ELECTED MAYOR FOR LIVERPOOL CAMPAIGN.The campaign becomes a three horse race and one rooster as Herbert The hairdresser offers an alternative to the cuts as a fringe candidate.

Herbert enters race for Elected Mayor

By Jove Missus, what a beautiful day! What a beautiful day for running into the hairdressers naked, sitting upside down in the chair and saying how’s that for split ends?

Blimey! He’s back, you all cry as one. What’s got him out of rehab?


I haven’t been away Missus, I’ve been on Facebewk. Yes Facebewk, the great social nitworking site where you get to make friends from all around the world and then delete them. I have more friends on Facebewk than I could shake a stick at, and having seen some of the stuff they write about, I’m keeping hold of that bloody stick in case I ever meet any of them.

Now what you may also not know is that there is a campaign on Facebewk to have me as the first elected mayor for Liverpool.

I blogged about it many times in the past. You see Missus, a few years ago that bloke who used to do the weather for Northwest Tonight, Foghorn Leggarty, I say Leggarty, was always going round with a big roll of bus tickets trying to get people to write their names on them. He said if he could get 5000 signatures we could have a vote on an elected mayor. He was up to 4,500 he claimed and was turning up everywhere trying to get people to sign it, well only if it wasn't raining. Trouble is, one day when he was out canvassing for signatures at the Arriva bus depot, he put it down for a minute and one of the drivers walked off with it. So for the last five years, he’s been walking the streets of Liverpool muttering to himself and picking up all the discarded bus tickets looking for signed ones. It’s a terrible sad sight.

Foghorn Leggarty offered nugget of hope at last

But at the time, Foghorn was the only one arguing for an elected mayor so I tried to form an alliance with him and let him lead my campaign to be mayor, following fears and rumours that Professor Full Ripewind may stand.


You remember Professor Ripewind, scruffy bloke, big bushy scousebrow, looks like he's got two dead spaniels strapped to his head, and has a smile like a loose doner kebab.

If you remember, once Blair didn't give him his expected knighthood, he  suddenly became big mates with Cameron and Pickles instead. He was hoping to be the Czar for a Big Society Scouse Wedding, so they could get rid of all the museum and library staff and have them run instead by unemployed but experienced volunteers, which would mainly be the staff that have been made redundant in the first place. It’s what they call a “win-win” Anyway, they didn't make him the Czar and when everyone laughed, and the council opted out of anything to do with the Big Society nonesense, he got a right weed on saying he would be much better at doing things than the council, just like the way he saved Capital of Custard, when he took over 10 minutes before it started and claimed all the credit. The Custard Supremo, as the idiots at the Echo dubbed him and unfortunately, he and some people believe it and actually listen to him. The Echo loves him, they even let him write a column in the Post. Although nobody knows what the bleedin' hell he's talking about. Especially him.


Well we couldn’t risk him becoming Mayor, the man whose main contribution to our city of culture was the creation of the “Calm Down, Calm Down” image of Liverpool; all perms and tracksuits.

Because of him, visitors used to be frightened to eat in our restaurants in case there was a body in the pate. They were scared to come here in case Tommy McCardle hung them upside down in the back of Sayers. Even New Brighton was ruined by him when people stopped going for a swim in case they got entangled in Theresa’s cardigan.

That’s why I first decided to stand. He had to be stopped.  The Emmerdale Terrorist, as he’s known in Yorkshire, the Beckindale Butcher!  He had Archie Brooks burned to death. We can't let a man like that run our great city. But it all seemed to fizzle out and for a long time, it all went quiet.

Professor Full Ripewind. "I wouldn't let a hairdresser anywhere near me"

Just as well really, seeing as Foghorn Leggarty, I say Leggarty, ignored my offer and carried on trying to find his list. Then he started a new one and was regularly seen tormenting shoppers in Home Bargain trying to get them to sign it, although one day he wasted 5 hours trying to get a signature from the cardboard cut-out policeman by the entrance.

Since then he’s done the odd publicity stunt, like the time he climbed to the top of St John’s Beacon and unfurled a banner reading “An Elected Mayor for Liver” he couldn’t fit the rest on, well it was more of an old pillowcase than a banner. You couldn’t see it, or him. But it was lucky he had some wine gums on him as while he was up there, somebody closed the trap door and he was stuck up their for three days. He could have perished if it hadn’t been for Pete Pricerite on City F.OFF.  Peter was planning to abseil down it for charity and just popped up there to have a look for himself, just to see how high it was, after everybody was telling him that he didn’t need ropes on the actual day, they were only for practicing on the backyard wall.

