Category: Chips on Shoulders

15 minutes with Backside, 1

I see that schools are now prohibiting girls from wearing skirts, insisting on trousers just like the boys wear. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-hereford-worcester-23522499

Well, it was never an issue when I were a lad because schools were segregated, so the lasses were never inspired to reveal too much leg or wha’ever. In fact the trouble always starts when boys and girls are thrown together, innit?

The solution is to dress all girls in floor-length gowns, with bags on their heads. No show, no see, no problem. Sound familiar?

On the move – or not

As my occasional reader knows, Backside is a stickler for good form. ‘Good’, meaning less irritating than people usually are. So when it comes to walking around public places, he’s lined up a few of his grumpiest gripes.

1. Have you noticed the door-stops? They stop to scratch themselves (or wha’evah) plumb in the entrance to a shop, an escalator or a bus, thus preventing all mobile users of the facility?

2. What about the broad-sides? They walk confidently along, happy with the delusion that they are not wider in girth than normal folk and can easily get through the available gap in the crowd.

3. And the ubiquitous pram brigade? They congregate in garrulous groups with the obvious objective of filling the pavement completely and endangering the lives the rest of us.

Don’t you just love people too? Do tell.

 

Satanic mills get the go

As we fully anticipated when we moved house, the C_nt’s three 500 ft. turbines have now been given an official green light (as you might say) by the Danish gubmint’s ‘Nature and Environment Complaints Committee’. So three monstrosities the size of the London Eye will soon overshadow the village a mere 600 m. away. Not to mention the poor birds whose migrations will be disturbed.

Those wonderful people at Siemens have proudly announced that these are ‘test’ mills of proportions not previously installed on Danish soil. So they couldn’t possibly offer precise data on their output of noise – or even their output of power! But hey! Who cares about a few villagers, their life-style, their properties and health? Roll up and see and hear the latest technology at work!

I see that our southern neighbours have some similar problems. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-23229097

Inhuman wrongs vs human rights

What is it with the EU ‘mores’?

Not content with dishing out cash to southern states whose farming methods date back to Adam; with bailing out countries whose troubles are all of their own making, and moving their deliberations from Belgium to France for a few days every month by train (at a cost even the PoW would blush at), they now insist that convicted rapists and killers have the ‘human right’ to seek parole!

What happened to the old idea that such pests have forfeited their rights for as long as the Court decided?

If the UK’s monsters are detained ‘at Her Majesty’s Pleasure’, how can an overpaid lawyer from the Continent say they are not? Beats me.

Please indicate what you would do:

1. Hang ’em?
2. Detain them in open prisons in Dover with free one-way travel over the Channel?
2. Send them to live next door to the Eurojudges who want them freed – at the EU’s expense.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/law-and-order/10170325/Calls-grow-to-boycott-toxic-human-rights-court.html

Training to be king

Big Ears is showing the way to the British monarchy of the future – in which the Old Values are re-established. Which being interpreted means that Modesty, Thrift and Self-sufficiency are for the plebs; and Conspicuous Consumption returns for the wayward Windsors. Royal trains, royal flights and liveried flunkies are so much nicer, dontchya know?

His mother chooses to travel in less style but he’ll obviously have no truck with that. I can’t wait for his accession, can you?

 

Continue reading “Training to be king”

Dark forces?

Just 10 days ago, Mrs J and I were shopping quietly as usual. At the checkout the machine said ‘Card cancelled’. (!)

Checkout : Close-up of a teen woman paying with her credit card

Within half an hour we arrived at our local bank. They had no idea it had happened or why but the chip had been deactivated by ‘somebody’ and a new card was duly ordered post haste. I sent a WTF message to the netbank ‘system’ in the hope of enlightenment and received a strange reply, to the effect that the bank had been advised by the Tax Office that I did not have an address in Denmark and that the card had been duly cancelled.

That’s strange because in this police state my address is clearly recorded in the ‘folkeregister’ and accessible to banks and other institutions. And a quick phone call to our friendly local taxman confirmed that the records showed nothing which might have prompted any call to the bank. So now I await the assistance of the bank’s CEO who, I hope, was suitably underwhelmed by my experience and ready to investigate. Not holding my breath.

Toady

Tony Robinson

 

 

 

 

The mysteries of the British honours system usually leave me yawning but this time a particularly unprepossessing, second-rate actor with pretensions to adequacy as a tv presenter caught my eye.

One Tony Robinson, a non-academic dig enthusiast, ever-present at political events and a sycophant of the first water is now to be addressed as ‘sir’. Gawd ‘elp us!

French stick to French

It’s more reminiscent of Canute the Great Dane at the seaside than Francois the Small Froggy at the Elyssee – the way our near-neighbours are constantly trying to purge their Latin tongue of anglicisations, as you might say; and even now are resisting the demand for their seats of learning to teach in English.

We of course have always delighted in importing all their trash, ever since 1066 at least. But usually the words have been mangled beyond recognition – except among the incurably pure who still stay at ‘otels and drink ‘erb tea. More respectful folk, like the Danes, continue to make an effort to pronounce French words properly but score zero po-ang for their efforts.

But our most endearing trait (both t’s sounded) is to dub so many not-quite-British things ‘French’. My favourites include: bed, cricket, disease, fry, knickers and letter. If you will pardon my French…………