A new book by acclaimed author Roald Dahlusional features a young half-mad, half-blind boy called Gordon who lives with his father in a manse. Gordon wants to save the peasants from the evil landowning Tory bankers. Gordon's best friend Peter decided he didn't want to be Gordon's friend and went to be friends with Anthony. And Peter was mean to Gordon and so they didn't show each other their winkies anymore. But after a while, when Anthony went away to work in the City and go on holidays to Israel, Gordon and Peter made up but only after Gordon promised Peter he could be in charge of everything.

In the meantime, Gordon had squandered all his pocket money and had sold his golden Willie Wonka ticket at a knock down price to the owner of the Chinese Takeaway. His piggy bank was empty. Gordon decides that the peasants would like him more if he promised them more and more free stuff, punished the evil landowning Tory bankers and took more money from the so called rich people. 

Gordon has a choice and calls all his friends together where he tells them that if they don't like him anymore the evil landowning Tory bankers will take over his gang and that will be the end of that. Some of his friends looked down at their shoes and shuffled their feet, not wanting to tell Gordon that perhaps Harriet or David might be a better gangleader. His best friend Peter having told Harriet and David that he had seen them together behind the bike shed said they had jolly well better support Gordon. But even Peter had seen which way the wind was blowing and was convinced that Gordon may not succeed in saving the peasants so Peter makes it known that he would be prepared to work on the landowner's estate.

Gordon's other special friend Barrie was ignoring him, Angela went off with her other German friends and Nicholas now had a girlfriend. Gordon was beginning to feel ao alone and not nice feelings got into his brain. He began to shout at people and throw things at them. The doctor gave Gordon some tablets to make him feel better, but the tablets didn't make Gordon feel better.

But the peasants were also fed up with Gordon. So they all clubbed together and sent Gordon away to Cowdenbeath, which is in Scotland. And there he lived miserably ever after.

I've just been contacted by an agency asking if I would be interested in a Business analyst position up in Darlington. Process mapping, design validation, and a bit of project management sound right up my street. That was until I found out who the employers were, the government's latest job creation and children/adults alienation quango, the Independent Safeguarding Authority.

I politely declined.

It is only when one leaves these shores and heads for foreign climes that one begins to realise the damage that ZaNu Labour have done to this once proud nation. On our recent sojourn to the Vendee, we had a great afternoon bicycling down a rail track on pedal-powered rail carriages at Commequiers. A 20km route from Commequiers to Coex and back.


The common sense safety instructions on the back of the injury waiver form were along the lines of:

And that was pretty much it, other than if you break the carriage in any way you'll pay for the damage and if you get hurt it's your own bloody fault for messing about.

At either end of the line is a small turntable. When you get to the end of the line, you get off the carriage, push it onto the turntable and swing the carriage round so you can go back the way you came. All in all there are a maximum of  20 carriages on each trip so you have to wait for the last carriage to arrive at Coex before setting off back down the track. The whole afternoon out cost EUR20.00

What struck me was the complete absence of health and safety wallahs ordering people about, and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

Can you imagine such a thing in this country? First of all there would be a half hour health and safety PowerPoint presentation by some some bloke called Brian, or Ken, or Jeff - by which point I would have already lost the will to live. Steel-capped boots would be issued in order to operate the turntable. An army of hi-vis jacketed sub-normal joyless fucktards would be employed to operate the level crossing booms, direct the carriages across the road and generally make what is supposed to be a leisurely afternoon's bike ride through the countryside into a miserable chore...and it would most likely cost £20 each.

In France, you are given a few basic common sense guidelines and told to go and enjoy yourselves. The French really don't give a toss do they? They pay mere lip service to the endless bureaucratic rules, regulations and directives - which is one of the reasons why I have great admiration for the French people -  we should be more like them.

Announcements over the weekend that advertisers will be allowed to use product placement within television programmes brought to mind this excellent piece of cinema: