bobby47

All the migrants currently housed at The Three Counties Hotel are now registered with HMG(Hereford Medical Group). A Doctor from this practice recently spent a full day on the premises making themselves available to the people to receive health treatment. As for funding, my guess is the Government will be paying HMG to administer this. As for registration, and administrative tasks, I’ve absolutely no idea how it’s being done other than to assume that the Home Office have already acquired the details of who is who and passed this information onto HMG. And so, if anyone here registered at HMG who has experienced any problems getting an appointment, take heart and comfort in the knowledge that your inability to see a Doctor is all in a good cause.

My views have changed a great deal. Nowadays I’ve come to the conclusion that there is nothing wrong, bad, racist or bigoted in people simply wanting to promote their own self interests. Seems to me that the interests of all the people indigenous to this area of Hereford should come first and the interests of the migrants should be secondary. There is nothing wrong in having these thoughts. Sadly, through no fault of our Council leaders, we are now required to do our bit and host people who will add to our already many problems. This arrangement, albeit probably temporary, will do nothing of any good to the local people, the local public services or the local economy. That said, for the migrants themselves, it probably won’t do them a lot of good either. Holed up in a hotel room with little money to spend in a place they don’t know or possible don’t even like it will hardly be a surprise if we and they encounter problems.

TwoWheels with or without an ‘e’. I see. Trying to be clever are we. Right, in keeping with the whole haggling codswallop where I react to another haggle, I’m pretty certain that if I’ve asked for twenty and you’ve offered forty, I now have to go down to zero if anything I’ve authored is to be believed. The Strimmer is yours for zero pounds. Please don’t go downwards to twenty. If you do, not only do you get this lively strimming device for nothing but I’m also then obliged to give you twenty quid just so as we can complete this devilish fiscal transaction.

T’other day I was down on the Wye fishing for Barbel. As is always the case I’d mounted a Halibut pellet on a hair rig and employing my Shimano Barbel Vengeance rod and a two ounce quiver tip, I cast out waiting for this species to swim along and feast upon the bait and its size nine barbed hook. For reasons unbeknown to me as I was sat there minding me own business hoping that promiscuous women wouldn’t emerge from the undergrowth and subsequently violate me because I’m the most desirable man in the world and generally speaking women can’t keep their hands off me, I glanced across to me left and found a pile of neatly folded clothes placed alongside a Bosch Strimmer. Atop of the clothes was a little handwritten note that read, ‘ Dear finder, you can keep the clothes and the Strimmer. I no longer have use of them. I’ve gone to a better place’. Course, being on the Wye fishing for Barbel and living in the City of Hereford I honestly wracked my brains trying to work out where this better place was because, to my mind Hereford is as good as it gets. Anyways, if this fella has moved to another area and didn’t want his clothes or his Strimmer and he’s managed to find some place better than here in Hereford then more fool him I say. So I decided to do as he asked and take ownership of the Strimmer and try the clothes on. Sadly, mostly because I’m a fat old bas.tar.d, the underpants, the vest, the trousers, shirt and jacket didn’t fit me so I discarded them, neatly folding them so that some other passing pilgrim could try the clothes on and decide whether or not they wanted to take advantage of this well meaning gift from the person who had found a better area to live in. Seemed to me to be the proper way to comply with the instructions relating to the tiny hand written note from this unknown person who didn’t want to keep his clothes or his Bosch 180 cordless Strimmer. Anyways, to cut a long and tediously boring story very short, I kept the Strimmer and cleared off home. It was only when I returned to my abode did I suddenly realise I’ve no grass or foliage to Strim. Before taking ownership of the aforementioned property it completely escaped me that I lived at a property that had no grass because I lived on the fifth floor. I genuinely had forgotten that I and my property were completely lacking in the grass department and so I was now in possession of a Strimmer with no grass to do any strimming. Me options suddenly became three. One keep the Strimmer and never use it. Two, lug the bloody heavy cumbersome thing back to the Wye and reunite it with the clothes and it’s little note or three, sell the bloody thing and get down the Commercial with the lads and enjoy my good fortune. I went for option three. I popped an advert in the paper asking for twenty quid. From hereon, one could argue things went downhill. My view is things actually went uphill and if anyone on here wants to purchase this Strimmer then the following précis of my first encounter with a prospective buyer should act as a salutary warning to those who have grass, need a Strimmer and desperately want to acquire a device to cut grass. He tipped up at my threshold, had a look at the Strimmer, noted I hadn’t got grass to Strim and offered me ten quid. It was at this initial point that I realised that he and I had entered into an exercise in haggling. Now, I know that haggling is traditionally a process whereby two people, a buyer and a seller, enter into a little word of mouth game that eventually arrives at a place where one buys and the other sells. Thereafter, there’s an exchange in monies and property, in this case the bloody Strimmer, concluded with a shake of hands and a couple of fair thee wells. I on the other hand chose a different approach. One designed to confuse him, literally ‘p’ him off and result in him regretting ever trying to haggle with me. Following his offer of ten quid, my selling offer shot up dramatically to thirty quid which left him in a state of bemused shock. He laughed mistakingly thinking I was a reasonable man and said, ‘ok. I’ll give you fifteen quid’. I laughed and offered to sell for thirty five quid. It was then that the buyer realised that going down or up in tens and fives wasn’t really helping and so he gave in and said, ‘ok. Twenty quid’ Now I could have then completed this transaction with relative ease. I could have but I didn’t. I explained that as a result of the haggling which he introduced, it wasn’t my decision, the price of the Strimmer had now shot up to forty quid which was actually twice the amount I had originally asked for. Quite simply I explained to him that around these here parts we haggle very differently and if he now chose to offer me thirty five quid I’d respond by asking for forty five quid. Indeed, the reality of it all meant that if he continued undercutting my asking price, as unreasonable as it was, I’d also go upwards rather than downwards. This fella, who clearly wanted and needed a Strimmer became fully aware that if he went on like this he could end up paying me hundreds of pounds for a tool which he could easily have purchased for twenty quid. Suffice it to say he left without purchasing the Strimmer cognisant that he’d wasted the best part of thirty minutes of his life trying to do business with me. Now, to my original point. Does anyone on these here pages keen to avoid haggling want to purchase a Strimmer for twenty pounds?

