bobby47

And to anyone out there unconvinced that this Council ain't as mad as me, then simple sit back, gather around you a butter knife and a sharp soft leaded pencil, read this insight into how they think and how Dick Wooley sees the world through the eyes of the Council and then, once its done, sit back, scream, 'Barstard Council' and then stab yourself in the eyes and shout, 'take me Jesus. Im ready'. What a pile of human excrement. I mean, it was bad enough to read Dick wittering on about the eye catching wall to ceiling graphics. That was enough! But then to explain that the firm who were lucky enough to get this job, 'had to get us' is a step to far toward stupidity and idiotic thinking. It's madness! To think that we've allowed 'them' a safe haven in our County.

It makes you want to spit doesn't it. Bloody gravey train! They're all cut from the same cloth. They board this vessel of public service, climb the greasy pole to riches and wealth, and then, Just when its all going belly bloody up, they jump bloody ship, saying, 'it's been an honour to serve.' Then, what do they do? Off they bloody go, create themselves a business that just bloody happens to involve the field of public service work they were once involved in, they exploit their expansive list of contacts they gathered whilst bloody aboard the gravey train and then they get wealthier and wealthier at our expense. Bloody hell! And they all speak the strange language and they all desperately try to outdo oneanother in explaining just how bloody passionate they are about delivering an outcome for us, the rotten service users. T'other day, I was reading one slice of dross churned out by one of Herefordshire's public servants who, when describing how bloody passionate they'd become about this, that and the bloody other, he said,'I've an unquenchable passion to deliver'..blah, blah! What a load of rubbish. Un bloody quenchable desire! Good grief. The thoughts that roll around within these people's minds. Unquenchable! I'd like to drop a three bedroom semi detached house on their bloody heads and then, after we've dug them out of the rubble and the fallen masonry, then lets see if they've still got an unquenchable desire to serve the public. I'd say, 'how do you like that. Having a three bedroom semi detached house dropped on your head?' That'd stop them! You wouldn't want that. That'd be the last thing they'd want. If ever we managed to dig them out from beneath the bloody rubble the only unquenchable desire they'd have would be to get into their Hospital bloody bed. Public Service! The Gravey Train! A quick route to fabulous wealth and opportunity. It's no bloody wonder they are so passionate about service delivery.

Lads, that's a really great idea. Wish I'd thought of that! Mind, when your out of your mind on diazepam and you've a belly full of ale, its hardly surprising that you never get any good ideas. Not only could it be a venue for live music, it could also be a place for the kids to display and sell their artwork from the Art College. It'd be a place that was vibrant, interesting and bring communities together. Well done. Brilliant!

Will, I hope you've heard right mate. That would be wonderful for the staff and the good people who work there. I popped in today and met them all for the first time. Wonderful people. Thanks Will.

Smartieno1, well done mate. Your'e clearly doing some good work.

Mr Chappell thank you so much for all your help. I can't tell you how appreciative everyone is that you've stepped in to help. Thank you everyone who has shown an interest in this issue. I'm even minded to thank my personal nemesis Aylestone Voice for his help and supportive words on here and the Hereford Times! Thank you everybody.

Folks, just so that all is clear to you. It's not the eviction that RTR are complaining about. The Council have allowed them to trade at the Tann Brook Centre rent free. The Council have been very good to them. The rot set in when they received a communication telling them they had six weeks to go. After a distressed phone call the chap from the Council agreed to an extension of two more weeks. It's the limited time they are being given to get out which is the issue. Nothing else. Our Chris Chappell is working on this, I've got Jesse Norman involved and, after a lot of ranting and raving on the Councils FB site, they've finally agreed to place the issue before the Chief Executive Mr Neill, who, Im hopefully will accept there is no reason not to give RTR more time to find new premises and be able to pack up their stuff and clear out. The issue is the distress this decision has caused. People with disabilities, whether they are physical or mental, all have one common trait in common. They don't deal with change well. In fact, they don't deal with it at all. It causes angst, upset, distress and anxiety and this affects the staff at RTR and Carer's. Please go on the HT and say a little.

