Now according to The Lancet, British breastfeeding mothers are in rapid decline! Only 1 in 200, or 0.5% are breastfeeding their babies after 1 year. Compare this with 23% in Germania, 56% in Brazil and 99% in Senegal! Why in Britain, only 34% of nurturing mothers are breastfeeding at six months! Could this have anything to do with our poor weather? Perhaps there is some truth in the expression, ‘As cold as a witch’s tit!’ There is currently a campaign to encourage British MPs to breastfeed in the House of Commons. Of the 650 Parliamentarians, 191 are currently female. I say ‘currently’, because transsexualism is trending, so who knows how many of the 191 will one day turn up to vote in pinstripe suits?



Philistinism: An uncouth person, hostile to art, culture, beauty, spirituality and intellect. Or, one who is smugly narrow of mind! Oh f**k right off will you, I just don’t like opera, and absolutely hate it when opera singers take on popular songs only to butcher them! Opera? Why I’ve heard sweeter music escaping from a bloated corpse!

The 5* Corinthia Hotel, Whitehall, London SW1, is the venue for the ‘world premier’ of an Opera Installation, running from 25th January to the 3rd of February. Apparently the new opera that promises to reveal ‘the secret life of an hotel’ will be breaking out all over the hotel, thanks to roving singers. If the ‘snippet’ I heard on BBC news is anything to go by, it might be worth me paying the £35:00 premium ticket just so I might interrupt the singers with my pre-recorded, seven minute long ‘Flatulent Concerto’ now that I’ve ironed out any bum notes! Talk about breaking bad!


toilet paper

Indefinite toilet breaks in the privacy of your own privy may soon become a thing of the past! The British Government is so short of money to waste, it intends bulldozing a law through Parliament forcing every householder to pay for the installation of a toilet meter that will record how much time we all spend on our personal shitters! At the end of each month, we would all receive a ‘privy bill’, and have seven days in which to pay for it! Currently, the Government’s toilet ‘white paper’ (first draft of bill) is about to get a reading in the House. If the privy bill ever becomes law, well, you can forget about sitting on the bog reading ‘War & Peace’, or skimming through a copy of ‘Hello’ magazine to see which of your favourite celebrities has just had plastic surgery! My advice is, get up from the toilet…unless you’ve got diarrhoea…and start campaigning!



Prime Minister David Cameron has pledged £50 million of public funds towards a planned, new memorial to the victims of Nazi atrocities, to be erected in Victoria Tower Gardens by the Thames, next to the Palace of Westminster. Really? Is yet another memorial to the Holocaust really a wise move, especially with £50 million of taxpayers money, and at a time when anti-Semitism is on the rise and social services are being cut? Hasn’t a Holocaust memorial already opened in Camden, north-west London? Remembrance and education centres certainly have their place in civilized society, but do they encourage rulers in less civilized countries to stop and think before slaughtering their own people? Definitely not! The Nuremberg Trials and recent Human Rights Conventions did not save the victims of the Bangladesh Genocide, 1971, the Cambodian Genocide, 1975-79, the Rwandan Genocide, 1994, or the Bosnian Genocide, 1992-95 or other acts of genocide that have yet to emerge!


sciatic nerve

My mother Sonia has a displaced disc, trapping her sciatic nerve! The cumulative effect of three weeks worth of strong painkillers and muscle relaxants have not dulled the pain one iota! Sonia may as well have dispensed with the drugs and downed whiskey! The waiting period for an appointment to the local hospital’s ‘acute pain clinic’ is, believe it or not, six months, and that’s just to see a consultant, never mind receiving treatment! Why bother having an acute pain clinic if a patient can’t be seen for six months? Despite the fact my mother paid National Insurance contribution for over 40-years, I will no doubt have to put my hand in my pocket…again, and pay for private treatment! There is nothing ‘cute’ about pain! Meanwhile, according to data obtained by the Royal College of Midwives, through Freedom of Information requests, NHS trusts spent more than £17 million in 2014 on agency midwives, enough to employ 511 full-time staff midwives. How wasteful is that? Huh, no wonder the Government wants to limit Freedom of Information requests by bumping up the fees!


Frankenstein's monster

…according to the Institution of Mechanical Engineers! The shortfall of lecky of up to 55% is due to the closure of coal and nuclear plants. Replacing them with gas turbine plants won’t apparently plug the hole! So, can we expect widespread blackouts? If so, how will we heat our boilers in order to obtain hot water? How will we microwave our unhealthy, ready meals? How will we charge our electric cars? How will we recharge our computers, tablets and smartphones? Oh f**k me, how will Victor Frankincense ‘reanimate’ his monster? Oh well, let the good times roll!



