Now my love of words was tickled when reading a brilliant, well brilliant to my jaundiced eyes, piece by Zoe Williams about the current state of education in this country. When describing reasons why teachers are disaffected she wrote this: ” the needless and iatrogenic effect of political meddling”. Iatrogenesis comes from the Greek (who is this Greek, so much has come from him or her!) for “brought forth by the healer”. But not the healing intended by the healer, rather the complications or side effects. So for me a lovely conflation of all the collateral damage of my treatment alongside one of my long-running bugbears, that of the effects on teachers of the last 30 years or so of incessant, ignorant and irritating meddling by politicians.

What happens in schools now is a dystopian tragedy with schools, teachers and students ruled and obsessed with bleedin’ targets, data and so-called ‘metrics’. Schools buy in ‘advisors’, typically inspectors, who know the latest ‘frameworks’ and ‘initiatives’ and other bureaucratic bollocks. They then meet with the ‘senior managers’ and decide what teachers need to do. Then teachers are ‘observed’ and no matter how these are sold it is still having your practice judged and making sure teachers conform and ‘meet their targets’. As I have for so long raged about there is no place for actual living, breathing, thinking teachers in this process. How good it feels to no longer be subjected to this.

When did we stop sending postcards? Whilst it sometimes felt like a chore I often enjoyed writing pithy missives and we all used to have postcards from others displayed on our fridges. Another victim of the new technology.

I remember a story from many years ago about a couple who were sent photos from different countries with a gnome in the photo that had been taken from their garden (the gnome not the photo). They didn’t know who were the perpetrators, anyone know the story and whether they did find out who did it? Or was it an urban myth?

Also remember a cruel trick I played on Jules. Just before I embarked on a rugby tour to the far east I took a few pieces of a very large jigsaw puzzle she was doing. I sent them back from Hong Kong. I’d also instigated having a party in our shared house before I left and had only invited about half a dozen people. Trouble was each one of those brought along many others, never have so many people been crammed into one house.

Would you be shamed by hackers releasing your spotify playlists?

Listen to this by the wonderful Stewart Lee: https://youtu.be/0YE9Kthyaco

Just returned from picking Kate up and whilst waiting in the car a middle aged couple were having an intransigent standoff about which way to go to the station. After a couple of minutes I stuck my head out the window and told them which was the quickest way. I apologised if I’d at all interfered and made things worse, she immediately replied that their relationship was beyond redemption.

There’s a computer expert, Kentaro Toyama, who has just written a book called ‘Geek Heresy’. He was a true believer in the power of technology and how it could transform lives and societies. After working in many countries with many ways of using information technology and how, after successful research pilots, application in the ‘field’ rarely had the desired effect. He slowly came to the realisation that the technology, no matter how good, was always secondary to people and institutions. Alongside this he also learnt that a singular belief in science, technology and engineering is dangerous as it ‘rules out other kinds of solutions’.

I believe that this is how too much of the world now operates from within very narrow and intransigent paradigms: there is no alternative to ‘austerity’, mr bliar cannot conceive of an alternative to his benighted beliefs, teachers must follow very proscriptive curricula, ad infibleedinitum. But beware the alternative alternative approach and all those stretchy snake oil salesfolk.

This week is the 40th birthday of Born to Run, I’ll be playing a lot of Jungleland and Thunder Road this week. Apparently Bruce and Clarence worked 16 hours straight to get the sax solo right on Jungleland.

And I’m about to order The Girl in the Spider’s Web.

Whilst looking for an iatrogenic cartoon (and they do exist) I came across this one which made me laugh:

Some day we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny,

keep on keeping on, love Duncan.

PS happy birthday Van.


Mr Bliar down the rabbit hole.

