Snakes. Dangerous things eh? Especially the venomous ones. There's only one breed of venomous snake in this fair isle, and that's the somewhat crap Adder. You've got to be a real idiot to get bitten by one of these things. They are known to be placid and shy, more into flight than fight. Kind of the Lord Lucan of British Reptiles. Deadly, but under the radar.
Anyway, we can't be having that around here, as this article from the 10th September's Leader shows:-
"FOR mum-of-three Amanda Corkhill the day was a chance to enjoy some late summer sun with her family.
But now the 36-year-old believes she is lucky to be alive after being bitten by a venomous snake.
Amanda had enjoyed a picnic with her partner and children at Loggerheads Country Park when she stopped to look at the reptile.
She was bitten on the finger when she moved in to take a photograph.
Amanda was rushed to hospital when she collapsed an hour later and spent five days under the watchful eye of doctors.
She told the Leader: “We’d had a fantastic day at the park and were walking back to the car to make our way home.
“We noticed a crowd of people pointing and taking pictures of something on the ground so we went to investigate and saw that it was a snake.
“I crouched down to take a picture on my mobile phone and suddenly it launched at me.
“I was shocked. I could see the puncture marks where it got me. It stung a little bit and began to swell so I thought it would be best to check it out at the hospital.”
But as Amanda was being checked by a nurse at a local community hospital, she collapsed and went into anaphylactic shock.
She was taken to the Countess of Chester Hospital where she spent five days seriously ill.
“I was in and out of consciousness,” she said. “My hand ballooned and my entire right arm was also swollen. My finger is still completely black.
“My partner Chris gave doctors a picture of the snake which they identified as a European Adder.
“They consulted with hospitals in Liverpool and Cardiff to try to find me an anti-venom.
“A doctor went by police escort to the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine to fetch me this anti-venom
“I’m OK now but I’ve still got a blood clot in my arm and it’s completely numb. It feels like I have a metal rod in my vein.
“I’m lucky to be alive.”
Active Amanda, who lives in Noctorum, Birkenhead, can no longer compete in a martial arts competition in a couple of weeks time.
But she is more concerned that the reptile had a large slit on its underbelly.
“Doctors said the slit could mean two things,” she said. “Either it had recently shed a skin or it had just given birth, which means there are more of those dangerous snakes in the park.
“In a way I’m glad it bit me because I am a healthy lady.
“If it was a child or a pregnant lady, they would not have been so lucky.”
Gary Dickinson, who runs the North Wales Raptor and Reptile Sanctuary, studied our pictures of the snake and believes it was likely to be injured.
He said: “Adders are the most beautiful little creatures and generally they keep out of your way.
“That’s what makes me think this one was hurt. They should have taken it to the vets rather than stand around and take pictures of it.
“The most dangerous animals are injured animals.”
Amanda is calling for warning signs at the beauty spot to advise walkers of the risk of snakes.
David Shiel, countryside officer with the Clwydian Range, said: “It is likely given the number of people surrounding it this adder felt threatened and struck as a last resort in self defence.
“It is not advisable to approach or to attempt to pick up any wild animal particularly if it is shows signs of distress.
“It is extremely unusual for people to come across an adder at Loggerheads.
“For this reason it is not considered necessary to place warning signs relating to adders.”"
The first thing that comes to mind is... The Stupid Bint!
Why are you going up to a Snake that looks a bit injured, or possibly even given birth, and say "I know what'll be a laugh, why don't I get right fucking close and take a picture of it, eh? That'll be a cracking story!". It's a poisonous fucking snake! It has poison in it's big two teeth. Poison that can kill people. Ok, it rarely does, but it could. In the grand scheme of things Phil Spector rarely killed people, but I wouldn't give him a shotgun, a box of cheap wine, and a free shot at my cranium.
Why would you pick up a snake anyway? I've seen that cannibal film where they tie and aardvark at a tree and let one of those big pythons at it, and I shat myself for days. And they aren't even poisonous. I reckon a Grass Snake could give you a nasty nip as well, can't be trusted, their eyes are too close together.
