bobby47

High Town is lost. Walking through the place is a depressing experience. The rot that has set in, and rot, being what rot is, tends to creep and consume and destroy all that's in it's path. Much of our beautiful City centre has been consumed by this rot and I personally don't think that there is a treatment now available that'll stop this rot. When you make a political decision to abandon High Town and move our retail economy to another place, the rot is inevitable. High Town has long since passed the tipping point. There was a time when if they'd painted the place, tore down the scaffolding, restricted the 'rotten' shops to some other area of the City and stopped the drinking from a bottle secreted within a brown paper bag, High Town may have had a chance to ride the storm of this new economic reality, but now its to late. Much to late. The Buttermarket will close, the rot will gather momentum and creep along Broad Street and St.Owen Street, local traders will fold, other less desirable traders who's overheads are small will replace them and the rot marches on. Relentless destroying all that's in it's path. Of course rot, being what is, doesn't travel in one direction. The rot is travelling from areas beyond High Town and when that rot, meets the rot travelling from within High Town, then you get big bloody rot. The sort of rot that makes you think twice before walking through the Old Burial Ground of Commercial Road or makes you to scared to walk home in case some fool desperate for money and unable to get a home decides they want your money and anything else of value that you've tucked into your pockets. The rot that has taken a grip upon our home, our culture and our way of life is an extremely fast moving rot that, after its consumed what it wants in High Town, will surely creep across New Market Street and eat away at the Empire of Dirt taking with it the much cherished brand names they were so desperate to get into the ESG. Then, once these brand names clear off because our economy hasn't the levels of disposable income that are required to sate their needs, they'll quietly move away leaving us with a load of other shops that we didn't want, who are selling stuff you'd never think of eating or drinking or smoking. All this will happen. It'll happen, not because I say so, but because of simple and straightforward economics. If your money is not spent and recycled within your economy then the rot will flourish. For a home like ours to prosper, advance and create wealth and happiness, we need its residents to care. To love their home City. To think, 'this is home and Im putting my litter in that basket'. The residents need to invest their families lives in our City and understand that we need to smile. Not glare at oneanother as if each day is a fight of survival. Warmth. Respect for oneanother. Comradeship and a need to reach out and simply express happiness rather than, rushing through town, keeping your head down trying to avoid eye contact because of fear of things and something that we cannot understand because of irresponsible political decisions. Some might say, 'what a gloomy bloody forecast'. Well this is how I view it. Truly, I hope Im on my own. I wouldn't want any of you to see things through my eyes but I genuinely believe that the day our Council jumped under the covers with a bunch of asset stripping suits, was the day our future happiness, unique identity and our High Town was lost forever and it ain't ever going to recover itself anytime soon. This rot is here. It's hungry and its relentless and I know, beyond any personal doubt that an economy is not just about money. It's about a people. Herefordians being happy and intent on one thing. Being at ease with themselves, feeling relaxed and confident about the future. As a Herefordian, I no longer feel any of these things. All I see is a County being asset stripped of its wealth.

Well, whilst I regret that my two dear and good friends Ubique and Biomech were thrown over the side, and in Biomech's case, twice, which is a truly remarkable achievement considering I couldn't buy a deletion, I ain't for being to critical of the Hereford Times. If it weren't for them and the editorial line they follow, how on earth would any of us know what was going on within the Council Cabinet. No, I'll never go along with the rhetoric that implies the HT are doing a bad job. I think it's a great little local paper and I for one am prepared to sit in the life boat, snuggled up warm and not lift a finger as I watch Biomech aka Biomech two point zero, thrashing around in the water trying to get back on board the HT vessel. It may well be that Biomech, in adopting the new bloggers handle Biomech two point zero was simply looking for trouble and forcing the hand of the staff who threw him over the side in the first place. No! I've said it before and I'll say it again, my dear, good and much respected friend Biomech is a menace and he should remain cast out and unwanted by the Hereford Times. And whatsmore, if Biomech comes back as he surely will, registered as Biomech three point zero, Im rolling over on him. I'll bring him down, tell the Editor and get him thrown over the side for a third time. We've got rules on the HT and I for one am happy to comply with these agreed protocols.

