WHEELS OF FIRE PT II

Hell's Pavement Bikers apparently forced back onto the road. Go HERE for story from the magnificent Stratford Online 'better than the inky herald' News

WHEELS OF FIRE

The motorbike wars are really getting out of hand here in genteel Stratford upon Avon and it's all starting to get quite bizarre. I know I've mentioned it before but it is all quite unbelievable. It would make more sense if it was a Tea Shop War, you know what I mean...Anne Hathaway's Tea shop maliciously undercutting the price of scones at Othello's Cafe. But no.
What we have here are the Police desperately trying to stop the massve Hell's Angels Annual Bulldog Bash and raising the temp by describing our Hell's Angel friends as 'an international crime gang' (when did they work that one out? I mean...the clue is possibly in the name don't you think?). Anyway, all the be-suited worthies in town, especially the ones who own shops etc are up in arms at the poor old hard done by coppers who are basically being told to butt out.
AND THEN...we have the motorcyclists who are using the pristine Bancroft as a parking place. Not Hells Angels more like Hells Mid-life Crisiseseses....and this time...the worthies want them moved on but the police won't or can't, I can't remember which.
I'll tell you it's all becoming a bit much.

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THIS IS A PAYPERPOST POST

A great Gypsy Day at Police Headquarters.

Lately the Local Press and one National newspaper plus an Idiot Counsellor who ought to know better have been more than a bit mischievous by reporting Warwickshire Police's attempt at building bridges with the Gypsy Community as a 'Gypsy Party' on which £2000 has been wasted. Well I'm here to report the truth because I got off my arse and went to have a look. Admittedly I have always been interested in communities that are often maligned because a small majority of their members are bad apples. I like to know what effect the viewpoints of bigots etc have on the innocent because I guess it could be said I'm a member of a community that has suffered because of idiots...anyway enough of that.
The day at police headquarters was very good and very well attended. The only sign of a 'party' I could see was a bouncy castle and that of course was for the kids. There was an interesting example of a Roma caravan and some quite incredible photos. There were also other organisations present including the Fire Brigade, Nuneaton Carers, Relate plus a few others.
I went to an interesting talk held by a writer (sorry forgotten his name) who had travelled widely in the Balkans where there's a large Gypsy population. His specialisation was music and he showed a fantastic short documentary about a village where nearly 100% of the male population play or are learning brass instruments as a way of making a better way in life.

I also found out where the word 'Gypsy' came from. Apparently, Gypsies started appearing in what was Constantinople in 13 something. They were originally from India but the people in Constantinople had no concept of India and thought they were, because of their dark skins from Egypt. So...Egypt...EGypt...Gypt...Gypsy...Get it?

So there you have it. No party, Stratford Herald, Mr ignorant Councillor (you know who you are) etc. Just a very good informative day that you should have been at.

NO...I take that back. I'm glad you didn't come.

Those nice people up at the labour exchange...

Well here I am still unemployed (possibly unemployable), and still taking my regular trip up to the Stratford upon Avon job centre to see what work is available for a skilled old fart like me. The trip is never, to say the least, very pleasurable (even in good weather) because I'm afraid I'm one of those people who've always felt 'ashamed' at being without a job. A bit like a Leper, although (thank God), I can ever know what a Leper feels like, but you know what I mean. Although l have no missing digits I do feel a large bell and the cry of 'unclean, unclean' would complete the picture. I'm not a snob, it's just the way I was brought up. Hunter, gatherer all that rubbish.
However, none of my inner pain is the fault of the nice people at the job centre. They make my present predicament and the short stay in their office, bearable. Thanks to their good manners and sympathetic outlook, I survive the ordeal. So first of all I want to say thank you to them and then cast my mind back to my first ever bout of unemployment when I was a young man living in Bristol. When a trip to the Labour Exchange, as it was in those days, was a nightmare.
First of all there there was the queue and I mean queue. The long line of desperately broke (broken) people left the building, went out into the street no matter the weather. The line was mainly comprised of, well, how can I put it, society's rejects, with a liberal sprinkling of men in suits. Men who before their life-change experience worked in retail or in an office. The rest of the line were, Gypsy's, Tramps and Thieves (don't forget the Drunks) to quote a line from a song. All this was a horrible once a week experience, especially for one so young (me). But the queueing wasn't the worst of it.
When you finally got to the window which was behind bars by the way, you were handed your dole money in cash. You then had to walk past the queue on your way out. Imagine. Everyone knew that you were carrying cash. Like I said before, most everyone in that queue were desperate, hungry, drunk.
I was lucky, I never got bothered. I survived. But I know for a fact that there were some who never made it to the end of the queue with their meagre payout intact...and some, who were never seen again.

The BENNIS is BACK!

Holy Shennanagins is there no stopping this man?

Just when Stratford thinks all is lost. Just when there seems no hope. When the authorities are as usual ignoring our pleas. When our voices are crying desperately out into the wilderness...
In our darkest hour there suddenly appears a flash of Green, the scent of shamrock and a mighty cry of 'what'sgoingonherethen?'...
Yes...it's the Bennis and this time it's the Kerbs and the motorcycles that are feeling his wrath. People are falling over the kerbs like flies caught in a...er...flyspray. Tripping arse over tit (medical expression) on a short trip to the hospital. The elderly, the young and the drunk. No-one is safe. But wait...there's more.
There are Motorcycles and their riders on the promenade! Depositing their oily selves on a pedestrian walkway for Godsake - whatever next? Fish and Chips? The Curse of the Bancroft strikes two-fold and our hero is having none of it.

