The nights are drawing in, needs must, I chuck another guitar on the fire, determined not to cave in and spark up the malevolent cash-guzzling gas boiler.
Time marches on, life, and I notice it is now harder to read by candlelight, the old mincers not so good as they used to be. God knows how Scrooge managed.
So the bloody Queen croaks and I’m forced to read books in the dark sticking to my self-imposed communication blackout of no TV or radio for two weeks, to avoid the stream of mindless royal drivel, garbage and dirge.
Maybe she was a nice old bird, who knows, had a good innings, though hardly surprising. However her ilk robbed, thieved and slaved their way across the Empire, another name for all the countries they nicked, for centuries. Leaving death and chaos in their wake. Piling trophies high. Paying for nothing and contributing what exactly?
And don’t give me all that “what they’ve done for the country and tourism income bollocks” Flying around the world at our expense, eating posh nosh and dishing out gongs.
There are millions of people visit Stone Henge every year. That’s 5000 years old if it’s a day and not a fucking Druid in sight. People like history, dead or alive.
Think I’d have more time for Druids than royalty. Frog lickers, that’s Druids, not the Queen.
UK plc will still receive shed loads of income from muppets queueing to see the crown jewels – the Big One, the Kohinoor, was nicked off India I believe, a royal toenail or any other tat laying around, whether we have an incumbent royal or not.
On the positive side, we will now save a fortune on the Balmoral gas bill. Can you imagine heating that place? Bloody nightmare. 20-foot high ceilings, howling gales. And it’s in Scotland of all places, gets bloody cold up there, still snows. That’s why they had loads of corgis, used them to stuff up draughts.
So autumn is upon us, even the trees are giving up early. Fall, leaves falling, I finally get it. Americans, no history. Wonder if they want a king, I don’t. Winter on the way. “People will freeze to death in their homes” warn the great and the good and the fuckwits. What tosh.
When did anyone in the UK last freeze to death indoors, assuming they also have windows? Last winter some poor fucker slept in a fridge freezer box under a canal bridge. I used to pass him every day on my way to work. He didn’t freeze to death. Cheery bloke, we always spoke. Life in the First World, 21st Century.
I seem to recall, not that long ago, most UK homes were heated with a single coal fireplace, no double glazing, no insulation – not a single scrap.
Here we go – when I was a kid we had ice on the inside of the windows, net curtains, if you were posh or had something to hide, stuck to the inside of the glass first thing in the morning. Washing frozen stiff on the line, smallpox, polio, cod liver oil. But nobody moaned or froze to death, life went on. Doctors used to make house calls 24/7, even for poor people.
It snowed every winter for a week or two, more in the grim north. We wore green canvas parkas, red quilted lining, a hood trimmed with real rabbit fur – no idea why, it didn’t keep you warm. Neither did the parka really but we all had them.
Apparently, rabbits are the most efficient producers of lean healthy meat. Healthy for us that is, not the rabbit. Loads of families used to keep them to make pies – very British. You’ll thank me for that gem of information when Mad Max is just around the corner and the lights have all gone out. Of course no one will actually know what to do with a dead rabbit or how to make it dead in the first instance. Run it over. But you can’t as there’s no petrol. Mad Max has it all in that big tanker thing he drives.
All the really cool kids had fish-tail parkas. Kept you warmer. I had the short one, arse was always freezing. When it snowed the dye in your jeans stained your legs blue.
Power cuts, petrol rationing, strikes, three-day week. Don’t recall the Queen doing much through all this mind. Eating a few swans maybe. Throwing another miner on the fire. My mate’s dad has a swan in the freezer but that’s another story.
So the Cheese Lady ( I borrowed that one) freezes – very choice word, energy prices and hey presto panic over. That will be a monetary freeze after a massive, strangely forgotten price hike over the past twelve months. It started long before that fucking mad Russian invaded Ukraine. He cops most of the blame, but who cares.
Like we do. It will be cold in Ukraine. You will freeze to death in a house there because it’s got no fucking windows or roof, but we in the UK carry on moaning. Turn your hot water off, have a cold shower every day for Ukraine.
In all this bullshit energy cost hike has anyone reminded us we should actually be using considerably less if we are going to save this finite rock we cling to, while torching and mining every surface and orifice? The planet does not need saving, it will be ok, it’s been there before. It’s the human race that’s fucked. Or if you believe the Government hype, some wizard in a field’s going to invent a marvellous new magic energy source at the eleventh hour, we are just not sure when that maybe, while we continue to “increase production” – it makes me piss. Where are the Druids now?
Do you remember COP26? Seems like a century ago. Do the right thing, idealism. It’s kicking off again in Egypt, be nice and warm there. They will all fly in. From everywhere. Pull in a spot of sightseeing at the pyramids, on expenses – another long-dead civilisation, wonder where they went wrong?
All Truss has done is dole out many billions of pounds, profit included, guaranteed Government money, to the energy companies. What a bonus. Fabulous business model. Four of the Big Six are foreign-owned, God knows how many of the smaller ones similarly.
No longer will EDF et al have to chase millions of scallies around the country for a £500 winter debt, Liz just pays it all, probably upfront. I wonder if she negotiated a discount?
Not to mention the hike in VAT cash that H M Gov’ receives, over and above what they used to receive, which applies to most things that have increased in price.
More North Sea gas, fracking? Bring it on. Sold straight into international markets, not sent down the UK pipe for home delivery to No 7.
And then again not much use if your gaff has just collapsed in a fracking quake. Or just been permanently rendered worthless if you live in the zone. Frack off. It costs so much to fracture and extract that prices can never fall. Here to stay. We’ll do wind turbines next time.
So run out and buy a hot water bottle, read the instructions, don’t burn your fingers. And candles, a cheap fleecy blanket, thick socks. There you go – sorted. And don’t forget the acoustic guitar – you can burn all those useless electric models now.
To finish on a very positive note – how lucky are we not to have had King Andrew? As one of my esteemed regulars Mr. Bains pointed out …… it could easily have happened. If I was Charles I’d hire one of those food tasters for every meal.