Sunday, 7 June 2009

Oiks

http://www.thisisbath.co.uk/news/Pub-regulars-rally-beleaguered-landlady/article-1055562-detail/article.html

I had the misfortune to drive through the ancient parish of Twerton-On-Avon last week and as I was making my way up the High Street, I happened to glance at the Full Moon and was DISGUSTED to see dreadful people with tattoos hanging around outside this establishment. Most of them had sunburn - I think frying one's skin until it blisters is almost a badge of honour amongst the lower classes. These particular specimens were smoking their rancid cheap "fags" and drinking some concoction which I have since learned is Vodka and Red Bull. This combination of sun-damage, cheap alcohol and the chemicals contained within your average Penny Lane cigarette all contribute to the lunacy that seems to occur in the public houses south of the river these days. I have never been one for pubs myself - more The Harington Club for me. I did used to enjoy a few ports in the clubhouse after playing golf, but they let anyone in there these days, even Labour voters. Last time I was there, there was a frightfully vulgar, red-faced man in shorts who kept swearing and speaking in his dreadful voice with its dreadful lower class inflections and aitch dropping. It put me off my deep conversation with Lord Maurice Montague, so he and I have vowed never to go there again.

The article I have linked to above shows the desperate need for a 20ft fence to be placed along the River Avon. This may discourage the disgusting creatures that live in the frightful BA2 to stay where they are and fight amongst themselves, and drink themselves into oblivion and smoke their cheap "fags" until they choke.

NB. Fag meant something different in my day. My favourite fag was a boy called Huffington-Smythe. He was great at warming the bog up and made excellent tea. He is now a Conservative MP.

A Waste Of Time?

The single collections are looming, fellow Bathonians.

Mine is a Thursday, which somewhat solved the bin bag conundrum, because my refuse collection was a Thursday anyway. This means my tweed can remain where it is.

The green box recycling collection worries me though. I will have an extra two days of newspapers in my green box. This means it will disturb the system I currently use and that the arrangement of papers and bottles in the box will be somewhat altered. This has been causing me sleepless nights for some weeks now. I have asked the council, via letter, to give me some guidance on this matter, but as yet have received no reply. I am beginning to think them ineffectual. They should spend more time listening and responding to the real concerns of the residents

Saturday, 11 April 2009

It has been a while, my wonderful readers

I must apologise for my rudeness. I have been very busy with garden projects and also anxious at the looming change in my recycling/refuse schedule. I am still worrying myself stupid about the whole bin-bag issue. Agnes has been eyeing up my stash for some weeks now. I fear for the safety of my plus-four collection.

You will be glad to know that in my absence, and between my many projects, I have been continuing my crusade against progress in Bath. Only this week, I have fired off letters to the council about the Busometer, planes flying over Bath, the alcohol licence granted to the new Tesco in Weston, waste collections (naturally), the disgusting crisp packet I saw when driving through Lansdown, drunks in the city centre and seagull excrement.

Do you know, my dear readers, I was out walking with Agnes and Brunhilde, my beagle, when I was alarmed to feel something warm oozing down my neck. Upon further inspection, I realised that a seagull had used me as a lavatory. I was most disgusted! It really put a dampener on my day, and despite Agnes' best efforts at removing the faeces from my collar with my handkerchief (laundered in rosewater, no less), my walk was ruined. I decided that the best course of action was to write to the council and order an immediate cull of every single specimen of flying vermin in the city. I have also suggested that bath be made a gull no-go area. I await a speedy response from them. Indeed, what else do we pay our council tax for.

Wednesday, 4 March 2009

Little Shop of Horrors

http://www.thisisbath.co.uk/news/Concern-Tesco-drinks-licence-bid/article-744662-detail/article.html

Well, I can't help but agree with Cllr Barratt. I have to pass through Weston on Bridge nights and am most disgusted by drunken youths clogging up the street and standing outside the Panda Fish Bar looking surly and unattractive.

In fact, only last week, I was in the store in question trying to buy a rather nice bottle of Sancerre for Agnes, but could only find Amberdown and Old Scroat. I asked the young man behind the counter, but he said something back in his youthful vernacular and I was still non the wiser. I left the store empty handed and was most perturbed by the coarse language and bawdy banter uttered by some young males, who were kicking the swinging "2-4-1 on Findus Crispy Pancakes" sign, which is always located in the most awkward place outside the shop (I got my Tweed jacket caught in it once. Naturally, Somerfield were billed for the repairs). These young men asked me if "oi cud get 'em sum Sovvies, mate". I can only presume that they were learning a new language, because it is quite unlike anything my ears have been exposed to before.

