To keep the upbeat tone: Here are some scumbags that have been taken to court. To collect the amusing, non-deterrent, laughable sentences from Magistrates and Judges
Hassan Ali, 25, Criminal Damage. £120 fine, £200 compensation and a £34 victim surcharge. Nicolette Attenborough, 33, was fined £120 and was ordered to pay £85 costs and a £34 victim surcharge for assault. Dylan Jackson, 26, was ordered to pay £85 costs, a £34 victim surcharge and was disqualified from driving for 16 months for drink-driving and for driving without insurance or a valid licence in Darren Snowdon, 37, was jailed for 12 weeks and was ordered to pay a £125 victim surcharge for assault and criminal damage. Dennis Nolan, 61, was jailed for eight weeks, suspended for a year and was ordered to pay £150 compensation for criminal damage of a glass windowpane and door. Herroll Smith, 46, was jailed for 26 weeks and was ordered to pay £150 compensation for entering M Cuts & Shave Barbers, in Uttoxeter Old Road, Derby, with intent to steal a Stanley knife. Tommy Maughan, 37, was fined £40 and was ordered to pay £20.60 compensation, £85 costs and a £34 victim surcharge for stealing £20.60 of items from Tesco. Lee Goddard, 31, was jailed for 4 months and was ordered to pay a £128 victim surcharge for two counts of breaching a restraining order in Nottingham on November 8 and 23, 2021. The offences saw him breach a suspended sentence imposed on October 21, 2021, for five counts of breaching a restraining order. Antony Bilson, 32, was fined £40 and was ordered to pay £85 costs and a £34 victim surcharge for breaching a criminal behaviour order. Blaze White, 30, was fined £120 and was ordered to pay £85 costs, a £34 victim surcharge and was disqualified from driving for two years for driving without insurance or a valid licence. Jordan Fearn, 22, was jailed for 12 weeks and was disqualified from driving for three years and was ordered to pay a £128 victim surcharge for driving while disqualified and without insurance. Andrew Selwood, 55, was fined £40 and was ordered to pay £110 costs, a £34 victim surcharge and was disqualified from driving for six months and had his licence endorsed with nine penalty points for eleven counts of speeding. Chloe Smallwood, 29, was fined £40 and was ordered to pay a £34 victim surcharge and had her licence endorsed with three penalty points for speeding at 36mph in a 30mph limit. Tayyab Hussain, 24: Fined £91 and was ordered to pay £110 costs, a £34 victim surcharge and was disqualified from driving for six months, due to repeat offending, for speeding at 43mph in a 30mph. James Rawson, 48, was fined £440 and was ordered to pay £110 costs, a £44 victim surcharge, a driving ban for six months, James Bannister, 37, was jailed for 12 weeks, suspended for a year and was ordered to pay £85 costs and a £128 victim surcharge for stealing trainers and a swatch. Michael Karim, 36, of Standard Hill, in Nottingham city centre, received the sentence as part of a group jailed for a combined total of 167 years for the role they played in a cocaine gang. Which equals an average of 6 years! Orvil Brown was locked up for five years after he was linked to an international drugs ring that posted large and valuable amounts of cannabis and cocaine to flood the streets of Nottingham. Reuben Woolley was jailed for three-and-a-half years after setting fire to his flat and hitting an emergency worker with a metal bar. Kelly Williamson, 57, was jailed for five years and three months after being found guilty of conspiracy to supply cocaine. Orvil Brown was linked to an international drugs ring that posted large and valuable amounts of cannabis and cocaine to flood the streets of Nottingham. He was jailed for five years. Joanne Duke coaxed her way into an 81-year-old’s home before threatening him with a knife. She was jailed for seven years. Robert Davies, 32, was sentenced to 26 months in prison and must sign the sex offenders’ register, be subject to a 10-year restraining order and a sexual harm prevention order.
We, I can assure Sam, that he couldn’t have been looking, When I worked in Aspley, the criminals had me weakening! I had difficulty finding anyone honest… folks were wrangling… Mind you, the locals were all on an excellent nattering… But they might pick yer pocket, then give yer a battering!
My shop was broken into, the Police didn’t seem to be bothering, Gave me a crime number and didn’t bother returning… The chap in the flat above got a bottling… But cheap sex was always offering, You’d get it free if you’d got any Methamphetamine!
Fights every night outside chip shop – bloodcurdling! The Police would always attend… but not until the morning! Ten-year-olds raided the chemist for Dextromethorphan… That’s Night Nurse® or cough syrup, Triaminic™, or Coricidin™, We had shopkeepers some get-together, meeting… That usually ended up with us all pissed-off and drinking!
Two eighty-nine year-olds!
Sickening! I pray they can catch the culprits. This has got to me, I’ll not bother doing any more odes, not in the mood. Cheers.
Political farces, what a worrying thought, Criminals abound, but not so many are getting caught! But always motorists, cannabis users, end up in court? Easier for the police… whose number is getting short… Trying to understand why; I get bestaught!
The court’s sentencing seems unfair, unequal… I thought judges were intellectual, but there’re ineffectual! One lad had cannabis 2 ounces, got six months jail, And armed robber, got tagged, no jail, another fail? A shoplifter… charged 28 times, no jail; makes you wail!
If a citizen is violent, acts antisocially… Or shoplifts, pickpockets occasionally… Very few of them are dealt with properly, But park in the City Centre, illegally… Judges, magistrates, come over all schoolmasterly, Massive fines, driving bans, even prison, arbitrarily!
With sentences for criminals, magistrates are miserly, Youth beats up an 88-year-old, the youth could not get a job, Magistrate ‘feels for him’ slaps his wrist, supposedly wisely… Sent him home; on the way, he hit a woman in her gob! The Magistrate should retire, obviously…
A Judge-parole-boarder, who frees murderers to kill again, Are guilty of the crime repeated, for certain! Their career in law should be slain, I wouldn’t complain… If they were locked up until Jesus returns again!
Prisoners get the same healthcare and treatment as anyone outside of prison. Bollocks!I can’t get to see my Doctor. Would a prisoner have to wait for weeks to get a Dentist appointment? Just asking!
Prisoners can get Specialist support:
If they have drug or alcohol problems, Coronavirus, HIV or Aids. Are disabled or have a learning difficulty. I get no help with my disabilities; I have to pay for Carers. Where’s my help with hearing, eyesight, Peripheral Neuropathy, Shaking Shaun, Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Arthur Itis, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Back-Pain-Brenda, Walking, Vascular Dementia, Haemorrhoid Harold etc.? No!
Future Sports, Covidity, and Politics, unsung,
Including Boris, Cummings, even Cameron,
I threw myself into creating these, then the phone rung…
Told me the Bank is closing its branch… that’ll be fun!
A bill from the Council, Carers Fees, that stung!
Two weeks ago, Meridian arranged a direct debit…
About as reliable as Norman Tebbit!
