Forced unemployment: the introductory rant

Being unemployed, without any say-so in the matter, is a sack of cack..

Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I wouldn't have believed me two years ago either. I haven't usually dissed my previous employees on this blog, mainly because I didn't mind working for them, but of course, should they have read this blog with its hypothetical employer whines, I'd possibly have been up before HR. This has happened. But on the occasions when I have mentioned particularly crudola circumstances where work has just been TOO MUCH, I've often thought to myself...”hmm, the life of leisure....how pleasantly desirable that might be”.

There was this time, not so long ago, when I sat cooped up in a windowless office in Barking, away from the sun, and most definitely, the fun. Or rather , the perceived fun that you , being cooped up, isn't experiencing by dint of that fact. This and being fuelled by the notion that the whole world (on those days off you took for annual leave) seemed to be occupied by leisured, well dressed personages having a jolly good time away from the office – perhaps forever away - and (so one thought in one's bitter way) probably looking at the likes of you, on said pathetic measly day off and let out for the afternoon amongst the rarefied air and privileged, permanently-on-holiday majority (it seemed) in the way which said, “ah, poor guy. Bet he's going to be cooped up tomorrow in some stinking trading estate”...and so on.

When you are stuck somewhere you haven't actually elected to, given a hypothetical choice, be – and despite the fact that my last office actually was in Barking (on the unglamorous trading estate side of what is not actually a glamours place even *on* the glamorous side of town, if you catch my drift) and yes, the office was indeed completely windowless, there was a reason to get up in the morning, whine, scratch your head about the pointlessness of working for a piffling salary (and by the standards of equally unworthy people like Fred The Shred, one could only wonder why my mum was who she was and why I, Adam R. W. Holdsworth, could not have been born to parents who, if not wealthy and privileged, were smart enough to take you to where the influence and smart money actually is. Working as an intern for your uncle's law firm. Or at least naming me Miles or Giles or Charlie. Oh I dunno, this all sounds like envy, and for heaven's sake, it is frigging envy, I know, I know, but this is my RANTS and burblings site and that's what I'm doing. Don't try to convince me I'm selling you a pup here, you came willingly to this joint to hear me fart on and on and on. No, please don't click the back button, honest, I'll be more measured and circumspect from now on....

OK, back to the plot, the one I haven't lost. I'm going to write, over the next few days, an article per day; and please don't hold me to this, life has a habit of getting in the way of a this blog; about how my life has changed since becoming one of the Big Society, without an excuse not to be part of the volunteering, kind, airy fairy bollocks* enabling me to actually have an opt-out excuse. Er, sorry guv, I'd love to work with little kids in wee homes, little cuties who are being whacked around by junkie parents but I have this commitment called a job which steals 37 hours of my week, then adds another 15 hours worth of travelling, then calls me to work when I get home, then means I have to be on call over the weekend, and yadda yadda blah. I, ladies and gents, don't have the opt out any more. I'm at home, cooped up on in front of of the computer, often with Tweetdeck chirruping sweetly every couple of seconds, with the very real option of watching Jezza Kyle for three hours per day, should I choose.

And because unemployment is so rubbish, sometimes, JK is the only cure. It's the only reason to get up, knowing that with the press of the on button, then the three button, you can see how your life, shit though it is, could become a few steps further down the bell-curve on the detritus index.

And so, over the next few posts, I'm going to explore what it is like for a 42 year old, partially sighted male, neither especially stupid but who has managed to live by wits much of the the time, over qualifications; one who used to have ha degree of self respect and at least could hold down a job for years on end with no question...just what goes through one's head? What do us scroungey types do all day? And more seriously, a few words on disability and unemployment. So join me, sweet workers of the world and celebrate your employment. For tomorrow, there is the Big Society, Jeremy Kyle swamp life, and an email in box full of Guardian job ads to brighten your day.

Next: I ask the Talking Heads question: “How did I get here?” And follow up with another song title, this time a Beatles one: “A Day In The Life”.