NOT Stratford upon Avon

Just had to get away from Stratford for a few days. We packed up the car and headed for Spooky Ilfracombe. If you've never been I'd advise you to go for the experience. Just don't forget your crucifix and garlic.

Oooh Matron

All this hot weather is not conducive to mucho blogo I'm afraid. Who wants to stay indoors punching a keyboard...anyway...
Had to go to Stratford Hospital today to have my wonky eye looked into. I have a damaged nerve which has left me with hardly any peripheral vision which means I could be taken advantage of by a Ninja if he or she should approach from my left side.
The last time I was examined was a couple of years ago and I was told at the time they didn't expect my condition to change anytime soon. I'd made an appointment this time because I thought I should have it checked out again...sorry am I boring you. Stay with me on this one.

You boy, at the back, wake up.

My appointment was at nine of the clock which meant as an out of work person with no need to time-keep anymore I had to make sure I was out of my pit on time - which I'm proud to say, I was.
However, the whole thing was a complete waste of time because when I got there they didn't have my notes or anything about me or my condition. Complete Cock-up. Also I was told, I should have had a field test before seeing the Eye-Man. Seems the next appt I can expect is in August for heavens sake.
Of course none of this would have happened if we still had the Matron.
Personally, I blame Gordon Brown.

'...and where are Mr de Stratford's notes nurse'?!

The Beat Goes on...

There doesn’t seem to be much happening of a dramatic nature here in Stratford at the moment, so I thought I’d have a bit of a general tidy-up/roundup...unfortunately as Mrs De Stratford has just thrown out all the newspapers (cue enormous row) the following is all from memory.

The local elections left, as I predicted, one or two Tory casualties (good). The general consensus is that their demise is due to some of the horrendous decisions taken re the Bancroftgate affair and the so-called 'World Class Stratford' debancle. Heads have indeed rolled. Just one or two more to go - they know who they are.

We await with great anticipation the opening of Romeo and Juliet Stratford’s own Sex Shop (yippee!). Although the designation ‘Sex Shop’ (yippee!) is furiously denied by its owners, any shop that specialises in selling naughty lingerie and adult toys (rubber lego? Joke) is, in my lurid mind, a sex shop (yippee!)

Referring to the above, one can’t help wondering if The Bennis will make an appearance in protest at the above. Should be fun. Bright green latex rubber suit and mask Cyril?
More shops closing in downtown central Stratford although, thankfully, The Pasty Shop continues to sell its delicious wares.

The re-building of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre continues at a pace. I haven't bothered to take anymore photos as the whole place is just a mass of scaffolding at the moment.
Meanwhile in the Royal Shakespeare's front garden...

The Bancroft continues to stick out like a sore thumb what with its backless benches (watch out for toppling pensioners) and general Barcelona Bleakness. I must admit to feeling rather sad that the fresh new paving blocks, (all the way from China) are rapidly losing their gloss and becoming stained with oil from parking motorbikes, and the fresh marble-like stone (surely not the real thing?) built around the flower beds are badly damaged from spotty oiks and their skateboards.

Horrified to find out that The Greenway (The District Council one and only success) walk and bike way could become a road should Mr Bird’s Eco Town become a reality. Funny thing about Mr Bird (Stratford’s Finest)...I used to think he was a bit of a hero what with his history (Scrap Dealer Father worked Stratford with a handcart) and apparent backing of all things Stratford over the years, turns out he’s just a hard-headed businessman after all. Nothing wrong with that I suppose?

That’ll do...

X

Just come back from voting. I had the usual argument with the son and heir about why he should put his mark on the paper and he finally agreed to come and do his duty if I let him drive? So much for Democracy. The mem sahib once again refused to tell me who she would be voting for and we had words. A few jokes about the British Nazi Party and we were on our way. Anyway...things could prove quite interesting around these Tory Stronghold Parts judging by the steely gaze in some of the voter's eyes. I wouldn't be too surprised if someone is going to be punished...severely. BUT...this is Stratford upon Avon so I don't hold out too much hope. Cut off from the real world, we've always been a bit Never-Landish in our old-fashioned views. However, with what's been happening around here lately in terms of massive building-type changes, the economy etc, etc, the old stiff upper lip might be trembling a little. One can only hope.

Much Ado About Nothing (sorry)

It's hard to believe I know but good old Stratford upon Avon's latest upset has made the internet and the national tabloids. I refer of course to the SexShop-gate affair (below).
Shakespeare Wuz ere has received one comment (also below) in favour of the shop (which I reckon, judging by its tone, came from someone involved in the business) and I personnaly have read numerous complaints about the issue, one of which expressed concern about the schoolchildren who will have to catch the bus outside the premises???? Poor little darlings (They'll love every minute of it).

I'd like to take this opportunity and let it to be known that I (Ted de Stratford) am in favour of the whole escapade and will be first in line to purchase something in tight pink Lycra. (There I've said it).

Not only will the shop brighten up the town it will be a slap in the face (S&M?) for those po-faced people who believe that Shakespeare never laid a finger on Anne Hathaway. This is 2009 and sex left the bedroom yonks ago. For heaven's sake we all do it / did it and if we didn't we wouldn't be here. It's enjoyable (if a little messy) and can lift one out of the doldrums. It's also, GOOD FOR YOU.
And besides, as the po-faced well know, it's hardly likely that the shop will last long (viagra) what with the outlandish rates and rents. I give it a year, any longer and I'll eat my rubber willie (yes I will buy one of them too).

Woman with Vibrator

(oo-er missus)