Friday 18 November 2011

Get Miller

I 'ad only gone from Bermondsey to Leominster to attend me bruvver's funeral, but there were summat not right 'bout this drum.
It was in a car park I come across their Mayor, Steady Eddie Clark: wot wos behind the corrupt pen and ink that pervaded the gaff?
I said to 'im:
"You're a little man, but you're in bad shape. With me it's a full time job.
Now behave yourself."

From the moment of my election on May 5th a torrent of accusation, allegation & simple political bullying was unleashed on me. This has all ended up with an unelected quango called "Standards for England" (and we're gonna have fun with those publicly funded guys on this page in the near future!)
For now fill yr boots with the avalanche called "Get Miller".
WARNING: THERE IS SH**LOADS OF THIS NONSENSE!!

(But it's worth it for comedic purposes.)

Friendly fire?

It is now time to examine the claim that Liverpuddlians are the friendliest people in the country.

I rule from my experiences of the last month that this is true, but it is a double edged sword.
In fact, it is a triple-edged sword (the sword being oddly Toblerone-shaped).

1. Last week I was on the bus to Liverpool & it stopped at Birkenhead (even a naive protoScouser like me knows B'head is pretty rough and recently riot-prone).
Three 14/15 year old teenagers got off and each of them in turn said "Thank you" to the bus driver.
I make no further comment. Except this to my reader friends in inner London: no-one has spiked yr wine glass with ketamine, you are not hallucinating, I really did write that. In fact, it really did happen.

2. My attempt to buy a Guardian from the local newsagent (Really, it was not for me, the missus likes it).
The lady in the shop commented: "You don't want to pay me £1.10 for that. you would be better off downloading it for free from the internet. Wouldn't you, lollipop?"
In her Scouser friendliness the newslady was attempting essentially to put herself out of business.
She was also calling me, a CENSOREDyear old bloke, "lollipop"

3. A couple of days ago had a meeting in Liverpool, went to catch the bus. An old gent in the garden of a nearby property said: " You after the city centre bus? Only it just went, like, bad luck son!" And we then had a friendly five minute conversation on how Arriva buses simply do not stick to their stated timeteables.
The old boy turned into his gaff and I headed off on the long trek to New Brighton station. Halfway there the 432 bus - perfectly on time, on schedule, on timetable - sailed past me.
In order to share a bit of friendly crack the old boy had simply invented the lie that my bus had gone.

Liverpool: on planet earth, but not of it.