So, in conclusion, a new Tesco in Weston, with its binge-drinking encouragement, will be a scourge on BA1. This is something I would expects in the wilds of Whiteway. We are only one step away from delinquent 5-year-olds and babies with tattoos.

Saturday, 28 February 2009

BRT - Bloody Ridiculous Tosh

I was pondering the BRT this morning while walking to collect my Torygraph from the newsagent's, and I think it is quite frankly a terrible idea.

Environmental, visual and economic impact notwithstanding, I object to this idea on the basis that it is going to attract oiks from Bristol, or worse, Midsomer Norton and Frome, into Bath. They will drive in in their terrible cars and speak in their terrible accents. This will mean that Bath will be changed forever and not for the better. People called Chantelle and Dwayne will be making me throw up my Charbonnel et Walkers champagne truffles (I have 2 each morning with coffee - at 10.53am). They will bring their equally dreadful children with them and make the place look untidy with their drab clothes and white doughy flesh. Agnes thinks I am a terrible snob, but my response is that I have standards which I wish to maintain.

It also means that I have to buy a new A-Z. As you may have already noticed, my dear readers, I feel very uncomfortable with the idea of anything that involves change. I wonder what they will call the new road (if they build it). I imagine it will be something ghastly, like Nigel Mansell Road. The new A-Z will cause me unnecessary expense, so I shall, of course, be billing the council for recompense.

You will be pleased to hear I have written several letters to the council expressing my objections to this ridiculous scheme.

Tuesday, 24 February 2009

READERS - I am on FIRE this evening! More recycling news.

I am rather enjoying this blogging lark. It's jolly good fun.

Anyway, I have just been perusing the Bath Chronicle website, so that I can get a bit of outrage in before bedtime (which is at 9.23pm, for those interested), when I spotted this little gem


http://www.thisisbath.co.uk/news/day-waste-collections-June/article-723266-detail/article.html

I am already concerned about this. I am used to my recycling and refuse collections being on particular days of the week, but this looks set to change. I wonder what will happen on the week of the change-over, because I have to ration bin bags carefully, because my wife, Agnes, has a terrible habit of using them to store my clothes in and then she places the full bags in the front lawn. Not only is this unsightly, but it also poses a great risk to health and safety, especially when one returns from Bridge (Thursdays, when I dare to put back my bedtime to 10.57pm and I always have exactly 4 cognacs). Since this habit of hers has emerged, I have taken to confiscating bin bags and keeping them about my person, and I give her one per week for the purpose of disposing of rubbish. Changing our collection day will pose me with somewhat of a conundrum - do I make her over-fill one bag, or do I dare give her two bags, in the event of extra days between collections, and risk my Plus Fours being thrown onto the lawn contained within the bag? If you have any solutions, please post them in the comments box below.

I do hope this isn't as revolutionary as when the council stated that they would no longer collect waste from the back of residences, due to Health & Safety concerns. This is problematic when one cannot get one's usual brand of bin bags and the only alternative is to downgrade to a thinner bag. There is always the risk then of the bag splitting and the contents being spread all over the carpet when the bag is being transported through the house from the bin in the back garden. Of course, one could always move the bin, but this is BA1.

I am still having nightmares about this particular change - lets hope the new one goes without a hitch and my Plus Fours remain in situ in the wardrobe.

I must tell you about my latest letter to the council

Well, you will be outraged, people of Bath.

Last Wednesday, at 11.37am, I was reading the Daily Misogynist, followed by a dose of the Torygraph while enjoying Wagner's Ring. However, this idyllic scene of relaxation was disturbed when I noticed the brutal abuse my green recycling box was being subjected to.

Do you know, the neanderthals THREW it down on the ground after emptying it, leaving it at a 36° angle to the wall. Neither did they replace the lid. I think it is disgusting - what on earth do we pay our (extortionate) council tax for? I immediately reached for my Eclats D'Or writing paper and fountain pen (with proper ink - none of this cartridge rubbish) and fired off a letter to the council.

I also left a message for Sam Holliday, editor of the Bath Chronicle, as I was SURE he would be interested in this as the front page splash on next week's edition, but his secretary rang me back to tell me he was running with bulls in Pamplona and was unable to be contacted by telephone. I was most surprised, because I'm sure I saw him in Waitrose the day before when I was buying my daily quota of Duchy Originals shortbread and gin and Indian Tonic Water.