter, probably my toughest critic;
she liked it. I passed it to authors Heather Osborne, Sarah Hill and Robin
Rowles; the feedback returned positive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now
I am delighted to be at this stage, the original mailed to the publisher’s
editor and I have convinced the most amazing and talented local artist Clare
Brookes to illustrate it. Here is a secret sneaky exclusive peek; a mock-up of a
page, a prototype of how I’d like it to appear, with Clare’s beautiful
rendering of Sheldon and friends. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A
new direction for me then; I can write adult junk till I’m blue in the face,
but really, deep down, a children’s author is my dream. Kids love stories and
books, they influence their imaginations, in a mechanism most adults have sadly
lost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’d
like to thank everyone involved with the project so far within this announcement;
fingers and toes crossed for us.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Until the next update please check out Clare’s
Facebook page: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Clare-Brookes-Artist-1351164458228619/?pnref=story">https://www.facebook.com/Clare-Brookes-Artist-1351164458228619/?pnref=story</a> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And
if you are around the Bath area she has an exhibit running for a month from 14</span><sup>th</sup><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
Jan at Bathford café/gallery. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">2017 here we come!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-23317590926227533142016-12-11T09:13:00.002-08:002016-12-11T09:13:22.718-08:00Ye OldEbook Shoppe Pt4: Fantasy V Reality<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzxRBVdD12OF5-kbQGj77IIKbnjA4TB4gW7f3hAiadjnmsPEabJWLO7ZeVw_iQo4eVoP8nVy-Cnyh2aNUufEydlhXRLIEZxboDgTqEJ-CDmWH5L3j1XrYsxuDC5eHLEAhvc4EUdzS3n4/s1600/yeoldebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzxRBVdD12OF5-kbQGj77IIKbnjA4TB4gW7f3hAiadjnmsPEabJWLO7ZeVw_iQo4eVoP8nVy-Cnyh2aNUufEydlhXRLIEZxboDgTqEJ-CDmWH5L3j1XrYsxuDC5eHLEAhvc4EUdzS3n4/s320/yeoldebook.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeah
I know, the only thing I’m consistent about is starting things and leaving them
half-done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s
been a while since I pressed on with this bucket list of the best
self-published/small press books to read before you either die or go and buy
another book from a big publishing house; given you some time to check the ones
I’ve already covered didn’t it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If
you can cast your mind back to the last part, I was rapping about the fantasy
genre. Advice from established authors can often be “write about what you
know,” but with fantasy that’s not so simple; you can adapt the reality you
know but you’re going to have to imagine too, you have to capture a dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My
advice for this is to pretend you’re a child again; if you’re a writer you were
probably one of the kids who could take themselves out of reality and stage an
epic story through play; a natural talent most lose through the journey to
adulthood. I say “sod adulthood,” train your mind to return to a juvenile state
when your imagination held no bounds, just stop picking your nose and fidgeting
at the dinner table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Still,
you can forget all that and write about a real situation if you like; I enjoy
non-fiction too. With big publishers you need to adopt a certain style, close
in on a genre and stick to it. With self-publishing you can experiment, change
your style, genre, and write about whatever the heck you want to. So this
episode we’ll look at fantasy and reality and then straddle the border between
them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">American
born Kevin Kato lives in Japan, he wrote humour, generally. His book I want to
mention is set wholly in reality. “For Now; After the Quake-a Father’s Journey,”
is a journal of his family during the fourth strongest earthquake in recorded
history.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Living
in Fukushima, Japan around March 2011
Kevin witnesses the monstrous tsunami pound the north-eastern shores, reducing
towns to splinters and leaving 20,000 loved ones dead or missing. Two days
later, fifty miles from his family and home, the reactors at the Daiichi
Nuclear Power Plant began to explode.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Poignant
and moving, Kevin Kato delivers fact and fear of the emotional events and the
legacy it left upon the city. He tells the tale first hand in periodical form
describing the hell that his family went through and how the population of
Fukushima dealt with the issues.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“For
the sake and safety of my two young sons there was no decision to be made, just
get them away,” Kevin writes as his blurb. “For myself, the choice was much
less clear. How can I run away when so people, right down the road, are in such
dire need - of food, of shelter, of the helping, caring hands of another human
being? The urgency of the moment made it impossible to do both - and left me
feeling capable of neither.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You
can read all the news you want to about natural disasters but a books like “For
Now,” gives it a certain reality and
that extra dimension; It is quite breath-taking and should be filed “a must
read.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Kevin
dedicated the book “to the memory of those lost and the courage of the affected
that remain.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNGfFtstVfE7AonbLfDInKea-5mdEkn5R6O3yod0aQEYUlp6sAWEMeuKJXSSyjLmZ_lss6p_FzB_goArQuPoyQzfRHQtkBcxTfk_gZTPwsNWEqxz1FhioLvV3ZyFun1fbRe2Pqi3LMdhg/s1600/anissa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNGfFtstVfE7AonbLfDInKea-5mdEkn5R6O3yod0aQEYUlp6sAWEMeuKJXSSyjLmZ_lss6p_FzB_goArQuPoyQzfRHQtkBcxTfk_gZTPwsNWEqxz1FhioLvV3ZyFun1fbRe2Pqi3LMdhg/s400/anissa.jpg" width="249" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Some
fiction though is so close to reality it can be a poignant as “For Now.” For
this you need to be one remarkable writer, come on down Jonah Pierce. There’s a
series of versions of this story but the one I read was “Anissa of Syria,”
subtitled, “A Christian Refugee’s Saga from the Syrian War to The American
Dream,” and it is part of a series called “The Love of Antioch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Phew,
one paragraph just to tell you the title, which has an alternative “ruder” version
by Jonah’s alter-ego Mr Zack Love called “The Syrian Virgin: A Young Woman's
Journey From War in Syria to Love in New York (The Syrian Virgin Series Book 1.)”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Trust
me to pick the clean version, not that I’m into reading erotica. Neither is the
romance genre usually my thing but I am not one to mark a book down due to my
personal tastes, I mean I picked it right? I picked it because of the plot that
surrounds the romance elements, a young girl fleeing the horrors in Syria; touching
and topical.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For
the first half I got what I came for, Jonah’s writing is strenuous and flows
wonderfully, it’s intelligent and operates above the regularity of the romance
genre. Once the protagonist has successfully made the journey to New York the
narrative concentrates more with the personal aspects of the girl’s life, her
understanding of social etiquette in the city, her education and campaigning
for her cause but mostly, her love life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One
may fairly label it as a modern Anne Frank’s diary; it is certainly set out in
diary form and follows a similar line; if you came looking for action, you have
to remind yourself that this is the diary of a teenager and it deals with
pubescent issues equally as much as the horrors of the war-torn predicament she
resides in. The only difference here is that Anne Frank’s diary is real but
Anissa is fiction. If there was a reason I could give for knocking that star
off it would have been this one, and as the story warms towards her romantic
activities and distances itself from the troubles in Syria. However, I then
considered how believable the character is; at times I thought I could reach
into the book and pull her out of there (which is why I should have read the
ruder version) and that, to me, deserves all my acclaim.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So
all in all I enjoyed this read but if it is all-out-action, boy’s stuff you’re
searching for you may be disappointed. This is thoughtful, moving and
gratifying.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1dhYF8FoNOe0rHBiF0LPk4s-zJDc7cv0yP9Cl63TxAWw_YgDk2JhyphenhyphenUWhXKnsuN5Sw-7Q-Io61xdoVwvD_PPf7970BgnsP4e6Hhrwykhq6o6g3TTdtOX8uTv8ZZuQdFEX3ooDNgluUvA/s1600/gullwing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1dhYF8FoNOe0rHBiF0LPk4s-zJDc7cv0yP9Cl63TxAWw_YgDk2JhyphenhyphenUWhXKnsuN5Sw-7Q-Io61xdoVwvD_PPf7970BgnsP4e6Hhrwykhq6o6g3TTdtOX8uTv8ZZuQdFEX3ooDNgluUvA/s400/gullwing.jpg" width="249" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Truth
told, as much as I admire a well-written non-fiction or reality-driven story,
nothing enchants me more than to be imbibed into the imaginary world of someone
skilful enough to execute a realm of total fantasy and more importantly make it
funny too. My newfound friend from across the pond Antonio Simon Jnr, of who I’m
honoured to share a contribution to the horror anthology Shadows and Teeth
with, fulfils this need more than anyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
book is called “The Gullwing Odyssey,” winner of the 2014 Royal Palm Literary
Award in the category of Humor and Satire, yeah, I know the missing U annoys me