With Inchies comments in Ode. Crap Ode, fair enough!
Here we go…
Inchy: I wrote upon this news, a comment what I thought,
Needed saying, about my views on this report,
About dangerous bike riders and Escooterists,
If I was young enough, I’d give them some fist!
Not that I’m a spoilsport…
Pavements are not there for their sport…
They should use the road, was my retort!
This will be perfect planning for those who snort,
Muggers, pickpockets shoplifters, should go to court!
But they rarely, some never get caught…
That’s the end of this verbal jaunt!
Not looking good, these figures, are they tommyrot?
I don’t know, but I do think not…
The anti-maskers, I disagree with this lot…
Being careful is best in the longshot…
Maybe each one of them is a barnpot?
They show aggression, wanting to form a protest riot?
Hah… I’ll just get me dinner made, chips and a carrot!
Well, the above new, will give normality a jerk though,, Coronavirus has limited the number of people at work, Working from home is back, I see, Not that that is relative to me… At last, from that pressure, I’m free… I don’t miss it to any degree!
It’s the few who have to go to work, get my simpatico! I know words can’t really help them; they seem shallow… But in a few years, they will feel a warm glow… Yes, retirement… it may be a shock, though? There’ll be little rest; they should know… So, I give advising a little go…
Things You May Find When Retired: Of course, it depends if you’ve retired or been sacked… Made redundant, nowadays that’s more of a fact, 70% of over 60’s get heart attacks… 80% will get cataracts, Brittle limbs get broken or cracked, If you did work, did you check your pension contract? An area in which I sadly lacked… The Government wants to know your finances; use tact… People over 65 more often get hacked… HM taxation will rarely use the word subtract… It’ll help to see the Doctor, to get Prozacked… Dementia, memory loss will ensure you get sidetracked… HM Inspector of taxes checks, you are honest, in fact… Oh, 90% of passengers were killed when getting highjacked… Still, we’ll leave off that fact…
The truth is, you won’t be fit or rich enough to own a car, Thus avoiding the floods, stay home using your camera… Snap the poor devils, sell them photos later, from afar… Then get ready for Arthur Itis, ulcers, and likely, oedema!
If they did ban them all, one day, to my amazement,
There’d be so many more unlicensed drivers prevalent!
Untaxed too, so what can we do?
What other form of punishment, a thumbscrew?
Too expensive to consider imprisonment,
The problem’s likely, beyond reconcilement!
I’ll tell yers while, Mr Magistrate,
He’s got you weighed up, straight!
Send him to prison, and you capitulate,
His laundry is done, free food, he can sleep in late,
No rent to pay, free medical care, to appreciate…
From the next peter, he’ll get his barbiturate…
Have time to read, watch telly, and cogitate,
To hand, will be a different way to cohabitate?
He can buy a knocked off phone to confabulate…
Oh, yes, he’s got it worked out, mate!.
A life sentence? Huh!, Rubbish! No time for Odeing on this one… Kenneth McDuff: killed three teenagers, a life sentence, released after 11 years. Three days after his release, he killed again! David Edward Maust: While stationed in Germany, Maust killed a boy and was ultimately convicted of manslaughter. After being released, Maust stabbed a friend in his sleep, drowned a 15-year-old in a quarry, and slew three teens and attempted to bury them under his home. Steven Pratt: Two days after being released from prison for shooting and killing his next-door neighbour in 1984, Steven Pratt beat his mother to death during an argument. Arthur J. Bomar Jr: is a repeat offender who was in and out of the justice system multiple times. After being paroled from a Nevada prison in 1990, following a second-degree murder conviction, he may have been involved in three murders in Pennsylvania. Then, a few years later, he used a fake police badge to stop a female college athlete on the interstate and brutally murdered her. After he was finally caught in 1997, Bomar was charged with first-degree murder, kidnappings, aggravated assault, rape and abuse of corpses, and he was formally sentenced to death by legal injection. Hurrah! In the UK: Andrew Dawson, George Johnson, Ernest Wright, David Cook and Desmond Lee were all allowed out on licence despite getting life sentences; All killed again!
00:30hrs: The demand for a wee-wee welcomed me as I woke up. I bravely forced my unfortunately ever-heavier stomached body from the comfort of the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, sickeningly-beige-coloured, rickety, uncomfortable, recliner. Up on to my feet. I caught my balance, visited the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket). I had an LPPP (Long-Powerful-Persistent-Peeing) session), followed by a period of CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling), that surprisingly, lasting for minutes!
I made a brew and washed the pots from last night that I’d left to soak.
Took a photo of the morning view, not a good one, now the Nikon camera has conked-out, I have to use the Canon camera, which doesn’t take night shots well. And then started updating the Monday blog.
And got it completed in record time, I think. NN (Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters) and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), were the only ailments that gave me any problems, they were both only intermittent, and I coped amazingly well. To start with, thus, my Smug-Mode was engaged for a while. I do hope they still behave when I have to take the shave!
The six wee-wees taken during the updating were of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling) style, and the CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling), but only a few drops and much weaker than the first one.
All done, I posted off the diary. Sent the Email links. Pinterested a couple of snaps. And delved into Facebook updating…
This was when the Smug-Mode died. NN, SSS and even Neuropthy Pete gave me a sat-down right leg dance! With the c1962 cabinet where I was seated on the computer, which still has some heavy wooden doors. I involuntarily tested their sturditity with my shin, ankle and knee a few times. Which set of CCP (Cathy’s Cartilage Protella) hurting somewhat. That bit of good luck didn’t last long! But at least I got the updating done with relative ease, so, I’m not moaning… much, anyway! Hehehe!
After the Facebooking was done, I went on the WP comments, then over to the WordPress Reader section.
Each of the four wee-wees taken during the Facebooking updating was of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling) style again, but the CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling) was far less.
Ah, the joys and mysteries of an ageing bladder! Hehe!
The morning summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived, and I poddled to the wet-room. It was almost an exact repeat of yesterdays messy evacuation, but this time, with a decent amount of pain as the bale of straw looking torpedo gained its freedom. (It felt about the same size too!) Several manual refills of the tank were needed to clear the product, and some BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) annoying bending to clean things up. After cleaning up the room and myself, I generously stayed a lot of air freshener in the wet room, before leaving. The silver-lining search: At least I didn’t walk into the door frame going in or out. No, Dizzy Dennis, Balance-Loss-Brian, or tumble visits. It could have a worse session!
I was now nothing like I was when I got up this morning! The ailments were gathering, giving me grief, and I decided to take an extra pain-killer, with the morning medications, and make a brew of Glengettie. Which, I did.
After taking the medications, I carried out the Health Checks. Starting with the BP on the Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer. The SYS had come down from 184 to 170, and the Pulse from Sundays high of 91, yesterdays 66, now 75.
