Disgraced

There are plenty more where these fellows came from. It's a kind of rogues' gallery showing the faces of four Conservative MPs who have recently disgraced both The Conservative Party, this great kingdom and the ordinary people who voted for them. It has all happened on PM Johnson's watch and in each instance Johnson has sought to brush the embarrassment and wrongdoing under the carpet. I guess it is a technique he has often used in relation to his own misdemeanours of which there are many.

At the top is senior  Tory MP - the appropriately named Chris Pincher - who got as drunk as a lord in the Carlton Club in central London and then proceeded to grope other men. Not the first time he has been guilty of such misconduct. Maybe he should have his name changed to Dick Pincher.

Below there's Imran Ahmad Khan, the former MP for Wakefield. He is now languishing in prison after he was found guilty of sexual assault on a fifteen year old boy. Again - not the first time his sexual predilections have been observed.  and noted.

 

Now we are looking at Neil Parish - the former Conservative MP for Tiverton and Honiton. He was observed in The House of Commons chamber drooling over porn material that he was watching on his smartphone. Not a "smart" thing to do in such a place. He was supposed to be there to work and to represent the people who had voted for him but he preferred looking at naked women and sex acts

Finally, here's Owen Patterson who blatantly tried to use his position as an MP to benefit two companies who had given him money - Randox and Lynn’s Country Foods. Johnson even tried to change the standards rules to save Patterson's bacon.  I remember him trying to use his wife's illness as a suitable reason for not pursuing his wrongdoing. He was like a schoolboy in denial, stomping his feet and yelling, "It's not fair!" Thankfully he has gone never to return. Johnson's support was once again badly misplaced.

See - it's not just in the USA or Australia where citizens find themselves lumbered with disgraceful politicians who get too big for their own boots and  are very slow to confess. Usually they only get round to spitting out words like "sorry" and "I take full responsibility" when they have been caught out  and they are cornered like rats in a barn.

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Buggery Bollocks

 I’m writing this at work.

No I wasn’t expecting to work last tonight either! 

I arranged to meet up with a friend and make supper, so as the fish pie was browning nicely in the oven and a nice white was chilling in the fridge I was surprised by a phone call from work .

I failed to notice it was at 7.30 pm, the start time for night duty .

A month ago I have volunteered to cover a night duty without a second R./N on duty

I’d totally forgotten about it

Supper wasn’t scheduled until 8 pm so I did the dash of shame , dropped off the wine and dinner at my guest’s house with profuse apologies before driving to work a good hour and a half late.

Bollocks, bugger bollocks 

Any dinner party disasters out there? 

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Tomatoes

 Cuddles on the couch

With the pooch 

As I sip my 

Delicious brew

And a tomato

Sandwich awaits

Me later

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Sausages of all kinds

 As she grew older, my mother developed a rather unhealthy obsession with her dog, Hamish’ s bowel habits. When, after I had travelled 2 hours from Sheffield to see her in North Wales. One of the first subjects she always crossed was the consistency of his stools. 

This often discussed before I had managed to take my coat off.

Now most dogs ( and I’m especially referring to welsh terriers here) have the grace to look embarrassed when going to the loo in public. Mary will back into some bush off the beaten track and will complete her toilet needs with the decorum of a debutante. 

Unfortunately, bulldogs show no such reserve and will take a dump, generally rather gleefully, in full view of the  Dagenham Girl Pipers if they got the chance. 

It’s almost a badge of pride if one can pass something the size of a large haggis in front of as many passers by as possible.

Like my mother I have noticed this glitch in their usually bouncy and diva- ish personalities, but only now am sharing it with you all.

This morning on the Dyserth walkway, Dorothy knocked one, the size of an average anaconda, out in front of a large group of middle aged lady walkers, much to the disgust of one whom loudly complained it all as being “ Revolting “ 

True the walkers had to form themselves into a fork of two branches in order to negotiate the massive turd as I was looking for a suitable receptacle in which to envelope it in and I thought Dorothy did try to make the best of things by grinning widely at the walkers as they tiptoed past.

I must be feeling benign this morning as I didn’t rise to the revolting remark .

That’s not like me.

Anyhow it’s been a nice morning all told. 

Walk, shop and brunch.

I bought sunflowers, bespoke spiced sausages, a reduced priced haggis and some mozzarella cheese 

And cooked sausage with egg for brunch made special with dusting of mozzarella and Korean hot sauce

I finished that with my daily bucket of coffee.

Bliss…..

I took my time over brunch and read as I was eating, only being disturbed by commotion in the lane when forty or so vintage tractors, out for a jaunt passed cottage with a roar. 

We went out to wave as they got a little gridlocked by the church 

The chilli sauce soon had its effects and I retired to my bathroom for a sit down and a read.

As usual Dorothy followed me and sat watching carefully from the doorway .

A “ Thats my boy “ look on her fat face.

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