A Parody of an England Football Player

I am an England Football Player , burp. I get a lot of dosh don't I , you know what I mean, cos I am famous, I am idolised like, you know what I mean. I get to open fetes, stores and my picture is in all those papers and magazines as well as on all those football computer games, that I can't play. Well I have a bash, but , well they are hard arn't they, know what I mean. Well cos I am stashed with cash cos of Sky tv, and those nice marketing men, I get all the good looker birds, I got all the cars, Porsches, Ferrari's, Bemtley's, Aston Martins well you gotta spend the money somewhere aint yer. Mate of mine had a birthday party so I bought the bubbbly £10,000 and a £1,000 tip to the waiter, well why not. Its hard work being a celebrity like, I mean a footballer like me, cos you have to play every weekend, sometimes twice a week, running around for an hour and a half. Christ even worse if your mate gives you the ball, and you have to do something with it, blimey, we are worth every penny, look at the trophies we win, our fans adore me. I get mobbed going to the corner shop for a pack of fags and some lager you know, the fans worship me you know what I mean. I am a household name, famous me everyone knows who I am like, know what I mean.
Anyway I scored a blinder the other Saturday at the Bridge, no not with a tart, no from a corner. Ball came over hit me on the head as I'm standing there, wham straight in the net, what a winner, all the team jumped on top of me, did you see it, we got on on blue ray HD, you must have seen it on Match of the Day, I have the highlights recorded, my goal is on play back 5 times, the missus knows how to play the thing back so I can watch it time and again and see how great I was.
So I am often asked what it feels like to be in the Premier League and being a Premier Player, and my agent and those nice marketing men help me answer, cos they have all the GCSEs dont they, you know I just kick the ball with me right foot, thats what I am paid for, I dont get paid for kicking the ball with me left foot else I'd get double pay wouldn't I lol see funny that aint it joke, laugh then, thats a creaser aint it huh. Anyways, where was I , oh the question, what was it, tricky one , oh yeah, what was it like. Well it's great aint it, getting paid a fortune for what you did as a kid in the park after school. As long as people dont take it serious like, cos its only football. You know, its just a way of earning loads of money haha, while I can, and spend it on lots of luxuries, is that how you spell luxuries, yeah I spelt checked it on this computer ha ha, see I aint thick, like some people reckon I am.

Anyway I was asked about this World Cup in South Africa. Nice country South Africa aint been there before, nice hotels, nice food, saw some Giraffes and Elephants you know on one of those safari trips, Oh the result, well we were all tired long season you know, best league in the world, our games are televised all over the world, people know me all over the world. Yeah tired well its exhauting aint it, training 2 hours a day, then we have all the afternoon free time till dinner, Manager is strict we have to go to bed, its all tiring, then you got the game you know what I mean. Hard those games. I like it just running around looking good , you know me kit me hair, me complexion, for those photographers then doing a real nifty long pass that goes off and shouting that the player at the receiver end should have got it, burk. You know those photos get on all the packs in the supermarkets all the kids know me they idolise me, my picture is on their bedroom walls, I am a super hero to them like.
So, we lost, well its a game , we cant all be winners, anyway look at the manager and the team he selected, it werent down to me its team effort mate, and the media they always get at us, if we lose so do the supporters. Who cares we will win next game back at our clubs and be heroes again for them, They will forget about all this, just beaten by better team, you know what I mean, yeah there will always be mistakes, what about the referee. OK if thats over cos its time for me to play a round of golf with my mates and there's a new tart behind the bar at the club house. Also I gotta get me garage to pump up my back tyre. You what, oh you want an autograph yeah , where you want it luv across your boobs, only kidding, well if you insist, actually I have a bit more time than I thought......................

Lowering of the Flag

My England Flag came down in my front garden at 5pm Sunday 27th June after Germany thrashed England 4-1.

Yes I know Lampard's free kick shot off the bar and the shot that crossed the goal line for everyone to see except a referee and a linesman. Yes I know Sepp Blatter wants to keep football as it was invented in the Victorian era before cameras and technolgy.


BUT BUT BUT, where was our defence, where was any player wearing 3 lions on a shirt.

England were spineless, England were a disgrace.

Fabio Capello has to resign or be sacked. His team selection is the reason he should go. For example you go 4-1 down and you take off Defoe who can score and replace him with Heskey who does not score. Englands' midfield and back four were non existant, Germany could have scored more but for David James.

England have let down their travelling fans and the nation. The defending today was schoolboy stuff on a recreation ground. England had no shape and were run ragged. They were outplayed in every single position.

There has to be an inquest.

Wright Philips was good once, not now. Heskey should be put out to pasture. Rooney has been a failure for England, a total failure.

Capello persisted with the same players each game, even when they performed badly and did not gell as a team. Big Mistake Capello, big mistake.

Fabio Fabulouso ??

A rumour going around Rustenburg is that the Capello's uncanny resemblance to Postman Pat has been noticed in the supporters camps. If we don't win the World Cup there will be endless jokes about his failure to deliver.


His former Job !! :

Postman Pat, Postman Pat,
Postman Pat and his black and white cat,
Early in the morning,
Just as day is dawning,
He picks up all the post bags in his van.
Postman Pat, Postman Pat,
Postman Pat and his black and white cat,
All the birds are singing,
And the day is just beginning,
Pat feels he's a really happy man.
Everybody knows, his bright red van,
All his friends will smile as he waves to greet them,
Maybe,
You can never be sure,
They'll be knock,
Ring,
Letters through your door,
Hay hay,
Postman Pat, Postman Pat,
Postman Pat and his black and white cat,
All the birds are singing,
And the day is just beginning,
Pat feels he's a really happy man,
Pat feels he's a really happy man,
Pat feels he's a really happy man


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZ-CQEF5Or4

Germany Yet Again

So a much improved England got through and now The Germans loom on the next front.

"New and Improved" sounds like a washing powder, but England could have not got worse than their hitherto gutless perfomances.

Still Rooney and Lampard fail to deliver. I would put them on the bench on Sunday afternoon. Joe Cole came on and played out of position, Heskey is another passenger.

But the other 9 players were worth their place to varying degrees, we got through, it would have been more but for the Slovenian Goalkeeper.

I think the biggest contributors were the England supporters. No other nation has out matched the vuvuzelas for decibel level. Well done England and well done their loyal singing and chanting barmy army.

England World Cup Team are clueless

World Cup 2010: Wayne Rooney blasts booing England fans

England striker Wayne Rooney shouts "nice to see your home fans booing" to a TV camera as he walks off the pitch after the 0-0 draw against Algeria.

Rooney has an absolute cheek. He failed. His country and those paying supporters deserved more from him and his team mates. It is Rooney who should be ashamed and apologise. Over paid hypocrit.



What do you think of it so far.....RUBBISH !!

No purpose, no belief, no endeavour.

3 lions on a shirt or are they 3 mangy cats, this England performance 0-0 against Algeria was pathetic in Cape Town.

Some of the highest paid so called professional players in the world, when they put on an England shirt they are insipid.

I am so angry at the way they let down all those supporters who travelled 6,000 miles for that inept performance. They have also let down the flag waving streets in this country.

In truth they don't deserve a word, a mention, because they were abject failures tonight. This article only serves to release my venom at them for a pathetic poor performance.

Heskey, 4 out of 10, poor, no point in trying harder , this is it from him, should not be there on the pitch.

Rooney, can't pass, can't get involved, can't deliver, drop him, yes drop Wayne Rooney for the Slovenia game.

Lampard, waste of space, another useless performance.

Johnson, poor defending.

Gerrard, not firing on all 4 cylinders.

David James safe reliable, thank god Capello did not pick Green again. Now Capello be brave. Players that don't perform, don't pick them for the MUST win Slovenia game.

Team for Wednesday should be:

David James,

Johnson, Dawson, Terry, Ashley Cole

Lennon , Gerrard, Barry, Joe Cole

Defoe, Crouch


Stick with the players that have let you down Capello and get the next flight home. Hopeless.

44 years of hurt never stopped me dreaming

One of my passions is football. I played it for 40 odd years. I did not win much just the odd in house tournament I organised, well if you can't win those what can you win. I was always resolute in defence, took no prisoners if they still had the ball. I was Captain most of the time, cos I led by example. It even cost me a broken leg eventually and plaster up to my groin for 6 months, but not before I had inflicted similar in fever pitched battles. I even subjected my family to the worse breakfast service in our 2nd week holiday in Minorca, after I had brought down the Head Waiter in a cloud of dust at a local stadium where I organised the tourists versus the hotel staff England v Spain, and we won, but the Head Waiter was not a happy chappy nor a happy signor.