The Amazon bought, (for a very reasonable cost of £29), Chinese made Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer reading was of 36.9°c. It was up a smidge, but it is still in the green on the reading, so nae bother there to fret about at all.
I tried to get a graphic or two done on CorelDraw before it was time for the ablutioning to be done.
As I went into the hallway en route to the wet-room, some idiot had left the mop and bucket in the hallway. Ahem! There followed a toe-stubbing right on the metal clasp of the wringer-outerer, at the bottom! It was a singularly painful one! Of course, I didn’t swear, or anything like that, or call myself ‘a stupid, thick ♫%£+ing idiot, either! Ahuh! I had a little talking to and admonishing myself, and swore to be more careful in future. Don’t know why I bothered really!
I got on with the shaving, pretty pleased with timing for once. ‘The Goon Show’ was about to start, on Radio Four-Extra, Grrreat!
As I was getting the shaving tackle off of the trolley, I… wait for it… stubbed my toe against the wheel! Silver-lining: it was a different toe, and not so keen as the first one! My language was all calm, not self-depreciative, I did not spit, and there was none-cursing. Ahem! I just plodded on.
The shaving had only a few dropsies, and just the one, I say, One, tiny nick. I did a decent job with the new Bic razors, too. , then I thought it best to abandon it, with things seeming to be on a run of bad luck.
Moved into the shower, after cleaning another of the multitude of black spots off of the floor. (I do a little patch each time I shower, Gawd I’m a good lad, I am at times!) I had a super-shower, a good scrub-up, used the brush and loofah! No banging into the grab bars, Dizzy Dennis’s, Loss of Balance Bernards!
The pins, hooves and tootsies looked in fine form. I dried off and got the medicationing done. Olive-oiled the ear holes. Next, I creamed the furuncle and carefully Germoloided Harold’s Haemorrhoids. They did sting bit! Then Phorpain gelled Arthur Itis’s and Cathy Cartilage’s knees. Put the eye drops in. Nasal hygiene sprayed the nostrils. Cleaned the spectacles, decoked the hearing aids and checked the batteries… It’s a job and a half every day! There is another dollop of advice for the whippersnappers. About what they might expect when they are growing old! Hahaha!
I got the PP’s on and exited the wet room. To go and get some clothes on. As I was struggling into the trouser, I realised I had not done my teeth cleaning!
I returned to the wet room, giving myself a third toe-stubbing on the mop bucket, that I had failed to move on the first stubbing! Somehow, this had a relaxing effect on me. The third stubbing of the day, surely that’ll be it, they say things happen in threes?
Got the teeth cleaned without too much bother. Then I got some waste bags made up and, and along with the masses of recycling bags and carton, I filled up the trolley and box.
This could be dodgy, I thought, getting the trolley to the chute and then down the lift to the caretakers’ bins, with any spillage, dropsies or other calamities!
I had a bit of bother getting the badly-balanced three-wheeler trolley out of the door into the lift’s lobby, and even more, bother getting it through into the lift lobby.
But being the confident, young, strong, capable stalwart that I am, I pressed on and got to the waste chute-room without the slightest bit of bother Ahem! Alright then, I got in trapped a finger in the iron chute lid, dropped three bags, clouted my head against the wall, when going down to pick one of the bags up. And coming back out, the left-hand knuckle got a bash against the door frame.
I got in a lift, and as I exited on the ground floor, the route to the main lobby door was blocked by signed and cones from the workmen who were doing the upgrading work. Nae bother for me, I used the fire exit out to the bin area. Robert, the caretaker, was not there, he can’t always be, he’s other jobs all over the flats. I dropped the box’s and bags where the bins usually are, but not today.
I hobbled along Chestnut Way in the drizzle, to the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators) Interrogation and holding cell office.
As I got into the Winwood Court foyer, a sharp dizzy-spell nearly had me over! It left me a little confused and worried afterwards. It only lasted about 30 seconds, but I had to wait a while before moving on. What next! Took this snap of inside Winwood Court.
No lights were seen in the office, so I retreated, back out in the light drizzle, and made my way back towards Woodthorpe Court. I heard a voice, and I turned around, it was ILC, Desk Top Dancer, Warden Deana calling me from the Holding Cells window. I returned to the office. She asked if I knocked on the door, but I could not remember the dizzy coming on. We had a distanced natter, Deana, Warden and Ice-skating champion Warden Julie, and I.
I departed, and the drizzle had stopped as I limped along.
Welsh William passed on his way to the bus stop. Not seen him for about three months now, but I don’t go out on the bus nowadays, of course. Jealous? Me? Yes!
I got back inside the building via the caretaker fire door.
Not a soul in sight, I reckon the working lads must have been on their tea-break.
I got through the passage and into the lift lobby.
The way is still blocked off, no access to the front door. The chaps seem to be making some headway in the upgrading. No rush, we’ve had it for four years now, I think… definitely three. Finding a protected Pipistrelle bat, then the holidays, then the Coronavirus, it must have been a nightmare for Nottingham City Homes. Well, some of the residents ain’t too happy about it. But it can’t be helped. Hehe!
As I got up to the floor, I met Robert, the caretaker, with few words.
Got in the flat, I put the trolley away, and finished washing the Manufactured in Pakistan, long-sleeved shirt, all done, wrung and hung to dry.
I got the photos sorted and used then to update this blog. It dawned on me then, I haven’t had a wee-wee for over two hours? Confusing!
I was getting in a pickle with the food deliveries, and I made an order for next Monday from Iceland. 06:00 > 08:00hrs.
Then had a look at the latest Coronavirus figures I could find, for Nottingham. Which showed a slight bit of optimism at least, a drop in numbers I thought. Then I came across this report, about where I live in Sherwood. This was not good! Yet still, people go out every day on the buses.
I’d love to go out shopping, but it wouldn’t be fair to others.
I pressed on with the updating of this diary. It is hard work with Nicodemus and SSS, both giving me jerks and making me make so many errors repeatedly.
I made a brew… still no more wee-wees?
The rain had stopped all together now, but the view when I took these photographs, from the thick-framed, hard to get at to clean, light and view-blocking kitchen window, was looking decidedly somewhat threatening.
I was getting so tired now, and I thought about what to have for a nosh. Making my mind up can sometimes be an impossibility, so quisquous. I’ll check the use-by dates, then have the shortest, methinks.
The cooked smokey bacon had the shortest date on it. So I got a carton of chopped tomatoes, with some added basil oregano and sea salt. Warmed up the fruit and juice, and added the bacon. I think I may have put a little too much basil in, but I still enjoyed it—a flavour-rating of 7½/10. I had the last of the bread with it, but I hope some more will be delivered in the morning from Iceland.
I found some scribbled notes on the pad I was using to recall thing to put on here in the morning. But at this moment in writing, I’m blown if I can decipher it. Maybe, perchance a Doctor might read this, and can help me out? Hehehe!
