And Then An Idea...

I have nothing to say about Manchester; it’s all be said.

Try this on for size; if you’re a suicidal bomber, you wear the bomb, right? It’s been mentioned in the news that this nutter was seen putting a case down. Maybe, just maybe, he was instructed to take the bomb in, put it down and told he’d have five minutes to get out. He’s dumb enough to believe that but the fellows with the trigger have no intention of letting the mule, who’s now the star of so much CCTV, get out alive... 

Anyhoo, the aftermath? So sadly predictable with all the usual suspects, aided and abetted by our compliant MSM, repeating all the usual shock and horror and all rounded off with the required appeasements.

One addition this time is that Amber Rudderless has announced that troops will be deployed to guard stuff and patrol the streets. However, in the interests of community cohesion, whatever that is, they’ll be leaving their weapons  back in barracks and patrolling armed only with ‘T’-lights and teddy-bears.

I do hope they make use of the lads rather than just having them aimlessly roaming the streets. Things like, oh I don’t know, looking out for people smoking outwith a designated smoking area? Some old Brit eating pork scratchings near a mosque? You know, the stuff wot seems to be so important now.

Thus to the title of this typing period. I have an idea that could be a winner on a couple of levels. It would get our country back and give a few old folk a great reason to get up in the morning.

They’re going to put troops on the streets, right? Hay, you in charge, do it properly. Be honest, we’re at war okay? Make an end to it; get the job done properly and I’m full sure these old folk I have in mind for the job have springs that were fairly tightly wound already but after Monday, they’re probably severely over-wound and looking for a release. All you need to do is arm these old heroes, tell them we want our country cleaned-up, give them  carte blanche, throw open the doors, cry 'Havoc' and let slip these old dogs of war.

And who do I be referring to? Those fine folk wot have done it all before and I know damn well that, despite their age, could do it all again and it’ll matter not a jot if there’s four thousand, four hundred or only four of ‘em left, nobody’s going to stop ‘em once they get started. Okay, who? Why the Chelsea Pensioners of course.

                            
Once the doors are open all the usual suspects, the politicians, the luvvies, the snowflakes, the bed-wetters and those of a nervous disposition should just go and hide under their beds ‘till the job’s done**. And it would be done.

An obvious knock-on bonus to this plan would be boom days for the airlines as, once the old boys got quickly into their stride, every flight out would be fully booked times three as our bestest ever friends fought for flights ‘home’.

**Note: Once it’s done, and you lot in hiding start to think about crawling out from below your beds; be careful as those old folk may decide, as they’ve cleaned-up down the way, that they’ll carry on and clean-up up the way as well. Bu-by.

Quote;  Marie Kondo.

“The objective of cleaning is not just to clean, but to feel happiness living within that environment.”