THERE’S A NASTY STINK wafting across the Borough of Bexley and it’s not all coming from the recycling plant in Belvedere. Fortunately the cause has gone away but the effects still remain. It is revealed that the former chief executive, who was paid in excess of £200,000 a year and retired on ill-health grounds in November 2007, left with a six figure pay-off in addition to his full pension. Yet we now learn that he has made a miraculous speedy recovery to full health and in February took up a senior post with the Borough of Hammersmith. I’m sure Bexley’s council tax payers must be very happy for him and wish him all the very best!
Another cause of the smell was the sudden defection of the Tory council leader after costing us £7,000 for trips to the USA and around £3,500 to refurbish his office - as well as his generous pay and expenses that we provided. The fact that the building containing this office is due for demolition, made no difference to his profligacy. And he’s cost us an expensive and unnecessary By-election by pursuing his own personal aspirations.
Now, rather belatedly the Labour leader is jumping up and down at this scandalous waste, complaining that he was not aware of what was going on. Well I think he should have been if he was doing his job properly, don’t you? Although I am now totally apolitical, I warned when the Tory group gained its overwhelming majority on Council that it would be bad for democracy and bad for the people of Bexley. Regrettably my prophesy has been shown to be true.
THE FORMER COUNCIL LEADER did not do his Christchurch Ward successor any favours, after imposing swingeing cuts in local services to the elderly and increased fees for parking and adult education. His sudden departure to join the London Mayor, on a salary of £124,000 left a nasty taste, especially for pensioners really struggling to pay their council tax bills. Yet he should not shoulder all of the blame; we must assume that his trips to America for example had been approved by his colleagues, which raises the question, how many similar junkets have taken place, considering there is now virtually no opposition to the controlling party? There is now about as much democracy in Bexley as there is in Westminster and we tax payers are being clobbered from all sides.
In the June edition of The Chronicle I asked if Mr. Clement was still on Bexley’s payroll, but as yet, no one has responded to deny or confirm this! I shall take this as a YES then. I have some sympathy for James Spencer who has won the seat vacated by the previous self-promoting, self-serving Ward Councillor and hope he is not too tarnished by the unsavoury experience.
People are absolutely sick and tired of politics and politicians at all levels and are therefore not taking sufficient interest in what is going on in their Town Halls. This is why the greedy opportunists are getting away with so much. Bexley residents must rise up and challenge this administration before things go any further and they have the shirts off our backs.
PROFESSIONAL SOCCER PLAYERS should be forced to watch a replay of the Wimbledon men’s tennis final between Nadal and Federer. From this, they would learn about true sportsmanship, skill, courage, graciousness and determination. These two sporting giants had no need to resort to cheating, bad language or physical violence to achieve their goal.
Unfortunately the whole culture of professional football in Britain is based on personal greed, encouraged by loyal supporters who should know better. Perhaps they will soon realise how they have been duped into parting with their cash and change allegiance to a more skilful, exciting, entertaining and sporting game - like tennis.
THE COST OF LIVING is rising rapidly, house prices are in steep decline, our savings are disappearing with the collapse of the world’s stock markets, the troops in Iraq and Afghanistan are fighting a losing battle and children in London are being routinely stabbed to death. Yet all the Church of England, that upholder of moral and spiritual values can do, is to indulge in a frenzy of self-flagellation over the right to appoint women bishops and homosexual clergymen.
As an agnostic, I personally couldn’t care less about the gender of its spiritual leaders, any more than it concerns me if I’m treated by a male or female doctor. But I realise that there are still a dwindling number of faithful religious believers who rely on the Church to give them comfort and support in times of need and they are being badly let down by all this internal squabbling in the Synod. Is it any wonder that the country is in moral decline and churches are being sold-off and converted into supermarkets and bingo halls. Like today’s politicians, I’m afraid the clergy have lost credibility and the respect of the masses and have only themselves to blame for this dire state of affairs. I would however want to exclude the Archbishop of York, Dr. John Sentamu from any such criticism.
‘WOOLIES’ IN SIDCUP HIGH STREET are in hot water after being tricked into selling a kitchen knife to an underage teenager. It is only right of course that shops must be vigilant in the current climate of horrendous stabbings, but should they be made responsible for the ills in our society? The burden should not be on the shopkeeper, any more than they should be responsible for stupid people who cannot hold strong drink.
Most boys of my generation were the proud owners of knives and even carried them in our pockets into school, although these were usually normal penknives or Swiss Army Knives (for removing stones from horses hooves). This may be a shocking revelation to those now fighting the scourge of knife crime, but in those days there was no thought or intention of using these as a weapon. They were merely innocuous personal items, along with marbles and cigarette cards. It wasn’t the blade that was important, but the ornate handles manufactured from a variety of materials, such as wood, ivory and leather.
Boy Scouts were issued with sheath knives as part of their uniform, along with the woggle and ‘mounties’ hat. And I do not recall one single incident when we were tempted to use them to take another human-being’s life. Even in later years I have found myself browsing the stalls in French markets, admiring the variety of knives with their beautifully-crafted handles on sale at very little cost - yet I haven’t heard of French schoolchildren routinely stabbing each other.
No, it’s not the knife that is the problem, but the evil intent of some unruly thugs.
