Yes, that’s right, Chronic the edge-blog.
The Capital of Custard year is behind us and we look to the future of our great city, reborn, renewed, regenerated and being architecturally ransacked for a quick buck by mindless speculators thanks to our idiot planners and so-called learning establishments. All out to make a killing. They probably will with some of the rubbish they are building. Just as well nobody wants to or can afford to live in them.
Well the new Blog - this Missus, you are looking at it now - was announced at a spectacular 10minute celebrity packed launch ceremony at Herbert’s new Slappy Hour Bar.
But I’ll tell you what Missus, that Herbert’s as mad as a hatter; it must be all the hairspray he breathes in. We’d only been there a few minutes - just standing at the bar asking if he had any nuts - when he comes charging over and starts hitting us with a sweeping brush, saying we are not allowed to stand and we all have to sit down! I wouldn’t mind but a few minutes later he did the same in the urinals. Burst in like a madman, “Don’t you dare wee up my Italian marble stalls” he was screaming, “go and do it sitting down in the cubicles.” The next thing you know, one of the bar staff is in there, drying them off with his sleeve. I’m glad I didn’t have any nuts now.
Now before I get to the main points, just to put your minds at rest - following the MIPIM report - Mrs Hewitt is now back after her month in the Bastille, after her drugs arrest. “Mipim The Mule” the local papers called her. Fancy the French customs accusing a woman of her standing (4ft 10ins in her surgical stockings) of being a drugs runner. She has enough problems getting to Boots and back for her Fibrogel.
Mrs Hewitt's Cell Mate Harry
Now on the night in question, the Walton’s, who had been singing bringing in the sheaves around the Pianola, received a telegram from Sue Ellen, who lived at the bottom of Walton’s Mountain. It said there was a critter dressed as Roy Orbison going to a Babe Ruth look-alike competition, a poking and a shoving evil little scriptures into the mailboxes of the towns folk.
Hertz got into a scuffle during which his trousers came off. It was noticed that he had bundles of the pink leaflets tucked in his underpants containing dreadful smears. I am not surprised. The actual crime committed was not the smears, but that the leaflets contained no publishing address and pretended to be from a fictitious floral society with the initials of what was supposedly, the International Allotments Group. (IAG) It turned out, like many criminals, that he was leaving a cunning clue and the initials actually stood for; “I Am Guilty”
I thought Grotty Cash was bad enough with the Fireman in charge and the legacy of Sir Diddy, not to mention the little Shitzu or Rottweiler, or whatever they call him, that he left behind. But the Wirral is getting just as bad, they are being run by Duane Doberman from Bilko.
Cultural vandals, hell bent on destroying their public libraries and flogging off the buildings to save a few quid.
Once they are gone they are gone forever. Now don’t get me wrong missus, I know they are also looking to close some museums and leisure centres and seriously; do we really need a Guinea Pig Baths? That’s equal opportunities gone mad. Anyway, they’d probably drown in it and you’d have to fish them out with a net. What psychological damage would that do to little Johnny or Kylie; seeing their furry little friend gasping it’s last breath? Actually there would probably be a queue of the little buggers, lobbing them in or skimming them like stones. Oi! That’s a rabbit go on clear off. Terrible, it’s probably the RSPCA trying to get that shut down.
Did they learn nothing from our year as Capital of Custard? What a marvellous idea, to close down a dozen libraries, some of which are in the most deprived areas and in "The National Year of Reading” as the protest signs outside the Town Hall highlighted.
Now unfortunately the crowd turned ugly – and then they jostled and pushed him as well. He ended up being backed into the pool before he finally agreed to another meeting. They do put that dye in the water, you know?
And why are they doing it? Well one of the reasons is a projected £16 million budget deficit in the next year. Is that all? £16 million? Well we all fell about laughing at that. We had £64 million deficit mate, and only three pounds twenty seven in the reserves!
So they need to save £3million by shutting them and then promise to put in £20million investment. By Jove, that’s clever! I went to the last public meeting, disguised as a certain Welsh windbag and I made a brief speech that I think has since had a major impact. Here is my speech.
“Where is the promised £20Million coming from? I'll tell you what happens with impossible promises. You start with phoney consultations. They are then pickled into a rigid dogs-dinner, a con, and you go through the years sticking to that, out-dated, misplaced, irrelevant to the real needs, and you end in the grotesque chaos of a Labour/Lib-dem council—a Labour/Lib-Dem council—hiking taxes to scuttle round a city handing out voluntary severance notices to its own workers. I'm telling you - and you'll listen by Jove - you can't play politics with people's jobs and with people's library and leisure services.”
It was all too much for one local, Derek from Hooton, who walked out saying he was moving to Cyprus.
I do hope that some of my readers will forgive the paraphrasing of the welsh weasel, Neil Comb-over but I can now tell you that at the 11th hour, thanks to my intervention and a few thousand protests, I suppose, as staff were just about to be handed their severance cheques or sent packing to Ellesmere Port to continue throwing books on the bonfires, my message was picked up by International BSN Rescue and Thunderburnham was Go!
Yes, Missus, diddy Andy Burnham ( an appropriate name) the Custard Secretary. He has stepped in at the 11th hour. So your Barbara Cartland’s are safe – for the time being. A complete halt was ordered as part of a national review of library services putting a stop, for now, to the cultural devastation across the Wirral. By Jove! Well done barmy Burnham. Shove that up your back catalogue.
Of course the problem now is that they had been so busy forcing the staff to close the libraries down before anyone could stop them, they had started giving away or selling off books, shelves, tables, chairs and anything else they could flog in some of them. Direct instructions from the top. So now madam, if you want to pop in for a book, it’s best to bring your own - and take a deckchair as well just in case. A very modern approach, and better still they can’t fine you!
Maybe the Fireman isn’t so bad compared to Private Doberman. Ahh I am just being silly now, nobody beats our Wally. They might even make a fine double act though.
You couldn’t read about it! Well not if they’d had their way.
Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty Bye!
Be nice to each other