* By the way, I don't in all seriousness for one nanosecond, have any beef with volunteers, especially those working with kids in such vile conditions. My dad was one for a long time (and he had his own business to run full-time too). I have the ultimate respect for you and indeed for anyone who gives up their time for a good cause. I obtained my first full time job after volunteering too, so I can see its financial, as well as the altruistic value. I do hate this issue being force fed us by the present lot that we are all duty bound to work for free - “we're all in this together” malarkey. We're not. Simple as that. You volunteer because you're a good person or because you have a particular affinity with a cause. Not because some wanker in a suit, attempting to save some government cash, cash you've already paid in, tells you that you should. That's all.

Those Eden Kane Moments

My mum, quite a hip chick in her day and still pretty lively for an old girl, used to own a record by a band called Eden Kane, whose main refrain went something like:

"Boys cry
Where no-one can see them
When no-one can hear them cry
No-one can see them cry".

I used to rather like this record, mainly because it had rather a jolly tune counteracting the somewhat plastic sentimental lyrics. So the Edens may not have been the "new" Beatles or Stones, but the record was a workmanlike enough piece of 60s filler to have been stored in my memory from about the age of 4 when music started really meaning something to me. BTW, I can also remember advertising jingles and slogans from when we had a black and white telly as our only telly. How very pointless, but there you go.

So to the lead-in to the blog article de jour. Music and crying. While I was thinking about it a few weeks ago while trundling round London, iPod giving my tinnitus something to think about, that bloody arsehole student betraying Judas Nick Clegg spoiled my very show by admitting that he cried to music. Well Nick, old china, old pal. My horse had been stolen by a more famous person than me, making *my* bloody idea appear unoriginal and me-to. Not the case, believe me, I got there first, just for the record if only by a few hours.

Music, is the ONLY fricken thing which has ever touched me in the crying department. Nothing else can. Some old bit of American country song wisdom says that a man is entitled to cry only when his "mom" or "dawg" dies. My mum is fortunately still well and able. I cannot guarantee for sure that I won't shed a tear or probably more like a bucketload when she does pass away, but hopefully she's a few decades left on the mileometer yet. Let's hope so. Unfortunately though, in the weeks between starting and publishing this post, I have had a mutt pass away, the sometimes q.v.'d Nicki – and yes, I bawled quite a bit over that, so buy me a Stetson, a car with no wheels, yet with enough battery power left to play the still- working eight-track of Willy Nelson best of moments and let me gurn into my bourbon glass.

Get me on a tube in the rush hour, in the right (or wrong) mood and then insert one of the following tracks between my ears on a decent set of Bose (or just a cheapjack piece of shit will do) and…………blubberitis, here we come. Help. Public embarrassment doesn’t come into it. Not being able to remember what stop I’m approaching doesn’t come into it either. I’m a lost cause, and sometimes end up actually lost.

Sad films can do it too. But the music has to work with the film. No sad music, no saltwater from moi. I don’t think, for example, that the admittedly moving plot of Atonement would have worked half as well if the Dunkirk soldiers’ singing hadn’t magically – in a moment of almost breathtaking pathos inducing beauty – morphed with the orchestral soundtrack. I almost fell over when I heard this, except I couldn't because I was in Goa, on a hostel bed, so not too many places to fall. Partly wonderment is down to the sheer skill and artistry demonstrated by the person responsible for bolting soundtracks together, and partly because it was just so fucking poigniant.

I don’t come from a particularly macho family – as an older brother to three sisters, that was always gonna be a hard one to pull off anyway, but I can count my dad as introducing me to one of the bawl-tracks mentioned below. Whether or not he cried when listening to is, I’ll never know because I wouldn’t ask him. It’s mostly a private business this crying to music bolllocks, and the only reason I’m sharing it with the world is that I doubt I’m alone. But fear not, I shall return shortly to the joys of assembling flatpacks, the trams of Croydon, or something else more prosaic.

So there it is, my confession. And also below, is some of the music that does it.



Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A Major, Adagio
Surely one of the most gorgeous pieces of music ever committed to score? So, its Mozart. So, you’ve heard it a thousand times before. For a reason.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsvgIW2YMWA&feature=fvst


Wendy Carlos/JS Bach – Brandenburg 3, part 3
Two things turned me onto electronic music. The second thing was discovering under a Chiswick bed and covered in dust, the Moog Prodigy, belonging to my then-girlfriend Nicola's dad and just having to footle with it. The first was being played this, aged 4 by my dad who I think was as besotted with it at the time as I became later. Works on so many levels. I’m so glad myself and Ms Carlos met while I was such a musical virgin . It was the best selling classical music record of 1968. Not surprising.

I could not find the exact track on Youtube – Ms Carlos seems rather precious about copyright for whatever reasons. Here's something from the the other end of the same concerto “in the style of”.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XJo5q-SbvT0


Livin’ Joy – Don’t Stop Moving
A complete change of tempo and style here. Early 90s dancey,ravey floorfilla with heaps of Korg M1 piano, one of the most evocative sounds from this generation. This track is actually a piece of utter smileyness and never fails to put a humongous stupid grin on my face even during the depths of depression (and there have been some prize moments). And it makes me bawl out of sheer euphoria. One of the most positive lyrics going methinks.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIbFO-kXeyU


One Day Like This – Elbow
I can’t think of a more poetic, beautiful love song than this - I tell you, when I look at these lyrics, I suffer from extreme song envy. Guy Garvey sure knows how to sum up what it might be like to grow old with someone. And the orchestration, my goodness! Overflows with joy and optimisitc good vibes. Guy Garvey might have a show on 6 Music known as his “Finest Hour”, but this was easily his finest 6 mins, 51 seconds. If someone ever wrote me a song like this, I'd be boholden to them for-bloody-ever!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfVejpYc8Zc



Little 15 – Depeche Mode
It's the key shift DOWNWARDS starting n verse 3 wot does it. Aaaarrrgghh.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfA2U4V2DZY


Nervously – Pet Shop Boys
Chris Lowe, the “other half” of the PSBs, knows how to combine textures in sound and chords to break the heartstrings of the toughest hod carrier. The schmaltzter is aided and abetted by one of the kings of analogue synthesis, Harold Faltermeyer, let loose on this number.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eS30s3X5ccM
(as an aside, I've just noticed that these two last songs are in the same key – coincidence?)


Set You Free – N-Trance
More dancey stuff that shouldn't fit into the mould of a classic bawl song but does - for me. This is a kind of lament to lost youth and quite likely reflects possibilities never fulfilled. Can almost see myself, aged 24, wondering in a scratching head, “doh!” sort of way what would happen next and not fully recognising the opportunities being dangled. I have relatively few regrets, in life, but there *are* some, and this is one of those songs which can transport me back to that less responsible, almost but not quite carefree period.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWbmmsH4SJU


Please comment and add your tracks if you're man (or woman) enough to do it. Come on, I am not alone, am I?

Ad's eats: Chutney's

Address: 124 Drummond Street, Euston, London NW1

For the review, click the link:

http://boo.fm/b356945

This blog post is not like others I've made so far. So, here's a bit of information about it.

After being introduced to the audioboo concept by Jen F, one of my followees/followers, on Twitter, I though I'd give try it out in order to do something which I do on this blog anyway, which is to knock up a restaurant review. If you're too wimpy to click on the link above and find out, a an audioboo is a recording you make on your laptop or phone, which then gets sent to Twitter, Facebook and Linkdn - or whichever combination of the three that best suits.

The concept is neat because its immediate and can actually be done in the restaurant concerned, providing you've got a decent 3G connection or wi-fi availability. But the fact that you can produce a singing, dancing review in five minutes rather than half an hour, is an idea which appeals to the king of laze that is myself.

This review, for a restaurant I know and very much love, Chutney's, is my first attempt at such a review,

One thing I should have mentioned, simply because I try to do this on the blog, is mention whether the place is guide dog friendly: well, this place has handled a whole barrage of bouncing, biting and woofing beasts without batting a metaphorical eyelid.