Please friends...The Hereford Times. We've only hit nine comments and three of those are from me and one is from a chap who hates me, so please, if you can, add a comment and raise the numbers. My warmest regards.

The Council have decided that this place that provides, love, care, comfort, friendship and training for our brothers and sisters who have a disability must move over, be gone from their premises, and make way for the Road To Nowhere. There's a piece on the Hereford Times Readers Site. Please, take the time, go on the site and make a comment objecting to this decision. Thank you all very much. My warmest regards.

Outstanding! Goodness you are good Dippy old friend. Brilliant!

I see. I get the picture. None of you are bothered about the Syphilis. Well don't come moaning to me when this dreadful organism starts crawling about up your bloody bodily orifices. You'll get no sympathy from me. It'll be no good whatsoever if you get the Syphilis and post me a message saying, 'I've got this bloody dreadful organism eating away at me. If only I'd taken more notice of you Fortyseven'. I'll tell you straight, 'away with you. Go bother someone else and don't ever ask me to have physical relations with you'. Oh it's high times for Dippy isnt it? Bloody four thousand reads and two hundred comments! What do I get? 'Very little by the looks of it.' Mind, I ain't bothered. Not at all. I'll comfort myself in the knowledge that I'll never get the Syphilis. Never. Not while I've the ability to lock my door and stay indoors and abstain from intercourse.

Yep! It's here. We've now got it in Hereford. Never a break! Never a boost and never a slither of good tidings. My God! That its come to this. Yes, we all knew that Thrush was rampant and on the march and yes, we'd held fears that Gonorrhea might come a calling, but bloody Syphilis! That's the last thing we'd wanted and in our case it'll be the last thing we'll be getting unless God decides to smile on us and give us some other disgusting ailment to worry about. I know God does everything for a purpose. I appreciate that he has a master plan but why, given our fiscally knackered state, does he think it necessary to give us Syphilis. Makes you think doesn't it? Of course folk who now have Syphilis shouldn't be shunned and made to feel ostracised by society. I ain't saying that it'd be easy to stagger into the pub, join the round and casually say, 'had a bit of bad news today. Me left testical dropped off and I've subsequently learned that I've got the Syphilis'. Difficult isnt it? A knotty issue to address. Of course if you've got the Syphilis and tiny parts of your body are beginning to drop off then I suppose you've gotta display a certain amount of responsibility and say to your mates, 'whilst I do have the Syphilis and its been confirmed by several doctors, I intend to be a responsible lover and wear nine condoms in case eight bloody split'. Speaking for myself, if someone said that to me, I'd say, 'I've no desire to engage in acts of manly love with you but thank you for disclosing the diagnosis that you are now riddled with the Syphilis. You are a very responsible person and if I had a hat on I'd take it off and bow to you'. Mind, I don't suppose that those who now have the Syphilis would agree to wear some sort of badge that says, 'hello I've got Syphilis' and Im pretty sure that if you said, 'I'll be damned if I engage in intercourse with you', they'd throw the Syphilis card, crying, 'bloody discrimination. You won't let me love you physically because I've got the Syphilis. Im going to sue you'. That's the problem nowadays isn't it. Equality and all that. I suppose you'd just have to say, 'fair enough, I've no wish to be prosecuted for discrimination, I agree to have intercourse with you despite the fact that you've got the Syphilis.' That's it isn't it. That's the answer. If someone who has the Syphilis wants you and wants you to scurry outside up some dark alley and be subjected to physical intercourse, the best bet is to simple say, 'yes, I'd love to. Thank you very bloody much'.

I can't tell you how grateful we all are Chris. Thanks so much. You're a good lad. I really do appreciate it. It's easy to say you'll do something and even easier to make excuses and keep out of an issue like this one so I'll forever be grateful that you got involved in this issue. My very warmest regards to you my friend. Well done pal.

