Nothing changes.

These are my daughter's two dogs out in Brisbane, Oz.

Obviously the same rules apply in her house as they do in ours. 

Rule No 1: Absolutely no dogs allowed on the sofas!!!

Oh, all right. Go on then.

The weather in Brisbane has been awful, which is why the girls look very fed up.

Lore and order.

I was very pleased to see the Fairy Police out-n-about, and rounding up stray Fairies from the streets of Brighton this morning

This particularly dangerous example had been caught with a vicious wand, wings for an air-born escape, and a tutu to distract passers-by.

I believe she is now safely under lock and key at the local Fairy pound. The sooner the rest of them (if there are any left) are found and arrested, the better.

 

Ella Fitzgerald - Somewhere Over The Rainbow

One of the world's most beautiful songs, sung by one of the world's most beautiful voices.

Judy's version is the most iconic, but Ella's is superb too, and contains the often ignored verses.

Well done Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg, but not so well done to MGM who originally thought the song not suitable for The Wizard of Oz. How wrong they were!

An Open Letter to Her Majesty.

Your Majesty. I may be old, and have various permanent aches and pains, but I think I can still do my bit; if required.

If Your Majesty requires my services in order to stem any further advances from that b*stard Putin (please excuse my language), I will put my name forward willingly.

I can no longer cope with long route marches, but I'm a good shot, and would probably make a good 'static sniper'. A decent rifle, a silencer, and a good supply of ammo, and I'll be there amongst the best of them.

As I'm sure you're aware, I did do some basic Officer Training, so a commission would be appreciated; 'Captain' would be fine (of a Sussex Regiment please).

Somehow I don't see Putin's men actually attempting to conquer England (like the tyrant Hitler before him), I think he'd find such a thing tricky (as did the tyrant Hitler) . However, I'm prepared to travel into Europe to help the cause. I speak French, so that might be of use.

Your Majesty, may I humbly suggest that you have a word with your Chief of Staff (Sir Tony Radakin), and remind him that Boris's trifling economic sanctions will not stop this maniac. It will require serious fire-power, determination, and sadly loss of life. Taking money away from Russian Football Club Billionaires will not achieve this.

I am ready to go. You have my address and phone number, so whenever, or if ever, I am required, I will take my shilling and fight for the freedom of my country, and for that of others.

Your servant; Cro xx 

Cousins.

I have six grandsons; no granddaughters. Four of the grandsons are roughly the same age, so they all get along very well.

This must be my favourite photo of them together from a few years ago.

I'm not quite sure why they're wearing those Water Polo style hats, but the high-rise backdrop of Goldcoast (Oz) is superb. My youngest owns a home there (not in one of those blocks). It almost looks like something from a Superman film.

                                       

 

The boys are all young teenagers now, and are big, strapping, handsome lads.

It's a pity that they live as far apart from each other as is possible, otherwise they'd make a great gang. I could picture them sharing a flat in Chelsea, or Bondi; clubbing, making female hearts flutter, and generally living life to the full. Just as all young men should do.

Maybe during their inevitable gap years, they'll all get together again and 'do stuff'. There's no better friends than cousins.

 

This Really Annoys Me

I don't know why I should be so annoyed by headlines such as this, but I suppose it's possibly because it risks making others feel that they're somehow inadequate. If they've worn the same clothes more than once, then they are being 'cheap'. 

Why on earth shouldn't Queen Letizia wear her dress more than once, and why on earth do they refer to it as 'recycling'? I don't 'recycle' my T shirts or socks, so why suggest that Letizia does? The man in the brown trousers looks as if he'd recycled those several hundred times; but no mention of that!

I am well known for using clothes for as long as possible; in some cases until they literally fall to bits. My old long Barbour coat is a fine example; it's still hanging on, just.

Who in their right mind would spend £222 on a dress and only wear it once? I'm sure that those who meet The Queen will have worn their clothes on several occasions, and I don't suppose they would be fussed if she did the same. It might even make her seem more approachable.