I GET FED UP with hearing that feral youths are bored because there is nothing for them to do. What a load of guff! Earlier generations managed to occupy their time usefully, although it has to be said they didn’t have the amount of spare time that today’s youths seem to enjoy.
There were no Playstations, Ipods, or mobile telephones for those growing up in the 50’s. They had Airfix model kits, Meccano sets, Mammod steam engines, Fretwork sets and the weekly treat at the cinema to amuse them. There was also a predominance of organisations such as the Scouts, Boys Brigade, Sea and Air Cadets, as well as sports clubs catering for cricket, boxing and football. In my own case, it was an Adana printing press that took up my spare time, producing tickets and wedding invitations. Some of us also had to endure endless piano lessons, repeating the Scales until near perfect, before we could go out with our friends.
Older readers may recall visiting Ellisdon’s, the jokes and magic shop in High Holborn, where you could spend your pocket money on such things as The Vanishing Coin and the Nail Through a Bloodied Thumb illusion. You could horrify your mother with Soot on the Carpet and the Floating Spider in her cup of tea. And endless mirth by secreting a Whoopee Cushion beneath a chair. Itching Powder was a favourite but best of all, The Buzzer concealed in the palm of the hand that gave a mild electric shock when shaking hands with your unsuspecting friends.
Looking back, these things may now appear somewhat infantile, but at least they didn’t result in their ‘victims’ being carted off to A&E, or the mortuary.
Regrettably many of today’s young generation appear to have lost the ability to amuse themselves, if they aren’t seeking out victims in public places on which to practice their odious lack of respect and good manners.
SIR ROBERT MUGABE, President of Zimbabwe, has been stripped of his honorary knighthood bestowed by the Queen. He must be quaking in his boots and this will be a real comfort I’m sure to his oppressed starving people.
THE BBC is sending an army of 437 employees to cover the Olympic Games in Peking (Yes - I still prefer to call it that). This compares with the 300 competitors representing Great Britain. What more do you need to know about this spendthrift organisation that uses licence payers money like confetti?
DOESN’T IT MAKE YOU FEEL a whole lot better in these times of stringent ‘belt tightening’ to learn that Whitehall civil servants collected £128 million in bonuses last year. What the hell is going on and who authorises such payments from the public purse? And more to the point, is there anyone in authority prepared to stop such largesse on our behalf? The answer of course is NO, because those in charge are also recipients of our generosity and drink from the same trough.
There was a time when you took on a job at an agreed salary and that was it. Perhaps all these elite civil servants have performed exceptional services to the nation - which I very much doubt.
THE EVER VIGILANT Grantham Police discovered a major error in their newly opened police station. Arrows painted on cell ceilings pointing towards Mecca were in fact pointing in the wrong direction and had to be repainted at vast expense. You have to laugh, otherwise you would cry, especially if you were a Grantham council tax payer.
IT WAS VERY EARLY on a Wednesday morning that I carried-out my usual routine; old newspapers into the small green bin; plastic and tins in the brown one; glass in the black one; biodegradable kitchen and garden waste into the brown wheelie bin and non-recyclable refuse into the green wheelie bin.
Having once again laboriously carried-out this weekly ritual, I needn’t have bothered on this particular occasion. The fuss about what goes into which colour bin was meaningless, as they weren’t going anywhere. It was July 16th and the binmen were on strike!
WHAT BETTER INDICATION that the pound in our pocket is now virtually worthless, than the fact that the Tooth Fairy is now charging £5 a time.
OVER SIX MILLION people make the annual pilgrimage to Lourdes in south west France, many in the hope of witnessing a miracle and of being cured of a terminal illness or serious affliction. The treasurer of this Roman Catholic shrine has recently been asked to explain how £350,000 of donations for the sick and dying has ended up in his bank account? Surely the police have heard of miracles!
JUST ONE WEEK after I took part in a National Service Veterans Parade in Staffordshire, another parade was held in London to celebrate Gay Pride.
Now I’m not overly concerned about what these people get up to in their private lives, as long as I’m not forced to join in, although the way things are going I wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t on the cards in the future. But I did find it quite deplorable that their parade included military personnel in uniform. This spectacle sickened me, especially as only a few days earlier I had marched with my comrades in remembrance of those who lost their lives serving their country since 1945. In particular, a fellow NCO killed in Cyprus, whose name is carved for ever on the giant wall of the National Arboretum Memorial.
Gay Pride is no place for strutting around in military uniform and there must be thousands of former servicemen who are as furious as I am. It was not a proper place for service personnel to be either gay, or proud. The M.O.D. should make it quite clear that in future, uniforms are to be left back in the barrack room on non-military occasions.
AT QUITE A YOUNG AGE I played the part of the Mad Hatter in a performance of Alice Through The Looking Glass. This of course was pure make-believe. Today, I feel I am re-living that róle and witnessing all the ridiculous far-fetched scenarios that have been theatrical entertainment over the years.
Take for example the recent proposal by the increasingly mad Association of Chief Police Officers, that sniffer dogs entering Muslim homes should wear bootees. (I swear I’m not making this up). Might I also suggest that Constables Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum remove their helmets as a sign of respect, in case these are mistaken for minarets!