An epic post Dippy. Brilliant. Goodness your good!

Dippy, be so good as to pen an ode or poem to commemorate this remarkable achievement. The title should be, 'Biomech got banned again'!

You gotta take your hat off to my dear friend Biomech. Banned from the Hereford Times for a second time. There ain't anybody out there who can compete with them statistics. What a blogger and what a record to hold!

No Colin, this is no joke! These are serious people. When they say, ' to ensure we enjoy it' they really mean it. If they think it, say it, it's printed and we've read it, to them, that are in a different place to you and I, it becomes their truth and their mantra. These people are passionately driven to deliver a robustly positive outcome for their service users and they'll not be diverted from this corporate mission statement and the unquenchable desire to to provide value for money, save us millions and provide us a thousand jobs, for any reason at all. Here's my personal pledge to you my dear friend and colleague Colin. There's more chance of my breasts beginning to lactate milk than there ever is of 'them' switching off the lights and doing as you suggest. It ain't going to happen Colin. Oh, they'll meet you, they'll even provide a steering group to look at your suggestion, but when shove comes to push, they'll simply fob you off with a. 'Lets review this again in six months', giving you the golden opportunity to sit at the table again and repeat the pointless process in trying to communicate with these people. Whatsmore, you've more chance of communicating with the former Mayor, Great Uncle bloody Albert Farr via a highly expensive Medium than you have in getting this bunch to think outside the box and respond to your request. It ain't going to happen Colin. Oh, there'll be times when you treck home, stagger through the front door and shout to your loved ones, 'I think Im getting somewhere', but you ain't Colin. They'll simply be giving you a little sugar to sate your taste buds in the hope you'll come back again, and again, and again to discuss the issue and the bundle of papers that you've helped create that now need a vast storage room to store these documents generated by you and this bureaucratic monster we call our Council. God help you Colin.

What are strange group these Saxons were. Odd if you ask me. It seems they arrived here from Germany and brought with them this unusual cultural practice of burying anything that came into their possession. It's no wonder they didn't hang about to long. I mean, this bloody boat for example. They must have felled a field of trees, spent bloody ages chipping away at the timbers and then, after they'd created this vessel, the leader of the tribe then said, 'lovely job lads. Well done all. Now bury the thing'. Imagine some young Saxon lad scurrying into the village after finding a golden sword encrusted with gem stones and being told, 'it's a lovely sword. Never seen a better one. Now get yourself outside and bury it.' And 'we' are their descendants! Makes you think doesn't it? Maybe that's why we fly tip, but nowadays we can't be bloody bothered to dig a hole, we just dump it on somebody else's skip. I had a skip at my house a few months ago. I was intent upon ridding myself of all me bloody rubbish. All the stuff I couldn't flog at the Car Boot sale. The following day I went outside and two bloody mattresses were inside the skip. Perhaps if the giver of these two mattresses had dug a hole and buried them like the Saxons I wouldn't have had the problem of getting rid of their gift to me.

Poor sod! He never stood a chance. Surely when this poor baby was christened or registered at birth, some fool must have said, 'hang on. Do you think this is going to give this little lad the heads up if ever he wants to join the Police or engage in any career involving him watching over money' I mean I'd sooner have been given the name bloody Adolf than Gypsy Outlaw. Bloody Gypsy Outlaw! Poor sod. It's no wonder he's got a short temper. I've been trawling through the names you can give kids and nowhere does Gypsy Outlaw come up. If the name ain't on the list then as far as Im concerned, that's it. Here's the list. Pick one and clear off. And as for the Police and these ridiculous Operational names, why can't they pick something more appropriate rather than bloody Trilby. If I was laid up in bed, skewered by a bloody butter knife, the last thing I want to hear is my stabbing has been called bloody Trilby or worse Pork bloody Pie. It's silly and its got to stop. If ever I got into power that'd be the first thing I did. Lets have some proper Operational names like, Operation Stabbing down the Brewers Arms or Operation Gypsy stabbed someone.

