Large numbers of police forces are planning to cut thousands of officers despite the threat of a recession-driven surge in crime and disorder. Representatives from dozens of police forces contacted by The Times last night gave a grim picture of falling numbers and “significant and painful” cuts.

Who will benefit from this? Only the feckless, the workshy, the thieves, the least productive members of our society. Those with no savings will have their mortgage paid by the tax payer, those with no inclination to work will have all their expenses paid by the tax payer.

We have a Prime Minister who can find time to make ‘several’ phone calls to support the MCann’s, Chav parents who left their children alone in a hotel room whilst they went drinking; we have a Justice Secretary who finds time to concern himself with the consumption of the marriage of that arch Chav, Jade Goody; we have a Chancellor of the Exchequer whose initial response to the financial crisis was to encourage us to buy a new plasma TV; we have a Foreign Secretary who arranges a £160,000 Gulfstream jet to bring home a terror suspect; we have a Home Secretary whose idea of being ‘more selective about those who come into the country’ is to curb the number of highly skilled foreign workers coming to Britain;  we are governed by a Labour Party whose idea of PR is to support a ranting Chav in the form of the disingenuous Derek Draper to ‘present’ its image; we have a media so obsessed with Chav approval that the cocaine snorting Kate Moss is deified and Gail Trimble’s intellectual prowess vilified.

Everywhere you turn, it is the basest, the shabbiest, the unwholesome, the festering unproductive sores who are supported and celebrated.

The ‘Chav’ cult has eaten our culture alive, infantilised us, consumed our ability to think critically of serious matters, rewarded the feckless and demonised the productive. Those ‘baby boomers’ amongst us have been fortunate, we grew up in an age of unprecedented peace and prosperity.

I fear for the young of today.  The social disorder we will see this summer will truly be the end of society as we knew it.

Jonathan
Dickson. February 26, 2009 at 12:49

Spot on! I have just returned to Ireland after a week in England, and can
say no-one does Chav better than the U.K.. Ireland does have its equivalent,
but the U.K.’s is the real thing – the original and best!
JD.
NO TO
LISBON MEANS NO TO LISBON!
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=38059363467

Coco February 26, 2009 at 01:05

Actually Saul! I do! It is possibly the only single bit of engineering that
I know about in Britain to be honest. What a bleak and fucking horrible
journey that is to ever have to undertake! I would rather be dead than go over
that fucking scary moor ever again. You could almost see Heathcliffe and Kathy
in the mist Uggggghhhhh!

Saul February 26, 2009 at 00:47

I can reccomend Grape scissors for those awkward places.

Saul February 26, 2009 at 00:45

Did you know that the M62 is the highest motorway in England? Sorry to
digress, but on boring journeys any fact is grasped upon.

Must catch some Z’s myself!

Coco February 26, 2009 at 00:43

Nite Glores! I have sent some special pearlised nostril strimmers through
the ether ………… With your initials on. Do not use them on your cats arse! They
are special clippers. Get the instructions off Chatelaine tomorrow X

Coco February 26, 2009 at 00:40

janes says: ”In contrast, the eighties were so boring there was no
demeaning
label.”
*************************************************************
But
janes there were demeaning labels ………… Surely you must remember New Romantic
and errrr ………… Perry Boy! Not to mention Goth!

To be called New Romantic or Perry Boy would cause my male friends to
back-comb and trim their quiffs even harder! They would spend hours more time
in the bathrooms than the girls ever did ………….. They didn’t want to be called
a New Romantic just because they wore a frilly blouse! Or because they all
wanted to look like Tony Hadley! Or because they had silly pointy shoes! They
hated being called New Romantic! It was demeaning. And I rekon it was the
beginning of the end of men as we knew them. Never before had men been more
poncey! Even the 50′s Teddy Boys didn’t come close.

But hey! Us girls got to wear fatigues as fashion items and I haven’t been
out of them since. Which brings me back to your tank!!!:grin:

Gloria Smudd
February 26, 2009 at 00:36

Zzzzzorry, I am zzzzo zzzzzzleepy, I muzzzzzt zzzzzzay goodnight to you
all. (Zzzzzzzzighs of relief all round)

Gloria Smudd
February 26, 2009 at 00:30

Coco. You have already alluded to rubbing salt into an open wound and now
you are at it again. You know how much I wanted to win those nasal-hair
trimmers.

Coco February 26, 2009 at 00:27

janes! I simply must comment on your smashing avatar. It looks like the
kind of vehicle we need at the moment. Do you own it? If so – would you like
the Kitten Commentariat Party to insure it for you both to and from work and
even when you are not carrying out duties with regard to unseating Gordie
Bruney?

Could you tell me janes if there is somewhere for Chatelaine and I to plug
in our hair-straighteners and nostril clippers? Of course the nostril clippers
are for our pets – not ourselves. Unfortunately, we will be taking all our
cats and dogs on our mission to create the New World Oder – For forensic
purposes of course ………….. You may already know two of them already. They are
called Eddie and Keela. We use them to find dead or rotting politicians.

