I have not written an article for some days now. I have been in shock at what happened to Tommy Robinson and have been contemplating the ramifications for us all. Particularly for those of us who blog.

This is a dark time for Tommy and a dark time for all of us. We are frightened of speaking out. If we are not, we should be.

I belong to the group that is fearful of expressing my views. I don’t want a visit from the cops and extended stay in “ The Big House. “ Which I am guessing is their intention: to make us so scared that we dare not speak our minds.


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When I was a kid, we used to play a game called “ stacks on the mill “. It essentially meant that a kid would lie down and the rest of us would jump on and form a pyramid and chant “ stacks on the mill, more on still “ until the pile of kids collapsed and the poor kid at the bottom of the stack would be able to breathe again. To the best of my knowledge, it referred to the collapse of a mill stack or chimney which would be destroyed under its’ own weight.

It was a great game to play – unless you were the poor bugger at the bottom of the stack.

It reminds me of what is happening in the world today with world population and the importation of “ refugees “ and economic migrants from Third World Nations.

We are the poor bugger at the bottom of the stack and soon, we will collapse from the sheer weight of numbers. But, when it was my childhood game, it was game over. Today, it is the start of the game.

The current immigration from other countries to our countries is unsustainable. We cannot ever be robust enough to withstand the sheer pressure of the weight of numbers that is overwhelming us. Is that what “ they “  want?


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A friend of mine is currently looking after his grandson for three weeks while the parents are away for work. He retrieved the slow cooker from the back of the pantry and started cooking hearty one pot wonders for his growing 10 year old grandson. Every couple of days, the family gets an email with a photo of the young chap sitting at the kitchen table with a rather ample plate of food in front of him. So far, we have seen plates with slow cooked lamb shanks in gravy with mashed spuds and veges; slow cooked corned silverside with all the trimmings, beef stews, soups – you name it.

The little guy was smiling broadly and ready to tuck in to the offerings before him.

However, over the weeks, I noticed that the smile and cheeky grin had become more forced and less enthusiastic. I wondered why.

He almost looked as though he was in dread.


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The Israel Folau saga just grows and grows. Like many of the most defining cases of modern history, what would otherwise have been a storm in a teacup – a Tennessee teacher teaching Darwin in biology, an Alabama secretary refusing to give up a seat on a bus – the Folau case just keeps snowballing, not least due to the dunderheaded bigotry of his opponents.

Rugby Australia could have just said that the social media posts of a private citizen are none of their business, even though their sentiment does not affect their organisation’s policy. Instead, spooked by corporate bullies and social media mobs, they applied the thumbscrews. In the face of spectacular blow-back, RA just keeps digging itself in deeper.

Here is another own goal by Rugby Australia. On Friday, RA chairman Cameron Clyne said it had to sack Israel Folau because sponsors made it clear they would have deserted the sporting body if it did not. The statements reek of the same incompetence that speaks to RA’s handling of this sorry saga.


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I signed up with disqus some years ago, long before I made this website. I, foolishly, thought that if someone was a disqus user, they could automatically post on my site.

Not so, it would appear. Apparently, disqus over rides everything in your own site settings, should it decide to do so. 

I may be wrong. If so, f you anyway. I tried to register a new account today and I just about went mad.If I see another picture of a bridge, a car or a traffic light I think that I will lose my mind.

So why use a commenting system that censors me and my users before they get a chance to even comment? 

I have wiped disqus and decided to go with my own independent system. I am in control. Not disqus. Not some third party that cares nothing for my website, my beliefs or my views. So stuff you disqus. 

Let's see how an independent commenting system can work and be up you for censoring people trying to register for my site.


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I have just spoken with my Mum about my Dad and, over the telephone, and we have enjoyed a trip down memory lane about Old Times.

Dad passed 4 years ago and, as much as he has gone, he is still with us. Everyday.

We both had a drink in our hands, and started to talk about what made my Father the man that Mum misses and I miss so much. We wanted to paint him as a man who we love because he was so kind and decent. After a few more snifters , we decided that our gorgeous man was simply a Man. Yes, a Man.

You know the guy: the one who is no longer wanted, needed, regarded or respected.

After all he is just a man and a mysogonist prick because he is not gender fluid or PC these days. 

( photo not my real Dad!)

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I have been scanning the news from across the Western world and it is just more of the same. Everything seems to be about someone trying to shut down someone or something.

Whether it is femininazis trying to shut down men; homosexuals trying to shut down heterosexuals; socialists trying to shut down freedom of opinion; kids being brainwashed about gender; you name it, the airways are full of hatred of everything conservative and traditional.

Never in the history of our Nations have we seen such brazen bias and manipulation of our history and our cultures.

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I read an article on Australian media this morning about an older Australian in Broome in a “ home “. This person had maggots in the mouth. Yes, maggots. Crawling, inside the mouth. Creeping out through the lips and this elderly person lay, unable to do a thing, and no one gave a damn.

Please read that sentence again. Over and over again.  Because that is you or your Mother or Father, somewhere, anywhere, in Australia or New Zealand under this set of caring Governments that we now “ enjoy. “

Well, I have had it. I have an older relative, and she – and  I  have determined  that there is no way on this earth that we will ever end up in a so called “ care “ facility. Because there is no care and it is just a facility that keeps bodies alive with no regard for the folk that reside within the failing bodies that they call “ themselves.”

I feel very strongly about this. Abuse of older people in care homes is rampant. They are not care homes. They are “ I don’t give a shit “ homes. I spoke with someone today who visited an older relative in “ care “ and the lady had not had a fresh nightie or a bath in a week. A week. A WEEK.

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What a shock I got when I read that Philip Arps was sentenced to 21 months inside the Big House for posting a video online after that day in NZ history that we will never forget or be allowed to forget.

Is he a bastard or an “ alt right “ crazy? Who is he? Do I care? No, not really. What I do care about is that that he was sent to prison for posting objectionable material on line.

What on earth is objectionable material?

To me, it is something like an episode of " My Little Pony"  with two lesbian ponies. I find that objectionable. Others do not. That is the way of a FREE Society.  We all have different tolerance levels, different measure sticks and different taste buds. Is a curry too hot? It depends on your taste buds.

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