On Your Bike, Blair!

Cautious and I sleep easy in our beds, separate beds (not that it matters), knowing that our daily efforts make the world a better place to live. Sadly those around us seem determined to trash the place.

Our esteemed Prime Minister decides upon the perfectly reasonable step of charging people for taking their gas-guzzling, squirrel-squashing, asthma-triggering, planet-warming, penis-extending, road-raging tool of capitalist oppression out onto the nation’s cycle ways, otherwise known as roads. Unfortunately, he then allows his own website to be used for people to wish to express an opinion on the matter. Guess what? Things all get a bit Sheridan and over 1.8 million people sign a petition saying they don’t want to pay. People of Britain, you have been conned. Duped by marketing suits in red specs who have convinced you that your car will allow you to whizz around the Highlands without seeing another soul or take your family windsurfing and park right on the beach. The reality, brothers and sisters, is quite a different matter. You will be sitting in a sweltering tin box behind a huge truck belching out noxious gases in traffic jams 15 miles long, as your mobile phone rattles in your glove compartment and your arteries harden by the minute and all for the privilege of getting to work to stoke the fires of capitalist greed. It is time to break free.

Our friend from Shropshire who started the petition believes charging is “sinister and wrong”. We doubt that it is more sinister than an online petition that is hosted by the target of the petition. Just fill in your email address and contact details it innocently asks. So, you give the government your contact details as you complain about a matter of government policy. I think not, comrades. Mark my words, they will use this to come round your house and confiscate your laptop as a weapon of the revolution. Which, of course, it is. Do not be fooled. Mr. Blair now knows that road charging will cost him 1.8 million votes and he knows exactly who these people are. To us, that is as sinister as whale-skin trousers.

The petition also suggests that money should be found to improve roads to ease congestion. Maybe we missed a meeting, but Cautious and I can’t quite see how making something easier to use will encourage people to seek an alternative to using it. Congestion will be eased by getting the evil motor car off the road, not by making bigger roads. It is time, brothers and sisters, for a library driven transport revolution.

Under new LLF proposals, we aim to take road charging to radical new levels. Those with 4×4 cars have clearly more money than they need and will be charged 16 times the rate of the average family car. Nissan Micras will be exempt, as will Trabants, for they are revolutionary and quite cool. All those using the roads for cycling will be given library fine waivers and “Love me, love my cycle” t-shirts. The enormous state wealth generated from charging will be used for installing libraries on trains and to fund trips to China to politely ask them to stay on their bikes. While we are there, we will also be looking at ways in which mobile library services can be migrated to a rickshaw-based solution. Come and join us, you know it makes sense.

Cheese Eaters

As the constipated man says, it’s the waiting that’s the worst.

Well I’ve been waiting for flippin weeks for this war to start and there’s not been so much as an exocet fired by accident. Not even a bit of death by friendly fire. Call this a war?

Honest tradesmen like myself will obviously need to put our prices up if there is a war and we need a bit of notice to get the stationery changed. It’s a sad but inevitable consequence of global conflict but there’s always a price to be paid for freedom.

I just wish they’d hurry up and get started. We all know President Dubya is gagging to bomb the towel heads so why doesn’t he get on with it? All this pussy-footing about with the Untied Nations is just wasting time. Bomb Mustaffa Moustache and get it over with.

As for Blair, he is spending far too much time listening to the lentil-eating, cardigan-wearing, bleeding heart Guardianistas. Why listen to them when you can just run them over with tanks?

Then there’s the French. The frogs. Garlic-loving, soap-dodgers who have suddenly developed a conscience when the rest of the time they are quite happy to choke geese to death to make a starter. We bail them out of two world wars and they can’t even be bothered to let us go fight without them.

Britain and America want to make the world a safer place to buy oil and all the frogs can do is say Non. Typical, they can’t even say no properly.

We all know that the real reason they are scared to go fight in the Gulf is that the Iraqis will be able to smell them from miles away and they’d be sitting ducks a l’orange.

Okay, so the brown rice brigade want to give Saddam more time to prove that he’s evil? Fair enough. Let’s not attack him for a month or two and use the time in between to practice by fighting the French.

Dubya and Tony the Toady should declare the frogs as enemies and nuke the garlic out of them. If they ain’t for us they are agin us. Let them join the axis of evil along with Iraq, Sudan and that horrible wee Pekinese that won Crufts and bomb the bejeesus out of the lot.

