BY GARY BAXTER
So, Dear Friends, it seems offgen offwatt or just off-whatever-they-want-to-call-the-bollox have finally come to their senses over Thames Water. The shareholders have told them to f off as well. ABOUT BLOODY TIME! Your clown of a CEO thought he could get away with the sewage pumping, or is it dumping? You thought your clients would foot the bill for your total incompetence. How WRONG you were. I hope you find yourself jobless old son and never hold that sort of position ever again, not that you’ll need to presumably, given the stupid money you are on. Let’s hope you go for a swim one day and accidentally choke on a tuppence.
Thank God the shareholders kept a grip on their wallets and denied you the billion you wanted to clean up your mess. I really feel sorry for anyone that lives on or near the Thames and I pity the poor wildlife that has to put up with the amount of shit in the water and I ask again, JUNIPER, when are you getting off your arse? Natural England absence in this really makes me wonder.
I remember some years back the fuss that was made releasing salmon into the Thames. What a great joke you have turned that into. Just like the release of the otters (live ones not just dead otters) all around the country. It was the Master of Otter Hounds that noticed the pollution in the rivers was killing the otters. Now you tosspots have done it again. As for the beavers, good god what about them lodges – they will be being made from the wrong sort of log I suppose.
Last week I did see our farmers turn out in Westminster and it did bring a tear to the eye to see the people we rely on to feed us having to take the argument to the mother of democracy or so the fucking idiots who sit in that building call it. Well done to all of you involved. It was great to see the townies welcome you, farmers. Great work. Next time you go, can someone let me and the lady boss know and can you make room for us in the cab? I’ll let you wear earplugs, I promise, and will keep off the beans before we ride.
You need all the support you can get as you won’t get much from that bunch of tossers in the mother of parliaments. From what I hear, DEFRA shouldn’t be in charge of running a tap – as far as the buggers in that department are concerned they still can’t decide how much CO2 is in the atmosphere and they need to tax all us ‘plebs’ more for global warming. A nonsense when you look at how responsible for it us Brits are:
Can I ask a question here please Ed? (Ed answers ‘feel free, Baxter, you’ll ask it anyway’) …
What part of ‘fuck off’ don’t they understand?
I have spent most of the last three weeks in and out of flamin London and the amount of Rollers / Bentleys / chuffing great Mercs and limos I have seen round Central is unbloody believable and they were not fucking electric either.
Do these bastards think we are all fucking stupid or what?
Old Khan must of loved seeing all those tractors rumble in on his precious ULEZ cameras! Oh wait he can’t can he? As there has been an outbreak of bat boxes all over the place! Whoever thought of that WELL DONE covering the cameras with bat boxes – that was sheer bloody genius! Beaten them with their own batty law!
Now folks, do excuse me. I am off for a lay down as my head hurts and I need more Scotch. I am knackered to death by the nonsense in our world and I am quite exhausted having been privy to a document that will make your eyes pop out on stalks that was doing the rounds…
Let’s just say the tide is turning, friends. It’s not only Thames Water that has sprung a leak.
After the rain the sunshine…
I can’t give you much of a hint except to say that one day soon you’ll see a boat on the river heading for a creek (shit’s creek obviously, knowing what we know about rivers these days) without a paddle. It won’t be three men in a boat either. One of the three will be an old witch. One will unbalance the boat. And the other is already fast becoming a distant memory.
Be well, Dear Readers. Have a great week, as will I. And since I am feeling generous I’ll leave you with a rude gamekeeper joke:
A gamekeeper was patrolling the grounds of a large house where he was employed. He came across a man with his arm down a rabbit hole. As he approached and poked the muzzle of his gun on the man’s back, the man turned round, and the gamekeeper recognised him as being the vicar.
GAMEKEEPER: “Vicar!!! I am surprised at YOU stealing rabbits”.
VICAR: “I’m only catching one for my tea”
GAMEKEEPER: “But you must have over 30 rabbits there. How did you manage that?”
VICAR: “If I tell you my secret will you let me go?”
GAMEKEEPER: “I might do. Now tell me how you do it.”
VICAR: “Well before I come out I put my hand up a woman’s skirt. The smell on my fingers is irresistible to the rabbits.”
GAMEKEEPER: “Oh, well get out of here and don’t let me catch you again.”
The gamekeeper took the rabbits and sold them for £5 each. He thought later that he’d like to get some more to sell, so he remembered what the Vicar told him. He raced home and ran into the kitchen to see his wife just bending down to put something in the oven. Without hesitation he shoved his hand up her skirt and had a grope. Without even turning around to look, his wife exclaimed, “Oh hello Reverend. Going out poaching again?”
Gary Baxter is the son of a gamekeeper, is an ex gamekeeper and has run his own falconry based bird control business for the last 20 years. He doesn’t know any poaching vicars.