Glenda was argumentative, often prickly and easily riled if you disagreed with her. But, she was loyal, very hardworking, a great representative for her former constituents and I liked her a great deal and held her in the highest regard. Rest in peace old girl. Job done.

During Lockdown, like many of you bewildered poor souls bereft of any hope for a normal life, my fragile mind became addled and it began to drift into areas that perhaps I should have avoided. One particular morning I woke up with an unusual determination to build my own Hadron Collider. I thought that if I could capture The God Particle by building my own devilish machine in my backyard shed, I’d become a wealthy man and become Herefords greatest ever living citizen. With zeal and unbridled determination I began to diligently acquire materials and explosives that would enable me to build the Collider and capture this monumental scientific discovery, the legendary God Particle. After banging away relentlessly in the shed nailing wooden pallets together and welding a trigger mechanism that I could belt with my sledgehammer, creating a combustible explosion, it suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t know what the bloody hell i was doing and belting something with a sledgehammer was unlikely to yield anything of any importance. And so, fully cognisant that I hadn’t got a clue about what I was doing, I went onto Google and typed in ‘How Do I Build A Hadron Collider’. Frankly, the search didn’t reveal much. Most responses were either, ‘We Don’t Know’ or Clear Off You Mad Barstard’. Anyways the point is that when you go on the internet and type in I Want To Build A Hadron Collider, this electronic transmission circulates across the globe and the great beyond.that you might be either off your head or you’re seriously thinking about creating a death machine that may bring about the end of days for all of humanity. Happily, the security services in the United Kingdom didn’t pick up on my need to build the Hadron Collider. Chances are they concluded the idiot was no threat to humanity and the whole project was doomed to fail. Sadly, beings from beyond our own Galaxy did pick up on my message and for one reason or another they decided to journey many light years, find me, abduct me and work out whether or not I was a menace to mankind or indeed to them. Anyways, my first abduction, one of twenty six other alien abductions, involved me laid in bed minding me own bloody business dreaming that thirty six gorgeous woman had secreted themselves in my attic.Then, at the stroke of midnight they all came tumbling out from my loft space, burst into my bedroom and over a period of several hours they violated me because they and many other women couldn’t keep their hands off me. Twas after I told one of their number, Anne Widicombe, the celebrated former parliamentarian to clear off, be gone and return to the attic because she wasn’t having any of my manly love, that my first alien abduction began. All of a sudden, still minding me own business, I was surrounded by a bright glow of searing white light. Unable to resist and despite me screaming, ‘Call the Constable I’m Being Abducted By Aliens’ I was levitated out of the house and upwards into what I believed was their means of galactic space travel.

