tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-288327512024-03-08T02:11:14.903+00:00OldScrotesHomeJake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.comBlogger1755125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-64918770286701135202020-09-15T17:13:00.002+01:002020-09-25T16:34:00.315+01:00Mustn't grumble<p> My life and Some Times</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Chapter 1 Please mention the war</b></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I cannot remember my earliest memory.</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I have a photograph, taken with a Brownie box camera, of a tiny child holding a stick and looking pleased with itself (the infant, not the stick). I recognise the setting, the back yard of 51 High Street Hadley Nr Wellington Shropshire, but I do not recognise the child or the stick. But I guess it must be me because of the pretty face, the curly blond hair and the bulging crotch, betokening, no doubt, a fine nappyful.</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1CZV1zElfgsNqHBBZg-Ud4CjcVPEhmdUhLw3drKwiyXlGS3poNvv45bLCrpVPJc9B9dYTDcN5BSGkieLhwWMfLVZMmPF37SCy_tYEbjaVEHo34isWLhIKTpyNuXs0Nu3VHTI/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="255" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1CZV1zElfgsNqHBBZg-Ud4CjcVPEhmdUhLw3drKwiyXlGS3poNvv45bLCrpVPJc9B9dYTDcN5BSGkieLhwWMfLVZMmPF37SCy_tYEbjaVEHo34isWLhIKTpyNuXs0Nu3VHTI/" width="165" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The house was in the High Street, set well back from the road. It was at a guess built in late Victorian times, had a double pitched roof and a long single-story extension at the back which served as kitchen, utility room and bathroom/toilet (not that the bath was plumbed in; it was there just for show. Baths were taken in a zinc bath in the living room in front of the fire (of which more anon).</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">My friend Alicia {she lived next door) sent me, many years later, a cutting from the local newspaper, known then as the Wellington Journal and Shrewsbury News. The cutting described Hadley High Street and all the people who lived there. The reference to our house was laconic in the extreme: <i>“A man called Allsop lived there.”</i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw749DbPhbEmyWocJXPa3xDzuTnC29sPQPBlIiTxqJNvxaEcWt_yya52BBm-SgLrwlpNahD3zw9WX6ln95h74ZotCx3bE1PXBgsJlDYMIggSlxJUctNaqvXnHzqG-UM2n9KQgJ/s640/dig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="453" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw749DbPhbEmyWocJXPa3xDzuTnC29sPQPBlIiTxqJNvxaEcWt_yya52BBm-SgLrwlpNahD3zw9WX6ln95h74ZotCx3bE1PXBgsJlDYMIggSlxJUctNaqvXnHzqG-UM2n9KQgJ/s320/dig.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">There was a large garden front and back, which my father used to plant up with vegetables during the war in obedience to the wartime exhortation: ”Dig for Victory”, the war in question being the Second World War, 1939-1945. [Note: it is politically correct nowadays to say we fought the Nazis. We didn't. We fought the Germans].</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">After the war, my father relaxed somewhat and grew a lot of flowers. We had a brown Thomas Crapper lavatory bowl opposite the back door which spilled over with gorgeous red geraniums. What I remember best, however, were the rows of “Sweet Peas”, my mother's favourite. I can remember seeing my father bringing bunches of sweet peas into the house for my mother, but it was only later that I realised what a loving gesture it was.</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I was born in 1936, so didn't get a chance to fight the Germans, but I did my bit by hating a boy at school called John Heinemann, and I also kept my eye on an older boy called Lehmann, who lived down Montgomery and never spoke to anybody. I knew it was because he only knew German, couldn't speak English. I was a smart kid.</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">My first memory is in fact quite romantic (I think that's the word). Opposite our house was a farm lane, leading, as you might expect to a farm, owned by the Benbows: Mr Benbow, ugly grumpy father; Mrs Benwos, dumpy earth-mother type whom I knew slightly as I used to go to the half-door with the empty bottles which she would fill from a metal churn. They had three children: John the eldest - I mean OLD, at least eighteen; Alan, a couple of years older than me: and Margaret, my age and pretty as a, well, pretty as far as I was concerned. Anyway, she came to our house on one occasion, and she and I were under the living room table. I kissed her. An amazing moment, but I'd rather tell you about the table.</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The table seemed to me to be enormous, with long drawers on both sides. One was mine to keep all my rubbish. It would seat the four of us - father, mother, my sister Betty and me - at one end of the table. Once when some relatives of my father came, there were at least ten people seated round the table. I learned later that it was a half-size billiard table. It was a very sensible table and the four of us had our set place: father and mother at the head, Betty next to dad, and me next to mum. During the war, we listened to the BBC news on the wireless (Yes, WIRELESS, nobody used the word radio in those days). </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPe7F8mdQxg1gLp-ghyx6ep0PE6Wg-o4mnyyUFIak1Sxvas6geoV8nJLFVuhVaxLpnpAVkEVw5pN65CJ5M2kQiMeo45ujSan2OHWZ_F1DUnNtVADtG9_XyQxWsJM2dG1yZsBkE/s450/wireless.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPe7F8mdQxg1gLp-ghyx6ep0PE6Wg-o4mnyyUFIak1Sxvas6geoV8nJLFVuhVaxLpnpAVkEVw5pN65CJ5M2kQiMeo45ujSan2OHWZ_F1DUnNtVADtG9_XyQxWsJM2dG1yZsBkE/s320/wireless.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The news always began: <i>This the 6 o'clock BBC news and this is [name of reader] reading it</i>. We sat holding our breath to see which newsreader it would be, because we each had our own. Dad's was Bruce Belfridge, Mum's was Wilfred Pickles, Betty's Stuart Hibberd, and mine was Alvar Liddell. I had never seen the name written, so I imagined it to be Al Varley Dell. Such excitement when the name of YOUR reader was announced! I can't remember listening to the news itself, of course, me being so new to the planet.</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">[<i>Aside: many years later, I was interviewing people for summer teaching jobs in the language school where I was Principal. One applicant's form caught my eye: it was a young man called Alvar Liddell. I turned out he was related - son or grandson, I can't remember which</i>.]</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">One other story about the table and then I promise to make no further reference to furniture. Living where we did in a sleepy rural county of no military importance, we had very little connection with the war, except for a German plane, which crashed in a field about two miles away, and the silver foil strips that they used to throw out of their planes to thwart the radar. What we had was the sound and sometimes the sight of squadrons of German bombers overhead on their way to bomb Liverpool, Manchester and other strategic places way to the northwest of us.