So playing football, watching Tottenham Hotspur and England has been an anual event of hope and despair an emotional roller coaster. Yes, you can't win them all (why not), but it is nice to win sometimes.

The trouble with football today is that since Sky TV bought the TV rights to show games and then sell them around the world with the Premier League, professional footballers have become over paid prima donnas, achieving celebrity status often without delivering the goods. after all we are talking about a job here that is 90 minutes a week if that, for kicking a round thing in between two white posts and a crossbar and you have 10 mates helping you, with a similar number opposing you. For that you can command £100,000 a game if you are any good, or even if you are rubbish some weeks and fail to perform for just 90 minutes a week. Compare that with any other job, huh !!!

But football is in my blood and without a blood transfusion will be there till I die. There are many in football that have the passion to succeed, there are many that just try to do enough to get by, like in any walk of life.

Today's blog is prompted by what happened last night in South Africa, the World Cup, where England played their first game in their league group. Not since 1966 have we won the world cup. In that final we had certain players who literally run their socks off for their country and their Manager Sir Alf Ramsey. We had brilliant players, Gordon Banks was probably the best goalkeeper in the world, Bobby Moore the best defender in the world, Alan Ball the youngest and best midfield dynamo in the world. They did not need huge sums to play, they had huge hearts. Alas the latter two are already dead. Will their surviving team mates, 3 lions on a shirt, see the new England win the same competition. I hope so, they are among the richest in the world, so maybe they should beat the world.

Last night's not so hopeful verdict:

The Green Green Grass of Home

Once again a nation expects. The flags are flying in every street. In a game we gave to the world, we now compete with the world’s best. But now we watch in hope and often despair, supporting England is a roller coaster ride every game. We used to be the best, we used to produce the best, but now the teacher cannot beat the up and coming pupil.

We used to produce the best goalkeepers the world had ever seen, Gordon Banks, Ray Clemence, Peter Shilton. Now the need and the greed necessary to survive every week in the Premier League means all our top clubs have foreign goalkeepers, and we are left to chose from relegated or near relegated clubs for that vital roll between the posts. We chose goalkeepers who week in week out are used to picking the ball out of the back of the net. Yes every goalkeeper can make a howler, and when they do it is calamitous because they are the last line of defence. Indeed England goalkeepers have made gross mistakes on the world’s stage before and cost their Manager their jobs. However, Green’s mistake last night allowing a long range hope full punt from Dempsey to give USA an equaliser was the same mistake as his name and his colour shirt. It was a schoolboy error not out of the coaching manuals. How any defender could have confidence in him thereafter is unbelievable just like his handling. Yes football is a team game, but some positions are more vital than others. It is no good saying he redeemed himself in the 2nd half with one save that after all was really saved by the woodwork to where he deflected the shot.

In the qualifiers we seemed to have a team select. Once we qualified that plan was, it seems, thrown out of the window. However on form Joe Hart should be in front of the sticks, on experience and because he can be more a hero than a clown James should be number 1. Green should get the next plane home. He has cost us 2 points, he and he alone. He should also take his West Ham colleague Upson with him, both of them got West Ham where they are today, scrapping survivors of a relegation battle.

So, like any England fanatical supporter born out of patriotism, yes I question team and squad selection and logic. Yes, take off Milner who had been ill and was having a torrid 30 minutes against the USA advancing right. But, why bring on a right sided Wright Phillips to patrol the left. Also, as hard working and grafting as Heskey is, he cannot score goals, not with his head or his feet. He is a striker who cannot score goals, so pick him for lay offs and assists, but that means one of your strikers will not score, that leaves only one other. My other player singled out for criticism is Lampard. He can do it week in week out for Chelsea, but when he puts on an England shirt, well his free kick in front of goal 2nd half was more worthy of Twickenham. The guy is just off target, that is his middle name.

Contrast Lampard’s contribution with Captain Courageous Gerrard, who was there covering every blade of grass making vital blocks in defence and scoring the early goal with a true penetrative run and class, that should have eased all our nerves and those of his team mates including Green. Stevie G led by example it’s a great pity most of his team mates could not see it, like the viewers could.

Football is a team game, USA showed us that in defence and midfield resilience and with a far superior goalkeeper from Everton. England did not have the craft or the class, world class, to unpick them again after Gerrard’s superb lift for his country.
Rooney was too short and too deep, crosses across the USA box were not met. The Crouch solution to that problem was 80 minutes too late, Capello take note.

In truth we do not have enough World Class players to win a World Class competition, only a handful of our players would feature in any world side. We are good at going forward down the flanks, especially the right, but we have no converters in the centre. Only Gerrard, Ashley Cole, Johnson and Terry can hold their heads high after that game. Lennon, Heskey, Rooney worked hard. Misses were plenty. 4 players playing really well out of 11 is not good enough and the result is a 1-1 draw against USA, not against Brazil, Argentina, Spain. No against USA.

If we are to improve and we must to succeed in this tournament for the 11th time in 44 years, Capello has to hit on a winning formula team selection, as Sir Alf Ramsey did.

He has a problem with the goalkeeper, midfield and strikers. His substitutions were dictated to him against the USA. Next time he will have to make 3 changes during the game if we cannot find the net again.

Gareth Barry if fit, should replace Lampard, and Joe Cole should be on the left. We need class on the grass. Up front Crouch should partner Rooney, with Defoe ready to come on for the last 20 minutes. Ramsey used to say to his engine room in Peters Ball and Charlton to burn themselves out and they did. We need a similar engine room. In Gerrard we have a start, Lennon needs to up the pace and confidence he had before injury for Spurs. Barry should steady midfield and it’s balance with his left foot in front of the back four. Joe Cole can wriggle his way through from the left, leaving Ashley Cole to forge down the line. Hopefully King’s knee will allow his return, and Hart should be given the job of keeping a clean sheet, because he is the form man with the non Teflon gloves.

Onward and Upward England. At least you did not lose, you could have. Let this be an eye opener Mr Copello, lessons to be learned, quickly and decisively.

as published on on BBC 606

the new adventues of Phileas Fogg

A week in the life of, To Boldly Go Where I have not been Before.

Vancouver that is, British Columbia, or as I found out BC = Bring Cash, lots of it. Petrol is two thirds the price, but everything else apart from 2nd hand boats is a lot. They also add tax on to the price so you have lots of loose change and never know how much the thing will cost. But an example is a replica Canadian Ice Hockey shirt, yours for just £100, errr no thanks, I will do without. I’ll get a Red Indian t shirt instead with eagles on it.

And yes the Eagle Landed in Vancouver where my son was head hunted to work and live and raise a young family. There are lots of bald headed eagles flying around, in a very new, picturesque pacific coastline city with the snow capped Rocky Mountains as a back drop. Very clean air, and most people take a pride in their painted wooden houses and their gardens. The woodland acid soil is a paradise in May for rhododendrons, azaleas, and camellias, a splash of colours in every street. The woodlands themselves are a drive away rain forest, tall cedars that reach straight for the skies , the origin of the original nation totem poles. Oh btw it is not pc to say red Indian, it is 1st Nation, But then my life was formulated in the non politically correct era, when you called things and everyone knew that a spade was a spade.

But back to Vancouver city, less than 150 years old. And it is not busy, not masses of people in line queuing up everywhere. The sun shone, it did rain a bit overnight, it did get windy, but the sea and the mountains , well just a great view all the time. You cannot get bored with it. So this guide is not about a rough guide to a rough place. Vancouver is expensive, but nice. Most locals are friendly, but shops are not abundant, when you walk around.

Very patriotic, the Queen’s photo is up almost everywhere, there are a few pubs selling decent brews. A lot of Brits emigrate there to raise a family. I even noticed the passengers on the school bus going to the Museum of the Native Red Indians, were well behaved and their teachers spoke to them instead of screaming as they do in our educational establishments. No sign of disrupters here. There is also an aquarium where sea life is tanked up for all to see and films are shown in the Kenny Everitt Sensaround style. So when the Blue whale blows, so does the spray on your face as you sit in the auditorium ( and the seat vibrates, oooo cheeky)

But the flight is long, 5,000 miles, 10 hours, to go 8 hours time zone difference, and even longer when an Icelandic Volcano delays the flight and enforces a detour around the ash cloud. The central plains of Canada take hours to cross and has snow even in May brrrr!!