too but this is without doubt one of the finest reads, like, ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It
follows Marco Gullwing, a messenger who stumbles into a case of mistaken
identity and his adventures which follows. Stranded in foreign lands within
this fantasy realm Marco is “constantly outrunning pirates, embroiled in
international intrigue, and attacked by a hummingbird with an appetite for
human brains – that’s just the start of his misadventures.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lovers
of Jeff Smith’s “Bone” will be a home here. If the Monty Python team wrote
Gulliver’s Travels in the spirit of Don Quixote you might be close to just how awesome
this is. The goodness arrives from the realm and the quirky misadventures, but
mostly from the sheer quality of the characters. Marco is a lucky sprite, with
the blessing from a god he has no faith in; he humorously survives scrapes most
would perish. He’s no fool but no hero either; an everyman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Marco
is surrounded by equally resolute and intelligently grafted characters, a
princess dragon who takes a shining to him, the brash indestructible Latino female
pirate and the overzealous knight Barclay who, despite his foreboding of
dragons, follows on not as friend but for reimbursement for saving his life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With
amusing ways of doing battle there’s silliness abound and I guarantee you’ve
not read anything quite like this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So
ending there brings our bucket-list to ten but there’s still more to come: (in
no particular order)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For
Now by Kevin Kato <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Now-After-Quake-Fathers-Journey-ebook/dp/B00IVLZTOW/">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Now-After-Quake-Fathers-Journey-ebook/dp/B00IVLZTOW/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Anissa
of Syria by Jonah Pierce <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Syrian-Virgin-Young-Womans-Journey-ebook/dp/B00PCTY5N2/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Syrian-Virgin-Young-Womans-Journey-ebook/dp/B00PCTY5N2/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gullwing
Odyssey by Antonio Simon Jnr <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Gullwing-Odyssey-Antonio-Simon-Jr-ebook/dp/B00F8OVB8I/">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Gullwing-Odyssey-Antonio-Simon-Jr-ebook/dp/B00F8OVB8I/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And
in previous blogs:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Khe
by Alexes Razevich<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shadowline
Drift by Alexes Razevich<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Speak
Swahili Dammit! by James Penhaligon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Judas
by Roy Bright<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">War
of the Never (series) by Colin Rutherford<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Order of the Anakim (series) by Cecily Magnon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Kyrathaba
Rising by William Bryan Miller<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-70948806499566198372016-10-29T09:01:00.003-07:002016-10-29T09:01:34.315-07:00Ye OldE-Book Shoppe 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzxRBVdD12OF5-kbQGj77IIKbnjA4TB4gW7f3hAiadjnmsPEabJWLO7ZeVw_iQo4eVoP8nVy-Cnyh2aNUufEydlhXRLIEZxboDgTqEJ-CDmWH5L3j1XrYsxuDC5eHLEAhvc4EUdzS3n4/s1600/yeoldebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzxRBVdD12OF5-kbQGj77IIKbnjA4TB4gW7f3hAiadjnmsPEabJWLO7ZeVw_iQo4eVoP8nVy-Cnyh2aNUufEydlhXRLIEZxboDgTqEJ-CDmWH5L3j1XrYsxuDC5eHLEAhvc4EUdzS3n4/s320/yeoldebook.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Let Me Be Your Fantasy…..No okay,
maybe not; I understand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
fantasy genre is like Marmite; you either love or hate it. I break this company
slogan; I can take Marmite or leave it without fuss. Blows their whole
advertising campaign out of the water huh? Well, fantasy is the same, when its
written well it absorbs me, pulls me into its unique world but often, geeks
write fan fiction or else a poor pastiche of the classics; pass the pipe-weed
Ent, I’m off to Gondor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmX_cZxTpXUDjzlCClQQJMztZmJd4VYizlMq-OUCJr9SfyecdD0ZHFnX3hT7ivczwyINipFEbBOBBEqD3Y8K23ztuxVFg-eMYQHQ8gGUhWQQhogys26QOsc6RlXNkl6qfAKbfDE34_uFg/s1600/KYb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmX_cZxTpXUDjzlCClQQJMztZmJd4VYizlMq-OUCJr9SfyecdD0ZHFnX3hT7ivczwyINipFEbBOBBEqD3Y8K23ztuxVFg-eMYQHQ8gGUhWQQhogys26QOsc6RlXNkl6qfAKbfDE34_uFg/s1600/KYb.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Kyrathaba-Rising-Chronicles-Book-ebook/dp/B00E3YJ4HY/" target="_blank">Kyrathaba Rising </a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While
the others offer original worlds, Kyrathaba Rising is Tolkienesque but in an ingenious
and unusual way. Principally though, it’s a dystopian sci-fi crime thriller;
taking a while to lift off but when it does the layers pile higher. Sheltering
from a hostile alien race in an underground compound, a commune face invasion
or else, the protagonists plan to save the human race by entering a virtual
reality world whereby they can access a new life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Anyone
intelligent enough to program such an intense alternative world, the author theorises,
stands to reason they’d be a geek and every geek loves a bit of “Lord of the
Rings.” Therefore the world they enter is inspired by Middle-Earth with
preprogramed representations of the many creatures from Tolkien’s world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s
obvious its author, William Bryan Miller, is as massively influenced by Tolkien
as the programmers in his book, and while he’s not afraid to show it, he’s
found a unique angle and reason in which to use it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Others
take to fantasy in a more direct way and provided it is carved out with
creativity and originality then I cannot get enough. The next two books I think
are similar in that, the protagonists both come from our world and find
themselves delving into their respective other-worlds. The first is the world
of the Never, shaped by the astounding CJ Rutherford.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Origins-Never-fantasy-Ancient-Neverwar-ebook/dp/B00OYFRU6O/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">origins of the never</a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now,
both Mr Rutherford and Cecily Magnon use the hook of a free prequel to suck you
into his realm, its fair game and a great way for you taste their offerings
before devoting yourself to the series. I guarantee now though, if you stick
your little toe in either waters, you’ll want to dive right in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How
do they do this? Through a website called Smashwords, a wonderful
cyber-bookshop where, if you want to avoid the one which sounds like a
rainforest for your own reasons, you need look no further. Check it out and
support the authors on there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Back
to Never though, defined as YA in genre, (young adult) but I pretend I’m young
enough, it’s the duty of us big kids. It’s a world full of dragons and other
archetypical creatures but the way it has been presented is engaging. Rutherford
knows how to weave a fascinating story; the prequel starts in the fantasy world
and leaves you hanging. Then book one plonks you back on Earth, in Ireland,
where a couple of girls in university begin to analysis the dreams that haunt
them, suspecting they’re becoming real.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Unlike
Tolkien we are not expected to just be plonked in the middle of Never without a
map; Colin is crafting his universe before us, opening our mind and pouring in
the rich narrative and creative descriptions with ease. The multi-universe
theory comes into play and the adventure unfolds; nothing particularly original
in this but, and this is a big but, it’s charm is within the courageous
wordplay, the real life conversations and situations that make this something
very special. It reads beautifully, it does not confuse and it implements all
we need to know to enter his world confident that we are no stranger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It
reminded me of Cecily Magnon’s amazing series, “The Order of the Anakim,” with
its perfect mixture of rich portrayals and everyday conversation pieces and
this, coupled with the modern scientific theory that melds our world to that of
the Never this book keeps you beyond entertained and when it is over, dripping
for more. And there is more, after you’ve downloaded the FREE prelude, Origins
of the Never, there’s three novels; Souls of the Never, Worlds of the Never and
War of the Never. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Prelude-Storm-Fantasy-Prequel-Anakim-ebook/dp/B00K57YGBC/" target="_blank"><img alt=" Prelude to a storm" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F-Kz0vwBuOUUJIns2kCIlj30hlnkt1eHPOrSlsNHJblJYWuaiLBa2F6DtS9SW97vr9zMn-34ZvNLXWHS_tCw-aX85mDPiqZCKtgdQSehAfXHdPeAQPaSIKauU9Eg8Vi2TiNnNby28k8/s320/Cecily.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Prelude-Storm-Fantasy-Prequel-Anakim-ebook/dp/B00K57YGBC/" target="_blank">Prelude to a Storm</a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The
Order of the Anakim” also has three books after the FREE, Prelude to a Storm;
Gathering Storm, Dark Skies and Tempest Dawn. The similarities are endless, it’s
also YA but enjoyable for an old fart like me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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young and rather naïve American Girls venture across the Mexican border. Life
