New Blog


If anyone is still following me, whether in the hope I’ll post again, or just because there’s nothing good on the telly, I’ve started another blog – to replace this one.  It’s in its infancy and – I know this is cheating – I’ve even pinched a few items from Cheese Will Set Us Free.  (Just to show you I’ve got no new ideas.)

I hope to post more – once I’ve worked out what it is I want to say.

Follow me again – and I’ll follow you again.

Something like that.

My new blog is at:

In the meantime – Happy Christmas!  (Three times at least, I think…)

Chester (as was)

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Everyone’s gone to the moon…

According to a report in the Daily Mail (‘the paper our astronauts read’, so we know it’s to be trusted on extra-terrestrial matters), a man from Whitby has fathered a child out of wedlock – with a woman who lives on the moon!

Simon Parkes, a Labour politician and father of three (one of them a lizard with a ray-gun attached to its head!), appeared on ITV’s This Morning to reveal he has ‘frequent relations’ with a lady called ‘Cat’, who may or may not have evil designs on the planet.

The child’s name is Zarka – which means ‘doesn’t exist’ in Cat’s tongue, a language Simon has taught himself out of a book he borrowed from the library.

Cat first appeared in the 1960s when, despite his mum’s warning never to get into a flying saucer with an alien bent on world domination, Simon – an impressionable 5-year-old – said ‘Yes please, miss,’ when Cat asked if he’d like to see her puppy.  And possibly a crater on the moon.

Following some traditional probing, he was given a bag of sweets and told not to mention the incident to others ‘in case they think you’re a bit bonkers’.   Over the next five decades, Cat came for him four times a year, and, true to his word, Simon kept their secret under wraps.  He didn’t even tell his wife – for fear ‘she wouldn’t understand, lose her temper and throw me out’.  (Which she did.)

He said he was only speaking out now in the hope of encouraging others to come forward with their own tales of alien abduction, without looking silly.   ‘Just because races like the Daleks have tried to destroy Earth on a regular basis,’ he said, ‘doesn’t mean they’re all bad’.

Asked if he thought his beliefs made him unsuitable to represent his constituents, Simon insisted it wasn’t a problem as the aliens agreed with all his policies and favoured his party’s manifesto, especially on tax.   Besides which, Cat never comes for him during meetings as she doesn’t like large gatherings of people.

Simon says Cat is from a race of green aliens called Mantids, who are seven feet tall and wear cloaks.    A gifted artist, he’s produced a drawing of one of them (see below).


Curiously seductive alien life-form

‘Some people can’t handle the truth’,  he told the Mail’s reporter, before announcing he would ‘have to finish now as the fairies who live at the bottom of my garden need feeding’.

A spokesman for the NSPCC, who take a dim view of aliens from beyond the stars interfering with our children – even if they do grow up to be politicians – said, ‘We take every allegation seriously, especially if they’re really stupid ones that get our name in the papers’.

Meanwhile, officers at Operation Yewtree – the ongoing investigation into allegations of child abuse dating back to the 1960s – have revealed that a 900-year-old Time Lord from Gallifrey is ‘helping with inquiries’ and ‘an arrest is expected shortly’.


Ed Cyberband

Thought for the Day

‘When I was a child, fairy tales began, “Once upon a time…”.  Now they begin, “If I’m elected…”’

Harold from next door (Yes!  He’s still alive and well!)

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Where did the world go?

It’s been quiet of late with nothing much to report.  Hope you’re all well.

Bernard’s sent me a couple of photos – the usual rubbish.  The man clearly has too much time on his hands.

nowt2Too farHe also tells me he’s written another book, but under a pen name.  It’s a crime novel so will be of no interest to any of us here.  That said, if I don’t upload the details I’ll never hear the end of it from Mrs C, who dotes on the old fool.

Seems it was briefly in the Top 100 in ‘British Detectives’ two days ago, since when it’s plunged like a day-old soufflé and may never be seen again.  If you’re interested – though I don’t recommend it – nip over to Other Books where tea is currently being served.

In the meantime, keep smiling!   Or whatever it is you get up to when no one’s looking.