I got the TV on and found a Sherlock Holmes episode showing. Ah, that’ll do me! I thought.
02:20hrs: I stirred, dreary-eyed, and found in the folds of my tummy fat layers, a page from the notepad, and as I looked down, a pencil dropped from behind my earhole. The reading glasses were hanging on the very end of my nose and fell off to join some (I found as I began to move), biscuit crumbs as well. Nocturnal Nibbling Guilt!
The scrawl on the paper was hard to decipher. Bits I could make out were, ‘dreams put in the blog’ and ‘wee-weeing…’ But unfortunately memories of having the dreams I’d apparently had were lost into the ether. They must have been interesting, or I would not have made the regrettably unreadable comments on the pad. Shame!
I went through the routine of getting up, catching the balance easily enough this morning. Noticing that the ankle ulcer was clearing up so quickly (Not complaining). The papule underneath the left foot was still tender, even though it had grown back on the bottom of the foot.
I tended to the Health Checks first.
The Harpin Xian Di Thermometer gave a good reading of 36.7°c, a very fair, in the green range result. Then, I got the sphygmomanometerisationing machine out to use, wondering if it will take a few tries to get it to work today, and worked on the third effort: The SYS was still a little too high, but it’s been worse many a time.
As I took the medications, I thought I heard a noise coming from the hallway, I went to investigate. There was a letter on the floor at the door, but that must have been there from yesterday. No one would be posting letters at 03:25hrs of a morning, so that wasn’t the noise I heard. No signs of anything fallen was identified, so I returned, and got the medications taken.
Then I opened the letter. It was an eight paged A4 notification, from HMG (Her Majesties Government), Department of Health & Social Care. It consisted of the following: Guidance for the festive period – Shielding – Access to health & care – Important Information about Covid-19 – Access to Additional Support – Vitamin D supplements – Socialising -Care & Support – Tier 1, 2, and three rules to follow – Going to the shops and Pharmacy regulations. Whether or not I will live long enough to read and digest it all, is questionable.
But, Hatt Mancock’s… sorry, Matt Hancock’s end quote of “We will Continue To Support You in your efforts to keep yourself & others safe!” gave me a warm-glow of bile, that did.
I assume he may be talking about my not getting my prescriptions without a battle on the phone each month with the Chemist I must not visit, to get them delivered? Or being unable to get my toe-nails cut? Or the cancelled Oncologist – Cardiothoracic – Endocrinologist – Pulmonologist – Neurologist – Urologist and Audiologist cancellations?
Or maybe as is likely, he’s more working towards the next general election than actually bothered about us all. He feels a bit of creeping and ersatz care pretending now, belatedly shown will ensure the votes? Who knows? You can’t blame him! Hahaha!
I remember the then New health secretary Matt Hancock receiving £32,000 in donations from the chairman of the think tank that wanted the NHS ‘abolished’! Matt Hancock received nine donations between £2,000 and £4,000 from the man who heads the board of the free-market group, the Institute of Economic Affairs.
I also remember him, defending his spending almost £50,000 on takeaways for his staff from just one London restaurant during the peak of the Covid crisis. The Department of Health and Social Care (DHSC) spent a total of £47,528 on takeaways from Bong Bong’s Manila Kanteen earlier this year, a Freedom of Information (FOI) request has revealed. Just nine orders costing £43,348 were placed at the fashionable “Filipino-inspired” eatery during April, then another £4,179-worth of orders placed in March! Just thought I’d mention it!
I got the updating of the Friday post done quickly. Sent it to WordPress. Did some Facebooking catch-up, then on the WordPress Reader section. Finally, got around to site comments.
Made the first mug of Glengettie tea of the day, and had a bag of Frazzles with it, well, no time for brekkers, I have to get on with making the templates up.
I took regular breaks over the.. wait for it… seven-hours I spent, getting the templates finished! The first being for some brekkers, of sorts. I had a pot noodle, and some nuts to nibble.
Back on the template slog.
Turned everything off computer-wise, to let it cool down, and got the ablutions done.
The ankle was looking much better now, but had still got the odd itching, with it? Feeling as if worms or maggots were underneath the skin?
The session went safely enough, dropsies of course, and just the one nick shaving.
The medicating went so easy as well!
I got the clothes all washed and sanitised afterwards and hung them on the dreaded, not used now if I can avoid it, doing so by not wearing any socks, Sock-Glide.
I must make an order for delivery soon, I’m low on disinfectants.
I got the unopened old but ere new when I bought them, trousers on. They were classed as brown, but only just. Hehe!
They fitted perfectly. Well, what I mean is; The legs were far to narrow, my ever-growing, bulging, flabby-belly made it hard work to fasten the waistband clip, the pockets were too small, the cotton thread hung from the bottom of the legs, the belt buckle supplied with the trews broke. The bum fitted a little too snuggly. Other than that, they were fine. Oh, and the back pocket had a hole in it!
I hand-washed the old black trouser, all done, done, rung and hung above the sink to drip dry.
Back to the templating. I got the computer going again, and got a message telling me that the hard drive is running low in space. I’ve no idea where the message came from, Microsoft, Google or the computer. After a few moments of frowning and fretting – the message disappeared?
I took a breather, of sorts when it started to be a grind, rather than pleasure, in doing the CorelDrawing.
I made up the small waste bags, added them to the others in the box, and got them on the three-wheeler guide, and taken off to the waste-room and down the chute. As I got into the lift lobby, I used the Cannon (It’s far easier to use when on the move, cause it fits in the pocket, which the Nikon Bridge camera will not do, too big). The first one, the view as I entered the lobby straight ahead, the none along the length of the lift lobby, and one as I turned around and snapped the three flats lobby. Mine being the solitary single one on the right. It was eerily quiet out there! With no workers, no noise from Herbert, and even the blasted ‘Hum’ seemed quieter to me?
I got the bags down, in the process gaining a pretty deep blue bruise on the knuckles as I trapped the hand as the lid shot back closed.
Back to the apartment, and took these shots of the darkening day from the gallery.
Back to the templating again. I worked through uninterrupted for a few more hours. Got the templates finally finished and began thinking of what to have for my nosh. As I nosied around to see what was available, favouring doing the meatballs and potato shapes, to help clear the freezer, then I can free Jenny’s space up and fetch the meatballs she has kindly stored in her freezer for me.
Then it hit me, the usual late weariness, lack of concentration and feeling of being oh, so tired and worn out.
I decided against doing the meatballs, in case I fell asleep with them being in the oven for much longer. I got the potato shapes out of the freezer, and dropped the damned bag, catching it before it hit the floor, but a few of the shapes fell out. I noticed as I picked them up that the letters spelt ‘Thick’. (A link there somewhere?) – Ah, clairvoyant potatoes? Hahaha!
