Author Archives: Bob Hughes
Why is the co-operation between Public Health England and the alcohol industry to try encouraging middle aged adults to stay off the booze for two days a week seen as a clash of interests while the government and energy companies … Continue reading
Here’s an insight into how my mind works, when it does. Bowie fans in my age group will be well familiar with Moonage Daydream. An old friend of mine always refers to it as Burnage Daydream, Burnage being an area … Continue reading
Racism is illegal, hate crimes are illegal, why the fuck does the Labour Party need special measures to protect Jews? Antisemitism is amply covered by both anti racist and anti hate crime legislation. The holocaust argument falls flat, native Americans … Continue reading
Mmmm, porky, is that a description of the author perchance? Nope, porky, as in resembling pork, I’ll thank you very much. Before I gave up eating meat pork and beans was a favourite dish of mine. It differed from most … Continue reading
Cheshire East’s website heralds the re-opening of Crewe Green roundabout at the end of this month, restoring access to Hungerford Road and Sydney Road. Before everyone gets carried away, Sydney Road is to close in October… For 26 weeks to … Continue reading
I’ve had another sunny day at work, driving on peaceful country lanes. Or was it really that peaceful? Spot the camera, then what the camera was watching… Yes, it really was quite peaceful, even Hell on Wheels was flowing smoothly. … Continue reading
There’s nowt wrong wi’ being cynical. If you look it up it means dog like. Now, the arch cynic in me does not believe in coincidence and I’ve received some unsolicited mail today… Except it ain’t email spam, it’s snail … Continue reading
I found a painted pebble this morning, the instructions written of the other side said to post a photo on FaceBook then re-hide it. I have done so and also taken photos of its new hiding place, I’ll upload those … Continue reading
While you’re comfortably sat at your desk in a nice air conditioned office, spare a thought for us poor old rural delivery drivers. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.
“Reet,” says I, “home time, grumpy bitch.” “OK then” comes the reply from the very pretty, 19 year old, barmaid. If ever there was a time I wished I was forty years younger!