Also the Canadian Affair Thomas Cook flight, well it’s hard to sleep, the ticket is cheap so the coffee comes at £2.10 for a small cup. Screaming babies who don’t know why they are on a plane and why their ears hurt, scream as you view the movies wearing extra cost head sets, but the games and tv channels cost extra too. People going to the toilet almost non stop, some people go every hour !!! Its true, I could have been on a time and motion exercise. Then some people do their Yoga in the aisles, we picked up some weirdo’s and some objects on the gaydar !!!

This Phileas Fogg travelled solo, where, security wanted to confiscate his liquid Gaviscon, even though they did not have a stomach ache, the internet cost a pound per 10 minutes, give that a miss, and the overnight hotel internet booking meant my breakfast was a lot extra. Fortunate though as the rations were small in my aircraft seat as was my space. Not as bad as a battery hens though by all accounts.

Wish you were there, a post card from Vancouver, next stop blighty and recovering from jet lag and a travel bug !!

A day in the life of

I read the news today oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
Well I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph
He blew his mind out in a car
He didn't notice that the lights had changed
A crowd of people stood and stared
They'd seen his face before
Nobody was really sure
If he was from the House of Lords.

I saw a film today oh boy
The English Army had just won the war
A crowd of people turned away
but I just had to look
Having read the book
I'd love to turn you on

Woke up, fell out of bed,
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,
And looking up I noticed I was late.
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke,
and Somebody spoke and I went into a dream

I read the news today oh boy
Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire
And though the holes were rather small
They had to count them all
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.
I'd love to turn you on

England and Saint George!

I am a patriot. I don't know if I could live abroad, I would get homesick, anyway there are too many foreigners abroad, they spoil their place, just like they can spoil my place of birth. Yes the PC brigade will object to telling it as it is, and it is not a sweeping generalisation. There are times when the union jack shorts abroad embarass me and my nation and there are times when I am pleasantly surprised by a person no matter what nationality.

However the English do not celebrate St Georges Day as others do notbaly the Irish and their St Patricks day. Hence today's entry. There are local parades in local towns tomorrow, tick box, and there are some pubs with the cross of St George bunting blowing in the spring breeze and against a blue blue blue sky.

But St George was not English. He was a Tribune in Palestine circa 300ad, and he was beheaded by the Emperor for his christian belief, hence his martyrdome converted pagans to christianity, hence the Crusaders adopted him and told of the myth that he slayed a pagan dragon and saved the sacrificial princess, converting even more to christianity. St George is also held saintly in other countries like Lithuania and Georgia.

But I have a statue of him on my living room window sill slaying the dreadful dragon. I have England T shirts too. So after this weekend we will not be flying the flag until the World Cup in 2 months in South Africa when we will be glued to our sets willing our team on to victory.

Which is a nice link to the Battle of Agincourt where Henry V ralied his out numbered troops against the French to win a famous victory.

Follow your spirit; and, upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!

And, we cant let this day pass without some music can we, so singalong with Allan:

Land of Hope and Glory


Land of Hope and Glory, Mother of the Free,
How shall we extol thee, who are born of thee?
Wider still, and wider, shall thy bounds be set;
God, who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet!

Truth and Right and Freedom, each a holy gem,
Stars of solemn brightness, weave thy diadem.

Tho' thy way be darkened, still in splendour drest,
As the star that trembles o'er the liquid West.

Throned amid the billows, throned inviolate,
Thou hast reigned victorious, thou has smiled at fate.

Land of Hope and Glory, fortress of the Free,
How may we extol thee, praise thee, honour thee?

Hark, a mighty nation maketh glad reply;
Lo, our lips are thankful, lo, our hearts are high!

Hearts in hope uplifted, loyal lips that sing;
Strong in faith and freedom, we have crowned our King!

Land of Hope and Glory, Mother of the Free,
God, who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet!

God, who made thee mighty, make thee mightier........ yet!


and now a bit of Pomp and Circumstance by Englishmen Elgar of course

until, next time..........


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moL4MkJ-aLk


Stiring stuff huh goosebumps

Sundays FA Cup Semi Final at Wembley

Subject: BBC 606
Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2010 19:40:18 +0000

the legendary allansharpe just wrote;


Pomp & Circumstance


Again Tottering Hotspur fail to break down a resolute defence aided and abetted by a blue shirted referee. Just like against Hull, Stoke, Wolves, throw up a wall and Tottenham will flounder on it. Only Bale holds a key to unlock, the others are just blocked. Tottenham, you need a genius infront of goal with flare and imagination. The 4 strikers lost us that game today, not supported well enough by midfield apart from Modric.


The next fortnight does not look good , it never did, but it’s worse now.


That team just threw away the chance of a medal , a trophy, silverware for the Team and the Supporters. Booooooooooooo

In truth Spurs did not play bad, they faced 12 blue shirts including the referee Alan Wiley, who surely did not have a flutter on the side, he did disallow a perfectly good goal for Spurs which would have levelled the scores, it was the only time Crouch did not miss several chances coming his way. Even Pompey goalkeeper David James ironically smiled at the cameras at his good fortune with the referee saying he was impeded before the goal. Rubbish.

Referees, they cost teams and supporters, hope your bet was worthwhile Mr Wiley. Oh btw how many free kicks did you award to Portsmouth, and yet when Krancjar is hauled down, blind as a bat aren't you.

Power to the People

Power to the People

It’s Modern History time. Back in the Conservative days of Rule Brittania, in the gloomy 80’s and 90’s, the Tory Government decided they could not afford to run industry anymore, forget nationalisation, lets privatise everything. So Margaret Thatcher and John Major, sold off our public transport and the fares went up, the service got worse and a few lucky bosses in the right place at the right time became fat cats, whilst the rest of us suffered.


And so it was, not only with Public Transport the buses and railways, you know the sort of thing the people depend on to go to work etc. No they privatised the H2O, that falls from the sky and collects in holes in the ground, they privatised all the public utilities, you know the sort of thing people rely on to turn a tap and drink, switch a kettle on and cook a meal, heat a house, light up the dark. Yes the Tories thought it a good idea to lose control of basic essentials and let fat cats profit and the population suffer.

Now one of the new breed of power companies is N Power. They provide my gas and electricity. They can’t read meters, so they estimate bills, that go up and up all the time, and are not so quick to come down when international wholesale prices fall through basic economics supply and demand.

Just recently they have sent me enough bills for me to wallpaper a wall in one of my rooms. On line I can see the reverse of my bill but not the front!! I read the meter and send them the figures, they send me another bill. But, it has no readings. So they send me another copy which is the same as before, no readings. Finally the penny drops and they send me a bill justifying their exorbitant rates. Then they send me an amended bill, which is less. So I pay their last bill the amended bill. Then they send me a letter stating I owe them more money.

So…………….. I telephoned them yesterday, and the poor girl at the end of the phone got a dreadful ear bashing from me, as she tried to explain. But, as I said to her, if you ate at a restaurant and got 6 bills, which one would you pay.

I don’t know if it’s my age, but I am sure incompetency is getting more and more contagious, and spreading. The symptoms are you don’t know your left hand from your right hand, and you just make things up as you go along and hope no one notices.

I do think N Power staff are suffering from this disease. Me, I shall be changing my supplier. After all in a free market, competition drives down prices and improves efficiency, doesn’t it…………………………………..doesn’t it.

Luckily enough I passed A level Economics.

This Easter Message from Pope Allan the 87th

This Easter Remember the RESURRECTION Shuffle......doing alright...

Choose yourself a partner
From the middle of the floor.
Blow a little kiss
To the woman next door.
Step on the gas
Put your head in the air.
make a "V" sign
And you throw back your hair....doing alright yeah


a do a loo a doo lop, a do a loo a do lop

Put your hand on your hip
Now you let your back bone slip.
Put out your tongue
Put your head in the air.
Make a "V" sign
And you just don't care.
Now you feel free
You gotta loose control.
All Gods children gotta
Little bit of soul.
You don't have to think
You don't have to move a muscle
just do the brow beatin'
Heavy leather resurrection shuffle.....doing alright yeah


a do a loo a doo lop, a do a loo a do lop

Think about nothing now
You're nice and high.
You're advocating love
But you don't know why.
Now you getting vibrations
All down to your feet.
That's the brow beatin'
Heavy leather resurrection beat........doing alright now

a do a loo a doo lop, a do a loo a do lop

I was on my way to Stoke when I funny thing happened....NOT!!