Martial Arts is a pursuit of intelligence, and it's said in the article that she had to miss a competition due to her injuries. Well if you piss about with snakes, you weren't likely to win anyway. I sincerely doubt The Karate Kid spent his spare time pissing off Funnel Web spiders, for instance. No, instead he learned how to clean stuff, and that got him victory.
Adder related Mongatry isn't just confined to around here. This is from "The Scotsman" newspaper in 2006.
"A HILLWALKER who nearly died after he was bitten by an adder revealed that he picked up two of the snakes so his brother could take a photo of them with a mobile phone.
Robert McGuire was bitten last Saturday while holidaying on the Isle of Arran.
The 44-year-old suffered a severe allergic reaction to the bites and had to be taken to hospital by air ambulance from a remote area of Goat Fell. He spent six days receiving treatment.
Speaking for the first time since he was released from hospital, Mr McGuire described the moment he was bitten.
"I was out for a walk with my brother Steve and his kids. We were going off to have a picnic at a local beauty spot.
"The next minute, one of the kids ran up and said there was a snake in the grass. I just thought it was a grass snake.
"I just bent down to pick it up so my brother could take a photo with his mobile phone. Suddenly a massive black snake just appeared, so I picked that up too. It was then that the second one just sank his fangs right into my hand and then the other one did the same to my other hand." "
Hopefully I'm not the only one laughing to myself about this tit standing in the crucifix position with big fuck off Adders having a chomp at his hands, looking like he's holding a length of hosing in each, screaming. The words "A massive black snake just appeared, so I picked that up too" fills me with great glee. Obviously, the first thing you do when you see a "massive black snake" is pick the bastard up and hope for the best. Or perhaps fashion it into a lasso and wave it about your head like a reptilian spaghetti Western. Perhaps starring David Icke. Can't have reptilians without David Icke.
My personal favourite line comes later on it that article:-
"I woke up in hospital, and I kept biting my tongue because it was that big. My lips looked like Mick Jagger's, they were so swollen.
"I felt dead weak and all bloated. I was like Hulk Hogan, my arms were really blown up."
Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant. You couldn't make it up.
Wednesday 15 September 2010
Monday 16 November 2009
Did you say BIN COLLECTION?
Well, it's only Monday and all ready there is news in Wrexham as regards the collection of Bins.
Wrexham Council plan changes to bin collections
Published date: 16 November 2009 | Published by: Staff reporter
Wrexham Council plan changes to bin collections - HAVE YOUR SAY
WREXHAM residents who fail to put their bins out by 7.30am may not have their rubbish collected at all under new council plans.
A report by chief environment officer John Bradbury to the authority’s executive board which meets tomorrow says the council gets numerous calls on a daily basis from residents who have not put their bins out as requested and ask for the crews to return to collect the waste.
http://www.leaderlive.co.uk/news/81540/wrexham-council-plan-changes-to-bin-collections-have-your-say.aspx
The week is certainly off to an explosive start with the township's favourite subject getting extensive coverage in the local rag. That's right, people will have to get up in the morning and put their bin outside their garden. That's big tough work. Or of course, they could do it the night before and not have to worry about it in the morning, but that's LOSER TALK! That involves common sense and forward thinking, see. Something totally at odds with the targeted reader of The Leader. Underneath the article there is a “Have Your Say” section, which while it lacks the sheer insanity, insularity and total bollocks of the Daily Wail or BBC HYS, it's still fun in it's own little way. Like a Baby Mussolini. See, it's rantings and ravings are fun now, but wait until it grows up.
“Posted by: Yachydda at 12:28 on 16 November 2009
What worries me is that there will be a small percentage of bins that older people or disabled people will find very hard to get out in the winter months especialy (sic) if its icy or there is snow on the ground...does this mean that they will have to endure the same treatment ?... I think Wrexham council has a point, but its of there own making.”
