...simply because I’ve nothing new to type other than the ‘news’ that now the NHS, blessed be its name, are to get yet more millions, or is it billions, of someone else's money, they can now go ahead and recruit forty odd chief executives for the new integrated care systems – no, me neither – on two hundred and twenty plus grand a year. And here was us down here thinking that new bung would go towards treating the sick. Really, how sick can you get?
Also, with the ‘news’ that Priti Pointless has given instructions, to those that need instructing, that those gimmigrants risking all to escape war torn France should be turned back – yeah, right – I was reminded of a bit wot I tapped out not all that long ago but wot I’m going to post again. It could well serve as a template to form a letter to be sent to various mumblers of parliament.
So this is a simple illustrative challenge for those that must be obeyed:
Go off to work one day and leave your front door open and a large ‘Welcome’ sign hanging on your front gate. I’m betting you get a shock upon returning home. Whoa! I opened the door and they came!
After a couple of days of your ‘open door’ policy, you’ll be ‘surprised’ to find that using the kitchen and bathroom with the regularity and freedom you once enjoyed will have gone for some strange reason.
Soon thereafter you may well find yourself having to queue to use your own computer and having to be content with sitting on the floor in your lounge and even having to sleep on the floor in the hall. Eventually, sitting will become a problem and you may well just have enough room to stand at the back. Sadly, the standing room that enables leaning against a wall is all being used; it’s now only stand-up straight space.
In no time at all, you’ll no longer be able to get your car on the drive as it seems to be in continuous use as a hand car wash station. On the plus side, finding you have to park quite some distance away, the walk enables you to calm down a tad before entering what was once your castle but is now a multi-culti utopia.
Your garden? Just a jungle as the last time you tried to do a bit out there, tiptoeing through all kinds of unsavoury looking stuff and strange charcoal cooking thingies, you lost your place in the proper toilet queue and wet yourself.
Eventually, after becoming a tad disconcerted with the rapid ever upwards trajectory of your electricity, gas and water bills and the dangerous load on some sockets threatening to blow you off the grid, you may well decide you’ve had enough and need to get everyone out and lock the door. However, when you finally come to take that action you’ll be shocked to find it’s too late as that’s when you’ll discover you’ve lost all governance of your own home and you are now in the minority.
And thus ends my miniature picture of our little bit o’ rock sitting in an angry sea.
Let’s finish with a bit o’ fitting music; you remember those far off lazy, hazy daze of summer?
Quote; John Ed Pearce.
“Home is a place where you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to.”
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