Passed a number of folk on their way to a wedding yesterday and again I observe that male wedding attire is pretty dull, as ever it’s just suits and ties. Now I’m not suggesting that us males in any way compete with females, but surely it’s also a big day for the groom and other menfolk. In my younger days I mainly wore white, red and pink to weddings. For my two weddings  to Kate (greedy so and so’s having 2 weddings) I wore a long raspberry pink jacket. But we live in conservative times. Despite it being still the early days of the ‘information age’ it feels as if this apparent information overload reinforces the forces of conservatism. Maybe the fear of having an appearance that doesn’t conform to the prevailing norm being instantly paraded before the world of social media and resultant ridicule reinforces conformity.

Poor Kate suffering from illness I’ve passed on to her. Funny how the same illness, one can assume from the same virus, causes different symptoms. For me after I my throat got sore the infection moved into my ears, Kate’s affected her larynx and she’s gone all Mariella Frostrup.

Had a brief chat with a salesman from O2 yesterday trying to flog me a phone update, I have an old style Nokia phone which boasts a torch and an FM radio and he offered the latest Nokia. I was briefly tempted. Reading today about the latest gun atrocity in yankland where the killer filmed the atrocity with a GoPro camera and thinking about how much is filmed and photographed now I’ve decided not to upgrade. We’re being overwhelmed by visual imagery, it’s really beginning to distort our being. It is detaching us from our existence in the physical world, as if it doesn’t exist unless we photograph or film it.

One aspect that I jokingly alluded to from our Porto trip, when Kate tripped, was the apparent detachment of the younger folk from the actuality of Kate’s misfortune and their compulsion to get on the bus with the free wifi and stare at their screens. I fear that if I arm myself with such a phone I too may succumb. That all that is around us is either viewed through a screen or merely as potential for screening.

So mr bliar accuses us Corbynistas of living like Alice, twat. He claims not to be able to understand why anyone would want to vote for such a ’70’s throwback’. Well for one, as a headline has it; rather the 1970’s with Mr Jeremy than the 1870’s with the torytwats. But more to the point more are questioning what’s been going on since the late 1970’s and all that so-called ‘neoliberalism’ has brought about, particularly the hegemony of the ‘market’ and obscene inequality. We of the pitchfork wing of the reclamation from the kleptos, including you mr klepto bliar, are supporting Mr Jeremy not in some sort of fantasy but in the hope that life can be better for more. Here’s a paragraph from his delusional piece:

“Because it is a vast wave of feeling against the unfairness of globalisation, against elites, against the humdrum navigation of decision-making in an imperfect world, it persuades itself that it has a monopoly on authenticity. They’re “telling it like it is”, when, of course, they’re telling it like it isn’t.”

Now to my simple eyes, and not viewed through a lens, there is massive contradiction here, mr bliar’s cognitive dissonance. If it is the case that there is ‘unfairness of globalisation’, and there is now ample evidence of obscene inequality courtesy of Mr Picketty and foodbanks and the like, then Mr Jeremy telling it ‘like it is’ is not telling it like it isn’t. You’re talking absolute bollocks mr. bliar so fuck off and give away all your wealth except that which you need for a fairly comfortable existence, like, I’m sure, your ample pension.

And anyway, who are you to lecture others when not only did you take us into a very dodgy war but then, unbelievably, except maybe in some sort of ‘looking glass world’, you’re made ‘peace envoy’ for the Middle East, on a fair wage I’ll wager, and do very little except line your own duplicitous pockets and certainly do nothing to prevent the rise of isis and facilitate making the world a more dangerous place. You twat.

‘Fraid I’ll have to disagree with the wonderful Mr Gil Scott Heron, the revolution will be televised and filmed and photographed on millions of phones and GoPros.

Listened to Kanye West’s ‘Lost in the World/Who will survive in America?’ eulogy played at Heron’s funeral, very powerful, very moving and a great antidote to mr bliar’s bollocks.

Anyone feel sorry for cheslski and moanrinho?

Can’t wait to see and hear what angry young man is planning re. the kleptonic banks.

Just heard that Oliver Sacks has just died, loved his books. First one I read was ‘The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat’ and caused me much thought.

Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.

Hangry compensation.