is a breeze for them, not taking heed of warnings they find themselves biting
off more than they can chew in a rundown café. There is something in the mist
of the mood, something not quite right but it would seem they are in good hands
when a strong willed young Greek man assists them with the undesirable cautions
of his boss Rosa, owner of the café. With their suspicions they’ve found
something unworldly and demonic they leave under the protection of their
saviour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Intrigued
by the whole incident one of the girls returns and in turn the protector seems
to become obsessed by her, locating her in San Francisco. However her relevance
in all this is far from circumstantial as she is about to discover her role in
a world of ancient magik.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cecily
tackles this fantastical unwinding narrative with certain ease, the words flow
through you as if they are magic themselves; there is no mistaking the
environment that you are imaging, it sucks you in and tosses you right into the
eye of the action. With beauty and precision the wording is expressive, it is
funny when it wants to be fun, scary when it needs to scare you; basically it’s
astonishingly realistic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Prelude
to a Storm is literally as moreish as melting chocolate and the only thing you
will want to do after reading it is liquefy into the series. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With
the fuller books greater depth and narrative sustain the quality; they deliver this
in abundance. At times the descriptions gave us rather a lot to digest,
building up into a world that has the potential to remain exciting through a
whole series and thus, Gathering Storm takes some time to develop. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However
there is a reality through the dialogue and such a wonderful expression in the
writing that it never bores you. Then, when Cecily does take you off for the
action it is truly breath-taking and exhilarating either dramatic in its
fantastical battles with demons or else in the magnificently crafted erotic
interactions. If this was a movie, your popcorn would be all over the floor of
the cinema and you wouldn’t have even noticed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-44465793943184839412016-10-20T10:51:00.003-07:002016-10-20T11:05:24.685-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuy1PMYKrpSYq11XdwzTJIvBDGKpx1nEyjP2xwFNMsxBiczGOe_Pdw73gpwEkrPcsc3otPgh5axuPI7C79ortIDUpR5Tkfc98RLUC4RnsRiiC6oxJXuBq7Hh1d4pUT83wVRdCYE1YzmUQ/s1600/return+to+slapam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuy1PMYKrpSYq11XdwzTJIvBDGKpx1nEyjP2xwFNMsxBiczGOe_Pdw73gpwEkrPcsc3otPgh5axuPI7C79ortIDUpR5Tkfc98RLUC4RnsRiiC6oxJXuBq7Hh1d4pUT83wVRdCYE1YzmUQ/s640/return+to+slapam.jpg" width="452" /></a></div>
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Return to Slapam Down</h2>
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Having been busy enjoying writing, among other things (other disgusting things) my regular column and articles for Index;Wiltshire, It's been a while since I released a new book, sorry but that's about to change my friends.</div>
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If you've not read A Chip off the Old Block, what are you waiting for, a sequel, Christmas, or the country to come to its senses? It's FREE on Smashwords <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/525329" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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You need to read this, your life may depend on it and what is more, the sequel really is coming faster than a fast thing being fast; you have been warned.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Now I’m
not one to blow my own trumpet but this is officially certified the funniest
thing you might read this week in accordance with the board of the funniest
things you might read this week cooperation of Slough, Berkshire; if an
elaborate tale of knob jokes is up your street.</span></div>
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So for your reading displeasure I humbly present the first chapter in a desperate attempt to lure you in, and if by some miracle it works, well, my work is done. Enjoy!</div>
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mouthed bigot, Jeremy Clerkscum, famous TV presenter and all-round knob-jockey,
flicked through the menu and smiled. “Amazing, they do not have a single dish
here that hasn’t had…. an animal callously butchered.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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was obvious his signature presenting routine, of pausing midsentence, deepening
his voice before continuing, was no gimmick for television; he really was
stupid enough to think using it all the time gave him an air of superiority. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A
shallow looking drip in a suit far too expensive for him looked nervously at Clerkscum
from the other side of the table and advocated, “Oh, surely they have at least
one vegetarian option available?” He took a quick scan of his own menu, using
it as shield to shy behind when he observed, “I did not realise that you are
a….ermmm…vegetarian Mr Clerkscum?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
TV presenter was a gigantic man, twice the size of his dinner colleague, maybe
even three, and he spat out some saliva when he barked. “I think all veggies
should be hung, drawn and quartered at birth!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh,”
the drip cowered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Along
with any Jesus-creeping, work-shunning, left wing driblets that support the
NHS, the BBC and, god forbid, them….them fucking tree-hugging, pikey hunt
saboteurs; slay the fox I say, slaughter the stag now!” Jeremey raised his volume
with every word until he bellowed in an insane giggle. He noticed a group of
men staring at him, gathered at a table just two down from his own. “Isn’t that
so Prime Minister?” he asked them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One
man nodded his approval, “Here, here, Mr Clerkscum; see you at the hunt
what-what!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“So,”
his nerdy chum dared to peek over his menu, “this restaurant meets with your,
ermm, satisfaction then?” His teeth chattered with the fear of Jeremey’s
response.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Clerkscum
took his time to answer, when he did he projected it with his trademark deep
booming voice and the random little pause he did for effect, “This restaurant
is the best restaurant…….in the world.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh
good, I’m so glad. Now about your, ermm, about your contract with the BBC in
connection with the comments you made on the Cbeebies show <i>Out and About</i>, you know, ermm, yes, the ones concerning, ermm,
immigrant disabled children, Rottweilers, chainsaws and ermm, ethnic, ermmm, cleansing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Clerkscum
downed his pint of Henri Jayer Richebourg Grand Cru in one and let out a ground-shaking
burp. “What about it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well,
in….in….ermm…in light of, of ermm, recent complaints…..” stammered the
chaperone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Complaints?”
Clerkscum bellowed, forcing his dinner partner to grip the table cloth in fear
of being blown back in his chair. “For the love of Thatcher, what <i>can</i> you say on the BBC these days if you
can’t give a sly little joke about some towel-headed disabled kids meeting
their maker, huh?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well…….”
The nerd slithered snake-like down his seat until only the topper most of his hair
was visible over the table-top.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Fuck
this,” he bellowed. Clerkscum stood and took half of the cutlery with him,
“I’ve gotta take a piss.” The nerd quivered as the plates and glasses crashed
to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bold
and brash Jeremey Clerkscum waddled to the door of the gents and pushed the thing
off of its hinges. He forcefully stepped inside; his hands already fingered his
flies. He strode over to a urinal and gave a relaxing sigh.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He causally undone
his button, slid down the zip of his trousers and straddled the urinal. At ease
he looked to the wall and attempted to hoist out his great length of penis,
“arghh, the best penis…….in the world….” he muttered deeply to himself with a
grin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As
he fumbled some more an expression of shock and confusion flushed over his
sweaty face, wiping it clean of the previous smug grin. No one outside the
gent’s washroom heard his monumental cry, no matter how much volume he
conducted it with. The toilets in this establishment were sound-proofed better
than the recording studios of Abbey Road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-66690914472870275872016-10-13T11:12:00.001-07:002016-10-13T11:16:56.729-07:00Ye Old-eBook Shoppe 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzxRBVdD12OF5-kbQGj77IIKbnjA4TB4gW7f3hAiadjnmsPEabJWLO7ZeVw_iQo4eVoP8nVy-Cnyh2aNUufEydlhXRLIEZxboDgTqEJ-CDmWH5L3j1XrYsxuDC5eHLEAhvc4EUdzS3n4/s1600/yeoldebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzxRBVdD12OF5-kbQGj77IIKbnjA4TB4gW7f3hAiadjnmsPEabJWLO7ZeVw_iQo4eVoP8nVy-Cnyh2aNUufEydlhXRLIEZxboDgTqEJ-CDmWH5L3j1XrYsxuDC5eHLEAhvc4EUdzS3n4/s400/yeoldebook.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Contented
upon finishing “Lord of the Rings,” I told a doughnut of a friend. They replied
I was “a big girl” to have read it as they’re making a film. Peter Jackson made
a fair attempt but I defer, for only those who read know the idiocy of his statement.