</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Only once did the war come really close. My father was an ARP warden - I still have the yellow lanyard and whistle which he wore over his shoulder - and he was regularly out on night duty, with, frankly, nothing much do to except to tell people to respect the blackout (“Close that curtain!”), and watch the German squadrons coming and eventually returning having done their dirty work. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3orZbAyDx6Hh2jX3s2vh918Bhh1TiYfZwFEK00uIOhWNfngcUQ4KR3zKJGl0vkceTyPJnKZjhYwe8X53cOGfD_3ZN6t7roRCUWswwhfDx4qwQlCoWg4X2xuppWR5rNzP_8zYh/s547/arp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="547" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3orZbAyDx6Hh2jX3s2vh918Bhh1TiYfZwFEK00uIOhWNfngcUQ4KR3zKJGl0vkceTyPJnKZjhYwe8X53cOGfD_3ZN6t7roRCUWswwhfDx4qwQlCoWg4X2xuppWR5rNzP_8zYh/s320/arp.jpg" /></a></div><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">On one night, he came home early and we all spend the night sleeping under the table. I guessed later that he had heard they were going to bomb Birmingham, which was about 25 miles to the south-east of us, and thought a stray bomb might land on 51 High Street Hadley (It was a practice of bombers, whatever the air force, to jettison any leftover bombs from a raid as they returned to base).</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">No, the war was somewhere else as far as we were concerned. But the consequences of being at war - shortages, make-do-and-mend, the comradely spirit, the spivs, and so on - are still very clear in my memory. And because I am a grey-beard loon and refuse to unhand you, I will keep you here, transfixed, and tell you some more about me and the war.</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Chapter 2 Pubs, shops and shopping baskets</b></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><br /><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-18079154629123243912019-08-08T22:26:00.002+01:002019-08-08T22:26:54.409+01:00Crispy water<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_t1vCgfiw35yeHT7rztd5TXqjmrx093u5KWv25N7mDBaccCz3ZieN079_pnOXpuGVRhR3Es1dXExJEM3mOVDeU_iTVoUgAsgM23aGzgQRvruUvLPhj_CcPP57k-MWhKy9hvo2/s1600/iceberg.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="177" data-original-width="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_t1vCgfiw35yeHT7rztd5TXqjmrx093u5KWv25N7mDBaccCz3ZieN079_pnOXpuGVRhR3Es1dXExJEM3mOVDeU_iTVoUgAsgM23aGzgQRvruUvLPhj_CcPP57k-MWhKy9hvo2/s1600/iceberg.jpeg" /></a></div>
I do not understand iceberg lettuce. I bought one for the first time on Monday of the week and now, in the reflective calm of a Thursday evening, I have decided to bin it. What the hell is it? It's like crispy water, texture but no taste. When I took it out of the veg section of the fridge, it was sitting in a pool of water. Do they eventually dissolve if you leave them long enough?<br />
Well, having bought it, my canny Salopian upbringing dictated that I should eat it. It's weird. You cannot peel off a whole leaf, it disintegrates into small soggy pieces if you try. By Wednesday I had grown to hate it. I shredded it, thinking I could put in salads, but even the shredded pieces started to melt. By lunchtime today, I made the awful decision that it had to go. If only I had a pet rabbit, I thought, and then realised it would need to be a <i>thirsty</i> pet rabbit.<br />
So, it is no more, it's an ex-lettuce, it has shuffled off its damp mortal coil, it has gorn to join the choir invisibule, no doubt whistling the theme from Handel's Water Music. It is defunct.<br />
Bloody thing. </div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-57295484679370735052019-07-20T06:25:00.006+01:002020-09-25T16:25:25.106+01:00A letter from the Principality<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Nefoedd da!</i> I can hardly believe my eyes! My dear Mrs Scrote, I see you still haven't gone to join the Choir Invisibule, though you must be at least a centurion by now - isn't that what you call someone who lives to be hundred?<br />
Of course I am dilated that you are still among us. I too am still among us, as you can see, but, I tell you, dear, it gets harder every year, what with arthuritis, haerrimoids and inconsistence all making life a misery for a body. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Still, <i>nil carborundum</i>, as the late Mr Trellis used to say, <i>up girl and at 'em</i>, <i>there's a dance or two in the old dog yet</i>, etc. It's funny how you can be married to someone for forty-something years and most of the time not understand what they're talking about. Did you have the same problem with Mr Scrote? Or maybe there wasn't a Mr Scrote - I have sometimes wondered whether you were one of those Greek women, lesabians they're called, no offence, I was once fondled by a WAAF and I didn't flinch. Ah, the war years! Still, mustn't renimisce.<br />
Anyway, I won't keep you, I expect you're still busy doing whatever it is that keeps your boat afloat.<br />
Yours as before<br />
Blodwen Trellis, Mrs, widow. retd.<br />
<br />
PS What do you think of that Theresa May? I'm surprised they elected a woman without a bosom - they say she doesn't have a brain either, but who am I to judge? She wears nice hats, and that's something.</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-73292116708197512022019-07-20T06:07:00.001+01:002019-07-20T06:29:01.441+01:00Food that fights back<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvp4itNt7yojbOWBxQt_X9AU47WeKUCtZ1Pr2-WaHxSa_JWn12inL4KymVrbGJaooOWTcEHPXtA_PNrea-ewIVF8ZJZePNipa2GAkiNA4mn6qDuRuLJAXkBmiThU2sN7ww6AwH/s1600/sparrowhawk+with+prey.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="768" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvp4itNt7yojbOWBxQt_X9AU47WeKUCtZ1Pr2-WaHxSa_JWn12inL4KymVrbGJaooOWTcEHPXtA_PNrea-ewIVF8ZJZePNipa2GAkiNA4mn6qDuRuLJAXkBmiThU2sN7ww6AwH/s320/sparrowhawk+with+prey.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i> Male Sparrowhawk</i></div>
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Looking at that gopher tortoise, the crusty meat pie on legs, reminded me that I don't like food that fights back. For example:<br />
- chilli and curry dishes that burn your lips and your throat<br />
- peas and small broad beans that refuse to let themselves be forked<br />
- peanuts and any crumbly food that takes refuge between your molars<br />
- slushy rice-pudding-type dishes that delight in falling on to your shirt front<br />
- long wriggly pasta or noodles that remain dangling from your lips however hard you suck<br />
Well, you get the idea.<br />
I was also reminded of the notion of food that fights back when I watched a male Sparrowhawk on the lawn the other day trying to subdue a young Starling. If I were a male Sparrowhawk (by the way, in most species of raptor, the male is smaller than the female), I would stick to sparrows and finches. I can see the temptation to go for a Cumberland sausage rather than a chipolata, so to speak, but the struggle burns up a lot of energy. "<i>Say not the struggle naught availeth"</i>, well, yes, in the end the Sparrowhawk got the better of the young Starling, but took quite a beating from the Starling's sharp claws and dagger-like beak before ripping its flesh to pieces.<br />