So hangry has entered our lexicon, meaning ‘bad-tempered or irritable as a result of hunger’. Kate kept pointing out this state of affairs to me whilst on our holiday in Porto in relation to the occasional irascible state of the adolescent ones with us. The karmic consequence of this was the frequency of it being either beero’clock or wineo’clock.

Brilliant piece by Frankie Boyle about the Labour leadership, describing every photo of the candidates as being like the staff of a failing comprehensive being photobombed by the janitor. I won’t look at another photo of them without thinking this from now on.

I quite like my hair now, it’s thick and curly. Grace wants me to keep hair shorter as she will no longer be embarrassed going up to old white-haired ladies and hugging them thinking they’re me!

Also included in the new word list is pocket dial: inadvertently calling someone with your phone in your pocket. I inadvertently did this with my Porto tumble as soon after the incident a number of people were texting me. On checking my phone I discovered I’d inadvertently sent a number of sleep alerts, including a few to the chemo emergency number. After Julie also reported a recent tumble I replied with the idea of creating some sort of old folk’s tumble club, any other wannabe members out there? To join you have to be at least 55 years old and the tumble can’t be an alcohol or other drug related affair. Any ideas for a name and a logo?

Had a coffee with my old mate Mike today and we were both relating holiday related stories and concluded that before any holiday you need to agree on what you don’t want as well as what you do want. He also had good news, only a year after beginning proceedings he’s received a letter from teachers pensions finally stating that everything’s been sorted and payment is imminent. I also found out today that the final task for my pension has been started which is to calculate what I’ll get, stands on 20%. Mike reached this stage 6 months ago!

Writing of pension pots mr saleem, cambian ceo (cambian have my old school in it’s portfolio), has a large one developing. I did a little more research today and read about how ‘ the company’s ipo (initial public offering) will be restricted to UK and US institutional shareholders to raise £20m of new money for the company to “assist in retaining and incentivising employees” as well as exploring value accretive acquisitions’ (from daily torygraph). From bloomberg I found out that mr saleem’s stock options for last year included £5m as part of a long term incentive plan and £3.98m for ‘all other compensation’. So to my financially naive eyes it looks as though almost half of the £20m ‘new money’ has been used to assist and incentivise mr saleem, because a basic salary of only £450,000 is not enough ‘compensation’. Unless someone can explain otherwise to simple old me.

Now that nice Mr Jeremy has said he will target the ‘ludicrous’ pay that ‘top’ people pay themselves. Me and Mr Jeremy against the kleptos.

But Mr Jeremy’s economic, and his other policies, are dubbed ‘extreme’ and yet latest figures seem to show that between 2011 and 2014 2380 people have died after being declared ‘fit for work’ by the department for work and pensions. Now to simple old me that seems extreme. Only 4 years 8 months and a few days of this duplicitous shower to go.

Other new words cartoon:

Keep on keeping on, love Duncan


Have I been missed at all? Just been reading some of the stuff written by a Mr John Underwood who’s writing was recommended by M. J. Banbury esq. about his cancer. He’s only been diagnosed recently and is as I write this having his head shaved. Already the tone of his writing is shifting from the initial jokey stuff that reflects the initial shock defence of it’s not really happening to the increasingly horrible realisation of not only having the crabby one but that the treatment is shit. It all changes you, I am still, and will be for a while, ‘coming to terms’ with it all. Only last night Kate was saying how she doesn’t understand why I’m not just happy that the current cancer is in abeyance, that I can no longer complain about all the bureaucratic bollocks of teaching and that the pension has almost been sorted. And apart from being a curmudgeonly, cussed, cantankerous,crabby twat I still don’t have the language to properly describe my condition and feelings.

In Porto when walking down a slope onto the crowded Ribeira riverfront I started pitching forward, I couldn’t stop myself from falling over and crashed to the ground in a very unseemly old person sort of way. Stuff tumbled out of my man bag, my sunglasses fell off and a lens popped out, grazed leg and hands. Lots of immediate concern from those nearby who helped me to my feet, but for me the horrible feeling of not even being able to stay upright (and for those that know me I had not had any alcohol), of being an old codger, of the continuing collateral damage of treatment.