So it was our local hero, Pete Pricerite, who found and rescued Foghorn, I say Foghorn. Leggarty that is.  Pete often mentions it on his phone abuse radio show.

“I saaaaaved his friggin’ life and he hasn't once asked me to stand as Mayor! Me, the obvious choice, the voice of Liverpool. Do you know wha' I wish I’d pushed him off.  Right let’s see what vile friggin’ no mark is on line one. Gerra friggin’ job ya lazy so and so, who’s paying the bill for you to phone me? Wha? Oh sorry, we are joined by the Bishop of Liverpool, the Reverend Tom Jones …that’s not unusual.Aaahhaahhahhhahahhahahahahahaha, I’ve still got it.........just ask Paul O'Grady, he'll tell ya. ”

So for ages after that, nothing was happening about an elected mayor until a couple of weeks ago when suddenly the Labour leader of Liverpool Council, Gerry Anderson, thunders "Mayors Are Go!"

No sooner had the announcement been made than I was inundated by a knock at the front door. It was from my former campaign manager from Facebewk, Mrs Slovenia, to tell me that the cream cheese dip for my victory banquet had gone off. Well we did buy it in 2009. She said you’d better let me know soft lad, are you still standing or what? She needed to know if she should get more cheese and possibly some onion dip.  I said how much is the pay? If it’s over 300k and I get to stand on the balcony at the town hall with Ringo, I’ll do it.

Well you can imagine the excitement across the city and of course once news spread, Foghorn Leggarty, I say Leggarty, sticks his beak in and decides he’s going to stand, just to spite me. But then he has the cheek to moan about Joe Andyman bypassing a referendum and going straight for a vote. This is what you wanted isn’t it? Don’t tell me after all these years, sleeping behind the back of the burned out church, on binbags full of bus tickets that if there had been a referendum, and they all voted no, that you would have said, oh alright then and gone home? There’s no pleasing some people.


Anyway, I can discount Leggarty, I say Leggarty, he’s no threat now. Nobody knows him not since he stopped doing the weather. It’s Diane Oxberry, they’d vote for now. He’ll be busy for the next few months trying to think up a policy.

That’s the problem for people like Foghorn, I say Foghorn. He never thought it would actually get this far.

I suppose it's a bit like those blokes who used to stand at the Pier Head for years carrying a placard saying;


“The end of the world is nigh, prepare to meet thy maker, be ready for the day of judgement!”

One clap of thunder and they run off screaming!

Elected Murder For Liverpool unless we do something says Anderson

Well I have to admit Mr Ambleside’s decision not to have a referendum is controversial. People are saying it’s undemocratic. The biggest critic is perhaps the deputy leader of the Literally Doomed Party Councillor Dodgy Tash. Of course he’s a fine one to go on about undemocratic decisions.

Dodgy Tash's party leader is the un-elected deputy prime minister. The professional liar, the man with the pledge, who is jointly responsible for slashing the council budget to the point whereby the very poorest in our city are paying for the greed of the thieving bankers.

So I expect any offer from the government of grants for £130 million if you opt to have an elected mayor right now, is enough to make anyone in Joe Amplesize's position risk the backlash, especially when your daily task since being elected is what are we going to have to shut down next, to save this? How many more do we need to make redundant to keep this going? Oh yes I know they could make a stand and set an illegal budget. A great noble gesture, but the likely outcome would be  that the government would sit back and watch the city go bankrupt rubbing their hands with glee.

So I don’t think we need any lectures on democracy and fairness from the Lit-Dooms or Cllr Tash. who is probably already writing his own Mayoral campaign leaflets.

"Grotty Cash Needs Dodgy Tash"

Corky Kemp Deputy Leader of the Liverpool Cuts Party

The fact is that we are ruled from Westminster by lying blackmailers and thieves, who are themselves owned and only allowed to play politics by permission of the major banks, financial institutions and media moguls. But I suspect the rationale is that if we can get a breathing space locally with a big wedge of cash, then I can partly see why Mr Anklesock has taken this path.

I can’t agree with the decision 100% but I can certainly understand it. I just hope he can and has read all the small print. 


Of course I can't vote for him, not when I am standing myself. Oh no Missus, I'm committed, there's no going back - I’ve already bought the hat! It’s got big Ostrich feathers on it. They’ll tickle your fancy.

But as I'm mainly in it for the money, it could be the dream ticket really. Joe Ambersol takes the flak for doing it without a referendum and in the backlash I storm to victory and take control of the city.