These bins are on wheels now you know. Gone are the archaic days of a Steel Container with your house number crudely painted on it in Whitewash, and some how a rotted hole in it from which a special brand of Rubbish Gravy would flow like the promises of love from a drunken 15 year old boy trying to let his girlfriend put his hand up her school jumper. No, we've plastic ones now. ON WHEELS. So if it's a bit icy, just roll it along, it'll probably help. And try not to slip and break your hip either, spilling your Werther's Originals and Roger Whittaker 78's from your tartan shopping trolley all over the hard, unforgiven icy floor. And there's warden assisted housing, which sounds ace and skill.
“Kirsty01979 at 13:31 on 16 November 2009
I think 7:30a.m. is an unreasonable time to have the bin out by. Perhaps if it was later people would have had a good chance to get them out instead of having to leave them out overnight or struggle with all the other tasks of a morning like getting ready for work or sorting the kids out for school etc. It would also mean that the bin wagons didn't have to be on the roads during peak morning traffic times and help to ease congestion.”
What's wrong with leaving the bloody thing out at night? I can't see your local “hoody” (ugh, I despise that blanketing) going “Oooooh, A Bin! I'll have that!”. But if the thought of your bin being just outside your garden is going to keep you up at night, fair enough. But wait, We should be allowed to put our bins out later! Well, fair enough then, We'll have the Binmen working a 12pm-8pm shift pattern! If you can't get your kids ready for school and have 40 seconds to roll the bin outside your garden, you shouldn't bloody have kids. This is probably one of the easiest methods of multitasking. In fact, it's not even really multitasking.
But I do have a solution. We should light our torches from the fire lit by a vagrant in Kirsty's bin and take to the streets of Wrexham. We can all march as one unit. The Fogies, The English, That miserable girl who works behind the counter in my local shop who's face would explode if she dared crack a smile as you buy your packet of Rizla, That weird bloke in Wetherspoons who pisses himself and sings Jesus Songs at you. We can all join as one and march, march to the Guildhall. We can march for transparency in Council affairs, we can march for equality, we can march for the saving of playing fields, we can march to save the Racecourse, but most importantly we can march so we don't have to get up as early to put the bins out!
Solidarity Comrades!
Wrexham Council plan changes to bin collections
Published date: 16 November 2009 | Published by: Staff reporter
Wrexham Council plan changes to bin collections - HAVE YOUR SAY
WREXHAM residents who fail to put their bins out by 7.30am may not have their rubbish collected at all under new council plans.
A report by chief environment officer John Bradbury to the authority’s executive board which meets tomorrow says the council gets numerous calls on a daily basis from residents who have not put their bins out as requested and ask for the crews to return to collect the waste.
http://www.leaderlive.co.uk/news/81540/wrexham-council-plan-changes-to-bin-collections-have-your-say.aspx
The week is certainly off to an explosive start with the township's favourite subject getting extensive coverage in the local rag. That's right, people will have to get up in the morning and put their bin outside their garden. That's big tough work. Or of course, they could do it the night before and not have to worry about it in the morning, but that's LOSER TALK! That involves common sense and forward thinking, see. Something totally at odds with the targeted reader of The Leader. Underneath the article there is a “Have Your Say” section, which while it lacks the sheer insanity, insularity and total bollocks of the Daily Wail or BBC HYS, it's still fun in it's own little way. Like a Baby Mussolini. See, it's rantings and ravings are fun now, but wait until it grows up.
“Posted by: Yachydda at 12:28 on 16 November 2009
What worries me is that there will be a small percentage of bins that older people or disabled people will find very hard to get out in the winter months especialy (sic) if its icy or there is snow on the ground...does this mean that they will have to endure the same treatment ?... I think Wrexham council has a point, but its of there own making.”
These bins are on wheels now you know. Gone are the archaic days of a Steel Container with your house number crudely painted on it in Whitewash, and some how a rotted hole in it from which a special brand of Rubbish Gravy would flow like the promises of love from a drunken 15 year old boy trying to let his girlfriend put his hand up her school jumper. No, we've plastic ones now. ON WHEELS. So if it's a bit icy, just roll it along, it'll probably help. And try not to slip and break your hip either, spilling your Werther's Originals and Roger Whittaker 78's from your tartan shopping trolley all over the hard, unforgiven icy floor. And there's warden assisted housing, which sounds ace and skill.