No, I definitely don't like food that fights back.</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-91321230281465954782019-07-20T05:52:00.002+01:002019-07-20T05:52:35.122+01:00Gopher it!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntwQ-4dhhmfmL1wMob6yrpd2vBe44xPCNYUUQGrO3f8AbPF2XbyR0n7aTaOeXEzP0U-Zl5G7RWg3tAjJoSSziRdFrJQ-NJG9NMSRUKznhnKBOLoBjE0n4tcXroTURHOckNbyV/s1600/tortoiseeducationcorner.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntwQ-4dhhmfmL1wMob6yrpd2vBe44xPCNYUUQGrO3f8AbPF2XbyR0n7aTaOeXEzP0U-Zl5G7RWg3tAjJoSSziRdFrJQ-NJG9NMSRUKznhnKBOLoBjE0n4tcXroTURHOckNbyV/s320/tortoiseeducationcorner.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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I recently received an email with an attachment about the Gopher Tortoise. In the body of the email there was a plea that I should revive this venerable blog (Old Scrote's Home). Because the request came from my Turkish grandson***, I have no choice but to obey - you know how the young always manage to have their way with the old.<br />
So, above, is a picture of a group of Floridan children admiring what, to me, looks like a crusty meat pie on legs.<br />
There, Deniz, <i>torunum benim</i>, you have succeeded in rousing me from my lethargy, though I cannot be sure how long it will last!<br />
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*** <i>You might wonder how I come to have a Turkish grandson. I also have a Brazilian granddaughter, Bruna (whom I still think of as Bruninha, even though she is now married and a mother). It's no mystery: I like to collect bright young people to keep my brain from atrophying.</i><br />
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Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-67992576057414482332018-06-21T12:18:00.001+01:002018-06-21T12:21:09.149+01:00Mrs Trellis gets in touch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Dear Mrs Scrote, your long silence had me preoccupated for a while, so I was relieved to hear from a mutual friend that the rumbles of your death were greatly exaggerated. It seems that you are not dead, just sleeping a lot more than you used to.</i><br />
<i>That is a condition I understand well, having been married for years to the late Mr Trellis, who always appeared to be asleep even when he was awake. I used to pop into his room from time to time, and the only way I could be certain he hadn't shuffled of his mortal coil was the fact that the tea in his cup had gone down by an inch or so.</i><br />
<i>Forgive me if I don't write more at this time, but, like you, I have very little lead left in my pencil.</i><br />
<i>Yours respectably</i><br />
BTrellis, Mrs, widow, retd, still open to offers.<br />
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Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-76545665864575613402016-04-08T06:20:00.002+01:002016-04-08T06:20:42.369+01:00Please think of the children<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If you have a moment, please read the following:<br />
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<b>http://capx.co/somebody-please-think-of-the-children/</b></div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-25427074966343373202016-03-24T11:38:00.001+00:002016-03-24T11:38:16.562+00:00Turning a blind eye is cowardice<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Even allowing for tabloid sensationalism, this is a gruesome story**. Nobody comes out of it well: local authority, local police, social services and so on, They all turned a blind eye because of the tyranny of Political Correctness, a wicked mechanism that suppresses freedom of expression and straight dealing. Please resist it whenever you can.</div>
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**Rotherham is not the only town where Asian gangs groomed and abused young girls. It was only when the first prosecution was brought in Oxford that other local authorities realised they could no longer sit on inconvenient truths.</div>
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Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-89120893089618879842016-03-24T11:32:00.000+00:002016-03-24T11:32:08.058+00:00Reparations for what?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8GEelv54SBp0wZQE2SlmQNltgj2V4s55x6bXQFHacfaGZvHmkTnNnNExHzWwdxF8xNpF8CcGp3V3i-Xboisullbxu5bM3Vj8YD-rrvHbsq_KfAhEVfyf6y7IfFFzRNmDQmldR/s1600/reparaawtions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8GEelv54SBp0wZQE2SlmQNltgj2V4s55x6bXQFHacfaGZvHmkTnNnNExHzWwdxF8xNpF8CcGp3V3i-Xboisullbxu5bM3Vj8YD-rrvHbsq_KfAhEVfyf6y7IfFFzRNmDQmldR/s320/reparaawtions.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
This mantra about "Reparations" really is a distortion. Apart from the lack of logic, it ignores certain historical realities. When I was in Tanzania, I visit a coastal settlement called Bagamoyo, about 40 Km north of Dar-es-Salaam. I then went inland about a 90-minute journey to the ruins of a settlement called Kaole. Both settlements were built and run by Arab slave traders. They paid Bantu tribesmen to go into the interior and kidnap people from peaceful settlements. The captives were brought first to Kaole for processing and then marched down to Bagamoyo on the coast, from where they were shipped abroad to wherever there was a market for slaves. So, the idea that it's all the white man's fault is inaccurate.<br />
What is particularly sad is the distortion in that child's mind as she raises her fist in anger, convinced that all white people are wicked and must therefore pay her in some way.<br />
My saying this opens me to charges of being racist or fascist or whatever is the latest PC insult. It will not surprise you to know, dear reader, that I don't give a shit.</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-50501125790440175692016-03-24T04:44:00.001+00:002016-03-27T07:29:24.676+01:00The Easily-enticed Bell-end Pecker<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I am quite pleased with
my dick. Over the years it has given me lots and lots of pleasure,
and relatively few problems. So what follows are observations rather
than criticisms.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Dicks, as every man
knows, tend to lead a life of their own. You're with a lovely lady,
it's all shaping up fine, but at the critical moment, just as you don
your matador's cape to administer the <i>coup de grace</i>, the
Imperial Todger goes into a sulk, and hangs there drooping like the
last turkey on a butcher's slab. Conversely, you are in a
social gathering or at a business meeting, and suddenly for no reason
the Knobbly Ape stands to attention, tenting your pants, and
throbbing like a blind cobbler's thumb. Mega-embarrassment and
frustration in both situations, because there's not a lot you can do
with a limp dick, and there's even less you can do with a stiff one
if you're in the middle of a meeting of your local Parish Church
Council.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I have no explanation
for this phenomenon. It's probably the fleshly equivalent of the
apparent contrariness of <i><b>things,</b></i> what the Germans call
<i>“die Tuecke des Objekts”</i>, the sheer bloody-mindedness of
inanimate objects.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There is of course a
condition known to an older generation as “pizzle-proud”, which
can give an old rake the illusion in the early hours of the morning
that the Cherry-capped Dangler is experiencing a new lease of life.
But before he can nudge the Memsahib into a cooperative experience,
it's gone back to its normal happy flaccid state, where, to quote the