And if ever I won that sort of money there'd be changes. Big changes. Sensible and progressive changes within my humble abode. For starters her! She'd be called in to a summit meeting in the front room. I'd tell her, 'you've hit me in the face with your frying pan for the last time'. And whatsmore I'd tell her, 'we are having curtains fitted to our windows, I demand me own front door bloody key and I ain't eating Heinz alphabet soup anymore and having to read the words, 'I hate your face. Please leave'. And that's just the start of it. When I come home howling at the moon, full of ale and covered in Mayonaisse because me kebab has missed my mouth, they'll be no more of this, 'you ain't coming in'. And I'd grease me drainpipe. That's a certainty. I want a decent nights sleep and I ain't having folk scurrying up it tapping on my window any longer simply because they can't show a little restraint and control their sexual desires. And, furthermore, we'd all be gathered around the big oak table at Brockington House. All the bloggers would be there around the table deciding on this, that and the other. How did we all end up around that table? Because I bought the whole bloody place that's why! And it'd be a 'smoking room' I ain't leaving me own house to go outside and shiver in the rain any longer. Not while Im fabulously wealthy. I'd be like Poll bloody Pot and I'd take us back to the year zero when commonsense reigned and the Council knew the true value of a quid. Oh, it'd be lovely. We'd open the toilets, paint the place, clean it and invest in our front line public services and pay them bloody properly. All the potholes would be a thing of the past. We'd fix them and in time, the phrase 'ain't it flat' would become synonymous with our fair County and its roads. I'd ban all these Dogging Associations as well. They'd all go. I'd say, 'Hereford is no longer a place where you can quickly catch thrush'. Be gone. Go seek gratification in some other neighbouring County. We're done with you writhing around on the bonnets of our motor vehicles as we sit there waiting to navigate the Wye Bridge. Bloody Trotter. Lucky Barstard!

It is staggering isn't it. In so many ways its a thoroughly good thing, giving you and me the opportunity to ask why rather than simply sit back and take what the hierarchy serve up. I suppose the downside is, it's very easy to hurt another's feelings and, despite how I may come across, I do worry that I've hurt someone and made them feel bad. Of course, the great thing is that most Councillors, particularly the ruling elite, now read our offerings. Have no doubts about that. I've a source close to the top and I get fed a little of this, that and the other and I know that they read our stuff. In fact it's become common practice, which means we are listened to.

Imagine winning that! Bloody Hell! First thing I'd do if I won that sum of money would be to purchase half an acre of good land in the City. That's what I'd do. Good land that would sustain a herbaceous perennial plant. Then I'd phone up Wilhelmina Krugg, the worlds leading expert in growing Urticar Dioica. I'd say, 'it's me, Fortyseven. I want you to come to Hereford in England and grow me a huge crop of bloody nettles. Stinging nettles. None of your mamby pamby nettles. Real stingers and I'll pay you twenty thousand pounds'. She'd say, ' Lovely. Yes. Do I have to sleep with you' and I'd say, 'No Krugg. Just grow me a field of nettles and then clear off home'. Bloody wanton strumpet! Then, I'd phone up the local Nit Nurse. I'd say, 'it's me Fortyseven. How do you fancy diversifying. Leave behind your career treating pediculus humanus capitus and get into antihistaminics. Come work for me for twenty grand a week'. Of course,'she'd say, ' Nettle Stings! Yes, I'll take the job. Do I have to sleep with you?', to which, I'd say, 'why do folk want to sleep with me. No. Never! I'd never sleep with a woman who's entire life's work has been devoted to treating head lice. Keep your bloody hands off me'. Then, I'd make the crucial call. I'd phone up bloody Wearside Jack. He, who decades ago made a number of hoax calls claiming to be the Yorkshire Ripper. I'd say, 'Wearside its me, Fortyseven, Im guessing that since you've been in prison and have been unmasked as a hoax telephone caller that terrorised a nation, you can't get bloody work'. ' its true',he said, 'being WearsideJack tends to hold you back from gaining employment in our local Call Centres'. I'd say, 'come work for me. Ten grand a week and you get to roll people I don't like in nettles and you get a company phone to call whoever you want'. And then, with all the integral component parts in place, it begins. A reign of terror that only visits Cabinet Councillors and senior Council members of staff. Then they'd be a tap,tap, tap on the hut door. I'd say 'who is it?' 'Its me, Bretherton. I've got your letter and I thought I'd take advantage of your extraordinarily kind offer.' 'Yes', I'd reply, by giving yourself up you get rolled around in nettles for the ten minutes rather than the thirty. Excellent. Good man. Now take all your clothes off and Wearside here will drag you around my nettle patch for ten minutes and once its done this good lady nurse Agnes will treat your terrible injuries'. He'd say, ' I won't waste public money again. I've learned my lesson. Now I know what the consequences are, from hereon,Im going to be careful in implementing anything that'll get me another five minutes in that patch of hell on earth'.