Thought for the Day

‘He’s a writer whose books will be read a long time after Shakespeare, Dickens and Hemingway are forgotten.  But not until then.’

Gilbert HInge (who lives next door to Bernard)

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Water carry on…

Mrs C is a keen horticulturalist and, the price of water having gone through the roof (£400 a metric tonne last time I looked), recently sent off for a butt.   (For the benefit of my American readers, let me put your minds at rest.   A butt in the UK is a water source for the gardening enthusiast,  not some vile form of mail-order surgery.)

Cut to the chase, a man in a van turned up at dawn today and left it on our doorstep.

Having wolfed down a boiled egg, Mrs C leapt into action,  ripped off the outer casing,  and hauled her new butt (make of that what you will) round to the side of the house.   Keen to check the quality of its innards, she lifted up the lid. Or would have done so, had such a feat been possible.   Unfortunately, it was not.  A helpful sticker proclaimed the unit to be ‘child-proof’.  It might have added that Superman himself would have failed to break in, even with his heat vision turned to full blast.

I thought about calling in a child – to see if the makers’ boast was up to scratch – but where to find one at 10 in the morning?

Harold came out, leaned over the fence, and asked what the problem was.  When I told him I couldn’t get the lid off the butt, he said ‘But what?’ and roared with laughter.  I said I didn’t think that was funny,  and he said I should lighten up.  Then he wished me luck and said he had to dash as he had a dentist’s appointment.

After several more failed twists and turns, I rang the supplier.    He said he had no idea how the lid came off, either,  and would have to go and find another butt and see if he could work it out.

He called back an hour later.  ‘What you need,’ he said, ‘is to lift the lid as far as you can, find a small yellow clip and push it very hard.’

I did as he suggested, though I had to lean the butt up against a wall for purchase, and it still took me five minutes to get the lid off.   I hurt my hand in the process and had to take three Panadol to kill the pain.

It’s my opinion any child daft enough to climb inside a water butt deserves all he gets and I shouldn’t have to suffer a torn ligament just because his parents don’t know where he is after dark.

I rang Bernard – who enjoys hearing about other people’s woes – and, quick as a flash, he sent me the following, which depicts, he claims, the most effective form of child-proofing in the world:


PS While we were chatting, Bernard told me his latest book, Bernard to the Rescue!, is available for free on Amazon Kindle until the early hours of Saturday morning (6 April). He says he’s currently at Number 12 in the Amazon com ‘Satire’ charts, which sounds silly to me.

I don’t know why he doesn’t get his own blog and advertise the fact.

Here are a few links:




US and India

Thought for the Day

‘My neighbour caught me up his tree and asked me what I was doing.  I told him one of his apples had fallen off and I was putting it back.   Fortunately, he was a policeman, so I got away with it.’

Charles de Gaulle  (1890-1970)

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In for a penny…

Bernard doesn’t know when to stop. He’s sent me another four pictures, with the suggestion that I should ‘Publish and be damned’.

Which I probably will be.

But I’ll take him down with me!

aPPEALPleaseMummyX Lawyer2NeedsThought for the Day

‘He became a High Court judge – an honour few people receive while they’re still alive.’

Cyril Fling (no relation)

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Money, money, money…

Bernard has sent me a furious email.  His dander’s up over a recent report in the Daily Telegraph (‘the paper God would read if He didn’t already know everything’).

It seems the men in wigs are kicking up over plans to slash the legal aid bill by a whopping £350m. (Enough to pay for 12,000 extra teachers, 20,000 replacement hips or another six MPs.)

Lord Neuberger, Britain’s so-called ‘top judge’, says if the scam isn’t launched into space on the next rocket out, we’ll all have to ‘represent ourselves’.  (Largely because we can’t afford the criminally high fees he and his pals charge to write us a letter.  We should all have ‘access to free legal advice,’ he says,  but not at the lawyer’s expense.)

Even worse, he claims,  if the tap’s turned off, m’learned friends will be out on the street and forced to take on proper jobs, such as cleaning the nation’s drains or serving behind a counter.