(by the way, if you wish to follow me, the my moniker is daggersduck, spelled like the quacking animal this time, not like some member of the illiterati as per this blog).

The Upminster swastika?

Found in the ticket hall at Upminster Bridge station. Does this look like a swastika to you too? Bloody hell.

The fall of the great British phone box - kinda

A few days ago, I was in Kingston, Surrey. I used to hang out here quite a lot when I was in my teens, and pleased to see that the object shot below is still there, aherm, *several* years later. Back then I never had a camera ready. It was chekcing out girls with my mates that was really on my mind (Ealing Broadway, Kingston and for some reason Epping were good check out spots - I wonder if they still are?). All three places are wealthier than average by the standards of London suburbs, but Kingston *just* had the edge on class - nicer clothes and better hair. Ealing ruled for the amount of skin on display though (and it was only a quick 207 bus ride away for me too which was handy...anyway, digression, digression).

I thought at the time that these phone boxes were going to be an installation - here today, gone tomorrow. But it appears the domino booths were a permanent fixture. I wonder what their history is, why they are here at all, and why they remained? Anyhow, at last I got a piccy this time round.

The picture is not all that well framed as I was conscious of people walking around, so it was a quick snap 'n'' go jobby.

Ad's eats: Brilliant Restaurant, Southall, Middlesex

Food: Indian
Contact details:
72-76 Western Road, Southall, Middlesex UB2 5DZ
www.brilliantrestaurant.com

We visited The Brilliant in Southall, Middlesex, today. As I grew up in nearby Hayes, I was miffied that during my time there, my parents had never taken me here, as it had a good rep even back in the early 80s - it is actually a Southall institution, having been in the same area since the early 70s. As Southall is one of the demographically "Indian" suburbs in Britain, let alone London, calling your restaurant The Brilliant in this environment is almost a taunt: "come, criticise me, tell me I'm not brilliant, tell me I'm rubbish". In its favour, it has won plenty of awards. But the only award that matters to us (insofar we came from distant suburban East London to be here) is what we think of it. Will we return? Will we recommend it to our friends? Was it in fact, brilliant?

Let's find out.

Firstly, the guide dog situation. It is really, really difficult to eat Indian or Chinse while being accompanied by a guiding beast. There is a point, after you've had maybe the third or forth row about whether the dog is allowed in, when you just assume that you will go into an eating establishment, all guns blazing. Though I refuse to take nonsense from anyone about this (to refuse a guide dog is breaking the law and ignorance is no defence in my opinion). Not a problem in The Brilliant, perhaps aided by the fact that one of the staff was obviously a dog lover and wanted to pet Nicki the Labrador while she was being good beneath the table. They get a huge brownie point for the no-fuss welcome. What a relief.

The decor here is cool but in a friendly, inviting way, with dark wooden floorboards, spotlights and a clean, no-fuss style that doesn't intimidate but still has enough sophistication, suggesting this interior design has been thought through. No job lot tables here - everything is in dark brown and dark orange. All just-so. (9 out of 10).

Our service was friendly and the food arrived in a timely manner without any hanging around (a pet hate of mine is being left for ages after the main course before your dessert order is taken). Service then was brisk and polite. (9 out of 10).

We ordered poppadoms as a pre-starter. I tend to find that a good, crisp, not-too-greasy poppadom indicates how the rest of the meal will turn out I was right on this occasion, as we'll see. By the way, we ordered spicy poppadoms and blow me down, they were peppery. Fortunately, we both love pepper and there are plenty of chutneys to dump them in to assist sweetening them up and bringing down the heat level a bit.

Our starters were tilapia fish pakora (9 out of 10). The high mark is given for the light batter made of gram flour, which didn't in any way kill off the delicate flavour of the fish. I had meat samosas, filled with finely minced lamb. I give these 7 out of 10 - better than average and good quality meat.