The sky was changing as I farted-about making a right mess in preparing the cooking. Nicolas’ Neurotransmitter had been so kind all day. Still, it now was causing some dangerous situation with the oven and saucepan, like. I took a photo and another close-up of the picturesque peeping pink evening view.
Getting the pasties and potatoes out of the fridge, I caught my right arm on the oven. Puggleclumpdimwit! Ah, well!
I got the fodder l plated, and was amazed at the fact that I’d just made this meal! I was so, out-of-it, and drained? I must have engaged auto-pilot—a taste-rating of 7/10.
Too was tried to bother doing the washing up, and I required Sweet Morpheus.
But the Thought-Storms destroyed my hopes. Spurgledamnations!
01:35hrs: I woke up, feeling instantly depressed at the thought of having to go to the After-Stroke Physio session, knowing how it always gets to me mentally, as well as physically. Then I pondered, have I got the right bus fare? Then it dawned on me; it’s Monday, not Tuesday! (I’m quick, you know. Tsk!)
The regular first thing in need of the Porcelain Throne soon arrived. So I disencumbered my onerously-overweight body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, sometimes working, horrendously tatty, beige-coloured, rickety recliner. The one that xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. And he fitted new CCTC cameras, he erected a drone-landing platform outside and searched for my valuables, which he found and took (I still haven’t got them back yet six-months later).
I got my balance and the four-pronged walking stick and carefully wobbled off to the wet room. The evacuation, as it has been doing for a few days now, started on its own accord, was substantial and insalubrious, grungy, and messy again! I had a good clean up of the room, utilities, and myself, then made for the kitchen.
The moment I turned on the hot water tap, hot water flowed from the tap (faucet) over the block and into the sink. Oh, dear! I’ll have to beg Brigadefuhreress and pole-dancer, ILC Warden Deana later, if she can inform the Nottingham City Homes repairs for me. I’ve already got to ask her to call the NHS Medicine team about the appointment they made clashing at the same time as the Podiatrist’s Sherwood Health Centre trip on Thursday. And the Police Pegasus Record people for me. I’m not going to be a very popular tenant again, bothering them! Mind you. That is if the gal is in today? If not, and she’s on holiday or working at another complex somewhere as holiday cover… I’m well-up the creek without a paddle! Confusion and depression were on the way, the EQ told me.
I moved the handwashing onto the airers. I kept jiggling them about to get it to dry better as the morning went on.
I then got on the computer and started to get the Sunday post updated. But it was a slow and frustrating job today. The myasthenia gravis finger-ends were alternating between total and partial none-response. So, much time was lost in finding errors and correcting them repeatedly. This got to me, a bit, and my spirits sank somewhat. Having to go bothering people for help with the phones didn’t help much either. I always feel a hindrance to them. They seem so busy all the time. Which they are, of course.
I’d nearly got the updating done when I realised that I had taken the morning medications yet! Tsk! So I made another brew and did so.
Back to blogging. Another hour or so, and I’d posted it off. Then put some pictures on to Pinterest.
Then I made a start on today’s post.
The right arm, where I’d burnt it on the oven racks taking out Josie’s smoked haddock last night, began to itch, and I found it difficult not to keep scratching it. So I rubbed some Savlon cream on the little scars, this should ease off the itchiness! And it did, too! Any more medical help or advice you need, just call me! Hahaha!
I went on the WordPress Reader next. Then onto TFZer Facebooking.
Off to the wet room for a wee-wee. And what a wee-wee it was! Of the MES (Marathon-Endless-Sprinkling) variety. I thought it must be time for dinner when it finally ended! It must have taken several minutes to trickle its way to a final conclusion. I think that maybe, had I used a receptacle to relieve things in, a teacup might have been too big! The pain, as well. Blimey!
I got the ablutions done, so I would have time to try and get down to the Oberuppehfureress’s Holding and Interrogation Cell office, and not be late in getting back for the Angel of Mercy Phlebotomy Nurse’s arrival. Which I didn’t want to be late or miss the beauty of!
I got in and stripped off for the cleaning session, and boy oh boy, were the plates (feet) colourless! They were whiter and paler than I have ever seen them before! I could be dead here, and no one has bothered to tell me about it, you know. Hahaha!
The day’s ablutions Whoopsiedangleplops are worth recording. Just for the sheer number of them! During my time in the wet room doing my ablutions, I considered giving up, moving to the Guinness home on Colville Court, Nottingham NG1 4HG. Where assistance is available 24/7, for just a few pounds more a week in rent… but realised there would be no point in moving again, I’d only take my bad luck with me. Suicide was not on the agenda. Just a pissed-offedness of mega-proportions. Anyway, how could one leave Jenny, Cindy, Penny, Mary, Gaynor, Margaret, Christine, Angela, Josie, Mo, Deana, Julie etc.. Not that I see them much, but when I do, it never fails to cheer me up. Back to the farcical wet-room session: Oh, the legs looked a little better today.
Dropped the toothpaste tube.
Clouted shoulder when bending down to pick it up.
Hit the other shoulder on the sink, getting back up.
Cut the inside of my mouth, when the autonomic nerves started the right hand shaking as I cleaned the teggies.
Dropped the toothbrush.
Dropped the razor, three times!
It broke on the third occasion, replaced it with the spare one.
Cuts on cheek, neck and the ear-hole acquired.
Dropped the carbolic soap twice in the shower.
Dropped the shower-head, it hit the knee on the way down.
Grabbed the towel from the hallway airer, and knocked over the machine.
The warmer gave out a little dull-sounding ‘Plump’ as it stopped working!
I hit my knee on the shower stool, fetching it back in.
Finally (I hoped at least!), I knocked the Sock Glide off of the chair as I lost the old balance a bit.
One of my more interesting, shall we say, shave & shower sessions that one was. (And saying that isn’t easy, Hehe!) Having got the spit and polishing up done, I hastened to get ready for the trip down in seeking assistance.
In the lift lobby, it looked as if the Mysteries of my beloved Woodthorpe Court. That lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the universal continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination, had been busy again? Haha!
I poddled along, the three-wheeler in front of me, and my mind all over the place. I arrived at the ILC’s Kamp Kommander’s Interviewing and Correctionalisationing Office. The three sweethearts were all in the room, busy catching up with their Tenants Monday morning problems moans and gripes, I should think.
I explained my problems, starting with the Pegasus form to be filled in, and the silly bit of paper with the return address on, in need of guidance on how it supposedly works. Oberstúrmbannfhreress Warden Deana (Just a cognomen), knuckled down and helped out straight away. She filled in the form from details held on the Nottingham City Homes computer record for me. Then supplied a safer envelope for me to use for posting back to the Nottingham Police Headquarters. Thanks, Deana!
Then, she tackled the problem of the two appointments this Thursday at the same time. The lady who will be calling from the Medicines Team, Leoni will call back to me later when she returns to the office. Thanks, Deana!