“Kirsty01979 at 13:31 on 16 November 2009
I think 7:30a.m. is an unreasonable time to have the bin out by. Perhaps if it was later people would have had a good chance to get them out instead of having to leave them out overnight or struggle with all the other tasks of a morning like getting ready for work or sorting the kids out for school etc. It would also mean that the bin wagons didn't have to be on the roads during peak morning traffic times and help to ease congestion.”
What's wrong with leaving the bloody thing out at night? I can't see your local “hoody” (ugh, I despise that blanketing) going “Oooooh, A Bin! I'll have that!”. But if the thought of your bin being just outside your garden is going to keep you up at night, fair enough. But wait, We should be allowed to put our bins out later! Well, fair enough then, We'll have the Binmen working a 12pm-8pm shift pattern! If you can't get your kids ready for school and have 40 seconds to roll the bin outside your garden, you shouldn't bloody have kids. This is probably one of the easiest methods of multitasking. In fact, it's not even really multitasking.
But I do have a solution. We should light our torches from the fire lit by a vagrant in Kirsty's bin and take to the streets of Wrexham. We can all march as one unit. The Fogies, The English, That miserable girl who works behind the counter in my local shop who's face would explode if she dared crack a smile as you buy your packet of Rizla, That weird bloke in Wetherspoons who pisses himself and sings Jesus Songs at you. We can all join as one and march, march to the Guildhall. We can march for transparency in Council affairs, we can march for equality, we can march for the saving of playing fields, we can march to save the Racecourse, but most importantly we can march so we don't have to get up as early to put the bins out!
Solidarity Comrades!
Friday 13 November 2009
The Herculean Intellect of the Wrexham Mentalist.
Hello again. The Leader was a bit slow yesterday and today, which is only a bad thing when it's getting so bad you can't take cheap shots at the idiot provincials writing to it, and stories about daffodils being found early on.
The Daffodil story is true, by the way. About 8 years ago, the front page of the Wrexham Leader (Like an once weekly omnibus of the Evening Leader for people who really like to read shite) ran a story proclaiming "DAFFODILS FOUND IN FEBRUARY!". I'm pretty sure someone would have died that week, or they may have been some job losses, but fuck that, some old dear has some flowers pre-spring, so let's stop the presses.
Anyway, back to my planned commentary, this one on some of the respected characters of the area, mainly found in Taverns or sitting under bus shelters with a 3ltr bottle of White Lightning, and a roll up cigarette made from disgarded fagends on the floor. For example, there's a man who lives near me who trained under his father to be a butcher. Fair enough. But he wasn't very good, which his dad pointed out. So in perhaps the greatest instance of "I'LL SHOW YOU!" of all time, he cut his own fingers off and said to his father "What do you think of that?". To which his father brilliantly replied "I think you're an even shitter butcher now.". Which is fantastic. I don't see mentally unhinged meat merchants amputating their extremities in the Groucho Club! Oh no. That's a Wrexham pursuit.
While not prone to self-mutilation (as far as I know), I had the pleasure of meeting such an upstanding member of scoiety a fortnight ago. I decided to go for a few pints in The Ironworks, which is the refurbished Barracuda, and much nicer for it, it is too. So, me and a friend of mine where sitting in the smoking area having a pleasant chat about Crimewatch or something, whereupon this small gent walks over to us, with a big shit eating grin on his face and asks...
"Do you know what JKD is?"
Now, I actually do know what JKD is, as does my friend. We've been fans of MMA for many years, but we decided not to engage the mental in the hope he'd leave us alone. Undeterred, he continued...
"Do you know what JKD is?"
"Yeah."
"Bruce Lee invented it you know."
"Mmm-hmmm"
"Look what I bought today..."
He had his in. We mistakenly gave him an answer. One syllable as it may have been, an in is an in. And he was about to seal the deal. He sealed it by placing a DVD on our table. A Martial Arts instructional DVD. It looked like it was from the Pound Shop.
"99p that"
Ah yes. The 99p shop. Incase the pound shop wasn't quite shit enough, they opened a 99p shop in Wrexham. Where evidently they sell Martial Arts DVDs.
