10th October
Yet again Putin has knocked Truss off the front pages.
Over eighty missiles launched at Ukrainian towns and cities.
Lots of people dead.
Trussy must be rubbing her hands in glee. Yes please, Mr Putin. Carry on with those attacks. You are my secret weapon. You take attention away from the disaster of a government that I am leading.
Climate protestors stick their hands to the road and cause traffic chaos on The Mall in London. Yes, by all means, remind us all of the impeding (here actually and not impending as such) climate disaster but target those who make the decisions. Disrupting ordinary lives means people don’t give a fuck about you or your cause. Still, the police did treat them well, and rather nicely unglued them and lifted them into waiting police minibuses. No doubt to be taken to A&E where they would skip the queues.
Meanwhile up north, possibly Aberdeen I think since according to the nats there is not much worth caring about north of that point (hills and sheep, oh, and oil), Nippy is making a conference speech to the party faithful.
They gave her lots of standing ovations.
Well that’s what they would do.
They are the faithful after all.
It’s like asking Roman Catholics in St Peters Square to give the pope the silent treatment.
They just can’t do it.
‘We are generation independence’, she thundered magnificently or shrilled, depending on your point of view.
Well she’s hardly likely to say we are generation pro union, is she.
With baited breath she awaits a court judgement on the attempt to launch an illegal independence referendum.
Viva Catalonia.
If only we had the sun.
We’re I English I would say ‘let the bastards go’, build your frontier walls, pay for your own pensions, and while your at it, no you can’t have the pound, and no you can’t have the king.
If I were English that is.
Business man sitting opposite me on train journey to York.
I say business man only because he looked like a man (but maybe identified differently), was wearing a suit (post lockdown who wears suits) and was typing on a laptop (cheap, non Apple). Started on his first glass of white wine at eleven am. John Knox would have been shocked, or maybe not. Third glass by York. Or maybe he was just a Tory party donor worried about future election prospects.
Uneventful and pleasant train journey, unlike the last time.
Positively tropical in York
At least seven degrees.
Serial killer nurse on trial.
One Pagers 