I like this very good.

My late father-in-Law was one of the young men who landed on Sword Beach where he was shot and wounded. After the beachhead was taken he was transported to a Field Hospital where he was treated and then driven inland to rejoin his unit. During a village house to house encounter he got stabbed resulting in him getting transported back to Blighty and into a Hospital in South Wales. After that lot, he was discharged from military service and ended up being rewarded by doing thirty years down a Durham Pit working on the coal face doing a job that he hated every single day of his working life. Their generation? We won’t see their like again. The only people’s of Europe who’ve got any fight, pride and a sense of personal and national responsibility left within them are those of Poland and others from East and Central Europe. As for us today, we’re more concerned with Identity Politics, Noble Causes and any other crazed ideology that brainwashes our young people into believing that the West is a tyrannical patriarchy that’s responsble for oppressing any group who consider themselves to be victims.

Debenhams is teetering on the brink and the economic forecast for this large retail group looks exceedingly precarious. If it goes, and it just might, then the Old Market Development that drained Council funds and destroyed High Town, that so many of us desperately argued and advised against building will rapidly go into decline. If it goes it’s not just the jobs that go with it. The loss of the big retail name Debenhams will have a hugely negative impact upon those businesses that still trade there. The footfall will be reduced resulting in other dependent traders considering their trading location and whether or not they can withstand the economic hit. What we all saw at Maylord Orchards, we will see again. Perhaps High Town could benefit. Perhaps not. One thing is for certain. If the Debenhams space does become available then the Council have got to give some serious consideration of how they can mend the past Tory Council mistake and make the Old Market relevant and viable for the future. They will not be able to replace Debenhams with another similar retailer. Nobody of that commercial size will ever take the risk and trade in Hereford. So, as far as I can see, the only way the Council can deal with this is to avoid a quick fix solution. By that I mean filling the retail space with anyone just to collect some short term revenue. Charity Shops and low spend end commercial traders ain’t going to do it. That won’t stave off the possible decline of The Old Market. The only area that I can think of that provides large spending from peoples disposable income is the Leisure Industry. That’s about the only thing that they can do. Quite simply, because of a mistake made many years ago when the then Council allowed us and theselves to be asset stripped by sharp suits that took all our money, our current Council will have to think very carefully about how they proceed. Through no fault of their own making they’ve been forced to do something about the dead Maylord Orchards which I personally fully understand. If Debenhams does go, and I worry it just might, then they’ll have to apply themselves and their strategic planning to the Old Market development and how it’s going to survive and prosper in an age of huge economic uncertainty.

There’ll be a huge price for society to pay once this madness ends, and it’s not just the economy or the deveststion to humanity and it’s sense of normality. Its our children. Wrapped in cotton wool and denied their right to experience life and build up individual resistance and immunity to the many diseases out there, in the years to come hundreds of thousands will die from ailments that we once took for granted and once were beatable with a week off school and some medication to hasten their recovery. Anyways, we’re all off to Hell in a handcart and there’s no stopping those that have a predisposition to be frightened of anything and everything. They’ll wear their face masks and if they’re told to, and they’re convinced it’s a good, noble and right thing to do, they’ll daub themselves in their own excrement if it reduces the levels of fear these poor souls genuinely experience every single time they’re told, ‘be afraid’. Imagine AIDS emerging now rather than back in the eighties. God only knows what they’d introduce to prevent us all engaging in acts of love?