I walked away, still somewhat unsteady, and reminisced about how in my younger days I had exceptional balance and physical prowess. No longer.

But in the spirit of undeterrence a few days later I joined the elder two female adolescents for a surfing lesson. I was knackered before we even began the process of how to stand on the board; what with putting on a wetsuit, carrying a big board to the sea and then doing a warm-up run, something I hadn’t done for years. I gave up after 3 pathetic attempts to stand on the board. I then waded to the beach and sat on the board for a while watching the others surf and thought.

And then, when running for a bus, Kate fell over in sympathy. Because her falling over wasn’t shown on a screen the adolescents showed little sympathy.

I developed a cough which worsened and now I have a streaming nose, have coughing and sneezing fits and worry that it’s more than just a cold. Which brings me back to my first thoughts about John Underwood; he’s just begun the process, I hope he has a long and happy life and that maybe we could have a chat someday. Just read he bailed out on becoming a skinhead.

Also notice that he’s supporting the Anthony Nolan Trust, they take blood samples from people to find their tissue type to then match people for bone marrow transplants. I worked for them for a few months, taking blood samples and ’tissue typing’, a very repetitive job. Joanna Lumley turned up one time, it was my turn to take blood but the old geezer who was nominally in charge brushed me aside to stick a needle in her.

Voted in the labour leadership earlier, Mr Jeremy of course, and Angela Eagle for deputy. It’s very entertaining watching bliar and co foaming and frothing and not engaging in any proper debate, just deriding his manifesto such as renationalisation but not putting forward any coherent arguments for the benefits of privatisation. It really is heartwarming to read and hear about Mr Jeremy proposing to take on the kleptos, the tts and others.

Kate and I really liked Porto and want to return someday, hopefully in our rompahome.

So some gentle admonishment about certain comments about education, sorry Mr Hector your nom de guerre has been cleverly figured out and words have been exchanged. What slightly saddens me is that instead of engaging in discourse by pointing out my erroneous thoughts and the like an attempt is made to silence me. I have been a teacher pretty much all my working life and I’ve witnessed and been subjected to a great deal of bollocks. I have been a classroom teacher all my career and like other classroom practitioners have never properly been involved in developing educational practice or what we actually teach. Why is that?

But now I have to develop my karma, which ‘simply means doing’ (from Alan Watts). We misinterpret karma when we say ‘that’s your karma’ because of what you’ve done before, it is not cause and effect. I have to do what I’m doing now and ‘not define myself as the result of what has gone before’.

So ineffably dubious smith has been caught out again, this time using fictitious people extolling the benefits of his new system. maybe not a resigning issue but many other reasons to petition him to go. Here’s a link to petition him to go: https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/104436     Check it out and pass it on, you never know. When I signed I experienced a little frisson, especially with my name! Karma.

Porto for the champions league.

Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.

Egregious cricket.

Well I need a cup of tea and a sit down as I’m all a flutter. Listening to the England Aussie cricket and already the Aussies are 19 for 4, which is in cricketing terms absolutely outrageous.

And this just after I’d been on the blower to Teachers Pensions. I received a letter today saying that my application for ill-health retirement has been accepted and that I’ve been assessed as permanently unable to continue in teaching and unable to undertake any other form of paid employment, which was a little alarming. I retrieved the photocopies of my application thinking I’d ticked (Aussies just lost another wicket! 21 for 5, it’s going to be the shortest test match ever) the wrong box and being a photocopy I couldn’t clearly see the boxes and thought I had ticked the wrong box. All my raging at bureaucratic bollocks and I’d made an elementary mistake, immediately started feeling defensive and starting formulating chemobrain excuses.

That 5th Aussie wicket is the earliest 5th wicket to fall in any test match ever.