Democracy, he says, ‘will be undermined’ owing to the fact that ‘people will feel the Government’s not giving them access to justice’.  The fact that it’s the lawyer’s fee that generally denies the common man his access in the first place is neither here nor there.  Lawyers, he insists, are a cut above the rest and must be paid accordingly.  Anything under £1000 an hour is a breach of their human rights, and can’t be condoned in a civilised society.

Bernard’s not convinced.   Lord Neuberger,  he says (who probably wouldn’t know a good deed if it jumped up and bit him on the bottom), can’t have it both ways.   Are the lawyers in favour of justice, or are they not?   If they are, let them provide it, at reasonable rates.

Bernard’s none too keen on the lawyers, of course, as anyone who’s read his seminal work X Marks The Spot will testify.  Last year alone, he claims (p 101), ‘every lawyer in the land earned over £40 billion just for turning up in court and saying, “I’d like to apply for more legal aid, m’lud”.  To which the standard reply was, “Granted.  How much can you carry home?”’

I’m none too convinced of his ‘facts’, but his heart’s in the right place.  When all’s said and done,  it’s hard not to concur with the view that Lord N and his pals should be rounded up, taken down to the woods and staked out overnight for the wolves. (Though how fair this is on the wolves is another matter.)

I’m not saying that, of course.     It would be asking for trouble.  Especially if his Lordship does a Google search and hunts me down just to show me who’s boss.

And even more so if there’s no legal aid for me to call on.

I’m not stupid…

Bernard has sent me a couple of pictures.  I’m not sure they’re legal.  Well, they are – but you know what I mean…

Lord NeuPriceOnJustice

Thought for the Day

What do you have if you bury a lawyer up to his neck in sand?  Answer: not enough sand!’

Cedric the Short, King of the Bulgars (547-548 AD)

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And on the seventh day…

According to a report in last week’s Daily Mail (‘the paper that gives it to you straight’, so we know the story’s true), police in Essex took SIX days to respond to a 999 call, after a couple came home to find a gang of thieves ransacking their house.

One of the villains, caught red-handed with the family hoover, claimed to be cleaning the drive as an act of kindness.   That might have fooled a policeman, had one bothered to turn up, but it cut no ice with the wife, who – having heard a few excuses in her time – knew a scam when she saw one.

As the quick-thinking couple called for back-up, the crooks piled into a car, drove through the garden wall and scarpered for their lives.

Police car

The Daily Mail has thoughtfully provided us with an artist’s impression of what a police car looks like. It appears to have been abandoned in a hurry.   (Possibly our heroes saw the villains coming and opted for discretion over valour.  Nothing would surprise me, especially if our boys had left home without their Tasers.)

A spokesman for the men in blue was quoted as saying, ‘We are looking into the background of this case, but it would appear the callers did not receive the response they should have.’

That’s putting it mildly!    Still, on the plus side, when a policeman finally arrived, he didn’t shoot the happy couple – the usual procedure on these occasions – or arrest them for having a hole in their wall,  contrary to building regulations.

The spokesman added,  ‘We will examine [the matter] to see if there are lessons we can learn to prevent this happening again.’

(One of those lessons being – presumably – ‘If someone phones in to report a crime, we get off our bottoms and investigate.’)

Having dug himself a moderately deep hole, he then sent out for a larger spade:

‘The Thurrock area is covered by a number of different policing teams including Neighbourhood Crime Teams, Neighbourhood Policing Teams, Response and Patrol vehicles and the Criminal Investigation Department as part of the Force’s borderless policing concept. ‘

Leaving aside the burning question  – ‘What on earth is a “borderless policing concept”?’ – he concluded,   ‘Despite having so many resources at our disposal, it was unfortunate the incident took place on the same night as the final episode of the popular detective series Lewis.  So,  to be fair,  if anyone’s to blame, it’s ITV for scheduling the programme after 9 o’clock when no one wanted to go out.’

He didn’t really say that, but, let’s face it, if he had, would any of us have been surprised?

Thought for the Day

‘My wife caught me standing in front of the mirror with my eyes closed. I was trying to see what I looked like when I was asleep.’

PC Anon (Not his real name)

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