I passed the nibbles around, and Deana gave me the envelope to post. Thanked her and walked out to near the bus stop, and posted the form. I went over to the bus stop, and a lady who thought I was going for the bus, stood up let me have her seat, bless her! I explained that I had just come over to offer a ‘Good Morning’ to everyone. No one answered!Haha!
I made my way back to the flat, taking a snap of the windblown al-fresco seating area in the drizzle. I noticed that the door was ajar. I pressed the green open button, and a chap came along to tell that I must not push or force the door! I explained to him that I did have to if I wanted to get outside! He repeated that it was a fire door – I pointed out that it is not like the doors in the new Winwood Court, that is how come there, is a green button to press, it does not open automatically, you have to push the door! That is what I have been told. He was not impressed; he just repeated that I must not force the door, tutted and went off in a huff! Humph! I don’t know who he was.
I got inside the flat, (09:40hrs) and found a note from the Phlebotomy nurse, who wrote she could not get me to answer the door at 0930hrs. Talk about bad luck in the timing. If it hadn’t been for the know-all bloke, who was wrong in what he said anyway, I wouldn’t have missed the nurse!Globdollocks and Rumbustiousness!
Now I have to ring the Sherringham Medical Practise Surgery. It ended up that I have to go to the surgery for my Warfarin blood test. The only slot they have left is for Wednesday at 11:45hrs. Just can’t be helped, though. Not with my rotten, horrendous, continuos, lousy, soul-destroying, heart-attack-prompting, pathetic, suicidal-tempting, crap, horrible luck! But, it doesn’t bother me, mind. !
The doorbells chimed-out, and it was Josie, returning the things from her Sunday nosh. Happily, she said she loved it! Which, despite the Whoopsies, cheered me up a tad!
Then Leoni, from the Medicines Management Team rang. To change the Thursdays double-booking with the Podiatrist, at Sherwood Health Centre. Cancelled Thursdays, and made one for Wednesday 4th December for 09:30hrs. Bless her, she made it nice and early for me! ♥
Then the phlebotomy nurse rang me, making an appointment with me, also for Wednesday 27th November, but did not know what time it would be for yet!
I was now in a state of utter confusionableitis!
My head was spinning – My concentration shattered – My will-power was virtually none-existant! – It was gone passed my head-down time! It had gone dark and dank, and the rain is falling slowly again!
And the thought of going to the miserable, pettiness and sarcasm-ridden After-Stroke Physio session in the morning is already lingering ready to grow and develop into a new depression…
ARGH!I’ve just realised, with having to stay in all day. I’ve not got the money for the bus fare in change for the rotten, unwanted morning! I’ll have to walk to the bloody-physio work-out now!!! That means two and a bit hours, so I’ll have to leave by 06:00hrs at the latest, and knowing my sodding luck, and the British weather, it’ll probably be raining!
Oh, so fed-up! I went to make a brew and think about something to eat. And the door chimes rang out again! It was an Amazon delivery! The mood changed slightly, still not happy, and even depressed, but a twinkling of hope came into my mind – “Aha, is this the Rice-cooker replacement lead! Hahaha!“
No such luck! It was the monthly Mannen Lemon cream wafers that were being delivered! Ah, well, I should expect something to go right? An absolute, Shlimazel like me? Don’t make me larf!
So, I’ll have some of the quick rice later. Not all that later, I hope. Cause I’m worn-out and mentally drained now.
Hello, a noise from the door again, I’ll investigate. Fancy that, a load of junk mail had been delivered for me to enjoy! Well, that cheered me up no-end that did! A good job I live on my own, for the mutterings coming from under my breath, that was not to be repeated in any civilised company! The Houses of Commons, perhaps?
I had another look at the Google Calendar. Now, what needs doing? Ah, the surgery must be contacted, about the phlebotomy, or have they already been in touch with the nurses?
I feel deficient now. I imagine that the electric lead will be delivered tomorrow while I’m out unhappily being glared at and spoken of behind my back, be read to from a book. Listen to crap “You are walking along the beach, the sun is warm, and to paddle along the water’s edge…” or some such so-called relaxing taped talking, and hearing of other’s holidays to Asia, America, Australia. Their latest new car. Their families Christmas arrangements. Going through agony with the exercises from Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, Maria Myasthenia Gravis and so on, leaving the… oh, I got carried a bit there. Sorry.
I had to close down the computer, through over-fatigue (Mental I think).
I got the handwashing done, wrung and hung. Got into the night-attire, and once the meal cooked and served up, tucked into it!
Cooked Turkey, RRQ flavoured rice, with chopped tomatoes and onions added. Some wholemeal sliced cobs, but I only ate two of them. Flavour-Rating: 7.5/10.
I got the pots washed, and settled in the second-hand, c1968, recliner.
I lay for a while, pondering on the things, well, the cock-ups that had come my way today. But did not get around to actually thinking-out any solutions or damage limitation. For once sleep came quickly, defying the mind-blast in my head!
I’m not sure how I got through today’s mighty, mayhem of macabre, morose, mentally-testing mishaps.
Congratulations on beating the man you have just sacked from the Cabinet in the Tory leadership election.
I’d like to offer you the opinion of a rather uneducated old fart, who, incidentally much appreciates his pensioner’s bus pass, on a few of your selections for your new cabinet ministers. I understand his opinion is of no value or consequence, benefit or interest to you (Or any of your cabinet or MP’s), but the new growth in distrust of the aforesaid personages, has encouraged me to be bold.
Also, my not having long left to live, had a bearing on this decision too.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Philip Hammond Brexit Remain Supporter
New Chancellor of the Exchequer
Millionaire Hammond is worth around £8.8m but avoids tax after transferring property as a “gift” to his wife. This Essex boy has never had a proper paid job
He recently stepped in over ‘very disappointing’ plans by new Chinese owners to hike membership fees at Wentworth golf club. Long-time members of Surrey-based golf club have accused the new Chinese owners of using an eye-watering fee hike to get rid of them and turn the club into a preserve of the global ultra-rich. If he fails on this, you can always buy the support of Tony ‘I ain’t rich enough yet’ Blair and William Hague by buying them a two-year membership of the club. Although I’m uncertain if Hague’s wife Ffion is still a Barclays Bank Advisor, but as he and she he joined a lavish Italian trip, one of Europe’s most expensive hotels, where rooms costing £1,000 a night and paid for Barclays executives on a black day for global markets, I assume she will not give up these perks and of course the pay for being an Advisor to Barclays Bank: (£86,000 per annum, tax free?) You know the one, that the Tory Government rescued financially?