It is pay back time for Sacha Distel, Allo Allo, Plastic Bertrand and Camembert cheese. Fry the French — except maybe Thierry Henry, who could then play for Scotland as he won’t have a country of his own. Pulverise Paris, obliterate the Onions Johnnies, destroy Disneyland Paris and put and end to those poncey poodles. Anyway, it’s much closer than Iraq and our boys won’t be away from home for so long.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Sort the pong and you sort the problem. And if it’s true in plumbing then it’s true in life.

In this case, the pong comes from the ponging French. Sort out that smell and then we can turn our attention to old Mustaffa. He’s probably a bit whiffy at the moment too.

Cherie Oh Baby

Who amongst us hasn’t enlisted the help of the convicted fraudster boyfriend of your former soft-porn actress best friend in order to save a few quid on a house? No, me neither.

Does Mrs Blair really believe we will all fall for that quivering lower lip, I’m just a girlie, don’t really understand business, my poor son is leaving home, Tony is too full of the milk of human kindness, yada yada yada sob story? I should cocoa.

I can see why she would want to avoid putting cash into Gordon Brown’s pockets seeing as her old man hates him but when you wait on nature’s mischief you get yourself in a heap of soapy bubble.

Let’s face it, hell is nowhere near as murky as the spinning cesspool of doo doo created by Alastair Campbell and his spin liars. If they think they are going to get a plumber to clean up this mess then they can think again. This plumber’s not for churning.

Can you believe that the chiselling Cherie even has the cheek to suggest that she is getting a hard time because she is a woman? Unsex me here, she cries. No thanks love, you appear to be chewing a bag of spanners and that’s not a particularly attractive look.

The brazen barrister even thinks it’s okay to nobble judges to stop this crook being chucked out of the country. I don’t know how much it costs to bribe the bench these days but it will be a pretty penny. Has she pinched that money off Mr Brown as well? We should be told.

Anyway, what’s the world coming to when Australia start sending us their convicts instead of the other way round? This Peter Foster bloke has been up before more judges than… well, Cherie Blair. Yet who would have thought the man had so much dirt on him? Not Cherie obviously. If only she’d had some knowledge of the law she might have been okay.

As I always say, if you can’t stand the crap then get out of the bathroom. And, as we all know, if it is true in plumbing then it is true in life.

Out, out damn Cherie! Out, I say!

Plumb On

One Law for the Rich

There’s an old newspaper saying that Man Bites Dog is not a story. Dog Bites Man, now that’s different. So why is it when an out of control bull terrier belonging to our beloved Princess Anne savages two young children is it suddenly news? It’s just another example of media bias against our Royal Family that’s what.

Now they are demanding that the Princess Royal and the honourable Commodore Tim Laurence appear in court. In court! A public court is the place for the unwashed asylum seekers and drug-frenzied youth of this fallen nation – not the noble, blue-blooded stock which put the Great into United Kingdom.

I’m only a simple plumber and apart from a misunderstanding about a consignment of mixer taps I have never had a brush with the constabulary. Yet I know that public court is inevitably the place for the likes of me. I tell my apprentices, you can take the piss out of the toilet but you can’t take the scum out of the gutter. And as I always say, if it’s true in plumbing it’s true in life.

But sadly it seems that Tony Blair’s town council, cloth-capped, champagne cronies have control of our sacred judiciary as well as every other sector of this once hallowed land.

How else can you explain the inexplicable decision to have the lovely Anne and the decent Tim dirty their brogues in the undignified squalor of the magistrates court. It is a slap in the face to the family which has led this country through two world wars and the Royal It’s a Knockout Tournament.

What on earth were those children doing gamboling in Windsor Great Park in the first place? They were just asking to be savaged. Personally, I blame the parents.

Moreover the incident in question took place only two days after the death of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother, God rest her soul. The poor dog was almost certainly out its mind with grief and could not be expected to be thinking straight.

Sadly the savaging, however innocent, has only served to feed the frenzy of the anti-monarchist rabble who claim our splendid Royals are merely descendants of robber barons and take money from the mouths of impoverished foundlings to fund skiing weekends in Kloisters.

Don’t you find that people’s views on the Royals are matched by their bathroom facilities? Your decent working class type with matching pan and basin know their place and worship the ground that Diana slept on. Then there’s your upwardly mobiles that keep pot plants in their bidets – they can be a bit bolshie but aspire to a bit of four-poster themselves. The real rabble-rousers are your middle class intellectuals who actually use their bidets for their bits and bobs. They’re the troublemakers.

So I say no your honour. Magistrates court is not for the likes of Anne and Tim. Don’t give in to the republican rabble. Free the Windsor two.

Plumb on.