Still authors dream their works would attract a film producer, but to see your
narrative ripped apart can be disheartening. Guess you just lie back and think
about the money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Last
week I mentioned the ease of movie adaption with Alexes Razevich’s astounding
novel “Khe,” this can be an attraction for readers. So the couple of books I’ve
picked this time contradict each other. While “Judas” is an all-action, popcorn
munching Hollywood dream, I feel “Speak Swahili Dammit!” is quite the opposite,
both breathtakingly brilliant but the latter book remains something to be
digested in literature form.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7lREF9pAohXwODV2ov_AARi2LilFXGJyZ3fYZ1oo8GblawOGzBA5izsgEqHZE3dAJOGcPAIaXdbitxajcfkWEyQlik2rXSurq-6wI3vaEcpeuQpdatQA28o0EHVekpmN22Ng_WG5QVI/s1600/judas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7lREF9pAohXwODV2ov_AARi2LilFXGJyZ3fYZ1oo8GblawOGzBA5izsgEqHZE3dAJOGcPAIaXdbitxajcfkWEyQlik2rXSurq-6wI3vaEcpeuQpdatQA28o0EHVekpmN22Ng_WG5QVI/s400/judas.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Judas”
I discovered as a friend (Barry Renshaw) designed the cover. Yeah I know, don’t judge a book
blah, blah. But when I read the synopsis I gasped, wondering why no one had
thought of this simple but awesome plot before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Judas
Iscariot, yeah him, the disciple who grassed up Jesus in the bible, is paying
for his crime. God has made him immortal, to walk the Earth forevermore, never
to love, unable to die and so, obviously, he’s turned into an all-American
action hero out to protect a forthcoming prophet! The likes of Bruce Willis or Vin
Weasel would not look out of place playing Judas……if it would be snapped up by
Hollywood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Although
I fear with its Christian connotations Middle-America would hail blasphemy. It’s
exactly the shock-tactic its author, Roy Bright tells me he was aiming for.
Expect a plague of locusts in his hometown of Burnley.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While
some chapters, such as the biblical flashback sequences, are deadly serious,
others have a tongue-in-cheek feel about them; both equally wonderfully written
and engaging. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Its
location is a movie caricature of New York, where demons choose to take the
form of Japanese businessmen. Dripping with wry “Terminator” and “Die Hard”
pastiches, it’s all very comic-book; Bright makes no attempt to hide this fact.
Not just the gung-ho narrative but often referencing comic, manga or action
hero movie media in the narrative. And in true Hollywood fashion, Roy is
currently bashing out a sequel as we speak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Judas”
may not be up everyone’s street. It’s highly addictive, chockful of fury-paced
pulp fiction, aching for John Woo to direct. In contradiction, I believe the
author of “Speak Swahili Dammit!” considered the possibility of movie adaption
but it’s one of those things, I feel, which is best remaining as it is; a both
inspiring and amusing masterpiece novel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_R4qvV88ZpGNwGcZhE3tt8tHGwWU6pPP6erMQ0b2TLBiR67QEyHqayhFUvCrdGoWe2iuRQQiglYMBOsigSWOCqIOIMErgYiq6iNaVXn0HGPGY-6qrUdyYC-ltFSG-4Q7rSUFIg0ses58/s1600/speakswahhili.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_R4qvV88ZpGNwGcZhE3tt8tHGwWU6pPP6erMQ0b2TLBiR67QEyHqayhFUvCrdGoWe2iuRQQiglYMBOsigSWOCqIOIMErgYiq6iNaVXn0HGPGY-6qrUdyYC-ltFSG-4Q7rSUFIg0ses58/s400/speakswahhili.jpg" width="249" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Quite
lengthy, “Speak Swahili Dammit!” is autobiographical. Cornish author James
Penhaligon’s family migrated to Tanganyika in the 1950s when he was six. This
then is the story of white kid “Jimu” growing up in the African bush, being accepted
by the Watu and it ends with his dawning of adolescence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It
describes life there, its history and culture in colossal detail, ventures off
into gorgeous character portrayals, and amusing anecdotes of his interactions
with the ingenious people, the other colonists, and a few deadly animals. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Covering
the fullness of childhood; prepubescent love, friendship and general
mischievousness, “Speak Swahili Dammit!” meanders through emotions cogitating through
the eyes of a child. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This
truly is an inspiring and witty read; a self-published stroke of genius which
makes you wonder why the heck it is isn’t in every bookshop worldwide. But hey,
that’s the domain of self-publishing, there’s greatness lurking down rabbit
holes. You just have to take the leap… or wait for me hand more to you on a
silver platter, as I did last time spotlighting Alexes Razevich. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGO50rzbvcGMKszV_UwFBQB5p0h6dSkIKhr6khE8faGkhzhPZ2zujfb1KSZmWRuf88HeUCzJOmmRFA57OdXZnIAddXEyjZNH1WX6qfbXmzj7dpkDQ0FWO1qIkX7OoiIQl7XED9pKfpwI/s1600/shadowline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGO50rzbvcGMKszV_UwFBQB5p0h6dSkIKhr6khE8faGkhzhPZ2zujfb1KSZmWRuf88HeUCzJOmmRFA57OdXZnIAddXEyjZNH1WX6qfbXmzj7dpkDQ0FWO1qIkX7OoiIQl7XED9pKfpwI/s400/shadowline.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Based
on the excellence of “Khe,” I had high hopes for her second book, “Shadowline
Drift.” Offering to be different Alexes again outreached my expectations. This
book captivated me until the end. It’s not a turn of phrase when I say “I
couldn’t put it down;” might as well have superglued it to my fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When
the protagonist delves into the Amazon rainforest to make a trade with a
nomadic tribe for a plant which can solve the world famine problem, he gets
much more than he bargained for. This believable fantasy sprints, with rich
storytelling and careful research through the culture and wildlife of the rainforest
and whisks into supernatural enigmas with a killer plot line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So
with three more added to our bucket list; an unspecified amount of
self-published books to read before you either die or go buy another book by a
big publishing house; lock in this feature for we have more to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve
put a Facebook group together called Ye OldE-book Shoppe, please join for more
coverage of great books and meet the authors: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/1606699399605659/"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.facebook.com/groups/1606699399605659/</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Speak
Swahili Dammit! James Penhaligon: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Speak-Swahili-Dammit-African-childhood-ebook/dp/B00B1WOYY4/"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Speak-Swahili-Dammit-African-childhood-ebook/dp/B00B1WOYY4/</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Judas,
Roy Bright: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Judas-Iscariot-Warrior-Book-1-ebook/dp/B01AQY5M16/"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Judas-Iscariot-Warrior-Book-1-ebook/dp/B01AQY5M16/</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shadowline
Drift, Alexes Razevich: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Shadowline-Drift-Razevich-Alexes-ebook/dp/B00JEP2GBI/"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Shadowline-Drift-Razevich-Alexes-ebook/dp/B00JEP2GBI/</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-73556628440210115032016-10-08T05:59:00.001-07:002016-10-08T06:02:02.256-07:00Ye Old e-Book Shoppe<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Buy
a book at the supermarket? Job done, but surely you’re getting jaded with the
humdrum of celebrity autobiographies, keep-fit and cook books?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Perhaps
you’ve bought yourself an e-reader, you simply download books; easy innit? You
download a virtual Bibliotheque of classics free but, it’s thorny hunting
something different. Someplace though, there’s a wealth of aspiring authors,
begging you to open a page of their humble outpourings but it’s a needle in a
haystack.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s
been an explosion of self-publishing; any Tom, Dick, Harry or Harry’s pet dog
can throw a perfunctory novel together complete with more grammatical errors
then a day on Twitter and a plot so weak it couldn’t interest a primate. So you
avoid plunging into the depths of this ocean, without the recommendation of a
billboard or Guardian reviewer you worry you’re going to waste your hard-earned
pennies on some pile of uninspiring codswallop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I
feel your pain, but fear not oh fearless one; I’m here to rumble through the
haystack and find you the perfect needle. The concern is those untrusting,
namby-pamby customer-propelled reviews on the big book sites. There may well be
twenty-eight five star reviews on the book you’re pursuing, but they all seem
to be from the author’s mum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
issue for the author is the world of self-publishing rarely peaks its head out
of its own backside and so ranting to friends on social networks means
preaching to the converted; plus, they have their own torrents to endorse. If an
author doesn’t promote themselves ain’t nobody gonna see their stuff,
shamelessly over-plug and they get accused of “spamming,” by people who will
quite willingly succumb to a large poster on the wall advertising a big
publisher’s book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So
here I stand, or lounge, hoping to attract a new audience to this world, longing
to tug you away from Katie Price’s tenth autobiography. Tune in every week
where I’ll spotlight a few self-published books that may be up your street but
you didn’t hear tapping at your door. You can expect honesty, at last; I won’t
call in on those which do not meet a standard of distinction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Think
of it as a bucket list; An unspecified amount of self-published books to read
before you either die or go buy another book by a big publishing house… or
something like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe
you haven’t given in to the technological revolution; you favour the feel and
smell of a real book; I don’t blame you but you might be surprised to note many
self-publishers do release books on paper too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One
trick of the eBook trade is to look out for free promotion days; this way if
the author is bad you’ve lost nothing. Never think for a second though only
rubbish authors run such promotions; anyone wanting to further their appeal
will. You may pick a dreadful one but, you might just stumble on some
greatness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In
fact, this is the way I discovered possibly my favourite self-published
author…like, ever. From Orange County, Alexes Razevich attended California
State University, earning a degree in creative writing. A former editor for
Electronic Engineering Times, her work has appeared in Rolling Stone among
others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I
downloaded her sci-fi epic, “Khe.” Within just a few short chapters Razevich
creates a believable but complex alternative world which would have taken other
authors a hundred pages or more to immerse the reader into its unique fantasy
realm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnEyoh3oViQoN62h3ryOdY1N75b53qw3nuSVlaPNSfk14G5uqL8_hqYXMFEQQ3yHGry1ZBPgJt_Sp6HNbuIvE3Y8e31tS8By59lihdZKko3dwJZQpl5dciQnfqf7lh7BJOmgmu6h_6wOw/s1600/khe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnEyoh3oViQoN62h3ryOdY1N75b53qw3nuSVlaPNSfk14G5uqL8_hqYXMFEQQ3yHGry1ZBPgJt_Sp6HNbuIvE3Y8e31tS8By59lihdZKko3dwJZQpl5dciQnfqf7lh7BJOmgmu6h_6wOw/s400/khe.jpg" width="249" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
adventure takes you on a journey unlike anything I could try to compare it to.