MY VIEW: He is the second richest member of the new cabinet, with a net worth of £8.4 million, just under Lord Strathclyde with £9.6 million. Mr Hammond is said to have achieved his worth from stakes in a health care and nursing home developer and “consultancy work”.Within six months, he will be blaming the Brexit Leave Supporters for the country going broke. Only joking – am I? I wish him well and I appreciate that his lock on the front door of his third home costs more than my house did. I just wish he was not so rich that if he fails he will not suffer financially at all – just Jealous Theresa, yer know!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Boris Johnson Brexit Leave Supporter
New Foreign Secretary
Royal-blooded, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson (born in New York City to wealthy upper-class English parents in June 1964), Johnson was educated at the European School of Brussels, Ashdown House School, and Eton College.
Boris is, albeit, distantly related, to the present Royal family, and also to the Royal Houses of Europe, including the Swedish and Dutch Royal Families, as well as the Romanoffs.
So, we can see why you have chosen him to be your Foreign Secretary. Also and as well besides, we understand.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Amber RuddBrexit Remain Supporter
New Home Secretary
Who, as Energy Secretary who Labour claimed misled MPs about meeting mandatory EU energy targets on renewable power, is a buxom lass, and it is easy to see why Theresa has opted for her for her new as her new Home Secretary.
As Energy Secretary, she came under fire for failing to reveal close links to a top lobbyist in official parliamentary records. Under new rules brought in for this parliament, MPs must officially disclose all family members engaged in lobbying the public sector.
The Hastings & Rye MP, also Billed the taxpayer £173,367.16 over the 2014-15 period placing her in sixth place out of the 16 county MPs. She claimed the bulk of her expenses on staffing costs – £137,127.53– as well as £22,794.66 on office costs, £10,330.79 on accommodation, £2,854.18 on travel and £260 on ‘miscellaneous expenses’. So she’s cunning, greedy and not afraid to fiddle if given the opportunity.
Worked as a financial journalist and venture capitalist, after working in New York and London for J.P. Morgan & Co. So, she’ll be perfect for the position as Conservative Home Secretary.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
DavidDavisBrexit Leave Supporter
Brexit Minister Secretary
David Davis, the former shadow home secretary, who grew up on a council estate, spent more than £10,000 of taxpayers’ money on home improvements in four years, including a new £5,700 portico at his home in Yorkshire.
The former chairman of a Commons committee that keeps tabs on government spending also claimed more than £8,000 for over 5,000 gallons of heating oil. Claims submitted by Mr Davis under the Commons’ additional costs allowance system show that he paid £5,704 for the portico – an open porch that normally protects a property’s front door from the weather – in July 2006. The bill was “to supply and install a new portico to front door entrance, new matching gate and frame to court-yard and six-pane window to out building”. The Commons fees office agreed to pay the bill two weeks later.
Mr Davis spent about £5,000 on home furnishings, including £658 to decorate his kitchen and utility room and £640 on a flax carpet for the breakfast room. In 2008-09 he charged £46.33 for changing a lamp in a floodlight at one of his properties.
In 2009-210 his expenses were only £ 109,146.
Davis was raised on Aboyne Estate, a council estate in Tooting, South West London. After attending Bec Grammar School in Tooting, London, he went on to gain a master’s degree in business at the age of 25 and went into a career with Tate & Lyle. Another non-working for a wage MP.
August 2013: Figures from the body responsible for parliamentary expenses show that the highest expenses claimant in Gwent was David Davies, Tory MP for Monmouth, who claimed £40,241. But the MP said that he had not seen a penny of the money and that the term expenses had been used for too long.
He’s going to have a ball now he’s in power int he!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Michael FallonBrexit Remain Supporter
The MP retrospectively claimed £3,521 for legal fees and hundreds more for mortgage interest charges and utility bills — all personally authorised by the head of the fees office. Mr Fallon had previously claimed £1,000 a month in second home expenses to rent a property in Pimlico, south west London. Mr Fallon said at the time: “This was an inadvertent mistake for which I accept responsibility. The fees office proposed that the overpayment should be offset by other claims.”
The MP added that all his other claims “were routine costs properly authorised and allowable at the time”. He began making the excessive claims after buying the Westminster flat for £243,000 in June 2002 and designating it as his second home. Various other household expenses he claimed for after September 2004 included a £250 per month cleaning bill, which Mr Fallon reduced from £300 after being asked for a receipt.
Between 2002 and 2004, Fallon regularly claimed £1,255 per month in capital repayments and interest, rather than the £700-£800 for the interest component alone. After his error was noticed by staff at the Commons Fees Office in September 2004, he asked: “Why has no one brought this to my attention before?” He repaid £2,200 of this over-claim but was allowed to offset the remaining £6,100 against his allowance. After realising they had failed to notice the excessive claims, Commons staff reportedly suggested Fallon submit fresh claims which would “reassign” the surplus payments to other costs he had legitimately incurred.
In May 2005, he claimed £499 for a television, £69.50 for a digital box and £35 for a radio. Mr Fallon sold the flat in December 2006 for £295,000, making a profit of £52,000. He claimed £1,774.50 in legal fees relating to the sale. In the two months before the sale, he claimed £126 for boiler repairs, £170 for repairs to bathroom tiles, £282 for electrical repairs and £225 for carpet cleaning. He then bought another flat in Westminster for £728,000. Soon after moving in, he claimed £1,795 for a bed, £1,500 for curtains and almost £1,000 for a freezer, washer-dryer and deep cleaner. The claim for the bed was reduced to £1,000. He then began claiming the interest on the mortgage for his new flat, which came to about £2,100 per month — almost three times as much as at his previous property. Mr Fallon also shares a large house in his Kent constituency with his wife, Wendy. The house, which the couple bought in 1997, is about 28 miles away from Westminster. It is not mortgaged.
Mr Fallon is also paid as a director of three companies. His salary from one, a money broker, is reportedly £45,000. He also pays his wife from his taxpayer-funded office expenses to work as his secretary.
Fallon, is a board member of a leading brokerage firm that dominates the rates market and which has been asked to co-operate with the Financial Services Authority’s investigation into malpractice across the City.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Liam Fox Brexit Exit Supporter
International Trade Secretary
In a less shameless world, Liam Fox’s career would have ended in 2011. Or to give him his full title, the disgraced former defence secretary, Dr Liam Fox.
In March 2010 Fox appealed Sir Thomas Legg’s decision that he had overclaimed £22,476 in mortgage interest payments. Fox immediately repaid the money, then appealed the decision. Fox’s appeal was rejected and the decision was upheld by Sir Paul Kennedy, a former high court judge. Fox stated that his decision to remortgage his second home to pay for redecorations and claim the higher interest repayments on his expenses represented value for money because he could have charged the taxpayer for the decorating bills directly. In his response, Sir Paul Kennedy stated: “What you claimed was not recoverable under the rules then in force. I entirely accept that, like many others, you could have made other claims if the fees office had rejected your claims for mortgage interest, and that you may well have spent some of what you raised by increasing your mortgage on your constituency home, but the evidence is imprecise, and my terms of reference only allow me to interfere if I find special reasons in your individual case showing that it would not be fair and equitable to require repayment, either at all or at the level recommended.” This reportedly made him the Conservative Shadow Cabinet member with the largest over-claim on expenses, and as a result, he has been forced to repay the most money.
