It’s been a funny sort of week. China says The rubbish we exported
for recycling is of such poor quality they have sent it back and I have
been warned that the next time I get stuck in the bath I am going to spend
the rest of my life there.
The Fire Brigade will still rescue cats from trees
but uncorking the fat is out.
Predictably the World Rulers on “To-day” thought it was funny. I didn’t. But I know where the rubbish has gone
I was even less amused to hear that my bank which welcomes the ill gotten
loot of drug dealers and sundry other crooks is going to war on its
respectable customers.I joined HSBC when it was a mere stripling trading as
the Midland and I was an 18 year old stripling not doing a lot of trading at
all. Over the sixty five years that followed the Bank has made more out of
me than it has given.I counted up the gold coins I have hurled at its head
in overdraft penalties,mortgages and the crippling interest on bank
loan.Only the licensing trade has made more from my wayward ways.
Now I am past the years of debauch and thrown on the blousy shores of
temperance, in the words of the wicked Restoration Earl of Rochester the best
I can manage is to spend my annual pension from the Royal Literary Fund in
ten months.For the past decade the bank has subsidised me for the eight weeks
until the pension goose lays its golden egg.This year as always I had a
letter from it confirming it was happy to go on playing Father Xmas for
another year.My joy was short lived when another letter arrived complaining
I was £1,000 overdrawn and I was required to reduce it by £500 over the
course of the next month. I rang the bank to say that my pension was due in
a month and the bank said that was Ok, under the circumstances they would
revise their new strategy and accept £100. I said if I had £100 I wouldn't
need an overdraft and I too had a new strategy. I was closing my account.
It was not a decision I took lightly. I have enjoyed the battle of wits in
which we have been engaged over half a century. A battle which an earlier
manager had described as getting me to agree to returning to the more
conventional form of banking where I banked with them, rather than them with
me.
Battle was joined early in our arrangement when my riposte to them bouncing
a £2 cheque was to apply for a personal loan.
Halfway through the interview that followed the manager excused himself
because he had to supervise a visit to the vaults.He paled when I offered to
go with him. “You are doing enough damage to the concept of banking where
you are."
Some time later the years did well by me. I was living in a manor house
attended by a house keeper who brought the mail up one morning. The first
letter was an invitation to the annual Ball of the Duke of Lancaster's
Yeomanry, tickets £20. the second letter was a reminder my Hunt
Subscription to the Cheshire Hounds was overdue, there was a third bill for
mooring fees for my cabin cruiser,the aptly named “Fancy Free”. The
fourth letter was a rather sad little plea from the bank”.....if you would
even try to live within your means”
Greatly touched I bundled up the bills and sent them to the bank with a
covering note “I send you these in order that you can set the Hamlet's
Ghost of my overdraft against the Elsinore of events”
Almost by return the bank wrote “thank you for your full and frank
disclosure.May we remind you that Hamlet was one of Shakespeare's great
tragedies as you are one of the Midland Bank's “.
In those days there were giants in the land where now only pygmies rove.
My happiest time came when my bank manager commanded a territorial battalion
of the Liverpool Scottish. When he discovered I had served in a Highland
regiment I could do no wrong. When he had to lecture me about my wild
spending he used to take me out to lunch to deliver it.
Some years later when my first best seller was published I sent him a copy to thank himfor his support
He immediately wrote to congratulate me. He added “Alas a junior clerk thought the package was a bomb and summoned the Bomb Disposal Squad. So not for the first time you have disrupted the working of the bank for the better part of the morning."
Writing this and remembering those happy times left me feeling quite sad but
I have just had a reassuring phone call. A midland heart still beats in the plate glass and polished steel body of HSBC. A delightful girl from the bank named Terri
rang to say in view of the long years I have dealt with the bank I was to
ignore the last letter.The dear old Midland and I will ride together into the sunset.
MORE RUBBISH
John Humphrys has been much praised for his attack on the luckless DG. I
do not share the plaudits. The sad Entwhistle was already mortally wounded
and had he been thinking straight he would have refused the invitation to his own execution
He probably thought it would be an opportunity to bow out gracefully.Odd that
he should think so when he had served the Bbc for so many years.
Kicking men when they are down is an old BBC blood sport.
I have noticed before that Humphreys and the other bully Paxman pick their
victims carefully. The next morning the Hump behaved very differently when
he interviewed the formidable Liz Forgan.
The ex DG was said not to be up to the job. In thirty years I met very few
BBC managers who were.I think the daggers were out for him the moment he was
appointed. He wasn't told things he should have been told by the men whose
job was to read papers and keep an eye on the schedules. No point in keeping
dogs and barking yourself.
Why so much fuss ? Saville, in death as in life,is above the law.A few
ageing entertainers may go to prison, many entertainers who were chased by
under age nymphets will go free. The real problem that care homes have
become little more than brothels for the young and torture chambers for the
aged will not be addressed.The disgraceful business of the maligned Tory
Peer is easily resolved by sacking the incompetents who permitted it to be
aired, the editor who approved the copy and the reporter who was apparently
unaware of basic news gathering techniques should all be sacked.Perhaps then
we can concentrate on real injustice.
SNIPER JAILED FOR POSSESSION OF FIREARMS
A sniper has been sent to prison for possession of a fire arm. No suggestion
that he intended to use it, even remembered its existence.It was discovered
by illegal means. His kit which had been packed by other soldiers in his absence arranging the funeral of two fellow warriors was stored in the house of a friend. The friend's wife alleged assault by her husband.
The police used to dismiss such matters as “Domestics”. Now for reasons
unknown to criminology the police search the house and the kit of the
husband.With no justification at all, they also searched the belongings of a
house guest. ,SAS veteran Sgt Danny Nightingale. Acting illegally they found a
hand gun ,presented to him for outstanding service by the Iraqui army. He
intended to present it to his sergeant's mess in Hereford. sadly he
collapsed running 200 mile marathon for charity and as a result is suffering
from loss of memory.
Sgt. Nightingale , an SAS sniper, has spent the last seventeen years
putting himself in harm's way. The veteran of repeated missions, he was in
the front line in Afghanistan. Nevertheless he was brought home, court martialled,
disgraced and sent to prison. His wages are stopped, his wife and children
face eviction from their army home..
We certainly know how to reward our warriors.One can only hope Help the
Heroes will make sure the family are fed and housed until he is freed
No wonder recruiting figures are falling.
Saturday, 17 November 2012
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