A Day in the Life of behind a steering wheel.

I drove a lorry to Stoke 3 times last week delivering packaging to a porcelain wash hand basin company. 3 days wages, better than nothing, job is easy enough except for the miles of road works on the M6, the inevitable crashes, the typical Police response: “0h lets close the Motorway and piss everybody off”, and the fact that the workers of Stoke don’t understand me and I don’t understand them. Maybe I should compose a Rough Guide to visiting Stoke, perhaps the previous sentence was it !!

At least as I sit behind the steering wheel listening to the latest road closures on Radio 2’s traffic reports, it gives me time to contemplate. Also gives me time to figure out avoiding the Police road blocks and go the scenic route as a diversion, an ability artificial intelligence through satellite navigation aids fails to cope with. In addition to this latest conspiracy theory of how the Police want to stop Britain working, it does amaze me how all the junctions, direction signs and even the lady on sat nav wants me to pay £10 on the M6 Toll road, which of course is empty because no one in their right mind will pay a toll. Blimey the delivery to Stoke costs £100 in diesel as it is round trip, 50 pence a mile shared between a taxing government and a profiteering oil company.

And…………….it is you the reader, the end consumer, that pays for it eventually when you unpack that everything including the kitchen sink !!!

Of course all this driving me mad and round the bend as opposed to up a toll road, has been a 3rd career blocking me from getting back to my former, better paid, more worthwhile careers. That’s what I think about behind that steering wheel, and when I will get a change in direction, and free from my career path obstacles.

Another blimey. This one aimed at recruiters. Yes I am a real person , not just a name on a piece of paper. Could you not afford me the common courtesy of acknowledgement that I exist, instead of me having to pinch myself all the time. I could get a reputation for self harm you know. It is the same when you are an agency worker: no point talking to him, he is not important, he is only here today or the odd day.

There was a time when I actually interviewed prospective employees, when I actually hired agency staff, I always chatted with them, made them feel comfortable in new surroundings, ease their obvious anxieties. I would make them a cup of coffee, tell them what was going on, what was happening, and a bit about the organisation and our own operation.

It was called politeness. It did not take long, it was an important 1st impression and I did not have a lot of time, but I made time.

Though I hate using the word “obviously” because every Wayne Rooney sentence starts with that very word “obviously”....... Obviously, I was the exception to the rule. Because most employers in this day of improved technological communications, do not consider it important to be friendly, to even know one’s name. Personnel don’t answer your applications, even as a worker in a garden centre, something that would be a labour of love for me, but not even a “f… off we did not like you anyway”. Emails, they are free, don't even have to lick a stamp and walk to the pillar box.

Lot’s of advertised jobs clearly do not exist in truth, when you hear the fumbled excuses at the other end of the telephone line, which funnily enough is a one way line of communications. It is just a ruse to get cvs on the books. Targets once again, false targets, playing the system.

I used to be a somebody and now apparently I am a nobody. And who cares? Well actually I do.

And………. I am still the same person, I am still Allan Sharpe. I must admit when the decade changed to the 2010’s my first thought was, will I live to see the end of it, I would like to see Spurs win the League again, the European Cup before I die (Harry get a move on) and I would like to see England win the World Cup again, and not miss out on penalty shoot outs. I would like to see my off spring progress for as long as I can stay around.

BUT………I have not changed, Mr Somebody has not changed, except I am older, and maybe because I believed in certain things and held onto certain principles and values, that life has and is passing me by…....now.

Of course there are exceptions, there are some friendly faces, but I have to say, and it is an indictment of middle management, that the friendlies are in the vast minority and perhaps that’s why the organisation relies heavily on agency staff, because no one else will work for them as Fagan Plc. True they might get more pay hourly rate as a temp, certainly get overtime, but the temp is not only here today somewhere else tomorrow, maybe, he/she has total insecurity and lack of control. Anyway they do a job for Fagan plc without whom that job would not be done. Yes they get paid. A thanks would be courteous too, not too much to ask for is it, yes it is, oh well.

It is not only, but also......... There is a lot of self interest, only, in the workplace, maybe even in society. It does not matter what is happening outside your front door, don’t get involved, look after number one, sod the rest. Maybe that is why society relies on authorities to clean up the mess we see regularly on 24 hour news channels, instead of looking out of their window and doing something about what is going on. Maybe they have lost faith in the authorities and we are becoming more like Mad Max and survival of the fittest.

Nostalgia is bitter sweet, and I do get bitter and twisted about changes I see all around me, and changes that have happened to me. Don’t tell me you make your own luck, because I will smack that straight back at you on the half volley.

I spent most of my life trying to make the world a better place for some. I got thousands of people millions of pounds back in just refunds, when they were David against Goliath, I took hundreds of con men to the dock and put hundreds on the tv screen, my version of the village stocks and rotten tomatoes.

One of the best things I ever did was pick up a BBC telephone on my Watchdog desk to take a call from an old age pensioner telephoning from Spain the Costa Almeria. The winter of 1988, Bert told me there were about 65 of them paying for an extended winter break to avoid the winter fuel bills at home, and the travel company had put them in a dump next to a building site. Of course I had to validate his story, and the BBC had stringers (researchers) all over the world to call on. So when the stringer phoned me back to tell me the story was true and it was horrendous, the holiday from hell, I put the wheels in motion. Mike Embley and I flew out with a Spanish speaking cameraman and film crew on the Friday and we were filming that night and Saturday morning. We decided to make a send up of the holiday brochure. Our camera had seen the mould on the walls, the newspapers used as draught excluders, the refrigerators that did not work, the green water swimming pool with floating rubbish, the closed restaurant “where there is dancing every evening”. In fact the only dancing would be by mad men on their hats in frustration because the restaurant was part demolished. So Mike read the glossy brochure and then told the reality in front of the camera and we interviewed the poor old pensioners who the travel company ignored... "me I'm sick of it, up to here me, my wife on her hands and knees cleaning this stinking place up, that's not right, it's not a holiday , it's a nightmare……….. until.

The camera always seemed to concentrate minds on problems. It was our style , my style, the doorstep kings’s style, big Al’s style, to take some of the unhappy viewers along to meet Goliath and get them an audience. So it was in the Costa Almeria, and when , with the camera rolling, we entered the local travel office, instant panic set in, a phone call to Head Office in Lancashire: “there is a BBC film crew here, from a programme called Watchdog”, “WHAT!!! What are they doing there?” “its about that block of apartments”, “GET THEM OUT OF THOSE APARTMENTS, do what it takes”.

And so it came to pass…………….. the coaches lined up within hours and what had taken 6 weeks before of ignoring the problem , suddenly became priority uno, mucho grazias. Yes and you guessed it, the pensioners were put up in the biggest 5 star hotel in town for the remainder of their holiday at no extra expense. When we filmed their champagne breakfast that Sunday morning before we flew back to blighty, I had never had my hand shaken so much. It was a wonderful moment of the power of the media to obtain justice and redress.

The film was edited that following week with Mike and I and a film editor, it was a great film, showed the Monday after BBC1 7.30pm, maybe you were watching Coronation Street, I wasn’t.

Greg Dyke used to say, there are no rules in TV, if your Mum likes it and understands it, you have done your job. We used to work on the basis of “the gosh factor” now we have an X Factor, instead. I think we pushed the infotainment boundary then by ridiculing the patently misleading and false brochure description of holiday accommodation that was uninhabitable. It still makes me smile and giggle to this day when I think about it, I guess that is the sweet part of nostalgia. Shame those days have to end my friend, shame no one else has picked up the baton and carried the torch on. Shame our priorities have changed, well for some at least and shame the accountants run things now.

It did not have to be like it was, we showed it could be done better.

Now others try their best to avoid MY winter fuel bills.

For the time I was unemployed during this recent cold spell, I have just got a letter from the Department of Works and Pensions, about my winter fuel payment benefit, circa £25 during the coldest winter for 30 years. Good old civil service.

Uno, they did not know I was unemployed, even though I was in their Job Centre Minus offices (no, I was not making myself a cuppa tea).

Dos, they have only just acknowledged my application form, now that Spring has Sprung.

Tres, they will deal with my claim in June 2010, yes midsummer.

Men for all seasons obviously (there is that word again, "obviously") I must not turn into a Wayne Rooney interview alike …………………………………….