What is this trend to illustrate almost all children’s books? It delays publication, frustrating the author, plus the struggling writer must give away a percentage of profits to the illustrator! If the book is well written, injecting life into the characters, there really is no need for pictures! As far as ‘promoting’ the story is concerned, well, any half-decent PR campaign will do the job. ‘Laugh, I nearly split my sides! Written for children, but can be enjoyed by anyone with a GSOH, after all, the inner child resides in us all!’ In conclusion, give your imagination a workout!




I bumped into my old schoolmate, cheeky chappie, Mark K. the other day. Bearing in mind his wife divorced him and took him for every penny she could, Mark looked remarkably well…well! The last time anyone had spoken to me of Mark, I’d been told my friend’s business had gone down the tubes and creditors had bankrupted Mark, so my question was now, how come he looked so well fed? It turned out, for the last year or so Mark had been feasting for free on funeral buffets. Mark explained he only attended Jewish and Irish wakes, because such people laid out the best spreads, and in the case of the Irish, copious amounts of liquor! Mark’s modus operandi was, having crashed a wake, he would immediately make a beeline for the widow or widower, pretend he knew the deceased, express his sincere condolences, and then head towards the food. Indeed, in many cases he would be led by the arm towards the buffet. On occasion a mourner would even fill a plate for him! “Oh I’m so sorry for your…fuckin’ hell, is that a smoke salmon cream cheese bagel over there?” Jesus, such chutzpah! Only now, writing this blog do I recall what the headmaster once wrote across one of Mark’s ‘end of term report’ cards. “Charm is no substitute for hard work!”


king charles 2

I’ve gone from washing my teeth twice a day, to washing them once a day, nor do I shave every day. I can’t be bothered to change the bed linen as regularly as I used to, nor turn the mattress as often as I should. I don’t bother ironing anything now, nor do I vacuum the edges of the carpets. Washing the car? I prefer to wait ’til it rains before running a cloth over it! Bunnee my 5-year-old Cavalier has also got into bad habits. For the first few years, I hardly heard a peep out of her. Now she barks for her breakfast, and continually barks at the front door after dark. I think we both need retraining!


cashmere goat

Having had twenty-million freshly minted dollars ‘disappear’ from the cargo hold of a military transport plane on the runway at Kandahar Airport, Afghanistan, in 2010, one would have thought the Americans would have learned their lesson when it comes to US aid, but not so! It now transpires, the Pentagon spent $6 million dollars importing 9, rare Italian goats to Afghanistan in a bid to boost the local cashmere industry. The goats went missing, presumed eaten! Doesn’t that kind of thing just get your goat!



no farting

And not many people know that! Last summer a wrote a concerto. Accounting for pitch, rhythm and tempo, I threw in quavers, semiquavers, demisemiquavers, hemisemiquavers and demihemisemiquavers. It took the whole of the summer to write because I chose to play all the musical instruments myself. What I ended up with was two and a half minutes of what I like to call, breaking bad. To my credit, my Flatulent Concerto only had one bum note in it!



Folks, oh how times have changed! Big Brother watching our every move and listening in on our every conversation, ready to pounce as soon as we type a ‘trigger’ word on Twitter. Control, control, control! People are forever banging on about ‘rights’, human and civil, although I don’t quite understand the difference? But what about the rights of ‘free movement’ of an often marginalised minority group, witches? Between 1487 and 1956, my grandmother, Pearl could ride her broomstick whenever and wherever she pleased, but gradually, over the years, even her rights have been eroded by both State and local authority interference! Now grandma Pearl must keep detailed mechanical records as to ‘broomstick maintenance’, cannot use the same broomstick to sweep up her cave and fly, must have landing lights, a current ‘air worthiness certificate’, ‘Third-party Insurance’ and cannot fly anywhere without first lodging ‘flight plans’ with Northolt air traffic control in case my witchy granny collides with a drone carrying drugs for Her Majesty, or a plane carrying deported asylum seekers! Honestly, is it any wonder Grandma Pearl has turned into a couch potato? I’m convinced if it wasn’t for these stringent and clearly unfair rules and regulation imposed by a nanny state, Red Bull would by now have sponsored an air race of a quite different kind! And don’t get me started on ‘Coven tax’! Err, what do you mean, witches don’t exist…get outta here!



no farting

Darren met me in the Horse & Chains for a pint. “What’s up,” he asked, noticing I looked a wee bit down. I shrugged. “Never mind David,” Darren said. “Remember, this too will pass!” And then I broke wind. “Darren,” I replied, “you’re so right!”