Biomech with or without 2.0, I agree old friend. I've got absolutely no idea how the opposition should play their hand. And if bloody Johnson and Morgan are reading these threads, and they are, I know they are, they can all get stuffed if anything I ever say is worth wrapping a battered cod up in it. Tragically, they think they're being politically clever. I don't see it that way. Not at all. I've met them, I've spoken to them and they are both intellectual lightweights who've no grasp on how to run a County and its economic recovery. I really do feel sorry for the opposition Councillors. All of them. They can't win. If during the discussions, they break down because they want more than the Tory leadership want them to have, Johnson and Morgan will write a letter claiming that the opposition didn't care about our County and it all turned to rat excrement. I've no idea what to think. We've got bloody salt all over the walls of this monstrous new build at ESG, there's a bloody huge dent in one of the new cattle bloody sheds, our lights don't work, our traffic don't bloody move and we've got Pat rotten Morgan a yard away from becoming our new leader. It's desperate and we ain't to far away from the abyss of fiscal ruin.

Well this ain't an easy choice to make. Me? I'm with Biomech on this one but, and its a huge but, if the Councillors in opposition do this and, the way I feel today, I want them to shout, 'get stuffed', there will be a political price to pay. The Councillors may have to pay it and many quite rightly will cry, 'you put your own interests ahead of our home County Herefordshire.' I've really got no idea which way this is going to fall and for my part, I ain't going to kick any Councillor that chooses to do what they think is the right thing to do. Truthfully, I honestly haven't a clue what they should or shouldn't do, but, if they choose to grab a hold of this offer, they should certainly milk it for all its worth. Remember this bloody Cabinet need you more than you need them.

Gridknocker, You say you'll stake your life on it! Well if I burst into the place dressed in this tattered frock armed with my Detector, a pick, a shovel and a trailer waiting outside to transport this boat and the Hereford Hoard away and I find some family sat on their sofa eating their tea watching Deal or no bloody Deal, you will pay with your life. Mind, this bloody boat. What are its dimensions. I mean, how big did these Saxons build their bloody boats. Some might say, 'who bloody cares.' Well I do. Im the one inside the place. Im the one doing all the digging and Im the one who gets bloody taser'ed when the Constable arrives to find me thrashing about thirty feet beneath the surface screaming, 'My God, this bloody boat is huge'. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Far from it but why did these Saxons insist on burying their wealth and their bloody boats. I mean, if I suddenly went outside, dug a bloody hole and buried me Ford Focus and all me valuables, the bloody neighbours would be straight on the phone complaining and I for one wouldn't blame them.

Jimmy, at the conclusion of your piece you ask for 'thoughts'. My good colleague I've no idea, sadly neither have you and worse, those at the helm have less idea than both you and I. It's truly desperate for us in Herefordshire. As for your suggestion Jimmy, yes, it makes sense, but when did sense, commonsense rational thinking and forward thinking imaginative ideas ever play a part in the thinking of this unholy Cabinet. Some might say, 'goodness, he sounds despondent this evening'. Well I bloody am! I've just read the latest post from Megilleland regarding £850 thousand pounds redacted bloody payments and its buggared up my nights bloody sleep. I mean this £850 thousand could be for anything. Anything at all and this bloody Council ain't for telling us. Bloody Hell!

This is how bad things have now become. I could stand in High Town and defame any one of these people. I could write an open letter to a national newspaper and make the most libellous comments. I could stand in front of a TV camera and accuse some of these people of offences against the statutes and I'd never get brought to heel, never ever be held to account and I'd never see one minute in a Court to face a Judge because of using defamatory language. Why? Because they'd be to frightened to sanction me or any one of us. They couldn't do a thing. They wouldn't be able to because they appear to be up to no good, and when you are up to no good, you invariably choose to keep your head down and remain in the shadows. Why am I saying this? Because when you redact over £850 000 quid, I've got every right to mutter, 'hi up, something ain't right here'. Given that this our money, what right have 'they' to secrete this transaction from us. Who told them that they could do this to us. My conclusion is, this is a direct result of the secret democracy that began under the stewardship of Mr Jarvis and now, because of time, complicated backstairs agreements, Partnerships and cozy relationships with private and limited companies, its become the culture of things. This is how it is. It's the way of the world. We don't have to know because we don't need to know. We no longer matter. Democracy has been prostituted by business and asset stripping suits and we no longer are seen as an important part of the democratic system. We are doomed.