If you forced a comparison out of me; I’d say like Frank Herbert, with a feminine
angle. This totally original page-turner wouldn’t look out of place as an
advert on the walls of a multiplex. If I was James Cameron I’d snap it up but,
well, I’m not. Its narrative is easy despite the vast cultural differences between
our world and that of Khe’s.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">From
the absorbing plot to the smaller elements, such as the species emotion spots
that glow a different colour to represent their moods, this book had me hooked.
I could see a thousand possibilities for other equally interesting plots using
the universe Razevich calls “The Ahsenthe Cycle.” Since I read this the highly
anticipated second part of the series, “Ashes and Rain” has been released and
it’s burning my kindle as we speak. But there are so many other authors I need
to tell you about; stay tuned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There
cannot be many better places to start out on your self-publishing expedition then
Alexes Razevich. We’ll look at her other offering next week along with a couple
more. So, pop to my virtual bookshop column next time when I’ll try to reduce
the rambling and random tangents….. I said “try!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">KHE:
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Khe-Ahsenthe-Cycle-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00987OLVU/">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Khe-Ahsenthe-Cycle-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00987OLVU/</a></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> </span><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Khe-Ahsenthe-Cycle-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00987OLVU/"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.com/Khe-Ahsenthe-Cycle-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00987OLVU/</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve
put a Facebook group together called Ye OldE-book Shoppe, please join for more
coverage of great books and meet the authors: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/1606699399605659/"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.facebook.com/groups/1606699399605659/</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-2428915632853720662016-09-23T10:30:00.001-07:002016-09-23T10:30:27.206-07:00Application Form
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutMx73oPAt8ofXe1uH-iC4zqDvoQhxy7pGUPlt298mSzREYFSZgf3JaqFSp_kpvVRIINMjm5Hpy9YW16DLx78ClWMLbi7PLmNXrg3DqvdwQGAV5bftWFiIx7_ruGGdAq2vSRtw_UcEsg/s1600/enve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutMx73oPAt8ofXe1uH-iC4zqDvoQhxy7pGUPlt298mSzREYFSZgf3JaqFSp_kpvVRIINMjm5Hpy9YW16DLx78ClWMLbi7PLmNXrg3DqvdwQGAV5bftWFiIx7_ruGGdAq2vSRtw_UcEsg/s400/enve.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alex
picked up the manila piece and got back on the bus. He held tightly onto the
envelope and sat down. When it was his stop, he thanked the driver and
sauntered down the street.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hi
honey I’m home! Put the kettle on please love,” he proudly requested as he
opened his front door and stepped into the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">His
wife was anxiously awaiting his return, pacing the room. “Did you get it?” she
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alex
sat at the kitchen table and produced the manila envelope, “Ta-rah!” He tore
the flap, to his wife’s eager stare, and flipped it so the open end faced the
table top. He wriggled the package and frowned, wriggled it some more and
repeated the process a couple more times.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">His
wife was lost for words as he tore open the thing to find it empty. “Where are
the forms then?” she gasped.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“T…t….they
was inside when I left, I swear they were,” Alex stumbled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">His
wife swung around to face away from him, “I don’t believe it, I just don’t
believe it; you’ve lost them haven’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alex
gave it some thought, “I’m sorry love, I errmmm….”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You
fool, you complete and utter turnip!” she screeched at him, “what do we do now?
Marjorie and Roy next door have filled in their forms and sent them off, what
if they’re selected, huh; what then?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alex
pondered aloud, “I must have lost them on the bus; it was busy. I was squashed
through the door by a right hippo; she wanted to get out as I was getting on
and knocked me right back into the street! I’ll bet that’s when they fell out!
I’ll nip down the bus depot and see if anyone handed them in.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Seriously,”
she quipped, “do you think anyone in their right mind is going to hand them in,
you crazy old fool?!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Have
you put the kettle on yet love?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“For
crying out loud Alex,” she smashed her head on the cupboard door in annoyance.
“This is the end of everything, and all you’re concerned about is a cup of
tea!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He
stayed sitting at the table, looking glumly at the table-cloth, “I think you’re
exaggerating slightly love, we don’t need to go on a cruise anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“A
cruise did you say?” she turned back to him in disbelief, “It is far from a
cruise Alex, you saw the man, you heard what he said.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Man?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“The
man on the tele, with the beard!” she continued.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh,
him; they always say the worst, to cover their back,” offered Alex.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“He
doesn’t work for the Met Office Alex; he had a message, from God!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“A
message from the bottom of a bottle more like!” complained Alex, “listen honey,
calm down, it’s not so bad.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So
bad?” his wife screeched, “it’s going to wipe out everything, and we had the
one chance of survival, the one chance and you, you lost the flipping
application forms!” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Misplaced,”
Alex corrected.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No
one is going to hand them into the bus depot!” she repeated.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m sorry love. Anyway, I don’t think it’s
going to flood, really.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“They
only take two you know?” she reminded him but Alex continued to stare blankly
at the tablecloth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">His
wife returned to pacing the room, her anger at boiling point. There was a
silence in the kitchen that could be cut with a knife. She tried to compose
herself and turned to him once again, “I suggest Alex, you be a giraffe about
it for once in your life, call that Noah bloke personally, to apologise, and
pray he’ll see sense and let us on his ark before it’s too late!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alex
sighed, stretched out his long yellow neck and switched the kettle on with his
left ossicone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-52630503474594951382016-07-31T05:14:00.002-07:002016-07-31T05:49:38.940-07:00The Coastal Path<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdsBQIKc1v4n8-mEG19_g2ZsoWWTCdqUlClEPXEWoaVfEJ9FboblWgfSOacV749fdEHA_AB5R1E2fEkwHvzCOw64ARSTfyCnI6y6iXi2TC91byjaQNSKCmcoN_Jn02ylpz9H8S0TX0as/s1600/coastal+path.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdsBQIKc1v4n8-mEG19_g2ZsoWWTCdqUlClEPXEWoaVfEJ9FboblWgfSOacV749fdEHA_AB5R1E2fEkwHvzCOw64ARSTfyCnI6y6iXi2TC91byjaQNSKCmcoN_Jn02ylpz9H8S0TX0as/s640/coastal+path.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The Coastal Path<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Darren Worrow<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Morning
love,” my wife says cheerfully as I open the door, “where have you been?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I thought I
might take a stroll along the coastal path,” I inform her, “you know, just a
stroll.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Did you get
out of the park?” she asks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“No, I was
tired and turned back at the gate.” I take my shoes off and thank her for the
cup of tea she hands me, jiggling on a saucer. I sit at the table and smile at
her. She smiles back.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s so nice here on the holiday park, yes
it’s a big place, far bigger than we are used to but we enjoy every minute of
it. We’ve been here a while now, to be honest it’s such a carefree place I
never stop to think just how long; must have been three weeks or more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Upon my
retirement we visited some foreign countries you know, saw a bit of the world.