Please folks, leave a word of support to Rosé Tinted Rags and other similar organisations who do so much to help our society. If any of you know of any other groups who need a helping hand then let Chris Chappell know. Thank you all very much.

This suggestion by GDJ is a brilliant idea. It is! I ain't no fan of the free movement of people from the European Union but, seeing as we've now got it, and there's little likelihood that things will change any time soon, why not take advantage and use this social phenomenon to our advantage. The idea is brilliant and whatsmore, it'd bring about stronger and sustainable ties that would develop into a better social community cohesion. Bringing people together through sport is the one sure way we in Hereford can avoid the angst and discontent that has developed because of uncontrolled immigration. It ain't just the Polish folk either. We've got dozens of ethnic migrant groups who all love their football and it wouldn't be to hard to encourage them to buy a scarf and come to a game. My guess is that many of our migrant settlers don't feel particularly welcome and they'd jump at the chance to integrate and gain a sense of belonging. Brilliant thinking GDJ. Well done mate.

Ask yourselves this. Why are we suddenly in need of a new Fire Station? I mean, it's been there for decades and with a little aid it could maintain its operational effectiveness there for another bunch of decades. I'll tell you why we want to build a new Fire Station. It's all about protecting an empire. They all want to do it. Whether its the Fire Brigade, the Police or the Ambulance Service. Some member of the FB hierarchy, worrying about cuts and their slice of the cake has suddenly decided to do what they all do to protect their territory. They bloody build. Yes they do! They bloody build. By bloody building it normally does the trick. It'll be, 'goodness, we can't cut that. We've only just built the place. Lets look elsewhere to see who hasn't had the good sense to build a new Fire Station'. It's all a huge game of bluff and chance and getting the public to believe that the bloody Fire Station is about to fall down and if you don't support the idea or you question the issue then you ain't no patriot and no admirer of the Fire Service and the great things they do for our communities. It's all a bucket of tripe. When times were good and we were able to withstand the harvest of them all gathering in our public funds and spending it on this, that and the other and countless, endless gimmicks, they didn't ever mention building a new bloody Fire Station then did they? No they bloody didn't! Didn't want one the when we were all rolling around in borrowed dosh barely able to spend it all during the financial year. No! But now, now times are hard and the cuts are looming because the bubble has burst, its, 'lets build. That'll save us from future cuts'.

Thank you so much Councillor. I owe you a pint. Great work. In the meantime, Im going to be banging the drum on other social media sites and whip up support to get heard. If during the course of this, some comments get heated, don't you think that you are being attacked. It's not you. Not at all. If there are attacks, it'll be aimed at the pointless process that sees something good being destroyed for an unwanted length of road.

Im fairly certain the proprietors understand the 'writing is on the wall' and one day, in the future, they'll have to go. My point and Im certain it'll correspond with the people at Rosé Tinted Rags, is why not extend this eviction until the CPO process is complete. They simply need time. They've earned this reward from society. We should do the right thing and help these people in every way that we can. Once again, my warmest regards to you and thank you for your prompt response.

