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The memories recalled, but only just,
I think it may have been 1972, in August…
I met and was mauled by an anaesthesiologist,
Stabbed by an acupuncturist.
This year, I was robbed by an oligarchist,
Who goes by the name of Starmer!
Known as the proletariat’s financial amputator,
His first job as PM put pensioners asunder,
Raised taxes for every farmer,
Who accepted far too many a backhander…
He is still the Labour leader,
Money from anywhere he can acquire,
To his many wrongs, he’s not a conceder,
Because he is such an arrogant bleeder…
A perfect match to be a Tory Prime Minister,
He’s although blunt, he’s a clever circumventor…
Lies directly, by omission, a fibbing blatherer,
I bet he’s never been a TV renter,
Cause self-wealth is at his centre…
Working persons new tax inventor,
Bet he gets a free haircut from his barber!
His taxes put an end to improving agriculture,
He’s just like a greedy vulture!
His ruthlessness gives me acroparesthesia,
It’s like he got into power with tabula nasa,
Apart from filling his bank account whenever,
To morals & sympathy, he is a denyer,
I wonder if his stockings are 15 denier?
I doubt his calculations, cogitation, & dedication…
I wonder at times if he is just an apparition…
Sent by Putin, to do our economy in?
Or maybe a Right-Wing Martian?
He’s certainly caused political confusion,
Are, to Keir, old labour values an illusion?
Voters want action with anti-depression,
Not an HMG leader like an automaton!
It could all end with a revolution!
Maybe it can be stopped by a coalition,
But he doesn’t need my permission…
But he can have my commiseration,
HMG UK is leading to deterioration,
Sooner the better, for the voting disillusioned
That Starmer is toppled & decommissioned!
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Ah, a bit better colour!
Terrible photo!
Waste bags condensed.
Evening mug of Glengettie tea.
Blue evening views

Four big cob sarnies. But they were too big for me to manage. Waste not, want not; I bagged them, put them in the fridge, and ate them on Saturday. They were pork loin with robust cheddar cheese, no-butter butter, sliced tomatoes, and chestnuts. No finger cuts were sustained.


Got more photos saved to go on tonight!
Smug-Mode-Adopted!
Note the deliberate spelling mistake? Ahem!
Gawd, I hate Starmer!
I don’t think I’m on my own.
A large rise in cases percentage-wise!
I did a bit of research later for the odd below above!
All was normal here.
Slightly darker this morning.
My morning shots are getting atrocious!

Yesterday, I, Sherlock Holmesianly, searched for the signs of which houses are growing Cannabis in their lofts.
Today, it became apparent. Hehehe!
I’m unsure how I did it, but I got the battery-powered can opener to work!
Snowgoinger! Haha!
No TV. No landline phone. No Panic Alarm Working.
NO INTERNET! For 5+ hours.
Still, as long as the owners of Virgin, Liberty-Global, keep paying their CEO a phenomenal salary. Indeed, they will remain the supreme, cunning, lying Oligarchs they are. Trying to cancel their service, with their clause making us pay £100s to do so, requires someone with the following skills and can afford a barrister, a mathematician, & Einsteinian genius.
If one does escape their financial and incapable service, one may try EE, 3, Vodafone, BT, UPC Broadband, 02, ITV plc, or Sirius—all of which Liberty-Global either owns or has investments in! We can’t win!.
But Liberty-Global Always Do! (Spit!)


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TTFNski