It was reported in June 2009 that Fox claimed expenses of more than £19,000 over the last four years for his mobile phone. Fox claimed the high bill was due to regular trips overseas, in his capacity as Shadow Defence Secretary and said he was looking for a cheaper tariff.
In October 2012, the Commons Speaker blocked the release of data showing which MPs were renting their homes to other MPs for financial gain. However, a study of parliamentary records was published in the Daily Telegraph. The study showed that Liam Fox receives rental income from his London home while simultaneously claiming rental income from the taxpayer to live at another residence.
In October 2013, Fox hit the news again, after documents showed he claimed 3p for a 100-metre car trip a year earlier. He also made an additional 15 claims of under £1 for car travel approved in 2012–13, two of which were for 24p and 44p. He told the Sunday People: “I don’t do my expenses. My office does them. But they are all done according to the rules for travel distances.
During October 2011 Fox’s relationship with a close friend, Adam Werritty, attracted extensive media attention and eventually led to Fox’s resignation. Werrity, some 17 years younger than Fox, had been best man at his wedding, had lived rent-free in Fox’s flat, and been involved with him in business and in the conservative Atlanticist think-tank The Atlantic Bridge. While Fox was Defence Minister, Werrity had visited Fox at the Ministry of Defence on many occasions, had accompanied Fox on numerous official trips, attended some of his meetings with foreign dignitaries, and had used official-looking business cards which said he was an “advisor” to Fox, all despite having no government post or security clearance. The media raised questions about Fox’s judgment in allowing this to happen, the nature of the men’s relationship, and the source of Werrity’s income.
Fox is a registered shareholder of the medical educational firm Arrest Ltd. His estimated wealth is £1.7 million.
Fox accepted a £50,000 donation from Jon Moulton, whose investment firm, Better Capital, later went on to own Gardner Aerospace, an aerospace metallic manufactured details supplier which includes component parts for both military and civilian aircraft. This potentially exposed Fox to conflict of interest but neither Fox nor Moulton violated any rules with this donation.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Jeremy Hunt Brexit Remain Supporter
Since first being elected to government in 2005, Hunt has been involved in a string of scandals which when put together outshine some of the bigger scandals on this list. Yet somehow the impervious MP has gone on to be rewarded with ever more responsibility. Here are some instances where other MPs and the public have called for the Teflon-coated minister’s resignation:
· In 2009, he was forced to repay £9,500 of taxpayers’ cash after allowing his election agent to live rent-free in his subsidised home. This was after he had also breached the rules for claiming for a property that was his designated main home.
· In 2010, it was discovered his former parliamentary assistant had been given a civil service job. The assistant was the daughter of a Conservative life peer who had also been the director of Hunt’s company.
· In 2010, he apologised after suggesting hooliganism was to blame for the 1989 Hillsborough disaster.
· In 2012, it was revealed he was a tax avoider (something Cameron said he would not tolerate) after dodging more than £100,000 in tax in a property deal.
· Again in 2012, close links were discovered between his office and Rupert Murdoch’s company News Corporation. Hunt, at the time, was handling the company’s bid to take over BSkyB. It was found Hunt and his advisors had communicated sensitive information to Murdoch.
· In 2013, the British Medical Association said he displayed “complete ignorance” after saying he thought the abortion limit should be changed to 12 weeks.
· His expenses featured: 1p for a 12-second phonecall, £75 on five candles, £700 on signs for one of his houses and a whopping £3,180 on stamps, envelopes and labels (in one year).
Why is Hunt again in the cabinet? Labour leader Ed Miliband once said “it beggars belief” but maybe it has something to do with Hunt’s support during his buddy David Cameron’s leadership campaigns?
A definite bad move from Theresa, if she is wanting to regain the confidence and trust of the voters… but I don’t suppose she’s bothered about that!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Chris GraylingBrexit Leave Supporter
Chris Grayling has claimed £104,183 of taxpayers’ money over six years for a London flat – even though he has a family home just 17 miles away from Westminster. And neighbours said they “rarely, if ever” see him at the Westminster flat where his postbox is packed with unopened mail.
On the eve of becoming an MP in June 2001, Mr Grayling, 46, paid £127,000 for the one-bedroom flat in a six-storey block, which has views of Westminster Cathedral and is only a short stroll from the House of Commons. But a local estate agent said the value of properties in the block had soared to between £210,000 and £330,000, despite the recession.
Our inquiry sparked claims from MPs last night that Mr Grayling would trouser a huge profit from the London property market, largely thanks to taxpayers’ cash. Mr Grayling is allowed to use his additional costs allowance (ACA) to pay for and furnish a second home – either in London or his constituency of Epsom and Ewell. Between 2001 and 2007, he claimed a total of £104,183 under the ACA – close to the maximum possible claim over the period of £122,710.
In 2009, Chris Grayling promised to sell his London flat and repay any profit to the taxpayer. There is no record of this repayment. Numerous requests for information from Grayling’s office have been met with a blank refusal to provide any further evidence. It’s quite possible the payment was made. The records we have are incomplete, having been destroyed under Commons rules. But his office’s refusal to provide any evidence of it suggests the old arrogance of MPs is reasserting itself as memories of the expenses scandal fade.
Just after the May 2005 general election, he claimed £4,250 for redecorating and £1,561 for a new bathroom. The next month he claimed £1,341 for new kitchen units. The month after that he put in a claim for another £1,527 for plumbing and £1,950 for further work.
He got himself caught up in the Fox/Werritty scandal.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Priti Patel Brexit Leave Supporter
Her expenses in 2014 were £152,000 plus.
She employs her husband as her Office Manager on £50,000 a year.
On the IPSA granted MPs pay rise of over £7000, she did not comment on whether she would accept the rise or how she felt about it. But she did.
She once worked for lobbying firm Weber Shandwick, whose clients included British American Tobacco – the makers of brands like Dunhill and Lucky Strike. Patel then moved to Diageo, the British multinational alcoholic beverages company, and worked in corporate relations between 2003 and 2007, earning hundreds of thousand of pounds. While the company paid workers £15 a year. In 2014, she accepted a £2,000 donation from a tobacco supplier HT&Co (Drinks) Ltd .
The MP for Witham, supports the death penalty too. In the past she’s professed admiration for Ayn Rand, told reporters: “Murder should never be an alternative to an honest day’s work, which is why I’m strongly in favour of a reintroduction of the death penalty for low-earners.” She added, “A £100,000 earnings cut-off would ensure the most important members of society are not executed, and would also provide a deterrent for the poor and workshy who would rather be housed in jail to save money.”
… I’m sorry, but I can’t write and research anymore… I’ve depressed myself…