 

What lives down a hole like this?

Behind our house, there's a short twitten that runs between our garages and the garden behind a primary school. Over recent days, Billy has been very interested in an ever expanding hole under the fence. I would estimate its size as about 7 by 6 inches.

Being a country boy, I'm always interested in the behaviour of wild life, and I'm watching the evolution of this sub-fencing passage with interest.

It shows fresh signs of digging daily. It's too small for a Fox; unless it's for cubs. It could be a Rat, but it's almost too large. I have seen a Squirrel in the tree above it, but I don't know if Squirrels dig holes as such. It could also be a Hedgehog, but again, I'm not sure if they are 'diggers'.

I don't think we have Badgers in town, nor do we have Stoats or Weasels. 

I notice that someone has tried to block the hole with a roughly nailed plank, but it doesn't seem to be deterring whoever the digger is.

I do hope it's a Fox, and that it the passage will soon be enlarged. I do rather like the idea of Foxes living nearby. People say they kill Cats, but I think this is false. Somehow, though, I doubt if it's a Fox.

Billy is certainly keen on meeting whoever pokes his/her nose through the opening. He finds it fascinating; as do I.

 

The Rucksack generation.

 

What is it about Rucksacks? I've been surprised to see so many people in the street wearing rucksacks on their backs (about 80%) and I can but wonder what they use them for?

Rucksacks used to be the preserve of highland walkers, campers, polar explorers, etc. These days I'm not quite sure what they're for, or why they seem to be so popular.

Firstly, they are ugly. They cannot possibly compare to a quality leather briefcase, if required for carrying office papers.

The one time I properly worked in an office, the only things I carried from train to desk was a pink newspaper and a brolly. There was no need to carry a sleeping bag, tent, or whatever else these people take around with them.

Possible contents: 

Women. Lots of make-up, hairbrushes, curlers, chocolates, gin, loo roll, hat, spare shoes, Hello magazine, small pack of Kleenex, and wallet containing various fitness club membership cards.

Men: Rolled-up Mackintosh, trainers, wind-up torch, Swiss army knife, miniature tool kit, string, mints, tiny Teddy Bear (a gift from a girlfriend), Brute deodorant spray, and chewing gum.

However, I do have my suspicions. Looking at the state of many local buildings, I imagine that most rucksacks contain a comprehensive selection of coloured paint spray cans. For home use only; of course!

Not a Duck.

On the principle that 'if it looks like a Duck, quacks like a Duck, and swims like a Duck; then it probably is a Duck', I threw caution to the winds and bought what looked like an alternative product to Worcestershire Sauce. I'll try anything once!

I'd not heard of Henderson's 'Strong and Northern' Relish (made in Sheffield since 1885), but I was prepared to give it a go. If it's been around for such a long time, they must be doing something right. 

It is of course an unashamed copy of Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce (made in Worcester since 1837); the colour of the sauce, the shape of the bottle, and even to a certain extent the label, all suggest that it would taste like L & P's.

It didn't. It's not all bad though, and with the addition of some extra Tamarind, and maybe some anchovy, it might almost fool an amateur. As it is, it is slightly vinegary, and lacks the rounded flavour of its doppelgänger. In fact it doesn't have a great deal of flavour at all (I did a comparison test).

However, I don't totally regret this purchase; especially as it was about half the price of L & P's.

Has anyone heard of Henderson's?

 

The 'Woke' State of Play.

This bloke young lady has just broken some swimming record. 

He She managed to win her US Ivy League University Championship 200 Yard Freestyle race by about half a pool's length against her fellow female swimmers. A huge distance.

Until 2019, Lia Thomas (for that is both he and she) was swimming in competitions as a man; without great success. But now as a 'woman' she is doing frightfully well, and winning races by the dozen. She has improved hugely over the past few years; lots of hard training I imagine.

Attitudes have changed massively recently. Pick-n-mix gender classifications are now normal, any man who dresses as a women can use a ladies loo, and as long as you fill in a form correctly you can compete as any gender you chose, in any sport you chose. 