"I do all them"
"Oh yeah..."
"Yeah. Have you got a fag?"
Quick as a flash, and with a fag in my mouth, I told him I didn't smoke. This gambit somehow succeeded. And he turned to my friend, who, under duress, gave him a fag. Now he was really in. He'd shown us his DVD, and managed to co-erce a cigarette. He decided to continue showing us his 99p booty. One item is all it was. Lightbulbs. Which he had "been meaning to buy for years". So god only knows what he did for light before then.
After sitting with us for a good 10 seconds, he decided to take the conversational to a more intellectual plane. He came out with the statement "I believe in God, but I'm not religious. Arfe you Religious?". At this point I started smoking as quickly as possible in order to leave, and this made me explode in a coughing fit, which made our new friend decree that I'm a drug dealer because "That's a drug dealers cough, that". While I tried to regain my composure, he turned his attentions to my friend who has long hair. Our companion claimed that my friend was either Axl Rose or Ozzy Osbourne and went on to ask my friend to sing "Civil War" by Guns N' Roses. This was the last straw for us, we downed our pints and I said what I thought would be a masterstroke.
"We're going to Fat Cats mate, come along when you finish your pint".
He thought this was a great idea, and said he'd be there in five minutes. Brilliant. As we walked to the L'Etage bar instead we congratulated each other on this brilliant scheme of sending him to the other end of the town centre, and leaving us in piece. We settled down to out pints of Heineken, smiles on our faces, when our new friend turned up. 99p bag in hand.
The Daffodil story is true, by the way. About 8 years ago, the front page of the Wrexham Leader (Like an once weekly omnibus of the Evening Leader for people who really like to read shite) ran a story proclaiming "DAFFODILS FOUND IN FEBRUARY!". I'm pretty sure someone would have died that week, or they may have been some job losses, but fuck that, some old dear has some flowers pre-spring, so let's stop the presses.
Anyway, back to my planned commentary, this one on some of the respected characters of the area, mainly found in Taverns or sitting under bus shelters with a 3ltr bottle of White Lightning, and a roll up cigarette made from disgarded fagends on the floor. For example, there's a man who lives near me who trained under his father to be a butcher. Fair enough. But he wasn't very good, which his dad pointed out. So in perhaps the greatest instance of "I'LL SHOW YOU!" of all time, he cut his own fingers off and said to his father "What do you think of that?". To which his father brilliantly replied "I think you're an even shitter butcher now.". Which is fantastic. I don't see mentally unhinged meat merchants amputating their extremities in the Groucho Club! Oh no. That's a Wrexham pursuit.
While not prone to self-mutilation (as far as I know), I had the pleasure of meeting such an upstanding member of scoiety a fortnight ago. I decided to go for a few pints in The Ironworks, which is the refurbished Barracuda, and much nicer for it, it is too. So, me and a friend of mine where sitting in the smoking area having a pleasant chat about Crimewatch or something, whereupon this small gent walks over to us, with a big shit eating grin on his face and asks...
"Do you know what JKD is?"
Now, I actually do know what JKD is, as does my friend. We've been fans of MMA for many years, but we decided not to engage the mental in the hope he'd leave us alone. Undeterred, he continued...
"Do you know what JKD is?"
"Yeah."
"Bruce Lee invented it you know."
"Mmm-hmmm"
"Look what I bought today..."
He had his in. We mistakenly gave him an answer. One syllable as it may have been, an in is an in. And he was about to seal the deal. He sealed it by placing a DVD on our table. A Martial Arts instructional DVD. It looked like it was from the Pound Shop.
"99p that"
Ah yes. The 99p shop. Incase the pound shop wasn't quite shit enough, they opened a 99p shop in Wrexham. Where evidently they sell Martial Arts DVDs.
"I do all them"
"Oh yeah..."
"Yeah. Have you got a fag?"
Quick as a flash, and with a fag in my mouth, I told him I didn't smoke. This gambit somehow succeeded. And he turned to my friend, who, under duress, gave him a fag. Now he was really in. He'd shown us his DVD, and managed to co-erce a cigarette. He decided to continue showing us his 99p booty. One item is all it was. Lightbulbs. Which he had "been meaning to buy for years". So god only knows what he did for light before then.