But now, we like coming here, it’s not just for old people, oh no, there’s
young and old, a good mix of people. I guess it reminds me of holidays we took
when the kids were little; the best days of our lives.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Of course
after the accident we couldn’t get around so easy, the thought of sitting on a
plane for ages wouldn’t agree with my posture. No, we’re happy here. When we
took holidays in such parks, when the children were little, they were always
smaller places; you weren’t just a number, the staff got to know you and the
other holiday-makers would chat and you made friends.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Here it’s
different, such a big place, like a city of caravans. People come and go, you
never see the same person twice. I admit it’s not as social but we like it.
I’ve done my years of being sociable; we like to keep ourselves to ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The accident
had an effect on us no doubt, times were hard to begin with, you know, getting
over the shock, we were lucky to be alive. But we stuck together and came out
the end as a very happy couple. It was quickly after that, I cannot even recall
when exactly, the man approached us and sold us this caravan. I know he was
just a salesman, I’m no fool, but the way he sold it to us, he had real
charisma, a really kind, genuine guy; and we got a good deal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The caravan
was lovely, we didn’t even need any decorations or furniture from home; it was
all here when we arrived. The salesman made sure we were pampered. Since that
day we never looked back, sure the letting agency let us down. They say it’s a
recession, I never check the news but the young these days just don’t have the
funds for a holiday. I understand; it’s tricky for them to find people to lease
it to. It doesn’t matter, I never went into this as an investment; we wanted
somewhere familiar we could take a break and being as it’s always free, we stay
here for long periods of time. Like I say, I cannot even recall how long we’ve
been here!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">We have some
sandwiches and I pop over to the camp shop. People are coming and going, buying
gifts and toys, posing for photos, eating ice cream and playing ball games on
the patches between the caravans. It’s nice. I consider stopping off for a beer
at the bar, just a half. I do so and as I sit there the barman is the only
person who talks to me; it’s okay, I like it this way. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">People are
watching football on a big screen, playing pool or wandering through on their
way to the arcade or one of the big halls where there is entertainment for the
children. I can people-watch here to my heart’s content; just the half though,
that’s plenty for me and I’m beginning to feel a little lightheaded. I get up
to leave and the barman doesn’t even notice; he is busy serving a young couple
at the other endo of the bar.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I take a
slow, unsteady stroll back to our caravan. My wife smiles, presents me with a
simple dinner which we eat in silence. The evening is spent watching the
television. We could go to the club but to be honest, I’m not in the mood for
the noise. We tend do this, the club is noisy and, well, not for us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Still we
like it here and as the sun sets over the sea we get ready for bed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">*******************<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">It’s the
next morning and I’m up before my wife, I used to work early so my body clock
is set for this time and doesn’t seem to revert. The sun is rising over the sea
again; I give one of those “another day” sighs. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I think I
might try and take a stroll along the coastal path today. I often contemplate
this, just to get out of the park for a while. Honestly, feels like we’re here
so often it’s funny, like nowhere else exists! I just like to see the cliff
face and the waves crashing into the rocks below me. You can see the path
crossing the cliffs and stretching for miles. It’d be nice to follow it for a
little way, to see what is outside the park.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I get my
shoes on and pick up my cap. Grasp my walking stick and leave the caravan, my
wife still sleeping. She will wake but know I’m out for one of my strolls. I
often do but, just as I’m leaving the gates of the park I tend to feel tired
and turn back. I used to be quite the rambler but, if it makes me out of breath
then it’s not worth continuing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Today
though, as the fresh seaside air hits me and the other campers are still dozing
in their caravans, I start my walk. Lovely it is too. I feel exhilarated, as if
I can wander for miles and I intend to try this time to make it to the brow of
hill I see every morning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The caravans
facing out towards the path and the cliffs beyond are far more luxurious than
ours. Some doubled up caravans, with verandas and tables outside. It’s a
splendid view to behold and although I envy them a little, I’m content with
what we have.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I stroll
along and note their curtains are all closed; no one is around but me. I can do
this; I can wander free from the park for once. I reach the gate and I’m
overcome with determination but also, foolishly, I feel some butterflies in my
stomach; don’t know why. I used to walk for miles and I know I can stop and
rest before returning if I want. There are benches as far along as I can see.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I clasp my
hand on the kissing gate at the very end of the park. The last caravan is
adjacent; all that follows is breath-taking countryside, bracken to my left and
grass verge on my right, leading down to those steep cliffs. The sun in the
distance is rising fast now, turning twilight into day; how can people sleep
during these hours? This is the most beautiful time of the day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">With that
thought I push the kissing-gate open and smile, here we go. I walk along the
path carefully, looking down through most of the beginning. I don’t want to
risk losing my step on a stone and tumbling towards the edge but, hey, the risk
is worth it, driving me to continue.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I must have
been walking this way for five or ten minutes now and I stop to take a look
around. I long to see the caravan park in the distance, to know I’m out of
there for a while. I love it there, it’s the kind of place we’d wanted to go to
when we were young, and now it’s everything we wished for, well, sometimes I
admit it gets a bit much. You know; it’s all fine, just, I don’t know; feels
like we’re trapped in there. I laugh at the notion and take a deep breath. I
stare out to sea and watch the sun’s reflection as ripples in the water;
breath-taking.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Although, I
note the formation of the cliffs is the same as when I left the kissing-gate
some distance away. I cannot be as fast at walking as I used to be! I turn to
check my progress and my heart stops. Something here is wrong, definitely
wrong. I’m still standing at the edge of the kissing-gate.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I look
around, the surroundings are familiar but that is eerie, I mean, knowing that
I’ve been walking for ten minutes or more. I should be quarter of a mile along
the path.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I touch the
gate, as if it’s my imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
nervously giggle as I feel the wooden post under my fingertips. I claim to
myself; must be going mad and to prove myself wrong I intend to continue
walking.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Now, with
more vigour and haste I wander, maybe sprint, as far as a pensioner can. I can
see movement in the pattern of the rocks locked in the dry mud path, so I know
I am covering ground. But still, when I stop and look behind me, the kissing-gate
is still within arm’s reach.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The last
caravans on the site sit in the same place, confirming it’s not the gate that
is moving with me. It’s as if I’ve not moved at all, although I know I have.
This time I wander backwards so I can still gaze at the gate and surroundings;
still it is stagnant and gets no smaller to my eye. I look forward, the scenery
beyond is so wonderful, so idyllic; I long to be there but it seems, weirdly,
unattainable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">But how can
this be? Why can I not make progress, as if it is all but a dream, as if this
world beyond the park gate is just a picture? Surely not, what kind of game is
this? I ponder all this; my arm stretches out into the air. I reach as far as I
can until my hand touches something invisible but solid in thin air, it’s
indescribable to the touch, moist, maybe, like a wet wall, but sticky too, as
my hand is immersing in it. I note, with horror that my hand is indeed melding
with the blue sky and I move my arm down though the bracken. Still, it’s not
really there, only this sensation of moistness, of sticky, translucent
substance, slowly sinking my hand further into it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Quickly with
fear I retract my hand and it comes into view, as if I lifted it out of oily
liquid. The image of the bushes and the deep blue sky sticks to it for a fraction
of a second and then, it bounces back, like a stick being pulled from molten
rubber. I check my hand with amazement, it is fine. I am fine, but, I have to
admit, despite seeing some stuff in my life, some really nasty experiences, I
never felt as scared.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I took three
steps back, through the kissing-gate and back into the park, I raise my arm
again and it is as if nothing happened, the air reacted how it should, how it
always has, just glides your hand through it. There was no, like what I would
deem a force-field, as if the world beyond this point was merely an illusion,
but I know, rationally , that is not possible.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’ve seen
enough, I don’t want to think any more about it until I’ve told my wife. We
look after each other and she will ease my mind. I had a senior moment she will
tell me, and to stop being so silly. I will agree, knowing it’s true. But
really, I have to know what it was.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I stop,
contemplate going back beyond the gate, I don’t know, to experiment, see if I
can pass through it. This sends my imagination wild with theory, can I pass
through, what will be there if I do but most importantly, why and how can this
be?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Now I’ve
thought about it I know I have to go back, I have to have confirmation what
just happened was real. I have to test the ideas racing through my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Before I do
a sudden voice breaks my wandering mind and snaps me into reality. It is a male
voice, strong and abrupt, “morning!” it bellows confidently.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A young man,
of average build and height, wearing average clothes, is walking his dog. I was
so wrapped up it seems I didn’t even notice him approaching and now, he is
opposite me, trying to get through the kissing-gate. He is so close I can smell
his breath.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Oh!” I cry,
“You made me jump!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Sorry!” he
cheerfully jests and he raises his arm towards me, to touch me on the side of
the face. I wrench back. “It’s okay!” he cheerfully smirks but I’m not sure I
can trust him. I saw a plug in his fingers, like a computer USB cord.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Without
warning he lunges at me and inserts the plug into my hearing aid. I struggle
for a brief second, then; well, it felt okay. I feel this man is trustworthy, I
cannot remember why I flinched; must have just made me jump. I should be getting
back to the caravan.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">************************<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Morning
love,” my wife says cheerfully as I open the door, “where have you been?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I thought I
might take a stroll along the coastal path,” I inform her, “you know, just a
stroll.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Did you get
out of the park?” she asks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“No, I was
tired and turned back at the gate.” I take my shoes off and thank her for the
cup of tea she hands me, jiggling on a saucer. I sit at the table and smile at
her. She smiles back.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-48289278862674246652016-07-24T09:50:00.000-07:002016-07-24T09:50:11.380-07:00Hold the Turkey; it's Santa's first vegan Christmas!!