Anyway I called Teachers Pensions and was informed I’d ticked the correct box, what was going on? I re-read the letter and then went online and began filling in another form, (the 6th wicket has just fallen! and Stuart Broad has taken 5 wickets in 19 balls!) ‘Ill-Health Payment’ but wasn’t sure I was doing it correctly. As David Graeber wrote he started to feel stupid filling in forms, I now experienced the same.

So I called TP again and went through the form with a helpful woman. I also asked about their assessment and how I’d applied for the ‘I’m not going to die soon, hopefully’ retirement. She assuredly reassured me that this was their medical team’s informed decision based on the information they’d been given. But what if I feel I can work again in some capacity in the future I asked? Well just let us know and it will be sorted she replied. It’s a funny old world.

I awoke early again this morning and unable to get back to sleep, Kate off early to work and I listened to the radio, drifting in and out. Then on (33 for 7, unbelievable!) came Joan Bakewell and a programme about the ethical dilemma of a 15 year old boy with a brain tumour refusing to have treatment. He’d already had some heavy duty radiotherapy and had found wearing the ‘mask’ incredibly hard, and this was a few years ago and the ‘mask’ would have been far cruder than the one I had. He was very claustrophobic (something I have deep empathy with) and treatment was suspended for a week or so as he was helped to cope. Finally treatment was completed and worked, the tumour had gone. Unfortunately a few months later the cancer returned and he refused treatment (this time chemo). Everyone; mother, family, medics, psychologist, friends all tried to persuade him. He never swayed and insisted he’d physically resist any attempts, he was over 6 foot tall and strong. Legal approaches were considered but even if there were legal injunctions they’d have been useless as he would never comply. Desperately hard though it was his mother finally listened properly to him and for the first time someone understood what he was saying, she accepted his decision, brought his 16th birthday party forward and she and others did all they could for him for his last few weeks.

I totally understand what he felt in terms of once you have cancer that even after successful treatment you are left with the feeling, the worry, the fear, of when is it going to return? The boy made the decision that he wanted to live what remained of his life on his terms, to not go through the horrendous effects of treatment (the 8th wicket’s just gone). They had a young man on the panel who had been through 2 doses of cancer, the second during adolescence, and he said that the most useful thing was talking with peers in the same situation. I certainly concur with that.

And now it’s 9 wickets, absolutely incredible.

And then Naomi called me about meeting up and we spoke about her husband Nick’s dad who sadly is about to die from cancer. Suddenly it’s really hard to type, I really slowed down as I wrote that last sentence, the horrible finality of death. Last week was Laurice’s dad’s funeral (can you have two consecutive apostrophied words?) and for him, incredibly hard though it is, it was for the best that he died quickly as he was in so much pain. He wanted it to stop. I spoke with Naomi about how even though it’s really hard, that somehow the very painful pain perversely becomes some sort of blessing in that it allows people to ‘think the unthinkable’ and that death needs to happen. In no way is this callous, it’s humane. We’re crap with death and invest too much in the magic of medicine that it distorts our thinking. My thoughts and love go out to Nick’s dad and his family, to Laurice and her family and to the oh so brave mother of the boy who chose to die.

Phew, what a morning.

And then on linkedin yesterday I see that my old mate Gary Tubman has MBE after his name!

And I won the prize  draw after evaluating the Living Well do at Bournemouth University from the other week, it’s a ‘session’ pass at Moors Valley Park, which is nice.

Aussies all out for 60!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Off to Porto on Saturday and I’m not taking my laptop so will not be blogging for a couple of weeks.

So I’ll sign off with a Kliban:

Keep on keeping on, love Duncan

PS: whilst egregious is now used to mean outstandingly bad, in olden times it meant remarkably good. So outstandingly bad Aussie batting but remarkably good English bowling.

Piss off racists.