After sitting with us for a good 10 seconds, he decided to take the conversational to a more intellectual plane. He came out with the statement "I believe in God, but I'm not religious. Arfe you Religious?". At this point I started smoking as quickly as possible in order to leave, and this made me explode in a coughing fit, which made our new friend decree that I'm a drug dealer because "That's a drug dealers cough, that". While I tried to regain my composure, he turned his attentions to my friend who has long hair. Our companion claimed that my friend was either Axl Rose or Ozzy Osbourne and went on to ask my friend to sing "Civil War" by Guns N' Roses. This was the last straw for us, we downed our pints and I said what I thought would be a masterstroke.
"We're going to Fat Cats mate, come along when you finish your pint".
He thought this was a great idea, and said he'd be there in five minutes. Brilliant. As we walked to the L'Etage bar instead we congratulated each other on this brilliant scheme of sending him to the other end of the town centre, and leaving us in piece. We settled down to out pints of Heineken, smiles on our faces, when our new friend turned up. 99p bag in hand.
Thursday 12 November 2009
An Introduction to a Cultural Wasteland.
Hello there. How are you? You are probably wondering who *I* am. Well, I'm the seller of dreams, the taker of piss, and the drunken angry e-mailer of multi-national corporations with thinly veiled threats. I'm a student from the real European City of Culture, Wrexham. A place known for it's tolerant and sensible views on Bin collection, Immigration, Bin Collection, Bus Travel, Next Door's Lleyandii going into their Garden, Crime, The Youth Of Today, and Bin Collection.
If you've been to Wrexham, or from there, youknow all about the Armchair Politics in the pubs and the fact you can't get a Bus after 10:30 at night. But if you aren't I'll use this first entry to give you a bit of a flavour for the area. The best way to do that would be excerpts from the rag that makes Reuters jealous, The Evening Leader.
Well, I say Evening Leader, but it's not that anymore. The one thing it used to have going for it is that it wasn't published until the afternoon, meaning you could get the mornings news that day in written form, delivered by an urchin between the hours of 3pm and 5pm. However, that seemed like too good an idea, so a few weeks back they moved to a more normal newspaper model of publishing the night before for morning distribution, thus stripping it of it's only notable quality, and putting the publication on the same level as "Spot the Dog goes to Jonathan King's house" as regards a decent and important read. Only the Leader is possibly more offensive.
The best part of this bog read is the lettess page. Weighty, intelligent, well thought out opinions that make George Bernard-Shaw and Noam Chomsky look like a less eloquent hybrid between Ian Wright and Jade Goody's mam find their home on this page of visionary critiques of the Bin Collection Policy. For your reading pleasure, I shall bang some of them down here, so you can read them and bask in the glories of their high impact intelligentia.
WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 11th 2009
UNBAGGED WASTE FOOD A HEALTH ISSUE
THE health and safety brigade has rapidly gained a Reputation for it's "nannying" interference.
Why is it then, that when we are instructed by the council to put waste food (unwrapped) into a wheelie bin. to be collected once a fortnight, the zealots of the H&S barely raise an eyebrow?
I'm no expert, but I do think that this disgusting practice constitutes a fairly serious health hazard! Surely, this problem presents the H&S with an ideal opportunity to do something really useful.
Allowing us to "bag" waste food would be a step in the right direction.
JB Dunbebin,
Address Supplied,
Wrexham
Well, a lot to think about there, eh? I'd like to point out first that Dunbebin is a great name. Can I just say that I was shocked that the first letter I saw in yesterdays paper when I decided to type one up for here was about The Bins. JB also made sure to keep to the rules for letter posting in the Leader. Our Good Friend Dunbebin made sure to shoehorn a reference to nannying in there, as well as disdain for Health and Safety. I imagine Dunbebin has a thrist for thrills and danger, and loves nothing more than diving off a 10 metre platform into a big pool of syringes, broken glass and signed pictures of Richard Littlejohn. In fact, all this letter lacks is the obligatory "You couldn't make it up!" closely followed by a "Political Correctness gone mad!".
