Bobby 47
Jul 8, 2015
Corporate abuse of disabled people needn’t sound the death knell for your career
This, beyond any doubt, is the finest piece of work I’ve ever read. Remarkably good and the only downside to it all is; Cardin will never again be able to match or even surpass this magnificent body of work that’ll have Fowler and the rest of them muttering, ‘who will rid me of this turbulent blogger.’
I’d happily add to it, but I can’t. It’s pointless trying. Congratulations Paul. Very, very well done.
Bobby 47
Jul 2, 2015
Council leader sells off strategic green space, claims he’s rescued it for us …but what happened next?
What is it about ‘us’, the people, the ones who ultimately fund and fuel this slavish obedience to ‘big commercial business’ that allows ‘them’ to do these things to us without any obvious sanctions aimed in their direction when and after bad arrangements are made and are clearly not in the interests of people, but very obviously in the interests of the asset strippers and the developers. Why does it happen. Why can it happen?
You’d think, after what ‘they’ did to us and our Country post 2008, something may have changed that made ‘us’ conclude, ‘No. Not in our name. We ain’t doing that’. Sadly, the opposite appears to be the case. The sheer scale of the asset stripping and the willing compliance by bloody those we voted to protect us appears to have actually increased. And worse, nowadays, once they’ve chosen the path and route on which they and only they wish to travel, they completely ignore us, and do whatever it is they’ve been directed to do by those that will benefit financially from the outcome of the aforementioned asset stripping.
It surely can’t be just them, these oily money grabbing bastards that hold sway over all of us! There has to be something that’s directly linked to ‘us’ that allows this social destruction for commercial gain to take place. God only bloody knows what it is about ‘us’ that’s at fault here, but there must be something that tells Councillor Davies and his colleagues that ‘this lot are as dull as ditch water. Fuck Um. Let’s just do it and damn the consequences’!
I mean, they take an area, a lovely green space place that generations of people have enjoyed, sell it or lease it for two hundred and fifty years to some ‘suit’ who’ll never walk the streets of your home, allow it to be flattened and sanction the trees to be felled and then you tell them, ‘we’ve done you all a huge bloody favour. We’ve saved you millions and created you a few hundred low paid, zero hour contract jobs that’ll allow your kids to serve me a helping of chips, a bloody bread roll and a rotten bloody burger that’ll sustain you through the agony and ordeal of all the other shit that’s languishing in the pipeline and will be tipped over your bloody heads once you’ve all calmed down and recovered from the fond memories you once held for that silly little green space.’
That’s pretty much it. That’s all it is. Nothing else! Bloody greed and an overwhelming need and desire by Council Officers and Council elected leaders to do whatever is required to serve this fiscal monument to human stupidity that sees them get bloody richer and the people getting bloody poorer, without, may I bloody add, the golden opportunity to sit beneath a tree and enjoy a picnic meal with the family.
It’s truly desperate. Thoroughly depressing and there seems little we can do to halt the slide.
Bobby 47
Apr 22, 2015
What happened when I Googled “Council CEO passionate”? I got a horror show…
Bloody passionate! We all know what the real meaning of passionate is. We all do. It’s no mystery to us who live in the real world where blue sky thinking, sound bites and pointless gimmicks play no part in our mind numbingly boring lives that see us scramble from one month to another hopeful that we may just avoid increasing our personal debt and the Constable doesn’t catch us speeding two miles above thirty that’ll mean, to avoid the penalty points, we’ve all got trudge down to some Industrial Hut and sit there for half a bloody day listening to two retired Police Officers passionately dropping unboiled eggs on the floor howling, this is the wee infant child you’ve flattened and killed you evil bastard of a reckless driver.
Passionate my neighbours left testicle! I know what passionate is and its bugger all to do with Eric’s use of the word. My first introduction to this delightful expression, ‘I am very passionate’ was the blessed day my Latin teacher, a wonderful and beautiful woman kept me behind after the lesson because I’d been playing with my genitals, pulled me pants down, mounted me and rode me rotten upon a chalk covered table. And, at the conclusion of this violation, I distinctly remember thinking to myself, ‘my God what a passionate experience that was’. And thank God it happened I say because that was the first time in my adolescent life that I became familiar with the word ‘passion’.
I mean, presumably when Eric applied for the job of CEO upon the Wirral he must have been up against others equally as qualified as him. Clearly, nowadays within public service they must ultimately judge the candidates for the job on how passionate they are, can become or could become if ever they were made the winner of the contest. In Gods name, what must they have to do to demonstrate how bloody passionate they are?
Clearly, when you are one of several applicants and you know, you just know it in your bones that you’ve gotta ‘out passion’ your opponents you must have to put personal pride and dignity to one side and perform like a demented nutter displaying the full range of your abilities to display just how passionate you are capable of becoming whenever they slide you a sheet of paper that contains three paragraphs of text that explain why a thousand paper clips were returned to the source supplier because they weren’t up to the job of holding together receipts and invoices for a thousand taxi journeys made by Councillors who didn’t fancy getting clubbed to death by concerned ratepayers who’d gathered outside the Town Hall desperate to start the culling.
Whatever it was that won Eric this job, it was nothing at all to do with providing good service and good value for money to the rate paying people of the Wirral. It was, beyond any doubt in my mind, entirely about his demonstration of being passionate. God only knows what indignities that man subjected himself to and how many times he howled, ‘don’t pull me pants up yet. I’m having the time of me life bent over this oak table and I never want it to end’.
Wirral Residents Association
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