These days we have to believe whatever nonsense the darling Woke Brigade tell us to believe, regardless of how scientifically inaccurate or unfair it may be. Not to follow their every word is asking for trouble. When he the burley Ms Thomas stood on the winner's podium surrounded by petite feminine fellow swimmers no-one blinked an eyelid, and they applauded as required as he she received her prize.

Life is great under the Woke Politburo. Dare tell the truth (see J K Rowling), and your life will be made HELL; even when it comes down to exposing blatant cheating. This could be the reason why he she has had considerable support from her university. They wouldn't dare criticise. 

I may even be banned from Blogger for writing the above!

Winter Olympics 2022.

 

Well done Great Britain. Just one gold and one silver medal (both in curling, I'm afraid), but a Winter Olympics played in the spirit of Eddie Edwards. It has to be said; the UK is not really a Winter Sports country.

My favourite bit had to be the downhill snowboard cross. Those acrobatics mid-air were quite amazing. How they landed the right way up is a miracle. True courage on behalf of those athletes. 

As I was taught at school (and is particularly pertinent for the GB team) 'it matters not to win or lose; but how one plays the game'.

I would have loved to do big Ski Jumping, but seeing as I have never even stood-up on skis, I would hardly have stood a chance.

Well done all.

Yet more comparisons.

One of the things I've noticed since being back in England is the difference between English and French Rice, Couscous, and Lentils. The Rice here seems to be fluffier (I only buy Basmati), the Couscous lighter and easier to prepare, and the Lentils cook quicker and break down easier (for making Dhal).

The products themselves are probably exactly the same in both countries, so why the noticeable difference?

The only explanation I can summon, is that it has something to do with the water.

Could it be that the very hard water in France is responsible for making things remain less tender when cooked?

I think we should be told!  

 

Cute Kittens

 

Various things in the news.

Teachers in the UK are NOT to be referred to as 'Teacher Smith' or 'Teacher Jones' as the Woke brigade have demanded; Sir and Miss will continue. Success at last for common sense.

Randy Andy has given in to his £12Million 'compensation' demand. It does look as if the 'kiss-n-tell' saga has been successful, and the person involved has made millions from three different individuals. A good night's work. The moral of the tale must be 'always get signed authorisation (in triplicate) prior to any rumpy-pumpy'.

A UK Celeb's mother has been speaking out about her daughter's suicide two years ago. The person involved was to have faced charges for domestic violence having seriously assaulted her boyfriend whilst he was asleep, and decided that rather than face the shame and consequences of a court case, she sadly preferred to end her life. Her mother is naturally still very upset and is blaming everyone other than the perpetrator. One can but wonder that if it had been the boyfriend who had been violent towards her daughter, whether she would have felt the same. I don't wish to seem unsympathetic to this mother, but violence is always violence. These days both Goose and Gander are equal.

As I write, it is D Day for the Ukraine. I may need to alter this as things develop. Let's hope that Putin sees sense; although I fear that it may not be one of his more endearing qualities.

A 15 year old Russian skater has been allowed to continue in the Olympic Games despite testing positive for three different banned drugs. We all know why Russia is banned from competing in the Olympic Games, which is why they enter their athletes under the silly (fooling no-one) title of 'The Russian Olympic Committee'.  One rule for the Ruskies, another for the rest of us.

Mr N Djokovic has given an interview to the BBC where he explained his reasoning for not being vaccinated. His erroneous PR exercise has strengthened most people's view of him as being ignorant, arrogant, and misguided. Next time, best keep your mouth closed! 

Taking precautions.

And, on much the same theme as my previous posting, here in Brighton folk seem to have suddenly gone mask-less (apart from me). I was in town briefly yesterday and I appeared to be amongst about 1% of the population who still wear a mask in public.

My oldest (Kimbo) has just flown to Singapore on business, and sent me the photo, below, of a man wearing full Hazmat suit for their mutual flight.