So endeth another chapter....until we meet again………………….some sunny day

Now is the time to say goodbye.
(Goodbye)
Now is the time to yield a sigh.
(Yield it, yield it)
Now is the time to wend our way-eee
Until we meet again-eee
Some sunny day.
Goodbye, goodbye, we’re leaving you, skiddlydye.
Goodbye, we wish a fond goodbye, fa-ta-ta-ta-ta, fa-ta-ta-ta.
Goodbye, goodbye, we’re leaving you, skiddlydum.
Goodbye, we wish a fond goodbye, la-la-ta-ta-ta.
La dah da, lah la la

It’s Not only … But Also, aint it Dud, yes Pete sniff.

They dont make them like they used to

They don’t make them like They used to


A bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past.

Is nostalgia more bitter than sweet?

As my suits stay in the wardrobe, I still apply for gissajobs, but as my age increases my opportunities decrease.

It seems to me that what I have achieved in the past counts for little today with prospective employers. I would like to become involved with combating climate change. Unlike Trading Standards and Consumer Protection where I hold a seemingly worthless Government Qualification, I have no pedigree in climate change, only that I have added to it along with the rest of us and I made TV programmes about it almost 20 years ago. A situation that has not changed much since, except worsened hence my desire to get involved once again. Apparently one can get a degree in climate change these days. I guess that qualifies someone to sit behind a desk top and do too little before it’s too late. If only it was never too late.

It was oh so different once. 42 is not only the answer to the universe, I think for me it was my Everest. Circa 42 I was head hunted by Science at the BBC to bring an element of Current Affairs into a new series called Life on 1. Prime Time BBC1, Thursday evenings 8pm. Science made Horizon and Tomorrow’s World, but for a new programme that addressed environment issues, I was asked to transfer from Watchdog to help produce it. My role was in charge of the film team, whilst others produced the live locations each week.

Exciting times. I had my own office in Kensington House. I had and earned the respect of a great Editor David Patterson. One day back in 1991 (those were the days still my friend) I said to him, “do you remember going back to school after the summer holidays?” He was my age, a bit older, and he always smirked when I asked him a question, I guess he did not know what was coming next. It was interesting though being unpredictable, it still is. I said when I was going to Grammar School in September 1960’s I walked through Roundwood Park Willesden (about 5 miles from Kensington House due north west). As a 12 year old I trudged through all the autumn leaves in the park, leaves that had fallen off the trees by September, Plane Trees, Horse Chestnut Trees, Oak Trees, Sycamore Trees. I said to him looking out of the window, “now the trees are in leaf till November, the seasons are changing, shifting.” He said “you are right.” Patterson was a great thinker, a very clever man, we got on well, we spoke the same language and shared the same ideals and principles. He was old guard BBC, a true programme maker, who wanted to make the viewer think.

So, he gave me a reporter, a researcher , a production assistant and said prove it. If you prove it we can base one of the series of programmes on it. So I set about my task in the days before the internet, when you had to find written articles and telephone bash the world to find experts. In addition, it was not the only concept I had to juggle with.

At the beginning of the time with Science I still played football for BBC every Saturday. One such afternoon in Tooting the normally strong resilient centre half who took no prisoners as well as the ball in the crunching tackle of the day, tried to do something completely different. As well as Mr Dependable, “they won’t get past Allan”, I liked to think I had a degree of skill when kicking the ball. At least I could kick the ball with either foot, unlike most of today’s professional prima donnas. So when the right winger came bearing down on our penalty area with the goalkeeper at his mercy, I came from his left straight across him and Franz Beckenbauer style took the ball from him with my left as I glided past, only for him to shoot at my trailing right leg, which then spun round like the whizzing hands of a clock. Down I went. I could not believe it. Even the Red Coat referees at Butlins had told me in their football competitions, take it easy these players are on holiday they don’t want to go home with a broken leg. Now after all these years and famous local newspaper back page headlines like the pitch battle of Ruislip Manor 1974, there I was on the grass with my fibula and tibia sticking through my metal shin pads and black woollen socks. “You alright Allan?” Harry said. “No my leg’s broken Harry”, “you’ll be alright, stand up and run it off”. Yes that is what we all did with knocks. “Harry my bones are sticking through my sock”, “oh blimey , yes it does look bad”.

Good old Harry , he brought 4 bottles of beer to my hospital bedside a week later just before I was due to try out crutches for the first time in my life with the physio nurse. I sailed up and down those stairs!!!

HOWEVER. A new role at the Beeb, a new girlfriend Hazel Graham, a beautiful long hair, long legged production assistant on Watchdog, and now a broken leg. So the Beeb hired me a converted Austin Allegro from Hertz in Edgware Road, Marble Arch. As I sat in the car with my right leg out straight in plaster up to my groin, I had an accelerator and brake on my right hand by the steering wheel. Of course I had to undergo the sods law initiative test, as I drove out of their alleyway a white transit van tried to write off the vehicle. But…………….. I managed to swerve and avoid the lunatic, in my first 30 seconds of disabled driving.

So, I would be there on the cliffs of Sunderland in a 70mph gale, on my 2 crutches under my armpits, directing a film crew about the pollution on the otherwise picturesque beaches there, shame about the weather. I looked like a parrot on a perch in a draught swinging backwards and forwards and trying not to go over the cliff.

Yes Life on 1 had to go on like any show and it was life as I knew it. The crutches always fell to the tarmac as I got out of the car. Young girls would run across the road to pick them up for me. Men would slam the door in front of me along corridors or at entrances. Yes equal opportunities as a sharp lesson for this Sharpe.

But, by the time I flew to Colorado and California, my plaster was cut down to size. I was still able to get caught by the Highway Patrol (Denver Branch). We had a plane to catch, it was getting there by the skin on our teeth time, once again. Fortunately the Highway Patrolman was one of those that loved our British Accents, I had 3 giggling, friendly , fluttering eyelash, BBC females in the Pontiac. He detained us no longer so we could catch the flight. I guess he finally gave up when my production assistant flung the large unfolded map (yes before sat nav) at him through her window asking for the quickest route to the airport, and he managed to catch the paper missile in the breeze and screw it up to shove back to her and wish us a nice day. Well done Linda!!

Now when I made a programme for the BBC I became a rapid mini expert in whatever subject the film was about. I had to know what I was talking about, have the facts at my fingertips, my finger on the pulse, else you guys the viewers would see there was no substance. And, substance there was. In fact that film in 1991 with interviews and computer projections from the world’s leading climatologist Professor Schneider of Colorado University predicted our weather today almost 20 years later. Extreme weather. Events that when they happen, whether the weather is hot, cold, dry or wet, it is an all time record “since records began”. Even though my brother in law, Mick, is one of the many sceptics, we have borrowed this earth for our children and our children’s children, as the Red Indians believed. Climate change is man made, the evidence is all around us, like the leaves on the trees, or on a park path in Willesden as they used to be.

20 years on. the electric cars, hydrogen cars, natural gas buses I drove then, are still to emerge in the showroom. When have you ever been in a pub with double glazing and the lights are not switched on, even on a sunny day.
I filmed these alternative fuel vehicles in California. They even converted 2nd hand Ford Fiestas in Islington London N1 by taking out the engine and fitting banks of batteries and electric motors to the front wheels 20 years ago.
But where is the infrastructure in “Great” Britain? I drive for miles these days. Yes I have seen a dump of an LPG filling depot for converted cars run by Polish Workers, one of whom speaks English. But, are the Seven Sisters preventing change while there still is oil to drill under our ocean floors? Do all governments lead or follow. California made legislation for change. They still lead the world, because their land suffered from air pollution even when the Spanish Conquistadores first discovered the angel coast line, due to climatic and geographical coincidences.

Amory Lovins was, and probably still is, a leading energy scientist. He lived 10,000 feet up in the Rockies outside Aspen. His house used electricity but even surrounded by snow, his meter tricked round, whereas ours resemble a helicopter rotor blades. He had 10 fold glazing and copper water piping circulating behind the glass and walls oh his home. He used heat extraction when cooking on his Aga, His washing water never went below 60 degrees Fahrenheit. They could have called him Mr Fahrenheit, he was travelling at the speed of light as Freddy Mercury would sing it. He grew indoor banana plants behind the window panes, 10,000 feet up in the Rockies.