schoolgirl who asked her grandpa what a penis was, and when he showed
her, said: <i>“Oh, I see, it's like a prick, only smaller.”</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Is there a female
equivalent of this phenomenon? Delicacy prevents me from inquiring
further, though any comments from the ladies would be most welcome.
But please put your reply in a plain brown envelope: this is a family
channel.</div>
<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-47112723399504690522016-02-17T17:30:00.000+00:002016-02-17T17:30:03.263+00:00How to make the perfect cup of tea<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>These notes are for
my American grandson, Harry. Harry, this is how Grandpa makes a cup
of tea.</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
1 Switch kettle switch
to ON.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
2 Switch kettle switch
to OFF. Fill with water.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
3 Repeat Action 1.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
4 Wipe spilled water
from round the kettle and the teapot.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
5 Forget to warm the
teapot. Say bad word.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
6 Take down tea caddy
and put 1.5 teaspoons of tea into the teapot.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
7 Put tea caddy back,
and wipe up spilled tealeaves from round the pot.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
8 When water boils,
pour too much over the tealeaves and close lid.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
9 Open lid and stir
tea. Close lid.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
10 Repeat Action 4.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
11 Pick up dishcloth
from the floor and put it in the sink.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
12 Set timer for four
minutes.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
13 Go to study, check
email. Remember tea after 15-20 minutes.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
14 Say bad word. Repeat
as necessary.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
14 Go back to kitchen,
pour tea into cup. Forget the strainer. Say bad word.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
15 Add milk to taste
and stir.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
16 Look at tea, then
pour it in the sink.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
17 Go back to Action 1
and repeat sequence ad lib.</div>
<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-64140884975395450332016-02-08T04:11:00.000+00:002016-02-08T04:11:01.443+00:00Serenity it is, then<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwwGMRwInMWITuafVygiWK0QBjVc_Up0UYYn4ErIf65f6ooT17z5KwReQSE8A5OzngYKpDxnJAf21f_1lQAcblioWe-b2Cksry9sgMFejE_hOA4o6584P7gYTKclnHGKMX7DP/s1600/Harry+and+Kiki+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwwGMRwInMWITuafVygiWK0QBjVc_Up0UYYn4ErIf65f6ooT17z5KwReQSE8A5OzngYKpDxnJAf21f_1lQAcblioWe-b2Cksry9sgMFejE_hOA4o6584P7gYTKclnHGKMX7DP/s640/Harry+and+Kiki+2016.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
With all the gloom that pervades the media these days, I was beginning to become despondent.<br />
<br />
And then my daughter sent me this photograph of my Californian grandchildren, the twins Kiki and Harry, dressed up for some formal occasion.<br />
<br />
When I saw it, <b><i>"my heart soared like a hawk"</i></b>, as Chief Dan George exclaimed when his grandson reappeared after a long absence.<br />
<br />
So, much as I want to be a Grumpy Old Man these days, I realise that there are forces conspiring against me, causing - as in the case of this photograph - a big smile on my face and a warm glow in my chest.<br />
<br />
I know when I am beaten: I will just have to put up with being serene for a while.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-59294126543731459172015-12-12T11:48:00.004+00:002015-12-12T11:49:11.116+00:00Poem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="LEFT" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.35cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 1;">
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.35cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 1;">
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mary
had a little bike, </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.35cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 1;">
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.35cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 1;">
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">it
was painted red and yellow. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.35cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 1;">
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.35cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 1;">
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Every
where the front wheel went, </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.35cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 1;">
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 0.35cm;">the
back wheel used to follow.</span></div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-5313188255849004142015-02-25T08:09:00.000+00:002015-02-25T08:09:03.353+00:00Oliver Sacks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am grateful to Mary Colwell for drawing my attention to <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/02/19/opinion/oliver-sacks-on-learning-he-has-terminal-cancer.html" target="_blank">THIS</a> article from the New York Times. One paragraph in particular resonated with me:<br />
<br />
[QUOTE]<br />
<i>I have been increasingly conscious, for the last 10 years or so, of
deaths among my contemporaries. My generation is on the way out, and
each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of
myself. There will be no one like us when we are gone, but then there is
no one like anyone else, ever. When people die, they cannot be
replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate —
the genetic and neural fate — of every human being to be a unique
individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own
death.</i><br />
[UNQUOTE]<br />
<br />
<i><br /></i></div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-72567098521765737442015-02-25T00:57:00.002+00:002015-02-25T00:58:36.643+00:00What didn't you say?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l3P7xgjBRuc62TkHACswxRwJQg1_mN9DFISbM736x3D6HeuRgOQaubDlxB3I0xUKKUq_FCGRZbBE1HDxz78-B74B4hoXowqJv9y7XS_0aZTzUNiTExSIO3TgCLd4h0oPqwZM/s1600/Asch.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l3P7xgjBRuc62TkHACswxRwJQg1_mN9DFISbM736x3D6HeuRgOQaubDlxB3I0xUKKUq_FCGRZbBE1HDxz78-B74B4hoXowqJv9y7XS_0aZTzUNiTExSIO3TgCLd4h0oPqwZM/s1600/Asch.png" height="175" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I can remember being asked if I would give a presentation at a forthcoming conference and I declined. When they asked me why, I said it was because I had nothing to say. They looked baffled, but it was true: I saw no point in talking for the sake of talking. Things are very different in my scrotage: nowadays it's difficult to STOP me talking.</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-85582831163363135482015-02-05T07:00:00.000+00:002015-02-05T07:00:58.863+00:00 Haddenham, Thursday, 5 February, 0630<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>[In order to pass the time between sneezes, I just composed and posted the following email to my grandchildren, who are variously in Auckland NZ, San Diego CA and Florida]</i><br />