There certainly is a more relaxed attitude around about Covid. I think people are simply fed-up with it all and have become blasé. I'm not quite sure what the man above thought he was achieving by wearing his suit; the virus is more likely to attack you through your mouth or nose; seldom your elbows or knees. 

Poor Kimbo needed a negative test before taking his flight, and now that he has arrived he needed another negative before being allowed out of his hotel room. When he called me yesterday morning he called it his 'cell'. He's now received his 'parole'.

He's had a more intimate association with the virus than most of us.  

p.s. Please excuse me if I don't reply to all your comments, I've torn a muscle in my right shoulder, and typing is almost impossible, and painful.

You must be avin' a larf.

 France: 90 Centimes for 10.

England: £4.40p for 5.

Both the same. Both made in China. Very different packs, and very different prices!

Signs of Spring.

It's very refreshing to see signs of Spring. We have just one Camellia flower on our tiny patio, plus a few rather straggly Wallflowers.

The Daffs have been flowering for a while (folk have even been picking them), but now their leaves are bursting from the ground as well.

When I took this photo yesterday morning, a Blackbird was singing its heart out. I sat on a gravestone and listened for about 10 minutes. I also heard either a Woodpecker or a Nuthatch tapping away. Beautiful.

The Snowdrops are also flowering. These (below) seem to be a rather discreet variety, but very welcome all the same.

I'm perfectly aware that 'One Daff does not a Spring make', but any sign of re-birth lifts the spirits, and gives hope.

RIP Bambi (24. 01. 1935 - 08. 02. 2022)

I'm a bit late with this, but what better way to remember Bambi (Bamber Gascoigne).

The Parking Solution (A Sunday Special).

Urban parking is a constant problem for many. You simply CANNOT park anywhere without paying a bloody fortune for the pleasure; that's if you can find somewhere, especially in 'green' Brighton.

My oldest (Kimbo) and I were discussing how we could counteract this wretched modern phenomenon. And I think we may have found the perfect solution.

The answer is to make a large, car-size, version of a workman's roadside tent, with which to cover your parked car. A few bollards to spread about, and a tape recording of hammering, drilling, or pumping, would complete the scene.

I can almost guarantee that you will receive no more parking fines. 

© Crosparkingsolution.com

WAR?

What a headline to wake-up to on a Saturday morning.

It looks as if Putin has named the day, and all that remains is his phone call.  If we can believe what we read; WW3 could begin on Wednesday 16th February 2022.

When I did my school Officer Training course, the very first thing we learned (I know I've mentioned this before) was to 'Know your enemy, go in strong, and go in hard'. This was the traditional, tried and tested, basis for successful warfare, and to ignore it spelt disaster.

Putin, it appears, attended the same course as me, and has not forgotten the advice. Western military leaders, however, seem to ignore their own advice, and spend their time pussy-footing around and discussing blocking bank accounts of ex-pat Russian Oligarchs. No mention has yet been made of kicking the sh*t out of Moscow.

In previous times, if a Russian foot had stepped on Ukrainian territory, Western troops would have been sent in immediately. These days Putin knows that the West has no taste for warfare and he can do as he wishes, with just a few petty financial sanctions threatened against him.

Of course, we all know what WILL happen. He will walk into Kiev, shoot a few people, destroy a few buildings, and install his own regime. The West will then sit back, hum and ha, and say what a nasty boy he is. Appeals will then appear on UK TV, and we will send money to repair damage and feed the starving.

Putin, of course, has untold riches and safe-havens, so whatever happens he will continue to live the high life.

Life was forever thus!

 

Jaques Tati - Mon Oncle (The house)

Classic Tati. Quiet, unassuming, and funny.

Birthday Girl.

Today is my mother's birthday, I think she would have been 108.

I have her picture on my dresser in France, but here I just have this embroidery that she created when I was very small. I remember her working on it.

I love the rich colours. Its overall thickly worked appearance reminds me of 17th C stump-work.