Once I get my hands on the £130 million and get a few odd jobs done around the house, buy the missus a new housecoat and a Justin Biever bed jacket for Mrs Hewitt, I'll just pop £5 million into my Coutts account and Joe can have the rest. I'll always put Liverpool second. And that's a promise. Although I may not spend much time here with £5million in the bank. I might move to Frodsham, buy the house next door to Professor Ripewind.  I’ll still do the odd fete, cut the ribbons and judge the biggest turnip competition, although i hear the local turnip is now standing as an independent after selecting himself down at the allotments.

"The Lib Cleggs have betrayed Liverpool
that's why I am standing in the allotment
and proud to have selected myself as an Independent Turnip."
Says former leader,Washed-up Badly

Of course I will contribute to the mayoral manifesto. There are certain changes I want to see. Like I want to see the waterfront from the Albert Dock again, so those black coffin monstrosities will be demolished.

And if Peel want to build shanghai towers and Liverpool waters, they can do it first on the Boot Estate or in Norris Green and Anfield. Let’s regenerate them first. Give them some luxury apartments and jobs. Not that they'll ever build anything, they are just making it up on the back of a fag packet. I've been building a shed for 30 years so I can see through them.

In fact I may take a lead on quite a few things come to think of it. I will grant a 24 hour licence to Greggs and Sayers, restore the old Irish Centre and give it to the Welsh Presbytarians who had their lovely church by Penny Lane demolished. It's a disgrace that they knocked that down! The Beatles used to have a waz up against those walls. Beatles City? Bulldozer City more like!

Speaking of which who’s that bugger from Magullible Property Demolitions, the ones who smashed up Josephine Butler House behind a tarpaulin after pretending they were preserving the external stonework with a sledge hammer?

They knocked it down leaving all the rough brick exposed. A right eyesore, just so we could have a 15 space carpark. Are they the same ones who took a sledge hammer to the ornate stone carved Victorian fronts of the old education offices in Sir Thomas Street, so they could demolish it and build a Perspex lunchbox?

I’ll have a similar preservation order slapped on his house, see how he likes it.


Yes indeed Missus, I will take the bull by the horns. My manifesto will be full of bull and I will take it all the way to victory horns along the Mersey.

Now, if you can remember that far back, I started this entry with a whimsical reference to hairdressers. No doubt, by now you will have realised that any metion of my campaign has been the victim of a conspiratorial media blackout. This was further evidenced today by the announcement that a new name has been thrown out of the arena.

Yes, the shock news yesterday that Liverpool’s very own version of Vital Bassoon, local hairdressing mogul, Herbert Hoot, has decided to throw his ring in.

I’ll be honest, ladies and gentlemen, this is the one person I always feared as a serious rival. You see I’d vote for Herbert!  I mean Mrs C and Mrs Hewitt are already wearing T-shirts saying:

If you don’t want a blert
    vote for Her-bert

Which is a rubbish slogan, I know. But you see people like Herbert. He’s a character. I like him. Well I did, until he did this to me. And I'm sorry to say he’s already started fighting dirty and using underhand tactics, like saying he will do it for no pay! Filthy trick. He knows full well I want at least £300k for the job.

Bling it on says a defiant Herbert

Well two can play at that game mate. I love this city and nobody will stand between me and all that cash. He’s already loaded, it’s alright for him.

Well I have already initiated plan A of the fightback. I have left a transit van parked in wet cement right outside his Bling salon, he won’t shift that in a hurry. And do you know what it says on the side of the van?

“Nitty Nora The Nit Nurse Emergency Rapid Response Unit”

If he wants to play dirty he won’t know what’s hit him. I mean blimey, it was probably me who put the idea in his head, from the blogs ages ago. I knew Leggarty, I say Leggarty was getting nowhere and I said then Herbert should stand and I would support him. What an idiot I was!

You see that’s before I knew how bad things were going to get and what was at stake. £300k and a percentage of the £130 million.


I feel betrayed by him. After all I have done for him over the years. If it wasn’t for me, he would never have thought of opening the brilliant Champu Bar in Town. That was all my idea. I even ran a special feature on the opening night.

http://profchucklebuttychronic.blogspot.com/2009/04/by-jove-missus-here-i-am-back-from.html
The fact that it went bust because he wouldn’t leave free crisps on the bar in case anybody stood by it and then wouldn’t let anyone pee on the Italian marble urinal, that was nothing to do with me, it was his own fault. He wouldn't take the plastic covers off the couch. I tell you what, the mild was rubbish too.

I started him off. You know it was me who gave him the idea to open his first salon. I’d just nicked a brush and comb set from Woolworths and was getting chased down Church Street by the store detective. I said here you are young man cop hold of this, so when they caught me…no evidence. It was Herbert. Then I saw him a few years later using the very same brush on a Yorkshire Terrier in a Dog Grooming shop window on great Homer Street. 