However, I honestly can't see why having mixed food in a bin is that bad for health and safety, unless discarded Chips and Peach Melba Yoghurt has this majestic chemical reaction which results in some kind of super AIDS. I do like the word "bag" in inverted commas as well, like bag was a euphemism for something. Total and utter bollocks, perhaps. Basically, all I can glean from this letter is that Dunbebin didn't really have an issue and just wanted to have a bit of a moan about "The Nanny State" and "Health and Safety Nazis". "Health and Safety Nazis" being a phrase I've never understood, because Hitler killed a shitload of people, and Health and Safety being meant to stop people being dead. But I'm young, so according to Wrexham I'm too busy stealing off Old people while raping them with a drug laced knife.
You couldn't make it up.
If you've been to Wrexham, or from there, youknow all about the Armchair Politics in the pubs and the fact you can't get a Bus after 10:30 at night. But if you aren't I'll use this first entry to give you a bit of a flavour for the area. The best way to do that would be excerpts from the rag that makes Reuters jealous, The Evening Leader.
Well, I say Evening Leader, but it's not that anymore. The one thing it used to have going for it is that it wasn't published until the afternoon, meaning you could get the mornings news that day in written form, delivered by an urchin between the hours of 3pm and 5pm. However, that seemed like too good an idea, so a few weeks back they moved to a more normal newspaper model of publishing the night before for morning distribution, thus stripping it of it's only notable quality, and putting the publication on the same level as "Spot the Dog goes to Jonathan King's house" as regards a decent and important read. Only the Leader is possibly more offensive.
The best part of this bog read is the lettess page. Weighty, intelligent, well thought out opinions that make George Bernard-Shaw and Noam Chomsky look like a less eloquent hybrid between Ian Wright and Jade Goody's mam find their home on this page of visionary critiques of the Bin Collection Policy. For your reading pleasure, I shall bang some of them down here, so you can read them and bask in the glories of their high impact intelligentia.
WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 11th 2009
UNBAGGED WASTE FOOD A HEALTH ISSUE
THE health and safety brigade has rapidly gained a Reputation for it's "nannying" interference.
Why is it then, that when we are instructed by the council to put waste food (unwrapped) into a wheelie bin. to be collected once a fortnight, the zealots of the H&S barely raise an eyebrow?
I'm no expert, but I do think that this disgusting practice constitutes a fairly serious health hazard! Surely, this problem presents the H&S with an ideal opportunity to do something really useful.
Allowing us to "bag" waste food would be a step in the right direction.
JB Dunbebin,
Address Supplied,
Wrexham
Well, a lot to think about there, eh? I'd like to point out first that Dunbebin is a great name. Can I just say that I was shocked that the first letter I saw in yesterdays paper when I decided to type one up for here was about The Bins. JB also made sure to keep to the rules for letter posting in the Leader. Our Good Friend Dunbebin made sure to shoehorn a reference to nannying in there, as well as disdain for Health and Safety. I imagine Dunbebin has a thrist for thrills and danger, and loves nothing more than diving off a 10 metre platform into a big pool of syringes, broken glass and signed pictures of Richard Littlejohn. In fact, all this letter lacks is the obligatory "You couldn't make it up!" closely followed by a "Political Correctness gone mad!".
However, I honestly can't see why having mixed food in a bin is that bad for health and safety, unless discarded Chips and Peach Melba Yoghurt has this majestic chemical reaction which results in some kind of super AIDS. I do like the word "bag" in inverted commas as well, like bag was a euphemism for something. Total and utter bollocks, perhaps. Basically, all I can glean from this letter is that Dunbebin didn't really have an issue and just wanted to have a bit of a moan about "The Nanny State" and "Health and Safety Nazis". "Health and Safety Nazis" being a phrase I've never understood, because Hitler killed a shitload of people, and Health and Safety being meant to stop people being dead. But I'm young, so according to Wrexham I'm too busy stealing off Old people while raping them with a drug laced knife.
You couldn't make it up.
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