It's desperate isn't it. We really are in a permanent state of confusion. Without knowing or realising it, we've become the slaves to an ideology and dogma that requires total obedience. The Council, their illegitimate bas.tard child, the Safer Roads Partnership and the Highways Agency are all one of the same. Sprung from the loins of the public service gravey train, they've got a stranglehold upon everything that we encounter during our daily lives that require us to work, rest, work some bloody more and pay for the bloody priveldge of their guidance as they continue to chant their mantra, 'we know best' and we will not do what you want us to do. As for switching these bloody lights off, it's all been a waste of time. Rather like my bloody posts. Pointless excercises in tapping out bloody vowels and consonants that only ever make me feel better and cry, 'have that you bar.stards. I feel a whole lot better now'. I mean, imagine if you can that they ever actually sit down around that bloody Plough Lane table and discuss this issue. We'll bloody regret it. First, it'll be, lets pay some brain dead, I've had a full frontal lobotomy Consultant thousands of pounds. Then it'll be, lets measure the volume of traffic that'll be administered over by some friend of a friend who knows a Director of the Council, who, after standing on junctions for the best part of a month, will produce a graph that'll show vehicular traffic is a problem. Then they'll wheel out some Road Traffic Accident victim who, whilst wassailing across Market Street, juggling two mating ferrets and eating a kebab was flattened by a bus when the lights were switched off. This poor fool, will feature upon the pages of the Council website muttering, 'please keep the lights. If they'd been on when I began wassailing across the bloody road, I wouldn't have been bloody flattened by the number nine bloody bus'. Nothing of commonsense ever gets into their bloody heads and nothing comes bloody out. It's all a waste of time and they can all get stuffed if anything I say is worth a jot of notice. They'll never turn these lights off!

Oh, and for those out there tempted to say, 'what a load of rubbish', I'd reply, 'yes, and there's plenty more where that came from'.

T'other day I was fishing down the Wye. I fish for barbel. It's a lovely fish. Beautifully designed, powerful, a joy to hook and one of the thickest species in the River. I've gazed into this creatures eyes in the hope of learning more about how it thinks and I can tell you all that the barbel is probably the most unintelligent fish I've ever stared at, and I've done my fair share of gazing into the eyes of fish. In fact, I'd urge you all not to repeat my mistake. For two hours after this encounter I couldn't think of anything. My mind was blank. I'd crossed over you see. I'd gone to far. I'd looked into the eyes of this creature and I'd come out of this experience a very different fisherman than I was before I landed the bloody thing and stupidly looked into its eyes and became entranced by its strange and bewitching hypnotic stare. Anyway, after I'd recovered from this bloody barbel's influence, I rolled a ***, threw back a generous swig of beer and as I sat there muttering, 'I'd love to eat a few insects', I noticed an object on the side of the river bank. It was a wage packet and it was sealed. I'd found a wage packet. Some fool had actually lost his wages and I had found them. Mind, then I was presented with a dillema. Had he lost his wages or had he decided he didn't want them and simply threw them away?. Being an honest sort, I knew that I should hand this wage packet to the Police for safe keeping. But, if, as I suspected he didn't want his wages and he'd chosen to throw them away, who was I to question his intentions. It was at this point that I decided to change my life and create my own wealth. Convinced that this fool didn't want his wages and he would have become angry with me for handing them into the Police, I decided to have what was inside the envelope. I stood up, had a quick peep to see whether or not I was being watched, I opened these wages that this fool clearly didn't want and following an examination of its contents, I screamed, 'The lazy basta.r.d! He had four days off'.Good Lord! It was at this point I decided that from hereon, I'd forget about lost wage packets, betting on uncertain outcomes and writing begging letters and instead, I'd acquire a Metal Detector. Im going to become a person who sweeps fields and other similar open spaces to find and appropriate precious and semi precious metals. Having given this a lot of thought Ive decided that I'll be damned if I spend days wandering about digging up old pram wheels and unwanted and discarded bottle tops. Im after Gold and Silver and there is a switch on my Metal Detector that excluded all these unwanted finds allowing me to only detect Gold and Silver. They found the Staffordshire hoard didn't they? Well, Im convinced there is a Hereford hoard and Im going to find it. It's out there and anyone who says it isn't is a bloody fool and someone who ain't interested in becoming fabulously wealthy. Mind, I ain't just going to tip up in some field, start sweeping, muttering, 'where in Gods name is it?' Im going to concentrate on areas where the bloody Saxons have stayed and perhaps buried their trinkets of gold and silver. I'll be bloody damned if I spend unnecessary hours looking for something that ain't there because the bloody Saxons had never been there in the first place. No, Im going to follow the evidence. I'm going to sweep areas that are known to have had the Saxons there. If I get told by some passer bye, 'the Saxons were never here', then that's good enough for me and I'll go elsewhere. I mean, there'd be no point looking in an area where the Saxons had never been. I want to know where the Saxons have been so that I can find the Herefordshire hoard. Mind, if some fool comes on here and responds to this codswallop and says, 'I know where the Saxons were staying and I know where they buried their hoard, Im going to be thinking, 'hi up! If he knows where it is, why hasn't he dug it up already'.