I said, no mate you won't make your fortune clipping poodles, look at Squeezy Wheezie, he's loaded. There's no money in dog grooming,  the real money is in women’s hairdressing, if you can stand listening to them yapping. Next thing you know he has a string of salons and is driving round in a pink Reliant Robin.

Herbert, what have you done?
That's not how Justin Beiber has his hair cut!
"Well he friggin' would if he came in here!"

He was very grateful to me and always said that if there was anything he could do for me, I should just ask. I remember once when I was in the salon getting a trim, he told me that I was going a bit thin on top and offered to massage my follicles for me. I thought about it for a minute and said, oh all right go on then, so long as you don't tell anyone. So I got myself ready and when he turned round he screamed and threw me out!

All a misunderstanding and we eventually made up and so I’ve always remained a supporter of Herbert’s businesses. In fact do you know Missus, he asked me to be his first volunteer when he branched out into full body waxing. Back, sack and clack.

In fact that’s where I learned how to yodel!

And it was me who said he should modernise, don’t just offer the customers tea or coffee, I said.  These days they expect Cupsofchino, Latte, Mocha. Offer them different blends, Columbian, Italian, Costa Brava, Myrthr Tydfil. Although that nearly went wrong and I can tell you this now, but if it wasn’t for my intervention he would have been shut down and lost his waxing licence. Mrs Hewitt was going to sue him for every Kirby grip he had.  You see she only went in to have her ankles waxed but while she was waiting for her Colombian Latte with choco sprinkle, she told the girl she’d changed her mind and wanted a Brazilian instead.

Well I heard the screams from Renshaw Street. When I got there, there were six of them trying to hold her down while they pulled the strip off. She’d let it go a bit down there they said, and now they couldn’t shift it.

In the end they attached the edge of the wax strip to a tow rope and the other end to the bumper of Herbert’s new Rolls Royce. Well it didn't work. He revved up the engine too much and they just dragged her off the table, out through the door and halfway up South John Street. I told him to keep it in 1st gear.

Eventually, the only way we could get it off her was to use a Black and Decker Steam Stripper from Rapid, which he still hasn’t paid me for.  It was very lucky for him that our local GP Dr Strukov, was doing his mobile botox and had his van in the Aldi carpark when we were going home with her, so we pulled in and Strukov gave us a few knock out drops to slip in her cocoa. Put her to sleep for a week and when she came round, I managed to convince her it was all a dream. They cost me forty quid as well, although he did throw in a DVD of Debbie Does Casualty.

So all in all,  I don’t know how Herbert has the nerve to stand against me, not after everything I have done for him.  But I think he could just win it so I'd best keep him sweet and hope he gives me a cut. 

But as if  Herbert trying to ruin my chances is not bad enough, there are other turncoats out there. Those who are refusing to mention my campaign. People in the local media who have been writing about the mayor issue and not made a single mention of my name going forward.


It proves once again that it’s the newspapers that elect governments not the people. Look at Bartlett’s blog in the Daily Weekly Gone by Christmas Post. Over the years, my contributions to his Blog site Dole Street Blues, now re-branded Dull Associates, are the main reason people have stayed loyal. He owes me! I have kept that lot going while Trickery Mirror have been chucking them all out on their arses and shifting it all to Oldham.

Not one mention in the last three articles apart from me writing in comments. I have even declared on his pages that I am standing and he’s made no mention of it. It’s a conspiracy. It’s the Illuminous Paperhatzi or the Bobthebuilderberg Group. They are all over the internet. The say it’s them who control the voting on X factor. I bet that Simon Trowel is Freemason. That’s how deep it runs.

But I think the biggest disappointment for me is that my old friend and respected local journalist and broadcaster, Harry Nield, the man I lead to safety and on stage with the stripper in the Gladray club during the Toxteth riots, has also deserted me.

No mention of my campaign in his articles about the Elected mayor. How quickly they forget.  You know, I don’t like to mention this but when Harry was going through his lean years, and walking through  town with a sieve on his head and holding up an electric whisk looking for mobile phone mast radiation (alright it was me who sold them to him) I stayed loyal and pointed him towards more popular stories.  

Then he started writing about dogs fouling the city pavements, and I sent him numerous scoops. I expected a little more support from him.

Well Harry there’s still time if you want to back the winner and possibly a job for you on my team. I will always need a good press officer.  And somebody has to iron me shirts.

That reminds me, where is me shirt? I can’t stand for mayor without me shirt!

Where’s me shirt!!!???

Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty Bye