<br />
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: black; font-family: trebuchet ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVEts_17ZstdBg5GPJjepH5rd99w1wDCcAL4swD1AnvGOUH7QT4XrcDdnl6ne-q02NQAY8yWC9_dG65tglac7TC-7SeFBGmLK45nALaJ9jq50Ijpd8DWSneMuAW8_aeut5fP4p/s1600/s04_RTR3DY0P.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVEts_17ZstdBg5GPJjepH5rd99w1wDCcAL4swD1AnvGOUH7QT4XrcDdnl6ne-q02NQAY8yWC9_dG65tglac7TC-7SeFBGmLK45nALaJ9jq50Ijpd8DWSneMuAW8_aeut5fP4p/s1600/s04_RTR3DY0P.jpg" height="245" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: black; font-family: trebuchet ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;">
As
predicted, the snow has returned. Haddenham is a whiteout again.
Fortunately I ordered a large quantity of salt last winter so I can keep
vital pathways clear, though it's never difficult to find an untreated
icy patch on which to slip, fall and crack a kneecap.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: black; font-family: trebuchet ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;">
It's
not surprising that "fenitis" has set in: you wake up in the dark, it's
dark again by late afternoon; when the sky is overcast, it's even dark
during the day. The weather is unpredictable, but the chances are we
will have one or more of the following on any day: precipitation, cold,
nasty winds, plagues of frogs.... Even when the sky is blue and the sun
is showing, the brass monkey sits in the porch fearing for its
masculinity.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: black; font-family: trebuchet ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;">
The
bonus of all this is that at least you know you will not escape nasty
aches and pains, and, if you are really lucky, a cold or a bad chest
infection, leading to a visit to a doctor with a name like Ngondo or
Jalfrezi, who will agree that you don't look well and prescribe a course
of tabasco, paracetamol and little coloured beads.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: black; font-family: trebuchet ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;">
I
am not going to ask you lot how you are, because I know how you are:
tormented by warm pleasant days, balmy nights, wall-to-wall sunshine.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: black; font-family: trebuchet ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;">
I will write again soon: I don't see why you should escape my misery.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: black; font-family: trebuchet ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;">
<br /></div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: black; font-family: trebuchet ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;">
Grandpa/Grandad</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: black; font-family: trebuchet ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;">
<br /></div>
PS I lied about the plague of frogs. The rest is, of course, entirely true.</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-17726941463398983352015-01-24T17:05:00.003+00:002015-01-24T17:05:32.259+00:00The Cliche Police<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJaJdAfb9gf01D8-tkvdJn5769KpoErGTS7r271LMXB7MZxZYHRgV-7Md7FfAYB0oYLp7M4EItIVzJ1r802CDjyVW-4jHu4evitfJwlLWLaY7LLLzOcDKUVH-7WPOkfLq3n07q/s1600/baguette31134_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJaJdAfb9gf01D8-tkvdJn5769KpoErGTS7r271LMXB7MZxZYHRgV-7Md7FfAYB0oYLp7M4EItIVzJ1r802CDjyVW-4jHu4evitfJwlLWLaY7LLLzOcDKUVH-7WPOkfLq3n07q/s400/baguette31134_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-67163651931134957132015-01-24T13:28:00.000+00:002015-01-24T13:28:37.437+00:00In case you wondered what noises French anlmals make....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 10.0pt;">"</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Tu le sais, bien sûr depuis longtemps, le coq chante, cocorico,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">la poule caquette,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">le chien aboie quand le cheval hennit</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">et que beugle le bœuf et meugle la vache,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">l'hirondelle gazouille,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">la colombe roucoule et le pinson ramage</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Les moineaux piaillent,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">le faisan et l'oie criaillent quand le dindon glousse</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">La grenouille coasse mais le corbeau croasse et la pie jacasse</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Et le chat comme le tigre miaule,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">l'éléphant barrit,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">l'âne braie, mais le cerf rait</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Le mouton bêle évidemment et bourdonne l'abeille</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">La biche brame quand le loup hurle.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Tu sais, bien sûr, tous ces cris-là mais sais-tu ? </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Que le canard nasille, les canards nasillardent !</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Que le bouc ou la chèvre chevrote</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Que le hibou hulule mais que la chouette, elle, chuinte</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Que le paon braille,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">que l'aigle trompète </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Sais-tu ?</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Que si la tourterelle roucoule,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">le ramier caracoule et que la bécasse croule</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">que la perdrix cacabe,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">que la cigogne craquette et que si le corbeau croasse,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">la corneille corbine et que le lapin glapit quand le lièvre vagit.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Tu sais tout cela ? Bien. Mais sais-tu, sais-tu ?</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Que l'alouette grisole, </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Tu ne le savais pas. Et peut-être ne sais-tu pas davantage</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">que le pivert picasse </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">C'est excusable !</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Ou que le sanglier grommelle,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">que le chameau blatère</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Et que c'est à cause du chameau que l'on déblatère ! Tu ne sais pas non plus peut-être</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">que la huppe pupule </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Et
je ne sais pas non plus si on l'appelle en Limousin la pépue Parce
qu'elle pupule ou parce qu'elle fait son nid avec de la chose qui pue.