Gloria Smudd
February 26, 2009 at 00:25

janes – is that spelt zzzzzzzzzzzzzero?

janes February 26, 2009 at 00:21

In all probability Ms Smudd will have a whole number of zeros if she
carries on.

Saul February 26, 2009 at 00:21

Excuse me whilst I bathe in FA Cup glory!

The “smoggies” dispatched the Hammers to reach the 3/4 stage.

Gloria Smudd
February 26, 2009 at 00:20

Purr! I must train the marmalade naughties to dig sharp little claws into
Smuddy if he ‘spends’ more than 3 hours on e-bay; I’m too tired now to hurl
myself into the fray with any conviction. I might have to curl into a ball on
a pile of clean washing …

Coco February 26, 2009 at 00:16

Kittens!

Gloria Smudd
February 26, 2009 at 00:14

There was a logarithmic jam at the keyboard (Old Smuddy back on e-bay) and,
although it created a division in our otherwise unbroken domestic harmony,
there he remaindered, denying me axis, no matter how much I abacussed. Nought
out of ten for Ms Smudd. Must try harder.

janes February 26, 2009 at 00:12

I’m sure an abundant number will mean to join in.

Saul February 25, 2009 at 23:59

I had calculated that I would get multiple puns on arithmitic. I was
counting on Ms Smudd to at least equal some of them. So much for that
theory.
It is times I tabled sum new ones. Hopefully this will compound
some interest in this thread.

Coco February 25, 2009 at 01:12

Anna Raccoon says: ”Who will benefit from this? Only the feckless, the
workshy, the thieves, the least productive members of our society. Those with
no savings will have their mortgage paid by the tax payer, those with no
inclination to work will have all their expenses paid by the tax
payer.”
**********************************************************
Thank
you so much for this!!! It has really reassured me! I will never ever feel
left out ever again! The horrible thing about turning 30 was the feckessness
that overcame me one afternoon …………. and it is still raging away in my bosom.

I love the bit about my mortgage being paid when my savings run out. That
is an absolute God-send! I am so comforted by all this but ………..will they pay
more than one mortgage per person though?

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 23:14

The trouble is, Saul, that recent reports are full of facts and figures so
appalling they deserve some honest response and recognition by those who have
made things so. Instead, we are still being fed a sour milky pudding of
excuses, ministers still have the time and energy to plan how to justify their
astonishing expense claims and those bigwigs who earn more than enough to buy
their own cars and houses are still the ones who get company cars and grace
and favour homes. It isn’t the media’s coverage I have most quarrel with, it
is the arrogant refusal of anyone at any level in the stinky upper echelons to
hold up an honest hand and take a bit of responsibility and blame.

Saul February 24, 2009 at 19:23

…and never let the facts get in the way of a good story.

Just about sums it up!

janes February 24, 2009 at 19:16

‘A journalist’s job is not to make something interesting important but
rather to make something important interesting.’ (Reference can be
supplied)

Saul February 24, 2009 at 18:58

The main problem is the “media” aim everything at the lowest common
denominator, we are in danger of becoming a divided nation. If only a fraction
of the rubbish continually fed to us was in any way of interest to normal
people, then ratings and sales would rise. Subtract the rubbish, add decent
informative reporting. Instead of dumbing down they should be educating.

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 18:21

Mulling this topic over as I locked curlers with another Pancake-Makin’
Momma over the last squeezy lemon in the land, I realised that although I am
bemused by the media’s insistence that I must be kept informed about Jade’s
week or that V. Beckham woman’s latest unlikely choice of sunglasses or indeed
Anthea Turner’s battle with cobwebs, their plights and attention-seeking
antics have little or no impact on my life or the lives of my children.

BUT … what does have an enormous impact on my life is the disgusting taste
left in my mouth from years of swallowing that putrid mixture of politicians’
and bankers’ manoeuvres, excuses, justifications and denials. And I don’t like
it. And that’s why I can’t stop feeling outraged.

janes February 24, 2009 at 16:14

But the baby boomers now spit out ‘Chav’ with the same venom as I seem to
remember being attached to ‘Hippie’ in the sixties and seventies. In contrast,
the eighties were so boring there was no demeaning label.

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 15:46

Ok Henry – or should I call you Rip Van Winkle – I’ll set the teasmade for
about 7.30am in about 20 years’ time. That might just be long enough for the
worst bits to be over.

Henry
Crun February 24, 2009 at 14:52

Gloria, your first comment hits the nail firmly on the flat bit usually
missed by the hammer on it’s way to my thumb.

I’m tired. Tired of opening the newspaper on a Sunday morning to read the
latest outrage committed by the government, a large corporation, a small
company ripping off consumers, chavs running riot, etc.

I’m tired of being outraged. I no longer want to buy the Sunday papers, but
we have an old and incontinent cat whose aim inside the cat tray isn’t what it
used to be. I’m tired of hearing Mandelsailor, Brown, Balls (both of them)
Haman, and the rest of the gang of sycophantic fuckwits masquerading as Labour
cheerleaders banging on about how the recession had nothing to do with Gordon,
or how Britain is best placed to weather the econimic storm, or how Gordon is
best able to steer us through the economic storm (if he is, the Labour Party
must be so bereft of intelligent life forms that it resembles the surface of
Venus), how the polls don’t indicate that Labour will lose the next election
but that Gordon is the saviour of us all.