For the main course, we had a lamb curry which Lynn described as basic but tasty and awarded it 6 out of 10. I had the lamb masala which on the menu, was described as coming with a thick sauce flavoured with ginger, tomato and garlic. It left nothing to be desired: this was a dish delivered exactly what was promised. I can barely think of anything to fault it on and will give it a full 10 out of 10 because it really was that good. Bravo. If my stomach had been any larger I would have gone for second helpings.

Desert was a better than average pistachio kulfi which I'll give 7 marks for. It was served on an unusual long plate which didn't do anything for the flavour, but did add a little interest presentation-wise.

So overall, was the Brilliant, brilliant. I think so. It is one of those establishments where you think every award was justified and gained from hard work and attention to detail, as well as old fashioned customer service, rather than from "I'll scratch your back if you give me a plaudit" mentality. There are few Indian restaurants this good in my view and I would go there far more often if only had the fortune to live closer.

Finally, if you are interested in finding what what good places there are to eat at, places that also have good accessiblity (eg, guide dog friendly, helpful staff when it comes to menu reading, etc) then may I recommend the Access-Eat blog written by Graham Page. It can be found at:

http://access-eat.blogspot.com/

it mainly concentrates on restaurants and pubs in east and central London with occasional soirees to the home counties too.

Heston's pie: suck on this

When I think of Heston, being an ex-Westie, I think of the service station on the M4 not a million miles away from my childhood home of Hayes, Middx. That, and perhaps, the book "Crash" by JG Ballard, set in and around this area, though a somewhat fictitiously located Northolt and Shepperton are also mentioned in this novel. Anyhow, I digress...

Heston, for the purposes of this blog entry, is a reference to Heston Blumenthal, owner of the Fat Duck in Bray, near Maidenhead, where they apparently use Bunsen burners, chloroform and nitrous oxide as part of cooking methodology. Waitrose hired him to create some of their not so cheap pies. And so he has. These are housed in wee boxes, right next door in the chill cabinet to the normal Ginsters pasties, porkie pies and other cooked pastry-with-meat delights.

I like pies. People who know me know this. And I know what I like in pie. A pie must have good, slightly crispy but not burnt pastry, with copious butter mixed in. And the filling should be loaded high, with lots of what it says on the packet contained within. If it says steak, one chunk of ratty crap is not good enough. No, there should be whole cow buried therein. Pie Minister pies have certainly got what it takes, though you may need an extension on the mortgage to purchase one.

And so be the case equally with Heston's creation. The filling - in this case chicken, bacon and leek - was plentiful, with loads of cream and a good dash of tarragon for flavour. All in all, a happy sort of pie. The sort of pie to come and see you, make me smile. But there is a dark side.

Remember, I mentioned that this this pie was in the chiller cabinet? Well, what I think when I buy a pie from such a location is that the pie is cooked. Well, it wasn't. I ate the pie on the tube after spending far too long travelling and becoming rather hungry. This evening's tubes were rubbish and my hunger was increasing. So I popped open the pie box and found....

....raw frigging pastry. Raw pastry. Yes, it was raw. And it was glutinous, sticky and - yes, I say it again without shame - raw. The filling wasn't. That's the weird thing. Naturally, by this point, my hunger was that of a rabid wildebeest deprived of zebra for maybe three or four months. It had to be eaten. It was, and I quited liked the filling.

But Heston, old son, old pal, old bean. Puh-LEEEZE tell us on the box that the thing needs slinging in the oven for 30 minutes (a fact I discovered by my second bite) before committing it to mouth.

I can't grade this pie out of ten simply because I've never eaten such a weird one. I'll give it a go though:

Filling: 8
Pastry: 1

If you can beat this pie eating experience, please let me know by popping a comment on this post.

The blog is back!

Back on the blogger at last, having been a WordPress kinda guy (with the travel blog). Hope to see you soon.

Temporarily defunct

Please note as from 22 April until "some time" next year I shall not be updating this blog. No, I'm not visiting hell on a sabbatical.