Dennis Weaver, who used to be Chester in Dodge City to Gunsmoke’s Mr Dillon played by James Arness, lived in Malibu. He had a home constructed out of old rubber tyres and empty drinks cans. The rubber kept the heat in and the cold out, helped by the air contained in the aluminium cans. It was also a great use of recycling. His Duel, as in the film he stared in against a crazy lorry driver, was with Climate Change. Now he is dead, alas, like so many great names and great people of nostalgia.Little did the wooden legged Chester who run up the Dodge City Street shouting for help from "Mr Dillon, Mr Dillon" on my black and white TV set in Willesden, realise how much I was glued to his performance as a 10 year old, in the good old days.

And, when I recount these tales of yesteryear. When others ask me, how did you make a programme then, I have to explain about the days, weeks, months phone bashing, planning, organising, researching, then filming the interviews. Filming the scenes, the location, the action scenes that would be needed to voice commentary over when we got back to base and started editing the film. Putting all the best bits and clips together to make sense and compose the argument, in the time we had allocated to us. The story we were telling and the story we believed in.

Those were the days my friend, yes we thought they would never end, but end they did. Patterson and others like him left the BBC as it changed and followed the lesser, cheaper standards of ITV. I would soon leave too. Now I watch little television. Programme schedules that incorporate free talent or free reality offer little to my intellect. Entertainment they might be for some that want to emulate the couch vegetable. Infotainment they are not, and I will always hold the record viewing figures for Watchdog at over 10 million up against Coronation Street, because now we have more channels, more choice, but not better programming.
Yes generations have at first been glued to Top of the Pops then subsequently sat at the back of the room irritated and not recognising any of the so called performers. But, they don’t make them like they used to. They call it progress. Me, I beg to differ.

Until the next time, stay tuned to this channel……..after all one day even this channel will end !!!

Post Script:

Remembering Chester, I even used to hobble as a kid emulating his performance on those wooden sidewalks of Dodge City in the Wild West.

I made a Sport Video for the retail market under the Sharper Image Banner in the 90's. It featured Jimmy Greaves and Tommy Docherty with ad lib links to film clips of incidents on the fever pitch. My son Ian was working, learning, with me in those days and in the West End studio whilst I was in the gallery, and Jimmy Greaves was on the studio floor, Ian confessed to him "you were my dad's hero when he was a boy, he saw you play for Spurs every game, and when my brother and I grew up and watched Spurs with him he would tell us about the goals you scored as if he was still there".

What a confession to make huh!!

Over Qualified in lateral thinking not

When you were young and your heart was an open book
You used to say live and let live
(you know you did, you know you did you know you did)
But in this ever changing world in which we live in
Makes you give in and cry
Say live and let die

Live and let DIE...................

I enquired about a job the other day, I thought it was a misprint : Wanted VNA Driver, but no it's not a Van driver they wanted , it's a qualification...a very narrow aisle driver, blimey, does that mean there is a NA driver and a VWA driver too, do they get less ££££ for driving down normal aisles or very wide aisles.

I was the first TV journalist to forecast climatic change in 1991, yes 19 years ago on a Thursday Night BBC1, and all the extreme weather predictions have come to fruition. BUT.......... can I get a job in something that is close to my heart, after all, as the Red Indians believed, we borrow this Earth for our children and their children.

No, you now need a Degree in it to sit behind a desk and do too little too late.

Standing in line marking time--
Waiting for the welfare dime
'Cause they can't buy a job
The man in the silk suit hurries by
As he catches the poor old ladies' eyes
Just for fun he says "Get a job"

That's just the way it is
Some things will never change
That's just the way it is
But don't you believe them

Maybe you need a qualification for pulling the toilet roll out of those cylindrical drums they use in the cubicles at Motorway Service Centres and Industrial Toilets. I can never find the dangly bit, toilet roll, I am referring too here. Maybe there is a guy in quality control who has glue to stick the end. Bit like the quality control officer at Durex with a pin who mutters "another bastard another bastard".

And finally............ as I drive over England's white and pleasant lands, I notice the road side signs as I leave the quaint village "Thank You for driving carefully".

Now the question: How did they know?? Why are there no further signs: "Now" "You Can "Be as Reckless as you like", "Go on drive like a mad man".

Thought provoking yes, but I don't need to be told to drive carefully, I thought we all wanted to live and not die.

Until next time.........................

Thrapston for the Winter Olympics

Thrapston for the Olympics

I think gold medallist Amy Williams could have got her tea tray out on the A605 on Thursday night . She got to 90 mph in 54 seconds in lack of snow Vancouver, whereas I drove at 9mph taking 2 hours to get from Corby to my snow blocked home in Thrapston, just 12 miles.

True it was only 4 inches of rush hour blizzard snow, but those that did not keep their wheels moving, got stuck making it more hazardous for those of us that were trying to gauge the changing white road conditions.

Though Thrapston has not got the Rocky Mountains in its back yard, the local countryside is undulating and the lorries could not get up the slopes. In fact I had been driving in the snow all day through Worcestershire , Warwickshire and then Northamptonshire. I only saw Highway Agency gritters on some of the motorways, even the M45 was white and only me driving along it (in a lorry), with others following. It was as if the road was closed as I drove through the vortex of a snow blizzard.

Road signs were covered in white, and to compound the agony for motorists the M1 had been shut for most of the day due to an earlier accident. When the snow arrived the Police or jack knifed lorries closed even more roads.

So once again the snow is forecast, but the authorities are slow to respond, or in the interests of safety make it worse for all of us trying to get home. Much of my endeavours getting home from my work base in my car, which is an automatic and hates the snow, was trying to circumnavigate the road blocks, to little avail as the minor roads were nigh impassable. In fact the only way I got into Thrapston was on the wrong side of the road passed the Police cauldrons who were distracted by other events fortunately, but had made the other side of the road clear by stopping all the traffic.

Else, like I saw the following morning, I could have still been out there with the rest.

Avatar

The Winter Olympics are coming, and my son lives there in Vancouver, no snow as well, except by the truck load. Great Britain has high hopes in some disciplines despite the organising association going bust, watch out for the men's curling world champions, and it ain't Canada. WE also have a young girl who comes down the ice on a breakfast tray, bit like the slope by Norwich Prison circa 1982 and a licking Labrador. Graeme being the smallest was in front on a yellow plastic sleigh bought en route in a petrol station, Ian was middle man, I was back bob sleigher, big bum steering and anchoring. Fast, Isaac Newton would have been proud, it was as if we invented the laws of gravity, yet alone were discovering them. Then on one passage, the golden Labrador decided to stand in our descent path, I just managed to bum steer round the hound, as it stuck its panting tongue out and managed to lick all three of us on our right cheeks, fortunately we missed the wagging tail!!

On my domestic front, we finally saw Avatar during the week in 3D and at Leicester Square prices though I was sure I drove down the A14 to Kettering.

Avatar: The descent of a deity to earth, and his incarnation as a man or an animal; chiefly associated with the incarnations of Vishnu.

Funny how computers have seen religion, though I have never liked a Ruby Murray myself.

Fantastic Film though, and though they were not gods descending, I did meet two Samaritans this week. WE were at B&Q having purchased some radiator cabinets. I have never liked radiators to my eye, and now that some TV 60 minute make over DIY day time programmes are showing them to Shirley Not, it is now in vogue to buy them. Some of us have our own ideas, others have to ketchup, never mind, back to the plot. The large one would not go in the Jaguar, yes I know it's a large car, I know that every time I try to park it. Unpacked the thing and still would not go in the car. Some kind soul, walked up and said I could use his Astra Van. I said of course, thats alright mate I will manage, though clearly I could not. Then he drove his Astra van up, and said he would follow me to Thrapston, 15 miles away. Which he did, and he would not take any cash for the petrol. What an amazing chappie, what what !!

Next, my car thought, well the onboard computer thought, that there was something wrong with the engine, so it kept on warning me about Failsafe Engine Mode. Now this reminds me of the time in California on the Rocky Highway, when the Automatic Chrysler stalled on the mountain incline, with rocks falling around us, during the aftermath of a hurricane August 1982. Yes an automatic stalls, five in the car, only for the on board computer voice to tell me: "your screen wash bottle was a quarter full". Later next day it incurred the wrath of my Mother's voice, when it started it's daily chorus check list "all monitored systems are functioning" only for Mother to say "Oh shut up, where were you yesterday when we needed you".

So I took the Jaguar to a little delapidated garage , well it is Thrapston, and yes we are back to the present. He scanned the computer, told it to be less negative, and more like the Man from Del Monte, and did not even charge me. What an excellent chappie what what !!