I’m tired. Please wake me up when it’s over.

Anna Raccoon
February 24, 2009 at 15:41

Couldn’t agree more Henry, I just do feel guilty that we have all had a
relatively marvellous life; we’ve had hope, we’ve had fun, we had
optimism.
I don’t understand where these ‘train wreckers’ have come from,
that wish to see our children and grandchildren living in misery – or to
borrow Gloria’s immortal phrase, ‘when they put their feet on the first rung
it will be in lead clad boots’.
Didn’t they have fun, weren’t they
enjoying the sixties, seventies and eighties?

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 13:42

I don’t think I’d be clever enough to get the Sky Plus do-dah
timin-whatyerm’callems right somehow janes. Anna is well aware that a doctor
once told me I would always suffer from a very weak intellect.

janes February 24, 2009 at 13:25

Sky Plus is always an option Gloria, and if you do perchance get the
answers correct you can rewind it, pause it, then wait for someone else to
come in before you get it right again.

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 13:15

After all, I like to be able to hear myself getting the answers wrong.

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 13:10

What got me most cross about last night’s University Challenge was my own
ruddy children, wriggling and giggling at clever people on the telly and
making it impossible for me to hear, let alone concentrate on, the quick-fire
questions. I sent the young upstarts from the room. Twice.

janes February 24, 2009 at 13:06

Apropos nothing but Gloria’s intolerance of Lorne Spiceah is it not
irritating beyond measure to hear young Laura in Lark Rise to Candleford
talking about her Maaar and Paaar.

I had high hopes when the new young scullion joined the cast – she seemed
to be able to say Ma and Pa and I thought maybe her diction would rub off on
Laura. But no, vice versa unfortunately, now I want to poke four eyes out
instead of two.

Anna Raccoon
February 24, 2009 at 13:21

The sturdy branch was for my favourite HIppo, but whilst you’re up
there…..just make sure their feet don’t touch the ground!

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 13:06

Morning Anna! Are you sure you mean a sturdy branch to ‘perch on’ and not
‘swing from’? All this talk of piano wire has got me thinking that SOMEONE’S
gotta do it….

Anna Raccoon
February 24, 2009 at 12:57

Morning Gloria,
There is always a sturdy branch on the tree of ‘chez
moi’ for you to perch on if you are in need……..!

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 12:50

“… infantilised us, consumed our ability to think critically of serious
matters, ..”
……………

Anybody in the UK capable of joined-up thinking must surely be suffering
from ‘Outrage Fatigue’ by now in light of all the intelligence-insulting
things you list and more besides.

Today, discussion surrounds Lord Mail-Mauler of PostyPandy’s determination
to shatter what remains of our postal service and, do you know, today I am
almost tempted not to care.

I experience a brief shiver of revulsion and a brief surge of bile burns
the back of my throat but then I realise the futility of rising to ire. I am
almost tempted to shrug at the news of the investment wankers bleating for a
10% pay rise, I nearly couldn’t give a fig that it is now commonplace to speak
of debt in terms of trillions of pounds and I can barely be bothered to
bristle at the idea of Gail Trimble becoming the latest bugbear here in blog
land.

I turn away from the news, away from my glaring household chores and turn
to the telly, the toasted-teacakes and to torpor. Then, and only then, does
something manage to goad me beyond belief and it is the voice of Lorne Spicer,
the Issix Giwl off Cash in the Attic, ‘oo ‘as cleerly ‘ad ay fyew ‘helocution
lissins’ for when she does her ‘plummy’ voiceover.

I think she needs a fyew moawer lissins but at least she got me to switch
off the telly….

janes February 24, 2009 at 12:40

I wonder how many Chavs know what a three line whip is. They probably think
it’s that thing that happens when a bloke comes home wearing his Saturday
night smile.

Anna Raccoon
February 24, 2009 at 12:00

The ‘majority’ (a misnomer given the number of people who actually vote)
are morons – when they have chased every non Chav out of the country, they
will have to abandon voting – officially, as opposed to the present system! –
because there will no longer be anyone capable of following the simple
instructions to turn up at their polling station.
Nintendo will issue Grand
Vote, the reality game where you can throw tomatoes at Gordon Brown and
install Jade Goody as Prime MInister.

Zak February 24, 2009 at 11:53

It is a grim picture you paint. Unfortunately we live in a democracy where
the majority is represented best and it would appear as if the majority are
morons. I’m afraid Chav will be a misnomer before long as they will no longer
be part of a sub-culture but rather culture itself.

Personally I look forward to the day when it takes three weeks to secure a
reservation at McDonalds and instead of the famous 2.4 children it will simply
be 24. Having a ‘quiet’ drink out will require you to stab at least one other
tracksuit wearing, Saxo driving, window smashing, OAP robbing, benefit
claiming thug and a family holiday will require the rental of three Jumbo Jets
and 3 square miles of Ayai Nappa.