So, happy birthday Mama. Your memory lives on in your lovely embroidery (and elsewhere). xx 

The Green Children.

Some time in the 12th C, two children, a boy and a girl, suddenly appeared at harvest time in the village of Woolpit in Suffolk; their skin colour was green. No-one knew who the children were, or from where they came. They wore clothes that were unfamiliar to the villagers.

They didn't speak English, nor would they eat the food offered to them; eventually eating a few Broad Beans which they seemed to find acceptable.

Later having learned to speak some English, they claimed to have come from some subterranean land called St Martins Land, where everything, and everyone, was green.

The children were taken-in by a local benefactor, Richard de Calne, were baptised, and brought up by the family. They soon adapted to local food, and eventually lost their green skin colour. Sadly after a short while the boy died, and his 'sister' went on to become a servant in de Calne's household; although she was said to be 'wanton and impudent'.

She later left their employ, and married a man from King's Lynn.

So, who were these green children? Did they ever exist, or are they just the subject of folklore? There are many possible explanations, but the one that most appeals is that they had been working as slave labour in a local Copper mine since a very young age, and had not seen the light of day for many years. This could explain their colour, and that they claimed that everything in St Martin's Land was also green. It might also explain why the boy died; which could have been by Copper poisoning.

Some also say that the whole story is pure mythology, and that they'd never actually existed; although the many contemporary references to them suggests that there must be a certain amount of truth in there somewhere. 

If you live anywhere near Woolpit, maybe you know more; or have even visited St Martin's Land. I'd love to know.

 

Meow, meow, meow.

It was bound to happen.

The loonies that run Bristol University have, in their superior wisdom, decided that as well as inventing all sorts of new words, names, and pronouns, for those who wish to dress in clothes that might otherwise see them ejected from McDonald's; they have also now created a new category for those who identify as CATS. Yes; Cats.

Those who see themselves as 'Feline' or 'Cat-gender' will be able (from now on) to insist that they be referred to as Nya or Nyan, which I believe is Japanese for Meow.

This, obviously, is a great social advance in West Country campus life, and I see scratching posts, dangling balls of wool, and clockwork mice, being supplied in the Junior Common Room.

All student accommodation will now also contain alternative entrances; Front Door and Cat Flap. 

Just don't shout "Oy, can I stroke yer Pussy" when you see a suitably dressed individual ..... you might get your eyes scratched out! 

One can but wonder how many students at Bristol will be asking to be called 'Nya' ....... May I suggest, less than one. 

What a load of CAT-egorical nonsense.

What ever happened to.....

When Humus was introduced to the UK, back in the 60's, it came with a sidekick; Taramasalata.

Any new gourmet-delight that came with six a's had to be good, and for a while it became almost as popular as Humus.

Then as Humus conquered the country, Tara became the distant cousin; and even changed its colour to a bright, luminous, pink, which reduced its popularity even more.

However, I've always liked it, and as my quest for the perfect breakfast continues I bought some to replace my morning Muesli or Bacon-Butty.

I hadn't tasted Tara for well over 20 years, and was pleasantly surprised. Its colour has calmed, its flavour is much the same, and as an alternative to Lady M's Marmalade it was perfect on 'quartered'  slices of wholemeal toast.

I shan't be rushing to replace the current pot, but it will certainly remain on my mental list of 'nice things to eat'.

A good decision!

 

My Ever Changing Moods

The Mod-father himself, Paul Weller, with keyboard player Mick Talbot, and their hit record 'My ever changing moods'. 

The Style Council wrote some great songs (of which this is one), and I see from their Wiki page that their musical style is classified as 'Sophisti-pop'. I do think they could have found a far better name for it than that!

The 'official video' showed Weller and Talbot on bicycles, which was awful; so I've chosen something a bit more sedate. Enjoy.

Why do I do this to myself?

You'd have thought I'd learned my lesson after the disaster that was the Veggie Chorizo Sausage I ate last week. But no; I was brought a Veggie Burger to sample (by the same un-named person), and was forced to eat it.