Just back from hospital and given the all clear from the scan, the ‘nodules’ are almost definitely just scar tissue so no excision needed. Also had my hearing checked as I couldn’t hear a couple of things yesterday that Grace and Kate commented on, but it’s still within normal range. As I mentioned in previous blog I seem to get more anxious with each subsequent check up, but I am feeling mightily relieved today and more so when the doc said next check up will be 8 weeks, a move up from 6! Also impressed with the doc, he was one I’ve not met before and straight after introductions he told me the scan result, which is good patient centred care.

Driving to the hospital my displacement thoughts centred on being angry, for a change, but this time about a picture someone we know had posted on faceache yesterday:

Straight away I asked Kate if anyone had objected or countered this, apparently not. The current Calais/migrant stuff is really appalling on so many levels, but the main one is the racist bollocks that spews from the racist twats. They have absolutely no empathy or understanding of the situation, they simply react ignorantly and offensively. Oh here you go again Duncan, you bleedin’ heart liberal twat. And yet, this is somehow worse than what happened 50 or so years ago when establishments would have signs in their windows stating ‘no Irish, blacks or dogs’ and the like. Since then there has been better race relations, improved race history education, anti-racism legislation and yet many still choose to be racist. We are a mongrel nation, there are no ‘pure bred’ English, even our royal family are are a particularly mongrel group.

Talking to Hector about it and he said imagine how many would react in this country if Cleethorpes were ‘invaded’ like Magaluf is by drunken, boorish brits, but this time by Swedes? We are a very one-eyed nation, when we go to live/work elsewhere we call ourselves ‘expats’ not the immigrants that we actually are. We’ve been involved with military invasion, military attack and economic exploitation of maybe more countries and people in the world than any other in history and yet people still want to come here. Ideally we would be proud of this, instead we have the small-minded bollocks typified by the picture above. Imagine all the people sharing all the world…………………………

So Selfridge’s opened it’s christmas shop yesterday. Mustn’t get in the way of people buying what they want whenever they want, but if it’s escaping persecution or intolerable conditions then you migrants can piss off.

Heard another of the etonian swarm on the radio today, jo johnson (de pfeffel twatface’s brother) going on about ‘improving’ the teaching at universities. Beware you lecturers, ofsted looms.

And in similar vein Stephen Moss writing about private school’s moaning of the ‘favouritism’ shown by ‘elite’ universities show towards state schools. Shreddies spewed from my mouth, the absolute effrontery of them. Enough, get behind Mr Jeremy to not just get rid of their charitable status but get rid of them completely. As Mr Moss writes:

“The benefits will be huge. When private schools are no longer seen as a fast track to the top universities, parents will opt for state schools, balancing their intakes, putting more pressure on them to perform (these tend to be the sharpest-elbowed parents in the business),and undermining the most socially divisive force in British society. Private schools can then concentrate on their 21st-century task: educating the children of Russian oligarchs and Chinese billionaires.”

See the blairites are already plotting a coup against Mr Jeremy if he wins. Twats. If he does win and becomes prime minister then we might get a ‘Very British Coup’. These people are so immature, if they don’t get what they want then they simply try to take the ball and say they’re not playing. I blame private schools, especially eton.

mr heath, an abuser? Who’d have thought it?

And mr howard had nothing to do with the corruption of soma gas and oil, why he’s only chairman of the company.

Kate feels very lucky to have Marge as her friend. Marge lives in Aussieland where Kate’s son Jaike is now and Kate feels very happy that he is with Marge.

Pension tracker on 40%.

Keep on keeping on, except you racist fuckers, love Duncan

Imagine Woodhenge

So within a few tawdry weeks the tts have been swarming all over the political landscape to impose their illiberal and petty class bollocks. s & m osborne meets with mucky murdoch then announces an attack on the BBC. Reduced inheritance tax, kleptos keep more money. The ‘greenest’ government ever reduces already paltry efforts to ameliorate human global warming. Vulgar attempt to get chasing and killing wild animals for ‘fun’ legal again. Allowing fracking in National Parks as well as slashing their budgets which means land being sold to private buyers, even National Parks are threatened by this bunch. And so much more, and yet we vote in these tts, like dick drax who’s only ever had a privileged life based on the inherited exploitation of slaves. I for one live in the hope that Mr Jeremy, after being elected Labour leader, goes on to expose the tts and the kleptos and all their apologists for what they really are.