I shall be away backpacking with my wife and our joint blog will appear on

frexandspex.wordpress.com

By the way, our house is guarded by a psychotic (and by now, HUNGRY) pitbull so don't even think about burgling us while we toddle around the globe.

See you back here next year.

With love and xxxx to my fans (all two of them)

Daggersdukc.

Hayes pool again

My sister pointed out after reading the last entry about Hayes Pool that this episode of Mr Bean was filmed there. Nice one.

So, for all you Hayes expats, a taste of home.

If anyone living there now should stumble across this, can you tell me if much ahs changed? (The Hayes is between Heathrow and Northolt, not the other London one near Bromley).

Anyway, inside the pool...

Happy memories by the pool

Before I leave the country for a while, I took a wander round my old haunts and came across this building. Nothing very beautiful about it, but many happy memories were spent swimming here. In fact, the adult pool was so deep I used to have bad dreams about it as a kiddie.

I learnt to swim at this place and the entrance area is extremely nostalgic. There used to be coin operated rocking rocket ride for kids in the lobby area which was a fairly violent rock (at least it was when I was aged four). It was probably the rocket I looked forward to as much as the pool itself.

I would hazard a guess that it was the positive associations I had with sixties monstrosities like this which aided and abetted my later love affair with many other edifices of this type.

A snack idea too far?

I'm biased and love the stuff, but a Marmite cereal bar really stretches branding to fit two target audiences - Marmite lovers and health bar eaters. I doubt these will be around for long, so enjoy while you can. I did.

Reason to be proud?

I've blanked out names. This is actually a source of perverse pride to me. I've only ever had one work complaint levelled against me that I'm aware of. This is it. As complaints go, its pretty full-on. Might as well go the whole hog I guess.

It was sent on Friday.


*****


From: Pissed off customer
Sent: 26 March 2010 14:01
To: My whole work team (including me)
Subject: Phone call

Called your "call centre" 10 minutes ago to order a pocketalker hearing device for my severely deaf father. I have never had such obnoxious, rude and downright poor customer service.
I hung up on the phone call after he tried his hardest to treat me like an idiot.

The man was cocky and surly and has without doubt lost you a sale. If it wasn't for such a poor website I would not have had to use your call centre in the first place.

Please pass this email on to your manager/training department. He should not be allowed to speak to the public in that tone.

Pissed off customer

****


I would contest that I was hardly cocky or obnoxious - no more than usual anyway. I was trying to be my usual helpful self, and the woman was a stroppy shit, hassling for me to speed up my answers, which is impossible without superfast broadband, which is something we don't have.

Generally speaking, in a situation where a customer wants answers I don't have, I'd ask them politely what they need to know, do the research and ring them back, and in 99 percent of cases, this works fine. Seems old "firework up her arse" bitch here wanted the answers now, and NOW only.

So uptight. Such a fuckwit. It tells you a lot that she "hung up on me". I've never had cause to do this to a customer - ever.

I hope she enjoys the remaining years on earth she has. I guarantee that unless I get thwacked by a car or some other act of God, I'll be on this planet for a greater number of years than her, since her stress level appears, at least today, to be stratospheric. I'd love to say with some
honesty that I feel sorry for her but if she insists of pissing off everyone around her, then I don't. I feel sorry for her husband (if he managed to last more than a year in her company he must be a masochist), her family and her few remaining friends.

I believe that the issue she really had with me was that I didin't show her the deference she expected. There are few people I will ever defer to. I generally take the simple rule that if you aren't paying me, aren't someone I care a lot for, or my parents, then deference is earnt, not given as a right.

This is a test

This is just a test to see how easy it is to write a blog entry without having to use the blog thingy itself.  This is just a wee test. 

Great sounds in music #1 - The DX harp preset

An occasional wee series where I pontificate to some extent on what I regard as the most interesting, justifiably famous and simply plain easy to like sounds that have infiltrated pop music over the past 20 years or so. Mostly, just because I prefer that kind of thing most, these will be electronic or otherwise synthetic sounds. Rather than trying to describe them too much, I'll let you find out more about these for yourself with Youtube links to each sound.