As you can see by the pack, they are called 'Beyond Meat', yet described as 'Now even Meatier'; something at odds there. 

It states that the Burgers are suitable for Vegetarians, but not Vegans. I did notice that the use by date was a couple of days overdue, but that didn't worry me.

I gave them 4 mins on either side in my very fancy Le Creuset non-stick pan, and I must say they did look very appetising.

So......... How were they? Well, I must admit that I thought someone was playing a trick on me; it not only tasted very pleasant, but it also tasted very meaty! The texture was right too.

Verdict: 9/10. Really not bad at all. In fact; had I not seen the pack, I'd have thought it was Beef.

Very surprising. (I can hardly believe that I'm writing this).

 

Do Dogs watch TV?

We were watching The Calcutta Cup, when we noticed that Billy was watching it too. In case you are unaware, The Calcutta Cup is played between Scotland and England, and is the opening game of the annual 6 nations Rugby tournament.

Billy being a Border Collie, his ancestors came from the Scottish border, so no doubt he was supporting Scotland.  I'd not seen him watching TV before, not even 'One man and his Dog'.

Scotland won 20 -17. Not the result we were hoping for, but Billy went round with a smile on his face for the rest of the evening.

Winter.

 

We really haven't had any pukka Winter yet. We had the tiniest of frosts one morning, but otherwise it really hasn't been cold, nor has it rained much.

My brand new Barbour had remained unused since its purchase over two months ago, so I was quite pleased to wake-up yesterday to some light drizzle. I was desperate to give my new coat a test run. It worked well, although it will need more than 15 mins of light drizzle to really put it through its paces.  Lady M has a long jacket Barbour which she claims is not 100% waterproof. I'm sure mine will be OK.

Of course Jan/Feb are often deceptive months with our real Winter weather reserved for Spring. March, April, and May, can be very wet months, and Winter can drag-on until we're almost screaming towards June. All that remains to be seen, but for the moment everything goes well; we dress normally and the skis remain in the loft.

My next 'problem' will be sourcing a new hat. Of course I have my beret, and for ear-pickling cold I have my cheap Ushanka, but I have nothing to wear to repel rainwater. Many years ago I had a wonderful brown Harris Tweed flat cap that I adored. Sadly some Parisian beauty with Bambi eyes asked if she could borrow it.... and I never saw it again.

I'm putty in their hands.

Proof, if needed.

I suspected that my supermarket was somewhat up-market by the prices they charge.

Now I'm convinced they are, having spotted this Bugatti Veyron children's play car. How chic is that, and only 15 guineas a minute (when accompanied by one's Nanny)!

 

Home Delights

 

When we were in France, if we wanted Mince Pies for Christmas, Crumpets through Winter, and Hot Cross Buns for Easter, it was up to Lady Magnon to make them. Which she did; and did extremely well.

Here in England, however, such delights are available everywhere, and generally they are as good as home made; and in certain ceases even better (i.e. Crumpets).

Now that we're here, we don't deprive ourselves. The Mince Pie season is now over, the Crumpet season will be with us for a while, but the Hot Cross Bun season will only continue until Easter; which is around mid-April.

I love Hot Cross Buns. What better treat to accompany your cup of Lapsang as you fill your crossword, or listen to The Archers.

For those who are new to these delicacies, they are usually sliced in half, toasted, and 'thickly slathered' with butter. No Jam, Peanut butter, or Marmalade is required or advised; just butter (preferably salted). 

France may have their Croissants and Pains au Chocolat, but they really don't compare to the UK's Cakes, Scones, and other tea-time delights. 

At this time of year no-one who calls him/herself 'English' would be without a pack of HCB's in the cupboard. One of our current season's pure delights!

Where it all Began.

Now disbanded, my favourite Brighton band (Los Albertos) were founded in the Pub' below; The Prince Albert.

They were a bunch of rowdy, highly talented, unwashed, layabouts, who produced wonderfully energetic music.