Mind, whilst Im happy with this outcome, I wouldn't like to think the other political groups will start scurrying around and putting up less benign practitioners of the dark arts thinking this is how to win an election. If ever Im asked to support a Witch, a Warlock, or considerably worse, The Incubus or the dreadful Succubus, then, if my view is worth a jot of bloody notice, they can all get stuffed. We are a people of good nature. God fearing folk who diligently recycle their waste and I'll be damned if we suddenly open our polling booth doors to agents of the Devil.

Congratulations. Very low turn out. Well done. Now, Jimmy, the real work starts.

I've never in my life taken more interest in the views of fifteen hundred people. Good grief!

Thanks Jim. Whilst Im confident I will find out quickly, when you do get a result will you please pop it on these pages.

Im given to understand the result will be released before midnight.

Dippy, The turnout throughout the daylight hours was very low. Given the weather, the darkness in this area, I suspect only the most determined of voters will have made the effort. This may be an advantage to those good people who, year in year out, no matter what the crisis, tend to vote with their party and in this case, it may well be the Conservative Party. I hope not for everyone's sakes, but Im not confident that enough people out in the sticks will be as concerned as us. Fingers crossed, something upsets the dynamics. We'll hear soon I think.

Brilliant. Now that's good news ain't it? It seems as though our Colin is going to get his opportunity. Good luck Colin and well done Jim.

Grid Knocker, Hello Pal. I agree with you. The whole piece. Hopefully, in days to come, the coalition will be forced upon Mr Johnson and then we can begin our recovery from all this madness that's left us with one hundred thousand quid and a lovely bus shelter. And it is a lovely shelter. You'd be a fool not to acknowledge the greatness of Pat's shelter from the rain. My very warmest regards mate. Good to read you again.

Glenda, I knew from the outset that my view and my words would bring you disappointment. Yes, I realise that I've set myself upon a different course to you and your Independent colleagues but I've not done this to hurt, offend or anger anyone in anyway. I simply know that for me, this is the decision that Im happy to stand on. As for the reading of my piece, I do not believe I've discredited any independent Councillor and if it reads in that way I offer you and them my sincere apologies. My point is simple and straightforward, you were attacked beneath the banner of independent Councillors and whilst I was genuinely concerned for you as a friend, I was and am equally concerned that the Independents do not act together, stand together and sing from the same hymn sheet and I no longer believe the Independent Group are able to act as one and rid us of this Cabinet Leadership. Finally, me and any influence I have regarding the voting at the Pontrilas election, I have none Glenda. Im not kidding myself in anyway. Im the peddler of cleverly crafted codswallop. That's all it is. It's nothing else. Nobody with an a'peth of commonsense and intelligence would take a blind bit of notice of my senile ramblings. My very warmest regards to you Councillor.