Chris, Thank you so much. You are going to go to heaven. Im certain of it. The phone number is 01432 360981

For the Attention of Councillor Chris Chappell........ Chris, in close proximity to the Aylestone Hill Railway Bridge there is a tiny little business that provides a great deal of love, care, support and training for those of us in society who have disabilities. The business is called 'Rose Tinted Rags' and the proprietors are two ladies called Karen and Tina. They've recently received a communication from Hereford Council giving them a couple of months, to pack their belongings, clear the premises within Tann Brook Centre and clear off so that this bloody road to nowhere can be built. Mind, given the complications that the Council are going to encounter during the Compulsory Purchase Order process, its fair to say that it'll be years before the bloody road construction gets anywhere close to being completed and the black top being laid in any close proximity to the Tann Brook Centre. This is what I'd like you to do. It's a big ask. It ain't going to be easy and 'they' ain't going to be pleased with you championing this place. Please can you stop this madness, get a stay of execution and give Rosé Tinted Rags the help they need to continue supporting our fellow citizens with physical and learning disabilities. It seems to me to be madness to destroy something that is entirely good just so that Tann Brook Centre can be emptied and left to rot for the next couple of years while the Council set about the task of clearing businesses, the Post Office and anyone else found to be active along this roads path. I'd be very grateful if you could peruse this issue and perhaps add your voice to the cause that is being followed by Grid Knocker, me and a bunch of other posters who are now dependant upon you agreeing that this eviction is wholly unnecessary at this moment in time. Can you please help Chris?

I had a bit of the usual trouble today. I was sat reading the Pipe Lyde, Munstone and Holmer medical Lancet , where I'd become deeply engrossed in a wonderfully informative article titled, 'what to do if you've snapped your penis because of excessive masturbation'. When out of the blue, all of a sudden, there was a tap, tap, tap on the door. I thought, funny, tap, tap, tap on the door, who could it possibly be? Rather than sit there, muttering, 'who could it be?', I decided to open the door to see who it was. I wish I'd stayed put. It was only Councillor Pat Morgan and the Councils top legal mind Bill bloody Norman. I said, 'clear off. I've snapped me bloody penis'. Bloody Morgan, dressed in her Sunday best said, 'here's your new wheeled rubbish bin. Ain't it a beauty? That did it. I told her straight. I said, 'I'm a black plastic bin bag man. Always have been and always will be and I'll be damned if I take delivery of that hideous monstrosity. Clear off!' Course then Bill bloody Norman gets involved doesn't he? He said, 'if you don't accept this new bin you'll have more than a snapped penis to be worrying about. I'll break your bloody legs'. I said, ' bloody threatening me on me own doorstep. I'll be damned if I accept this type of behaviour. Im a black plastic bin bag man. Always have been and always will be and if you don't clear off with that wheeled bin, Im going to be demanding some habeus corpus, a sworn affidavit and a measure of mens Rea'. Course, that shut him up. He said, 'you've got the Latin'. I said, 'bloody too right I've got the Latin', and just to ensure they both knew who they were up against I told them,'and if and when I do recover from this snapped penis thing, Im going to be starting a petition off on 38 degrees demanding the right to dispose of my rubbish how I want to dispose of my rubbish. I intend to carry on depositing my garbage in the black plastic bin bag and hell will freeze over before I ever use your wheeled bin.' And finally, to all of you out there, who diligently recycle their rubbish and who value the black plastic bin bag, I say, join me in this fight against oppression. If, like me, you enjoy emptying all your food waste into a black plastic bag, rather than a two wheeled bin manufactured somewhere within Bavaria, then speak your minds and say, 'No! Never. We're black plastic bin bag folk. Always have been and always will be and we ain't for changing! There! I've said it!

Isn't Hampshire the County that the Chief Executive arrived from?