Now if only Spurs were not sheep when facing wolves huh, at least Harry agrees with my BBC critique, almost verbatum, as well as others, I got 5 stars for my comment !!!

Now the BBC have given me the title of the "legendary allansharpe", now is that the nearest thing to Avatar or what what !!!

Mission Accomplished

Normal Service has resumed on the Hewlett Packard Pavillion front.



I feel quite chuffed, fanfare for the common man. Friday morning the computer said no, kept on switching itself off all the time, I think it was sent a nasty bug by an even nastier personna non grata, unknown.



Now when can you get free technical help out of warranty , answer difficult to find, if not impossible, so I resorted to my own technical assistance. I went into safe mode, and programme restore. It was like watching the grass grow, yes paint dries quicker, but 24 hours later , umpteen downloads and updates even later, I am back as a matter of fact I'm back, not for the faint hearted !!!

Metabolism

Metabolism

It would have been my mum’s birthday today 2nd February. She died 19 years ago, six strokes in six months, it was merciful to her when she finally gave up, she had turned into a vegetable, so sad. Strange it does not seem like 19 years ago, long time. She was always anguished about me. When I broke my leg in football she was my first visitor. She had got to Tooting in SW London from Dereham in Norfolk via a Greenline bus changing at Victoria Bus Station. She was there before visiting time and before noon on a Sunday. I heard her voice as I lay there after the overnight operation, of course the nurses let her in, how could they resist, she would rattle on until they succumbed. It was only a broken leg, though both tibia and fibula were poking out of my right BBCTV football sock last time I had looked. But my mum showed remarkable conviction, determination and stubbornness, as well as complete bafflement to the listener, above and beyond the call of duty. She did so until the day she died, 74, RIP.

I was editing a BBCTV Watchdog programme that day, 29th of October 1991. Mum had keeled over and out of the nursing bed at 7.30 am in Norfolk, my Sister called me. By 9.30am I was in the edit suite at TV Centre, London and got an internal call from Sarah Caplin, the new editor, who everyone disliked, including me. She asked if I should be at work, she had found out my news. I answered in monotone and monosyllable. Strange how on that one occasion she showed a degree of compassion, which otherwise was never there, and the 6th floor had made her boss of a consumer programme fighting for people’s rights!!!

Memories, those were the days my friend, even though they came to an end.

I heard on the truck radio last week my song, a Russian song originally, sung by Mary Hopkins released 30 August 1968, ah yes the summer of 68…. Mini skirts and scooters, Mods and Rockers, life as we knew it, Jim, errr sorry, Allan…..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AyaTIXdN5fI

Once upon a time there was a tavern
Where we used to raise a glass or two
Remember how we laughed away the hours
And dreamed of all the great things we would do

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la...
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Then the busy years went rushing by us
We lost our starry notions on the way
If by chance I'd see you in the tavern
We'd smile at one another and we'd say

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la...
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Just tonight I stood before the tavern
Nothing seemed the way it used to be
In the glass I saw a strange reflection
Was that lonely woman really me

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la...
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh my friend we're older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la...
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days.

Google and You Tube today help me recall and go back in time. Of course the lonely image in the mirror is a different gender of the same species. I see Dolly Parton did a cover version and is worth a look because she is a bit of a doll and so did Bonny Tyler, who lived in Willesden too, before we both made it and moved on!!

"Those Were the Days"[1] a song is credited to Gene Raskin, who put English lyrics to the Russian gypsy song "Dorogoi dlinnoyu" ("Дорогой длинною", lit. "By the long road"), written by Boris Fomin (1900-1948) with words by the poet Konstantin Podrevskii. It deals with reminiscence upon youth and romantic idealism. The first known recording of the song was by Alexander Vertinsky in the 1920s. The song is best remembered for Mary Hopkin's 1968 recording, which was a top-ten hit in both the U.S. and the U.K.

Of course 1968 was one of my formulative years, just attained my A levels, just lost my virginity to Kim who was 8 years older than me, and just started a real job, Trainee Trading Standards Officer in the London Borough of Brent NW10.

I was young, often to be seen in a Pub, though social only, I would dance the night away, I would fight and never contemplated losing. Now it’s just mirrors.

I always hated losing.

Football, tennis, cricket, darts, Scrabble, Monopoly, Risk, Subbuteo and worse of all ….. love.

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la...

“You can’t win them all” they used to say, just watch me, was my response. But, you do come a cropper, hence the title of this chapter, “Metabolism”, written at 04.30 hours. Why so early, did you ask, in your sleep? Well I am not like Margaret Thatcher, needing only three and a half hours sleep with electrodes in her bath…stimulating huh ??!!.

No, last week I was a Blue Arrow Flexible Employee, official, I had the hand book to prove it. Flexible as a friend, though not as a credit card, I was behind a wheel of a rather long wheelbase truck, delivering to homes who had ordered furniture from a catalogue. Incidentally about 3 out of 10 preferred other flat pack wardrobes and beds. The flat packs were heavy, but obviously not appealing to the disappointing eye out of the cardboard box when compared to the magazine image. The Beds were carried in by one person, that light, huh. Wow, even the King Size!! So collections and deliveries, but there is no money (other than for me) in collections. I was temp and not to perm, whereas the salaried guys also worked 12 hours a day in London, Hertfordshire, Essex, Suffolk and Norfolk, for no overtime, but the promise of a bonus, if all 27 calls were made, the truck did not break down, all customers were in, and no one cancelled. Tall order huh, well if you were the boss, would you want to promise a bonus or pay it?? True , the trucks were brand new, and reliable, even the radio worked for Mary Hopkins courtesy of BBC Radio2. Though they did have an electronic automatic gearbox and needed pause for thought about forward or reverse, never mind, talk amongst yourselves while you hold up the traffic, manoeuvring.

So though it’s early now and not yet dawn, like jet lag, you get your pattern of sleep and wake disturbed. Up and not quite at them at 5am each day, pitch black when you arise for the bugle call !!

5:50 AM - Assembly of Trumpeters for Reveille [First Call] . The first signal for the soldiers to rise and shine. This call was historically sounded between 4:45 AM - and 6:00 AM - depending on the season. It bears a similarity to the French Cavalry call "La Garde a Vous."

6:00 AM - Reveille
Upon the last note of this call, the flag was raised, the morning gun fired and the men all had to assemble for morning roll call. It is the same as a French call which dates from the time of the Crusades.

So Since the Crusades, we have had to endure getting up tooooooooooooo early for some and certainly me, my brain and my bodily functions, pardon the expression, but you know what I mean. Trust the French to bugger it up again for the Brits.

In addition when you are at warp factor 60 years old, you need all the help you can get with bodily functions, there are no reconditioned units, and the mileage is high, with not many careful owners and a few missing service entries in the log book.

So, that was the week that was, last week, but Friday night the goal posts or the bull’s eyes were moved at ten to five and there is a change of agency. No more archers dressed in blue, It would seem. Hence the flexibility my friend.

However…….
my mental alarm clock has not registered the imposed change still, hence this prose about my metabolism, excuse me while I go to the loo.

Natural Break…….be back soon, stay tuned to this channel……

Listen to some music while I dash off….. (better than adverts!!)

aha-yeah

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XqYp1jpzKCk

I've known a few guys who thought they were pretty smart
But you've got being right down to an art
You think you're a genius, you drive me up the wall
You're a regular original, a "knowitall"

Ohwooh, you think you're special
Ohwooh, you think you're something else

Ok, so you're a rocket scientist...

That don't impress me much!
So you got the brains, but have you got the touch?
(Now) Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright
But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night
That don't impress me much!

aha-yeah

I never knew a guy who carried a mirror in his pocket
And a comb up his sleeve, just in case
And all that extra hold gel in your hair ought'a lock it
'Cause Heaven prevent, it should fall outta place

Ohwooh, you think you're special
Ohwooh, you think you're something else

Ok, so you're Brad Pitt...

That don't impress me much!
So you got the looks but have you got the touch?
(Now) Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright
But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night
That don't impress me much!

You're one of those guys who likes to shine's machine
You make me take off my shoes before you let me get in
I can't believe you kiss your car good night
C'mon baby tell me, you must be joking, right??

Ohwooh, you think you're special
Ohwooh, you think you're something else

Ok, so you got a car...

That don't impress me much!
So you got the moves, but have you got the touch?
Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright
But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night
[..]
But that won't keep me warm on the long, cold lonely night
That don't impress me much!