Qu'importe ! Mais c'est joli </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">: la huppe pupule ! </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">Et encore sais-tu ? Sais-tu</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">que
la souris, la petite souris grise: Devine ! La petite souris grise
chicote. Avoue qu'il serait dommage d'ignorer que la souris chicote et
plus dommage encore de ne pas savoir, </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt;">que le geai, Que le geai cajole !" </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-43059033073103935742015-01-20T07:12:00.002+00:002015-01-20T07:12:59.232+00:00Be prepared<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE71lsY8Kp_zL4w4LHTcWb3bKd_12NRMRNlA78jNDjiyKQA3HZ7K0gEn4R8xbifBUxkBY6JmbZuSMrUBcrAGf0Sxyj0tMhniXZXA04i9DqEgSnIiOJK8RPqrEJH28e4fPe74Q3/s1600/hardhatd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE71lsY8Kp_zL4w4LHTcWb3bKd_12NRMRNlA78jNDjiyKQA3HZ7K0gEn4R8xbifBUxkBY6JmbZuSMrUBcrAGf0Sxyj0tMhniXZXA04i9DqEgSnIiOJK8RPqrEJH28e4fPe74Q3/s320/hardhatd.jpg" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is a new housing development in the village, and we were asked to visit to advise on providing Swift nesting accommodation. As you can see, I went well prepared.<br />
The meeting took place in a Portacabin and we didn't go onsite at all.<br />
But at least I was highly visible at all times, and nothing shat on my head.</div>
</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-16988582783505173622015-01-16T08:27:00.002+00:002015-01-16T08:27:30.098+00:00Don't mention the war!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 28.5pt;">Oxford University warns authors not to write about bacon, pork to avoid offending Muslims</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 10.5pt;">Thursday, January 15, 2015</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
largest university press in the world has warned its authors not to
mention pigs or pork in their books to avoid offending Muslims and Jews.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<a href="http://www.washingtontimes.com/topics/oxford-university-press/" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #015fb6; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt; text-decoration: none;">Oxford University Press (OUP)</span></a><span style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <span lang="EN-US">explained
that their books must take into consideration other cultures of the
world and must avoid mentioning pigs or “anything else which could be
perceived as pork,” </span></span><a href="http://www.ibtimes.co.uk/oxford-university-press-bans-mention-pork-pigs-books-avoid-offending-muslims-jews-1483378" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #015fb6; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt; text-decoration: none;">the International Business Times reported</span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
move was revealed during a discussion on free speech during BBC Radio
4’s “Today,” following last week’s terror attacks in Paris.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I’ve got a letter here that was sent out by </span><a href="http://www.washingtontimes.com/topics/oxford-university-press/" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #015fb6; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt; text-decoration: none;">OUP</span></a><span style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <span lang="EN-US">to an author doing something for young people.” Presenter </span></span><a href="http://www.washingtontimes.com/topics/jim-naughtie/" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #015fb6; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt; text-decoration: none;">Jim Naughtie</span></a><span style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <span lang="EN-US">said. “Among the things prohibited in the text that was commissioned by </span></span><a href="http://www.washingtontimes.com/topics/oxford-university-press/" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #015fb6; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt; text-decoration: none;">OUP</span></a><span style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <span lang="EN-US">was the following: Pigs plus sausages, or anything else which could be perceived as pork.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Now,
if a respectable publisher, tied to an academic institution, is saying
you’ve got to write a book in which you cannot mention pigs because some
people might be offended, it’s just ludicrous. It is just a joke,” he
said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The move was condemned by Muslim Labour MP Khalid Mahmood, the Times reported.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“That’s
ludicrous,” he said. “That’s absolute, utter nonsense and when people
go too far that actually brings the whole discussion into disrepute.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 19.2pt;">
<a href="http://www.washingtontimes.com/topics/oxford-university-press/" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #015fb6; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt; text-decoration: none;">OUP</span></a><span style="color: #3e3e3e; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <span lang="EN-US">defended the move by saying it needs to make its books available to the “widest possible audience.”</span></span></div>
</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-52277681721182253202015-01-15T13:11:00.001+00:002015-01-15T13:11:04.429+00:00Is it 2015 already?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm; }</style>
<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It is in the nature of
blogs and bloggers that long silences occur. There is always a
reason, but in my case, I would like to reassure my readers that
“rumours of my death are greatly exaggerated”.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Years back when I was
very much on the lecture circuit, I was asked to give a talk at an
upcoming conference where I had in the past given presentations. I
declined saying that I had nothing to say. It sounds a bit brutal but
it was true. I see no point in talking for the sake of talking. So my
blog has been quiet lately because, frankly, nothing of interest has
happened - though I could scream reams about some things that are
going on in the world.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Anyway, this is a note
to respond to a follower, Chris, who asked me about something from
one of my blog postings. I had written that my first attempt at
kissing a girl was when I was about five, and the victim of my
advances was Margaret Benbow, the youngest of the three children who
lived in the farm opposite. She spurned my advances, quite properly.