One klepto I’ve mentioned a few times is mr saleem asaria, ceo of cambian, the ‘owners’ of the school I taught at. Cambian became a plc last year and saleem trousered £4.4 million from the ‘deal’. 99% of money ‘paid’ to cambian for their services comes from public monies. I, for one, don’t think that individuals should profit in such a way. This man is not an ‘entrepeneur’, he is like beardyransom and co, a carpetbagger. This term is so apposite for most, if not all, kleptos. It originated just after the American civil war when opportunists from the north went into the south to exploit the situation, they took with them fashionable bags made of carpet. It now means any outsider who is opportunistic and exploitative. There is something about not just expropriating what is essentially ‘common wealth’, but also public money that is being used for special needs young people, such as those with autism at my school, and all the psychiatric hospitals and units cambian have purloined that is unethical and immoral. It is just another example of kleptomaniacal theft.

Dear Hector sent me an email with a lovely powerpoint from school showing a spreadsheet for every student for every subject and how they’ve progressed, or otherwise, over the last year. It’s even been lovingly colour coded, with red representing no progress, ‘we’ll keep the red box tick-ed here’.

Finally a load of gladioli bulbs I planted are flowering in the garden. I also bought some for indoor display and they are comparatively cheap. Is this because they’re currently unfashionable? Anyway they look great, time for Dame Edna to make them fashionable again.

HaHa chelsea lost. One nil to the Arsenal. Watched a video clip recently where moanrinho sneakily gouged the eye of a Barcelona assistant manager. This was an assault, why wasn’t the special needs one (sorry this is disrespectful to all those with special needs, but now I think about it maybe it’s a term that has outlived it’s usefulness and we need a new, more respectful name) charged? The twat despoils all that he manages or is associated with. He started it at Porto, which is where we’re going on holiday on Saturday, and now he’s made unpleasant chelsea vastly more unpleasant. Great comment by Raphael Benitez’ wife: Rafa Benitez’s wife has joked that the Real Madrid boss has spent his career clearing up mess left by Mourinho.

I have my 6 weekly checkup tomorrow, I’ll get the results of last week’s MRI scan. I’m quite anxious, there is the possibility I will have some surgery. And this is what I have to learn to live with: that of fear of recurrence.

So shadow chancellor, a mr leslie, is the latest ‘senior labour person’ to have a go at Mr Jeremy and say he will not serve under him. Well just fuck off then, you twat, no one will notice.

I read that Mr Jeremy has suggested some quantitative easing for the common folk and not as it has been just the kleptos. Now this is a good idea as this money would be used and spread around, not just boost the wealth of a few.

Now, you may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. And I love my little dream that’s unfolding before my very eyes. First Mr Jeremy shakes up the moribund blairite old new labour. The tts lick their gluttonous lips and envisage some sort of reenactment of the 1980’s and the demolition of poor Mr Foot. But in my dream the people are energised by Mr Jeremy and also realise they can do more for themselves at a local level and the ‘spirit of Frome’ spreads as properly independent folk displace the arrogant, corpulent, unrepresentative, local councils. The film of lies and greed that has covered folk’s eyes is ripped away and suddenly the tts and the kleptos are properly perceived and Mr Jeremy and the Greens and other like-minded groups sweep away the tts in the election. condom cameron, s & m osborne, imbecilic doltish simpleton, shapps, de pfeffel twatface et al are left gulping for air flapping around on a deserted beach and all the kleptos are shipped to necker island to fend for themselves. I hope someday you’ll join us, and the world will be as one.

And Purbeck’s future independent soviet (thanks angry young man) will have Woodhenge as it’s monument: https://www.change.org/p/purbeck-district-council-keep-worth-matravers-woodhenge

Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.