Ok, so what do you think... you're Elvis or something...
That don't impress me much!

Well that was a modern day Mary Hopkins. Shania Twain was a woman that made me feel like a man, amazing performer , I saw her live in Hyde Park, even though it has always been hard to impress me much.

So.....back to the plot...........

I was impressed much at first, see we all make mistakes, but then moving the archery range was not entirely their fault. I had been recruited with 19 hours of applying for a Total Job on line. "Quick huh", she said, "are you impressed at our efficiency", "well like an arrow, straight to the target" I responded, "oh you are sharp witted " she retorted.

And the week that was ? Well some of it could have made “Wheels” my sit com.

Do you know some people that have moved into brand new houses, and are therefore not on Sat Nav or in maps, do not know the main road to their residence. In fact I have known people who do not know the colour of their front door in a new build, with no street names and no numbers as yet. I guess they believe the TV commercials when washing machines are delivered from the Planet Zanussi by time warp through the ceiling….crrrrash!!

So, when they do not answer the phone or the message left on their phone, there is only one recourse. If you want to know the way ask a postman, they always know, as long as you are not far away and on another beat. But, late in the afternoon, one has to resort to asking a policeman. He doesn’t know, nor does his station, so he tries the lady again on the phone, like I had tried, this time she answers. “Is that Mrs Pretty, he asks, “this is PC 459 from Hertfordshire Constabulary, I have a few questions to ask you”, he said grinning. Now she has not got a video phone, so when I get to her house, I said “see what happens when you don’t return calls, next time you’ll get nicked!!” “Oh, scared the life out of me she said, I wondered, what I had done”.

Then there was my mate, in the cab helping me, one of the guys wishing he won the lottery, after all he had a better chance than getting his bonus. Nice man from Cameroon. But it was funny seeing him disappear up Lordship Lane looking for the house with the washing machine on his trolley, AFTER, I had parked directly opposite the house. Some mothers do have them, but I did run after him and get him back, after all my mother had me.

I do try to have a laugh with these customers. Though they probably are still thinking about was that a joke, even now. For instance, when you deliver an exercise bike or a treadmill, and they say put it by the patio doors, to which I say, “can’t do that…… this one is the 5 gear model, select over drive and you’ll go through the windows straight onto the lawn” Pause for Thought, exit stage right.

Sometimes you here them giggling as you are in 2nd gear leaving their road.

1.2.3 penny drop time.

And now I think it’s all over time, well it is now, 3 hours after I started, I think I will finish. Just for now of course…watch this space!!

Quote of the Week: admiration for Harry Redknapp Manager of “Come on you Spuuuurrrrs” after 2 nil defeat to Liverpool at Anfield - "I don't know why they disallowed Jermain's goal, I have never got anything from that Referee, Howard Webb, probably the 4 officials are still huddled together, consulting the rule book, to find a reason." Tell it as it is Harry.

The Burning Bush....well not quite!!!

I saw a Sign

Have you ever been going somewhere and thought, this is not meant to be……..

Yesterday 11th of January 2010, I was proceeding in a westerly direction. Now the traffic reports said the East bound A14 was jammed because of a lorry crash. So there I am on the west bound carriageway parked in the outside lane for 35 minutes alongwith hundreds of other vehicles, in the snow with our engines switched off, no compass but I did get A level Geography.

The purpose of my journey, you ask, a reasonable question and it was to attend a grievance procedure meeting. What sort of grievance? True I have many to choose from, spoilt for choice in these later years of my life, I know, but it was with my former employers, Crouch Logistics, whose Head Office is in Rugby and I was going to tackle them about their unauthorised deductions from my hard earned wages before Christmas.

Crouch are the subcontractors for UPS the American Courier Company whose depot is in Northampton. It was in their van and depot that I spent my waking hours for 5 months before Christmas, until I walked out on pay day December the 18th as they were not going to steal my wages anymore. This the 2nd time they had done it out of 5, and they also refused to discuss their unauthorised actions. So…………that is a grievance, taking £200 out of my pay packet, meant that for the Christmas rush when demand exceeded supply, I was working 12 hours a day for £41 net.

So……….. I left this resignation letter on their notice board:

The Worse Job I have ever had…………………..

I am no longer prepared to work 60 hours a week for Crouch Logistics, and not knowing how much money I will actually take home .

The reason for Crouch’s poor performance in the eyes of their UPS contractual masters, is their fundamental and total reliance on the hard working drivers. This job cannot be done on the cheap to maximise profits.

Organisation is poor, management are not proactive, but reactive and do not have any idea in advance of the workload for their drivers each day. The attitude is “it is in your area so you do it”, whether it is a timed deliveries, standard deliveries, or collections, regardless of quantity, bulk, type of premises, in zone location, traffic and access.

All those considerations are irrelevant to management, but not to the driver who faces penalties when demand exceeds supply. Management can just pass UPS penalties for poor performance on to the drivers. Penalties which are often false, unauthorised, deducted as a fait accompli and are therefore illegal, contrary to Section 13 of the Employment Rights Act 1996. Sticks are plenty, carrots are non existent.

I challenge the management to do this job lawfully, within the hours specified in the EU working time directive and making a delivery every 5 minutes, including driving in conformity with the Road Traffic Acts, as this is what I and others have been asked to do.

Is it any wonder that more than half the 44 drivers have left this workplace in the 5 months I have been here and now its my turn to leave. I would rather have no job than this job.


Now the reaction to that public notice was instant hostility from Chris Crouch the governor and winner of the Leicestershire New Business Award for 2008. He bombarded my mobile phone, and then threatened me with court and the police, texts and even an answaphone message left on Christmas Eve. However bully boy bluff tactics do not scare me, and I am now waiting for a hearing at the employment tribunal as I have accused Crouch of 4 offences, in order to get my money back.

So, why go to a grievance procedure, when you are no longer an employee. Well the letter I got was quite conciliatory, and with hindsight was probably a standard letter, just with new dates and new names. It did state “so we can answer properly”. It transpired that they were ill prepared, said nothing apart from “well you signed the contract, which said fines for incorrect deliveries”. To which my retort has always been, “yes but you don’t know if that delivery was on my van, and also you have deducted fines for deliveries before 9am, when geographically, no Crouch driver can make them that early because of the distance we travel, and you have deducted fines for deliveries not even in my post code area.” Like always and par for the course there was no response.

So the meeting was a sham a farce, but I had to go through with it, else I could have been criticised at any employment tribunal. I guess the meeting was file “better late than never” or “too little too late” or “wasted time” or even “bizarre” as for 45 minutes I just elaborated about what they had been given to them in writing point by point rebuttal of their unauthorised deductions for 2 months This time they wrote it down and listed with painful expressions.

It does annoy me, that people who are not as bright as others, can hold down important jobs, whereas the likes of me phone up this morning again to apply for Job Seekers allowance. It’s sad but true, and I suppose that is my biggest grievance.

Gissajob, I can do that (better), maybe I should do the traffic report or the weather, both are riddled with errors, the white stuff has finally gone after 3 weeks of a mini ice age. There were days when I did not venture out as the “storm” was brewing, but, it came to nothing, it is well that these guys do not brew tea !!!

As for the A14 dual carriageway, well ironically it was a “Crouch” (not related apparently) tow truck that pulled a Sainsbury’s articulated lorry out of the rearranged and demolished central reservation. As it passed me proceeding in its easterly direction, us westerly folk, could carry on late in our journeys. HOWEVER…………. I had to come back, didn’t I, in an easterly direction, no chance, the road was now closed, (geee aren’t our Highways Agency Men so wonderful!!!)

So Via 2 sides of a triangle (see we had geography and industrial relations, now its maths (pay attention, don’t doze off, almost at the end now) I drove back via Market Harborough only to park up on the A5199, because all the other lemmings have thought of that one too. 4 hours out of the house, for no reason at all, apart from one free cup of coffee and use of their downstairs toilet. Hi Ho, but it’s not off to work I go.

Until next time………………oh by the way, why do civil servants have no sense of humour? “I am a gatherer of information, my job is not to give information” the Job Centre Minus guy said as he apologised for his slow computer, and when I said “perhaps your hamster’s exercise wheel needs some WD40”, well lead balloon time, not even a glimmer of a response, bit like Crouch management, hold on I will punch myself……ouch!!! Yes I do exist!!! Well that’s a relief (for some haha!!)