It seems that Chris was a regular playmate of Margaret Benbow and has
asked me what happened to her. Given that I left my natal village of
Hadley some sixty years ago, it is not surprising that I have no
answer. In fact, not only has Margaret Benbow disappeared from my
view, but so has the village of Hadley, long buried under a lumpen
wen called Telford.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
If any of you wish to
know more of my doings, you could always take a peek at the Action
for Swifts blog at actionforswifts.blogspot.com. The coming year
promises to be even busier with more nextbox projects and lots of
swift monitoring.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Happy New Year to Chris
and all, may your best day in 2014 be your worst day in 2015.</div>
</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-54351594449757012772014-09-04T09:50:00.000+01:002014-09-04T09:50:31.971+01:00It's good to have a plan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm; }A:link { }</style>
<br />
<div class="western">
<i>The following copied from the Yahoo News page: </i></div>
<div class="western">
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
As the Isis (now known as Islamic State) terror
group continues to consolidate its self-declared "caliphate"
in territory seized in its march across north-eastern <a href="https://uk.news.yahoo.com/syria/">Syria</a>
and northern Iraq, a map has been released that details the
"ten-state solution" it hopes to achieve over the next
decade.</div>
<div class="western">
Walid Shoebat, a former Palestine Liberation
Organisation (PLO) terrorist turned Islamic scholar, has translated
the Arabic map of the expansionist caliphate to show the Balkans,
Spain and Portugal are long-term targets for the militants. </div>
<div class="western">
The group, which stemmed from al-Qaeda and the
Salafist ideology, rejects the notion of nationalism, aiming to
remove secular governments and replace them with a pan-Islamic
caliphate.</div>
<div class="western">
Worringly, the Balkan states would fall under
"Orobpa" and Portugal and Spain would fall under "Andalus",
according to this expansionist vision.</div>
<div class="western">
In the ten-state solution, Kurdistan, Iraq and
Syria (Sham) would be the primary fixtures of the caliphate, with
Lebanon included in Sham. </div>
<div class="western">
Further secular states that would fall under IS's
control include Turkey (Anatolia) as well as the Commonwealth of
Independent States (Gogaz), which include Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan,
Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan.</div>
<div class="western">
"Khorasan" would include Iran,
Afghanistan, Pakistan and potentially Indonesia, while Hijaz would
include the Gulf States and Yemen would stand on its own.</div>
<div class="western">
"Qinana" would see Egypt, Sudan and
Somalia in the caliphate, while the other states of North Africa -
Libya, Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco and Mauritania - would fall under
"Maghreb".</div>
<div class="western">
There are worries IS will continue to grow as
Islamic militants from Afghanistan and Pakistan, linked to the
Taliban, consider joining forces with the group. </div>
<div class="western">
An Afghan militant commander, named as "Mirwais",
said if IS proved to be a true caliphate, his forces would pledge
allegiance to the group. </div>
<div class="western">
"We know Daish [Arabic term for Isis] and we
have links with some Daish members. We are waiting to see if they
meet the requirements for an Islamic caliphate," he said.</div>
<div class="western">
"If we find they do, we are sure that our
leadership will announce their allegiance to them. They are great
mujahideen. We pray for them and if we don't see a problem in the way
they operate, we will join them."</div>
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm; }A:link { }</style>
<div class="western">
As the Isis (now known as Islamic State) terror
group continues to consolidate its self-declared "caliphate"
in territory seized in its march across north-eastern <a href="https://uk.news.yahoo.com/syria/">Syria</a>
and northern Iraq, a map has been released that details the
"ten-state solution" it hopes to achieve over the next
decade.</div>
<div class="western">
Walid Shoebat, a former Palestine Liberation
Organisation (PLO) terrorist turned Islamic scholar, has translated
the Arabic map of the expansionist caliphate to show the Balkans,
Spain and Portugal are long-term targets for the militants. </div>
<div class="western">
The group, which stemmed from al-Qaeda and the
Salafist ideology, rejects the notion of nationalism, aiming to
remove secular governments and replace them with a pan-Islamic
caliphate.</div>
<div class="western">
Worringly, the Balkan states would fall under
"Orobpa" and Portugal and Spain would fall under "Andalus",
according to this expansionist vision.</div>
<div class="western">
In the ten-state solution, Kurdistan, Iraq and
Syria (Sham) would be the primary fixtures of the caliphate, with
Lebanon included in Sham. </div>
<div class="western">
Further secular states that would fall under IS's
control include Turkey (Anatolia) as well as the Commonwealth of
Independent States (Gogaz), which include Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan,
Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan.</div>
<div class="western">
"Khorasan" would include Iran,
Afghanistan, Pakistan and potentially Indonesia, while Hijaz would
include the Gulf States and Yemen would stand on its own.</div>
<div class="western">
"Qinana" would see Egypt, Sudan and
Somalia in the caliphate, while the other states of North Africa -
Libya, Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco and Mauritania - would fall under
"Maghreb".</div>
<div class="western">
There are worries IS will continue to grow as
Islamic militants from Afghanistan and Pakistan, linked to the
Taliban, consider joining forces with the group. </div>
<div class="western">
An Afghan militant commander, named as "Mirwais",
said if IS proved to be a true caliphate, his forces would pledge
allegiance to the group. </div>
<div class="western">
"We know Daish [Arabic term for Isis] and we
have links with some Daish members. We are waiting to see if they
meet the requirements for an Islamic caliphate," he said.</div>
<div class="western">
"If we find they do, we are sure that our
leadership will announce their allegiance to them. They are great
mujahideen. We pray for them and if we don't see a problem in the way
they operate, we will join them."</div>