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Santa's First Vegan Christmas by Robin Raven.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwirm5hyphenhyphenrDULzknQE7OCeXDXGSDR9ufyYZg_hkzm6VtuGBSNLcaDpA31QDtiyIUeNx6msgoBTF3Nas1yqI1O7ZKVTHea9_ldDfg2Ns61wi4hTFIzAuU2u9okc8qi2tfuDuYeQnLkNuuo/s1600/gan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwirm5hyphenhyphenrDULzknQE7OCeXDXGSDR9ufyYZg_hkzm6VtuGBSNLcaDpA31QDtiyIUeNx6msgoBTF3Nas1yqI1O7ZKVTHea9_ldDfg2Ns61wi4hTFIzAuU2u9okc8qi2tfuDuYeQnLkNuuo/s1600/gan.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Starting out with the line, “Twas the night before
Christmas,” you might be fooled into thinking this children’s book was a
run-of-the-mill story of yule. Indeed its charming illustrations of Santa
high-fiving a reindeer and the following on pictures of said reindeer
frolicking and dancing in the snow-blessed woods might make you feel this is
going the way most children’s Christmas books should. But check the title,
ingeniously, this is not going to be any normal Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s not just the turkey dinner getting interrogated here,
the book, while continuing to charm, brings to question all which may be over
commercialised about the season. Dana the reindeer is quite the alternative
thinker and convinces Santa to change the issues with Christmas that many may
criticise it for; the treatment of all god’s creatures should be respected
during the celebrations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Santa takes heed and attempts to change his ways, setting
caged animals free and presenting pets with gifts too. Even the reindeer get
promoted to ride in the sleigh rather than pull it! It’s all rather nice and
thoughtful and with beautiful illustrations, it’s sure to make your children
think about the treatment of animals whilst also enjoying the spirit of
Christmas. What a refreshing change from the norm and for this, I recommend it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30751633-santa-s-first-vegan-christmas">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30751633-santa-s-first-vegan-christmas</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-8362708501669670952016-07-03T12:27:00.002-07:002016-07-03T12:30:08.080-07:0020th No Surprises Living in Devizes.<div>
Sunday again. This is the 20th no surprises column; it's as close to "party" as it gets.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<a href="http://www.indexwiltshire.co.uk/no-surprises-living-in-devizes-twin-peeks/" target="_blank">http://www.indexwiltshire.co.uk/no-surprises-living-in-devizes-twin-peeks/</a><div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-60062650894101684272016-06-25T10:04:00.000-07:002016-06-25T10:04:06.469-07:00Cul-De-Sac
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There was a
cul-de-sac on my estate lined with horse chestnut trees where prior to the expiration
of the school summer holidays, hundreds of kids would gather with a collection
of objects useful for hurling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wood planks
with rusty nails, house bricks and broken bits of bicycles or go-karts would be
airborne or else crashing to the concrete to the shouts of either annoyance or jubilation,
depending on how many conkers it struck and successfully bought down.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Below the
falling objects children gathered to collect the spoils, the hierarchy governed
by age. Little ones hurried, looping through the legs of bigger kids, hoping to
steal an unwanted conker or two. The older kids were the connoisseurs; they
knew what they were looking for, the tell-tale signs of a potential “hundreder.”
They would crack open the case and inspect the nut, roll it between their
fingers prospectively.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I recall no
adults ever present, if they knew where we were going they only warned us to be
careful; supervision was not required and despite the fact that solid objects
fell from the skies in regular abundance, I never recall any injuries worth
noting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We took the
bags of collected items to Mum, who would sigh but still stop whatever one of
the zillion jobs she was undertaking without the aid of technological kitchen paraphernalia,
wipe her hands and get a baking tray to bake those conkers and get them real
hard.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We lay on
the floor by the heating oven, peering through its grease stained door, timing
them to perfection while mum slipped her hands into her oven gloves to get them
out. Now the tricky part, waiting for them to cool before we could raid Dad’s
shed for a screwdriver.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We put the
warm conkers on the patio slabs and sat on the floor, holding them steady with
one hand and forcing the screwdriver through their centres in hope they wouldn’t
crack. Every successful bore would be threaded with string and we’d tie a knot
in the end. The job was complete, now for the challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There was a
whole technique to perfect with conkers and when the important elements came
into play you had yourself a winner. Stance was fundamental; the ability to flick
it from your fingers paramount, and aim, well aim was the last crucial component
for a successful smash. If aim was in any way faltered you could blame your opponent
for swinging his string slightly to avoid collision. You then had the right to
touch his conker and align and steady it, otherwise you never touched another
lad’s conkers. Unless you worked for BBC children’s shows it would seem.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was at a
time when the dustman would go through your back gate, pick up a heavy metal
dustbin and fling it over his shoulder. He would march it out to the street and
dispose the contents into the truck. Then he would walk your bin back to the
garden, tip his cap and merrily greet your parents with a “morning’,” and shut
the gate on his way out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Things were
the way they had been for generations in the early 1980s, little changed. The electronic
milk-float replaced a horse and cart, lava lamps became old-fashioned, and that
was about it. Then times moved on, Mum told Dad the house needed decorating. Chic
contemporary design would replace the shockingly poor taste of the 1970s. Floral
wallpaper was stripped and replaced with painted walls, music systems were
replaced with hi-fi and we all had futuristic silver discs that we were told
would last forever to substitute for jumping vinyl.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We had house
meetings many-fold, in which we would try to convince Dad he needed to part
with more money to rent technological gadgets and accessories for without them,
we were doomed to live a life of 1970s humdrum. We begged for a video recorder
and despite my father’s confusion as to why on earth we would need to hire a
film or record a TV show if we were out, he got one. We supplicated him for a
home computer, backing our pitch up with the concept he could control all his
finances on it, organise his day. It worked and that Christmas we bagged a black
rubber-keyed processor with a whopping forty-eight kilobytes of memory. We
relished in the new terminology, RAM, ROM and whatever the hell POKE was.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And when Dad
realised he had not the time or motivation to self-teach programing in order
for this gadget to take over the organisation of his entire life, the machine
was left to us kids to trade and swap games, none of which would load. For my
mum it was infuriation; she wanted her television set back to watch Crossroads.
So we went where only the elite 1980s families went, to the pinnacle of modern
living; Dad bought a second television set and took the old one upstairs for us
to use with the Spectrum computer. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And with
these technological advances the country watched as the whole ethos changed. The
country mutated everything that was sacred, in fear it was too risky and
gradually we come to where we are today. My Dad took us on holiday in Cornwall
in the 1970s, hired an estate car with my uncle and aunt. My Dad and Uncle sat
in the front seats, which had seatbelts but no one used them. On the backseats
sat my mum and aunt, without belts but with my baby cousin on my auntie’s lap.