I’ll be damned if I follow this madness and comply by wearing a face mask. And, if the shops refuse to serve me food, which is essential to prolong my pointless life, then so be it. I’ll starve to death. Whatsmore, if it becomes known nationally and internationally that I’m not complying and all permanent sitting members of the United Nations draft a binding resolution to force me to wear a mask and threaten that if I bloody don’t theyll carry out strategic bombing thrice fortnightly on me and my abode, still, even then, I won’t comply with this madness. They can flatten the place. I couldn’t care less. And if I manage to survive the dreadful attack upon my personal sovereignty, I’ll emerge from the dust and rubble and tell the media, ‘I ain’t wearing a bloody face mask’. I don’t believe in any of it. I’m not going to hate the Russians, the Chinese or anybody else they tell me to become scared of. I don’t believe in Greta and her apocalyptic prophecy that the planet will crack in two, the oceans will boil and we’ll all die in agony in some fiery Hell Fire. I don’t believe in anything that Megan and Harry have to say, I don’t believe in crazed divisive ideologies such as Black Lives Matter that only succeed in breaking up and shattering the spirit of our imperfect societies, I hate the bloody EU, and I don’t believe in our celebrity culture that helps drive the power of the Far Left Marxist ideologies that only want to destroy everything they hate, which is pretty much everything that brings about happiness. Anyways, there you have it. I ain’t wearing no bloody face mask and I definetly ain’t going to start kneeling wearing a bloody face mask!

A very small fraction of our population are temperamentally drawn to what seems like a noble cause and are dangerously susceptible and vulnerable to ideological possession. For these people, mostly with Far Left leanings, they’ve convinced themselves that any oppression, real or imagined, is the direct result of an oppressive patriarchy which they’re intent upon destroying. And so, once these slavish ideologues settle upon their latest noble cause their hierarchy create an ideology, they hoover up their temperamentally drawn followers to the chosen noble cause and they take control of all media language that demands that any objection to the cause is heresy, racist and are the thoughts of bigoted cruel and insensitives who have an inability to display empathy and are in some way are cruel or even evil. Rather like the era of Joseph Goebells where you identify a threat, terrify the people and convince the masses that they’re being threatened, they begin to purge the noise of opposition and the relevance of any dissenters, thus creating two groups. One which is good and one which is bad. Because of noble causes that the Far Left are drawn toward, ideologies are formed and as is always the case with the Far Left, they become tyrannical. And noble causes are good. There’s nothing wrong with a noble cause. The problem with them is the ideology that accompanies them. Whether it’s Women Equal Pay, Brexit, Transgender issues, Climate Change and Black Lives Matter, every single one of them evolves into tyranny to exclude any voices that disagree with the narrative that everything is the fault of an oppressive patriarchy. When do we know when an ideology has become tyrannical and its slavish followers have become irrationally possessed by their ideas? When we are all expected to do and say things that publicly demonstrate just how ashamed we all are of ourselves, our gender, our ethnicity,sexuality and what we all really think but dare not say because we don’t want to be labelled in some negative way.