</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-76199173373416677062014-09-03T04:18:00.002+01:002014-09-03T04:18:12.367+01:00Pipile pipile<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1EK3CDNP7mpjasqaxNIYD_7Sfqxk2O-MawxVyUuPQn5UqF-Lpfn-w4FizOg5SEm6DVDmmdmaP9dbsyloaA2QrDHHiSvnUUhgAxv6zyPxaX-CWGNH_ZwxdvrFgq8_bd4BrIEGC/s1600/trinidad-piping-guan-restall-painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1EK3CDNP7mpjasqaxNIYD_7Sfqxk2O-MawxVyUuPQn5UqF-Lpfn-w4FizOg5SEm6DVDmmdmaP9dbsyloaA2QrDHHiSvnUUhgAxv6zyPxaX-CWGNH_ZwxdvrFgq8_bd4BrIEGC/s1600/trinidad-piping-guan-restall-painting.jpg" height="320" width="231" /></a></div>
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm; }</style>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
This is the Piping Guan
of Trinidad, a seriously endangered endemic. It has some wonderful
vernacular names:
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>English:
</b>Blue-throated Piping Guan, Common Piping
Guan, Trinidad piping guan, Trinidad Piping-Guan</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><b>Spanish:
</b>Pava de Trinidad</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><b>Estonian:
</b>paruk-pugalhoko</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><b>French:
</b>Pénélope à gorge bleue, Pénélope
siffleuse, Pénélope siffleuse de la Trinité</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><b>Italian:
</b>Guan fischiatore di Trinidad</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><b>Japanese:
</b>torinidaadonakishakukei</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><b>Polish:
</b>Grdacz trinidadzki</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><b>Russian:
</b>Белошапочный гуан, Синегорлая
абурри</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: small;">A
bird like this is worth saving!</span></div>
<br /></div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-22512548546329750932014-09-02T12:46:00.001+01:002014-09-02T12:46:28.763+01:00God bless Queen Alex!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigKCY-E97m4sFtQR_sy0jcp-IZVtc0TKsEtYtYhtsXCJ8hc4A42lq-zVfAnfYe2bmGzkR-DRr30kAhWxfA2bNXJHnSH0BMaq5CTMOlA3-17tzhVouAoV-HTxlZFWC9Mbg9TYpr/s1600/s3.reutersmedia.net.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigKCY-E97m4sFtQR_sy0jcp-IZVtc0TKsEtYtYhtsXCJ8hc4A42lq-zVfAnfYe2bmGzkR-DRr30kAhWxfA2bNXJHnSH0BMaq5CTMOlA3-17tzhVouAoV-HTxlZFWC9Mbg9TYpr/s1600/s3.reutersmedia.net.jpg" height="145" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So, it looks as if Her
Majesty Queen Alex Salmond is going to win the battle for an
independent Scotland. How do you feel if you are English? I can only
speak for myself and the irrational feeling I have that if the Scots
don't love me any more, why should I love them? Then, warming to my
theme of alienation, I comfort myself that I don't like their
cuisine, I don't like their accent, I don't like their weather, I
don't like their music, I don't like bloody Hogmanay - in fact, I am
feeling really good now about the impending divorce. Who needs
friends whose idea of good food is haggis or neaps and tatties, whose
idea of music is the strangulation of a bladder with a pipe attached,
whose idea of manly dress is a pleated skirt and no knickers?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Goodness, I feel so
much better now. Queen Alex, you can kiss my a...e, it's good
riddance to the lot of you.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But if, against the
odds, the Scottish people vote NO to independence, I want you to know
that I love the Highlands, I love malt whisky, I love the romanticism
of the Isles, I love the poetry of Robert Burns, I love Scottish
wildlife, and I once kissed a very pretty girl from Edinburgh.
Welcome back, even if you never left.</div>
</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28832751.post-42951036306724403612014-08-27T06:56:00.001+01:002014-08-27T06:56:36.322+01:00Plod plays it safe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLQvobCK8rDIaegBYEXLaNqjih5sKgWjJBzZGLKmiq2xxlBJIgImaximqqd3qRQb0vzE78jTjdQkXXJ3MddXzJZujme3C9Tb2aa88QBk0IOzPRDN98W6SxjgWNw02McglFrgd/s1600/index.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLQvobCK8rDIaegBYEXLaNqjih5sKgWjJBzZGLKmiq2xxlBJIgImaximqqd3qRQb0vzE78jTjdQkXXJ3MddXzJZujme3C9Tb2aa88QBk0IOzPRDN98W6SxjgWNw02McglFrgd/s1600/index.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="western">
<i>The following is based on a recent item in Yahoo News. </i></div>
<div class="western">
QUOTE</div>
<div class="western">
An investigation has found that at least 1,400
children were exploited in the UK town of Rotherham*** between 1997 and
2013 and that there was a “collective failure” by authorities to
stop the abuse. The Rotherham Borough Council published a report
today which said that it is “hard to describe the appalling nature
of the abuse that child victims suffered”.
</div>
<div class="western">
“They were raped by multiple perpetrators,
trafficked to other towns and cities in the north of England,
abducted, beaten, and intimidated.”</div>
<div class="western">
The inquiry was launched last September to look at
how Rotherham Council’s children’s services department dealt with
cases involving child exploitation. The report gives examples of children who had been
doused in petrol, threatened with guns and made to watch brutally
violent rapes. The victims were told they “would be next if
they told anyone”.
</div>
<div class="western">
Girls as young as 11 were raped by large numbers
of male perpetrators, the majority of whom were of Pakistani
heritage.</div>
<div class="western">
The independent investigation concluded that this
abuse is “not confined to the past but continues to this day”. The report says that over the first 12 years
covered by the Inquiry, there were “blatant collective failures”
of the political and officer leadership. The author, Professor Alexis
Jay, also said the council underplayed the scale of the problem and
that South Yorkshire Police failed to prioritise the issue.
</div>
<div class="western">
This is the fourth report into the situation in
Rotherham. </div>
<div class="western">
UNQUOTE</div>
<div class="western">
<i>Why, do you think, were the local authorities and the police so reluctant to investigate this situation? Careful with your answer or you might be accused of being racist. </i></div>
<div class="western">
<i>If this is the FOURTH report, the chances are that still nothing will be done. In the meantime, let's all have fun following the prurient accounts of the Yewtree pursuit of Cliff Richard, Freddy Starr and other geriatric celebrities, against most of whom no evidence has been produced.</i></div>
<div class="western">
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
***Sadly this kind of abuse is happening in several other UK cities. More <a href="http://www.thepressweb.com/2013/05/18/pakistani-gangs-grooming-abusing-young-white-girls-tackled.html#.U_1w2Ehflz9" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
</div>
Jake Allsophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18352337319705848623noreply@blogger.com1