My brother and I were delighted to be in the boot, perched on seats loosely constructed
out of suitcases, boxes and footballs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, where we
are today, can you imagine taking the journey from Essex to Cornwall today in
this fashion, would you conceive the possibility that you might consider
loading your family in a car for such a journey? Would you allow your child to
wander around lone on a street where it rained rusty-nailed planks of wood,
bricks and metal parts of go-karts? Would you carry out metal dustbins when the
house-owner has a perfectly good wheelie bin to save your back? You know, if
you don’t take it out and align it in exactly the right spot, ensure the lid is
not raised a fraction of a millimetre, it will not be collected. Not because
the bin-men are obnoxious arseholes but because they have been conditioned by
the terms of their contracts. If they break this in order to go the extra mile
then on their head be it. They will not be covered if an accident happened.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is the
way of the world and some old folk need to keep up with the changes. I saw a pink
stool sat outside an elderly person’s home, awaiting bin collection with a note
saying “Take to tip.” I thought “Yeah right, like that’s going to happen, this isn’t
1977!” These older generation, still living in a time where, unbeknown how to
our younger generation, people manged to survive against the odds and total
lack of health and safety regulations. They hold on to the ideal that Britain
is great and the only thing ruining it is the influx of people who are ignorant
of our culture, our humble ways. But, unfortunately it is not those to blame;
it’s us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our lives
have been made so very comfortable, we need not worry as it is done for us. Providing
we are wearing a high-viz jacket should any traffic knock us down they are
liable, we will get paid out and hey, maybe not have to work for a living any longer.
Britain has become lazy, lethargic and idle. We may never be able to work our
way back from the mistakes of this week, unlike I believe our forefathers could
possibly have…. unless we change our ways back to an age they lived, become
uncomfortable again and with the rise in prices we will see over the coming years
perhaps this will happen…maybe that is what the governing bodies want from us,
but it is no walk in the park and walking in the park is about all we are good
for these days.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Can we
reduce our existence this low, now we are accustomed to all the 21<sup>st</sup>
century has to offer? Can we find a solution to our problems by going back to a
time when things were simpler? No, it’s all an illusion, a nostalgic flitter
from your youth. You may have been having the time of your life but in reality,
Britain was shit back then too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We had
recession, we had war, we had poverty and anger and hate, we had far right wing
factions feeding on our rage, we had mass unemployment, we had people abusing
their power, oppressing the poor, abusing children. We had serial killers,
bogeymen. We had sickening underworlds of debauchery on every level. It was
just your youth shadowing these things and it is this illusion which tells us
we put the Great in Great Britain but we didn’t, we never did.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Get off your
ego-trip and realise what the older generation and all those who followed them
into the propaganda of the Leave campaign did this week, they did because they
believe in a false concept, a fantasy that we still live, not in the Great
Britain of yore, but a Great Britain from their adolescent minds which always
fogs the hard bits and highlights the fonder memories. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Watch out, that wooden plank is coming down
from the horse chestnut tree and it about to smash us in the face and no
high-viz vest is going to protect us. Will we ever get back out of this
cul-de-sac? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6663494430442925724.post-56903288412946213982016-06-19T12:31:00.001-07:002016-06-19T12:31:40.760-07:00No Surprises Living in Devizes: Con-Air<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
With Index;Wiltshire out of action this week my regular column has moved to my blog, for just this week. So all the hardcore No Surprises Living in Devizes fans will not be disappointed (all two of them.) Be sure to catch up with it again on Index next week folks!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It should also be noted this piece was written prior to the sad news of MP Jo Cox. I wish her family my sincere condolences.</div>
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhVUM4dMkMmLUC-AdFTycQOyXI8NIuv1vDwE9KjzrdX2T5J1zqAG2mPeRQEO7sh1VV9Ms3XXQyx28F5fo0Vj6eFsU26Eu2lyDbQk5XIUUbcxI6HuAU1ARb_puewdYcYVIv8dbMdQuItS0/s1600/A_clergyman_visiting_a_journalist_in_prison_Wellcome_V0050331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhVUM4dMkMmLUC-AdFTycQOyXI8NIuv1vDwE9KjzrdX2T5J1zqAG2mPeRQEO7sh1VV9Ms3XXQyx28F5fo0Vj6eFsU26Eu2lyDbQk5XIUUbcxI6HuAU1ARb_puewdYcYVIv8dbMdQuItS0/s320/A_clergyman_visiting_a_journalist_in_prison_Wellcome_V0050331.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">No Surprises Living in Devizes<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Con Air<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Darren Worrow<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Like Con-Air
but without the air, Nicholas Cage and the bunny in the box… So nothing at all
like Con-Air really; Devizes was the centre of dramatic events on Saturday when
Erlestoke Prison rioted (at least three of them officially) and the officers
moved one-hundred and forty inmates to other prisons. I reckon I’ve been on
rowdier cub-scout pack holidays.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">As ever, the
confusion spread on Facebook first, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why are
there so many police hanging around Northgate Street?” </i>people queried, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Has Dunkin’ Donuts opened a branch near the
newsagent?”</i> Thankfully rumours quenched by the Gazette and BBC Wiltshire
who broke the story of the riot. Stopping for a kebab on the way seemed like a
good idea at the time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">An unnamed
spokesman reported problems due to accommodating category B prisoners at a
category C/D prison. Who would have thought convicts were so fussy over the
alphabet? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">It was
nothing to do with understaffing, Ministry of Justice claimed. Fifteen screws per
five-hundred inmates not being an issue provided they’ve all seen “the Karate
Kid” as part of their training. Other theories suggested a 65-year-old guy caught
smuggling a controlled substance to the visitor area caused a drought; but, apparently,
it was coincidental the riot occurred after a smoking ban.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">At this I
wince, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really?</i> This isn’t a 9-5
office block, these guys are locked up 24-7, at least allow them a fag for
crying out loud. If I was a smoker locked up with ruffians hot on assessing my
prison category status in line for harassment, I’d need a tab or ten.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Unless, of
course, cigarettes are now banned under the ruling that rules anything labelled
a “legal high” now illegal. I’m so out of touch with psychedelia these days; how
are people supposed to know what highs were legal highs, and are now illegal,
when legal highs are now as illegal as existing illegal highs? Or are all legal
highs now illegal, I twitch the curtains every time I put the kettle on for a cup
of tea.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Yeah so, way
to go to free up space at Erlestoke; should be careful with my words this week
but this nanny-state is getting preposterous. The other day, at the Woodborough
Garden Centre, I noticed a sign on a clothes recycling bin which said “Danger:
do not enter.” Is it me or is this not on the football managers level for stating
the bleeding obvious?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I mean
anyone stupid enough not to have worked out for themselves that they need to
take the clothes off before putting them in the bin deserve everything that’s
coming to them. Do we need this sign; are there really people so destitute in
Woodborough they need to resort to climbing in recycle bins for a cardy? No,
it’s because we cannot be expected to think for ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">If we could
be trusted to think for ourselves we wouldn’t require the propaganda bombardment
to tell us which way to go on this, now-getting-rather-monotonous EU
referendum. I’m beyond caring now, in, out or shake it all about. David
Cameron’s doing the hokey-cokey, turning around more times than Bonnie Tyler on
the Gimbal Rig. Could we not, I ponder, stay in the EU but have every other
weekend out of it, see how that pans out?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The worst
thing about the media shelling, every celeb who is anyone queuing up to put
their tuppence in. Even American celebs are having a bash, without even knowing
what a tuppence is. I don’t care what Sylvester Stallone or that nerd from the
Big bleeding Bang Theory thinks we should do; America, you have your own
issues, sort out your bloody gun laws then worry if Britain can choose the shape
of their bananas later.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The thing is
we need not be swayed with facts and figures when we know they’ve been tainted.
We don’t want to hear which way Sir Ian Botham or Iggle Piggle will vote; most
of us, I think, opting to go with our gut reaction.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">So all the
best with the referendum, I hope you get what you want. Unless you’re suckered by
the Sun’s be-LEAVE campaign that you will “have your country back,” and trust-fall
yourself into the arms of a bunch of the wickedest far-right conservative backstabbers
ever known to politics; just saying. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">You won’t
get “your country back,” it was never yours to get back you fool; “they” will
get the country back, to do what they will. Orwell wrote in revulsion, we weren’t
supposed to base our political system on it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Still,
Wiltshire Council awaits our votes and Dr Carton Brand will count them. Let’s
hope he’s better at counting then the Ministry of Justice. “It’s good for
democracy if people in Wiltshire are engaged in the political process,” he
says. Provided you’ve not been bored into an early grave by it all, I agree,
but I cannot see where this going to go any more than I can see what’s coming
at most major road junctions in the county. Perhaps they could trim the grass
and hedgerows while they wait.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13556281148217933149noreply@blogger.com0