All together again for another writing effort hoping to include all of the following 3 words into some sort of coherent vocabularic bundle of joy, or something.

Regular readers may or may not know that we have decided by gentle osmosis to move house. The loss of a job, leading to discussions about the uncertain future in our house coupled with the uncertain future out side of our house has led us to believe that as the future is uncertain both in and out then we may as well embrace the chaos, and see what happens. This will involve astute financial shenanigans, mostly agitated by myself with a little bit of sensible thrown in which, let’s face it, is pretty scarce these days in the current climate.

Watching the telly tonight, Panorama, sober and full of chicken leftovers; Chow Mein; a staple of the Monday post roast, I was struck by the way that the transport minister, Grant Shapps, spoke to me through the life size dopelganger of himself, looking tired and puffy eyed as he didn’t answer any questions which the interviewer asked. Tonight’s episode was about so called “smart motorways” which is where they open up the hard shoulders to drive on in rush hour and light the signs above the lanes with red crosses for “no” and something else for “yes” There are meant to be radars on the sides of the roads which can monitor traffic flow and rescue people who have broken down, this is the “Smart” part of the motorways, turns out its only operational on 2 parts of the M25 (The London Orbital ring-road which circumnavigates the capital city in a containing girdle getting tighter and tighter, for our overseas readers and fans of this shite). So the Smart bit isn’t really a thing despite being rolled out all over the country in patches for the last few years, on these roads there is no where to stop if you break down and loads of people have died form being hit by cars and lorries. Mr Shapps, sat there and told me he wants to make the motorways work, I’m really glad of this because I want them to work as well, and so I think that if all a transport minister has to say is the bleeding obvious, reading the instructions on the box it comes in, then I think I’ll become a transport minister too; My office will be called

“The Ministry of Shrawley Transport” and I will agree that all new stuff must be good and must work and I will keep on saying this and everybody will think what a great chap I am.

Since I became fully aware of the world around me, and the myriad of blunders which seem to be occurring at an alarming rate, I’ve decided to become an anarchist, but a nice one with combed brown hair and some biros in my pocket, you always need biros.

The ferry company with no ferries, HS2 which is suddenly really expensive, I expect someone made an honest mistake. Leaving Europe doesn’t matter to me now I’m an anarchist, i’ll just refuse to go, while I crack on with the crossword with my biros. The NHS will be ok, because the health secretary says it must work and they want it to work, to provide free health care at the point of entry, which is absolutely right and now I’ve looked around me I can see that if people in power just keep repeating stuff over and over then it must be true.

But I’m an anarchist now so I’ll probably swear a little when I use it, the NHS, because I will, we all will.

Yes, I can honestly say that when I move into my nice warm new house and I see the riots on the street outside in Clifton upon Teme, i’ll switch on Countryfile and watch the sheepdog trails, with the 4 nations of Kent, Wessex, Northumberland and The Shire battling it out to be the best at sheepdog trials. And everything will be ok with the world.

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