Here they are playing 'Fall From Grace'. I may even have been in the audience.

I just happened to be passing by The Prince Albert yesterday, and noticed that it's been given a new lick of paint. Looks nice; doesn't it!

What's a 'Twitten' Cro?

I have known, and used, the word 'twitten' since I was very small, it is a Surrey/Sussex word that is now occasionally found elsewhere on account of national mobility. However, I still find lots of people who have never heard the word.

A 'twitten' is simply a very narrow footpath; sometimes with houses on one side, but often without.

Here in Brighton they tend to be pathways in front of terraces of small (tiny) houses that have no road access. Perfect for those who haven't a car. This one above (Frederic Gardens) is a good example, as the houses have no tall walls in front, and can be photographed. 

Another, with their backs opposite our house (Crown Gardens below), have the houses all hidden behind tall fencing, but peer over and you'll see that they're very 'cute'. Lady M rented one of these when she first attended the nearby Brighton Art College.

There are others that are equally beautiful, and they are highly sought after by commuters.

Oh to live in a Sussex twitten (with a tiny fire in a tiny hearth) now that Winter's here!

So, that's it. 'Twitten' explained. 

Product test.... VEGGIE SAUSAGES.

Let it be known that I am not against vegetarianism, I have flirted with the idea myself over the decades; but have always returned to an omni-diet.

Someone (who shall remain nameless) left these veggie sausages in my fridge recently, so in the interests of gastronomy I felt obliged to give them a go.

They are described as 'Chorizo Style Bangers', and are made from 'pea protein', red pepper, mushroom, and seasonings. The pack assures me that they are suitable for vegans.

The ingredients would normally cause no alarm; everyday vegetables with seasoning. What they then do with those ingredients, I have no idea. Grind them up I suppose, and squirt the resulting 'product' into casings. They were made for, and sold by, Tesco (A wonderful store; I'm a shareholder).

So, yesterday morning I threw caution to the winds, went against everything I have learned over the past 50 years, and tucked-in.

I'm sure you already know what my verdict is going to be. Yes, they were awful. They were totally bland regardless of having been described as 'Chorizo Style', and had an unpleasant texture. I was not surprised that all but one had been abandoned in our fridge. Luckily I also cooked myself some Haggis and Black pudding at the same time, so my breakfast was not all lost. I'm afraid after one mouthful, the sausage went to ground.

Only having consumed some of the 'sausage', and taken a photo of the packet, did I turn it over to find that it had been reduced from £2.50 to 63p. Had I seen that before my product test, I wouldn't have touched them with a vegan bargepole.

Verdict: As expected. 0/10. Possibly the worst thing I've tasted for years..

Harry and Paul - Is the Government right about everything?

All you need to know about current UK politics.

Teaching children to be racists.

I find this new woke liberal directive quite disturbing.

Brighton Council, has proposed that school children between the ages of 5 and 7 should be taught about what bast*ds white people are. 

They will be told that they are 'not racially innocent', and that even at their young age, they 'subconsciously add value to skin colour; with white being at the top, and black at the bottom'.

What utter tripe. When I was five, colour of skin was of no importance whatsoever, and to be told that children are already giving status to it, is totally false and unwarranted.

They are also to be taught that Christianity was responsible for the slave trade, and that all anti-slavery heroes were falsely claimed to be white.

In my mind, and apparently in the minds of most others, it would be far better not to mention 'racism' at all, but to teach our young children to respect everyone, regardless of caste creed or colour. If indeed that needs to be mentioned.

By continually talking about racism one is making it a part of everyday life; and bringing very young white school children into the mix is wrong.

We now live in an age where almost every action or thought can be twisted to be racist; where of course there was none. We can all remember the fuss about Baa Baa Black Sheep. To extend those accusations to very young children is a total DISGRACE.

All this has been proposed by Brighton's Green Party. As you can see by their election poster (above); they are attempting to paint all men as sexist too.