Pinch Punch, now Lichen here…(ahem)
Every morning these days I am wake up and have fallen into a newly evolved routine, its like a middle aged natural selection; hoping to keep sane by worrying about things out of my control and doing what I can to maintain the status quo. I wake up, hope Putin has died or been taken out, his tin pot generals and yes men clapped in irons and taken away to stand in some court for propagation of war crimes, then I come down stairs, check the smart meter to see if we can beat the previous days savings on electricity, make a cup of tea and go back up stairs to do Wordle, hoping the word will not be an Americanism or American spelling, but always having that thought at the back of my mind. I have a shower, check the naked dried weight my slightly sticking rotund tummy; I’ve lost 2 kg this year so far due to walking 3 miles a day and still drinking beer when I can. Thats probably the reason I’m sticking at around -2kg.
Then I’ll log on downstairs, and see Ive got to listen to some terrible Break out meeting at work where managers upon managers try to persuade us with their tired rhetoric that things are fine in the business and the shoddy product they are asking us at the coal face to supply to the customer is a step forwards from when we ruled the mountains and moorlands of GB. Technology has moved forward but better tech in the hands of fools doth butter no parsnips.
Then I think of the poor Ukrainian people and the poor Russian people once more, switch on James O Brian and have confirmed to me what a shabby little island we have become under the ruling Tory Government we have landed ourselves with. As the Oligarchs panic as they see their stock shrink, their houses confiscated, their boats impounded, football clubs put in the hand of “custodians” their wives terrified as they see perfume running out and little chance of being able to travel anywhere else other than the Motherland to replenish the stocks of Eau de Toilette, with probably literally toilet water from a shitty department store in Siberia. As Europe and the rest of the World shuts itself down to Russian commerce and spending, no one wanting the Rouble and no one wanting dirty Bloody Utility money, apart from one rotting little country, some island nation, unsure wether to criticise the bully, sniggering along with the bully so as to protect themselves from future repercussions. Weak in the face of plummeting markets, unable to make a stand against the Bully. Liz Truss, the selfie loving opportunist, the reason Putin has threatened Nuclear War, one of the lunatics in charge of our particular asylum here in Britain. Pritti Patel; lying at the dispatch box regarding letting Ukrainian Refugees in, while other countries in Europe let them in, give them food and free rail travel and a pass to stay, no questions asked, for 3 years. This sort of behaviour will not be forgotten by our European Cousins, and I hope in the next time of asking these wretched little people, no ones from the bottom of the pile, snivelling little shits who somehow have got themselves into a position of power and as far as I can see are only in it for the money and the photo opportunities, certainly not for the greater good.
Then I will try to do my blog as I’ve been remiss of late and have had 2 days in a row with no one reading my rubbish; a first for me. So maybe i’ll rebrand
So folks buckle in for more smart meter chat, more weight grumblings, walking diaries and opening one eye to check if the mentalist in the Kremlin has gone yet. Good day.