So lets kick off with...the lovely sound of the DX7 harp.

A preset on the original DX7 FM synthsizer, launched by Yamaha in 1983, this incredibly fragile, lightly percussive sound graces many a quieter 80s and 90s track and appears in some unlikely places, such as the opening bars of Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat. Almost Japanese in quality, it doesn't really sound like a typical plucked Welsh harp, but has a more "oriental" quality. Given a bit of chorus or a tiny bit of vibrato (as was done by Level 42 in Sleepwalkers) the sound is like a light breath of fresh air.

I first heard Irish folkmeister Christy Moore's "Reel in the Flickering Light" in the late 90s and am as taken with it now as I was then. Not the usual kind of folk Mr Moore is renowned for, this work of childish whimsy is simply beautiful. I keep wanting to to repeat the adjective "delicate".

Like a lot of FM sounds, they were both over-used in the 80s especially and went out of fashion. And yet, the sounds on this instrument are almost laughably ubiquitous due to the fact that due to clever licencing, just about every computer sound card contains an identikit set of sounds from the synthesizer module.



Another new age-y place you can find this sound is Lanz & Speer's "Behind the Waterfall". Worth seeking on Spotify.

There is a plethora of wonderful sounds on the DX7, and I'll be returnig to it very shortly.

Why the Tories won't win - a little bet with myself

With talk in the news of the Tories failing to engage with the public in terms of zooming ahead in the polls, which in theory they should be doing, here's my very simple theory behind he failure.

Nothing more than a bit of fun, here's why, according to me, the Tories won't win. Or if they do, it will be the tiniest of minorities.

Their philosophy seems to be "we need cuts - lots of them". However, unlike last time they proposed this, in the late 80s, it worked because the medicine seemed to fit the illness.

In this case however, I don't think many people feel the cure is right. For
analogy's sake, the doctor says: "you're overweight, so you need to exercise
more and eat less". Looking at your belly and dreading the hill outside his
surgery, you see he's right and you try your best to do his bidding.

This time round though, the doc says " you need to eat less, exercise more,
and because there are a couple of gods I happen to believe in sitting over
behind that curtain, I'm going to chop your arm off as well as a kind of
good ju ju sacrifice to them". Well how unfair is that???

The gods , in this case, are of course the bankers. Yes, we're fat, yes,
we're unfit, but no, we don't want to feel our arms to be bunch of fuckwits
in the city either. We don't believe or ever ask to share the existence of
our doctor's choice of god.

I predict labour may win by a very, very small margin once people start
realising that they are going to have to give up a whole load of body parts
to beliefs they don't want and don't wish to continue co-existing with.

Have you got Skype?

Tell a friend Download latest Version Hello Your friend Adam Holdsworth (Skype Name: adam.holdsworth) wants to talk to you for free using Skype. Give me a call! Hi! Just dropping you a quick note to let you know I'm on Skype. If you download it too, we can call, video call and instant message each other free - even if we're on opposite sides of the world. Plus, it's free to download. Get it and add me as a contact! My Skype Name is adam.holdsworth. Download Skype for free Why get Skype? What do I need? Free calls. Make free Skype-to-Skype calls over the internet to anyone else on Skype. Computer or mobile device. Skype works on nearly every kind of computer and on many mobile devices as well. Free video calls. With a webcam you can make free Skype-to-Skype video calls. Internet/WiFi connection. A broadband connection is recommended for computers. WiFi required for mobiles. Call phones. Call landlines and mobile phones anywhere in the world at great rates. Speakers and a microphone. Some computers have these built in, but you'll enjoy better call quality with a headset. You're just one step away from making free calls to other Skype users. Download Skype If you have any problems downloading Skype check out the help section Talk soon, The people at Skype Privacy © 2003-2010 Skype Limited. Skype Communications S.a.r.l., 22/24 Boulevard Royal, Luxembourg L2449. Skype, associated trademarks and logos and the "S" symbol are trademarks of Skype Limited.