I’ve come to the conclusion there’s a very good chance that the entire global population are being deliberately misled and that corporate supranational decisions were made long ago to quickly dismantle our past way of living and create a new world order. A new world that dismantles economies, politics and Nations and to be replaced by a way of living, trading and governing that’s completely new to humanity. To do this and succeed all they have to do is employ Goebellistic propaganda and get the population afraid. Like any species we are hard wired through hundreds of thousands of years of evolution to be afraid. It’s in our nature to be herded and be frightened of a threat. Tell the people often enough that they should be frightened and eventually everyone believes it. Indeed, like the recent threats aimed at the people, whether it’s Brexit, Climate Change or even Aids, Ebola and anything else that stirs the human base fears, we all react to it to a point where if you dare question the sincerity of the fear you’re branded a radical or a heretic. We simply do and think as we’re told. We can’t help it. Ask yourselves this. Only a couple of years ago a child from Sweden with some mental health issues suddenly decided to skip school every Friday because of her rational or irrational fear of global warming. Now, within only a short space of time, financially supported by huge corporate organisations, this youngster has become a global icon and has helped to create horrific mass fear and hysteria amongst millions of little children. Worse, adults and world leaders, keen to please the howling masses, just go along with the hysterical behaviour and make the socio phenomenon worse. How is it possible that plastic, a commodity that we’ve been using successfully for many decades with great economic benefits to modernity can suddenly turn into a material that we no longer want to use? The answer is we’ve all been subjected to a vast social engineering programme that’s succeeded in making everyone scared of anything associated with a fossil fuel.Is it possible that the supranational wealthy conglomerates have another agenda and are in possession of technological patents that require everything we once knew and took for granted to be destroyed, wiped away and replaced by a car engine that’s fuelled by water? They tell you that ‘weve’ done all this to save millions of lives. Yet, in years ahead, because there’ll be no money left to care for the sick and the vulnerable, millions of people across the globe are going to die anyway because we’re all fiscally knackered and skint. Don’t think for a moment that all this will be similar to 2008 or other past economic recessions. It won’t be. The consequences of this will be felt for decades to come. The NHS, your Pension and your life as you know it will never be the same again. Nothing you once held dear will survive the fallout of their decision to destroy our economy and take us all back to the post war years of the early fifties. I’m not for a single moment denying the severity of this Coronavirus. But, in the past we dealt with Diptheria, Tubercolis, Typhoid and a raft of other diseases that threatened our lives. Back then, we carried on, took the losses and advanced toward social and technological advancements. Now, today, it seems likely to me that ‘they’ might just want to turn the clock of modernity back, allow everything to be destroyed and start again from scratch.

Overreaction? That’s a knotty conundrum and a difficult one for me to answer. I’ve recently tested positive for this aggressive virus and yet I’ve displayed no obvious symptoms. No cough. No dizziness. No temperature. Nothing! Frankly, I’ve never felt better than I do right now. That said, I’ve unfortunately but happily for me been diagnosed and labelled as a a Spreader of the Virus. A Super Spreader to be exact. Which means, according to the local Health Authority that whilst I’m riddled from head to foot with the dreadful debilitating Corona Virus and I’m an obvious clear and serious threat to anyone and everyone sat in close proximity to me, I cannot possibly become ill with it myself, which is very good news. Basically, in short, I give it to everyone else without there being any mesureable negative impact upon me. Therefore, until such times as I’m legally and forcibly isolated from the rest of humanity and prevented from infecting thousands of others, I’ll continue to give what I’ve got without it having any negative impact upon my good health and well-being.

Following the cessation of hostilities of World War 2 and what the world subsequently learned of the Holocaust, the Death Camps were called the German Death Camps. Thereafter, in an effort to ease the pain of the surrendered German people we then began to call them Nazi Death Camps so as to mitigate the disaster that befell Germany and its people. A noble thing? Yes, why not if it meant that Germany could be soothed of the shame and pain of the Second World War. However, In recent years that language began to change for the worse. These places of cruelty and human shame suddenly became Polish Death Camps. As if Poland and its people hadn’t suffered enough. Brutalised by both Germany and the Soviet Union, something no other nation on earth had to endure, now they’re being given ownership of these terrible places. There are no finer more proud patriotic people than those of Poland. During those dark years of German occupation they produced the likes of Irena Sendler (read her Wikipedia page) who saved thousands of Jewish lives, hundreds of RAF fighter pilots who made more kills than any others, they helped save Britain from invasion, and produced a formidable driven force of freedom fighters that terrorised the occupying forces of Germany. Quite simply, the Polish never surrendered. Just like the British, despite the overwhelming power and evil of the Nazi forces, Poland never gave up. And so, when you read in some pro EU mainstream media outlets that the Polish Government are now in some way trying to undermine the history and memory of the Holocaust by legislating to end the use of language that now describes these places of evil as Polish Death Camps, it’s simply not true. The Polish Government and their people only want the Camps to be called what they were and still are. Nazi Germany Death Camps!