Sweet Friday Afternoon: Half-Arsed Weekly News Round-Up

Parts of the House of Commons were closed off today due to a fire breaking out in the early hours of this morning. No significant damage was done to the building but much of it had to be cordoned off because of the presence of fumes from toxic substances, such as asbestos, expensive cigars and the stench of broken promises. Earlier this week plans were announced for parliament to abandon the House of Commons for five years to allow major refurbishment works to be carried out. It is not clear where parliament will convene during the overhaul, but I have it on good authority that there is one venue, which is closed during the daytime, that is a particularly popular choice with MPs.

The capital’s police have had their work cut out lately dealing with the Notting Hill Carnival, the closure of cannabis factories, closing London bridges to clamp down on gangsterism and other peculiar occurrences. Despite this they are still managing to keep it together, unlike police in Hartlepool who are literally jumping at their own shadows. The Met have also had to deal with crimes that they thought they’d left behind in the 1950s, such as this particular case in which a man attempted to steal a flower cart by dragging it off with his horse. George Smith, 36, was fined 6 guineas, 2d, given a swift clip round the ear and told to buck his ideas up. The court was told to disregard his earlier convictions for scrumping and stealing lead from church roofs.



Smith had to sell his television set to pay the court fine



A murder investigation may have to be opened after a man found a lump in a tin of paint and decided that it must be a piece of human flesh. Bonkers Rob Rayment ,66, found the lump in some kitchen paint that he had purchased from B&Q the day before and made the obvious assumption that it must be a lump of human flesh. "It looks like the back of someone’s forearm. It’s an inch by half an inch. I was horrified by it, absolutely horrified,” Rayment gibbered delightedly. B&Q have reluctantly agreed to carry out tests on the lump. Since then Mr Rayment has written to breakfast cereal manufacturer Kellogg’s after finding what he has described as a baby’s eyeball in his Coco Pops. “Or it could be a monkey’s bollock,” flibbered the time-wasting attention seeker yesterday. 

It was revealed this week that one in 10 parents who live within 500 yards of their child's school admit to driving them to the gates, partly explaining the rise in fat-bastardry in today’s children. The London Borough of Southwark has the most fatties according to research, with a cholesterol raising quarter of children in the area being classified as obese last year. In my opinion it is not just the lack of walking to school and poor diet that is to blame for today’s childhood chunkiness, but also the fact that instead of playing football or riding a bike they like to stand around in supermarkets being amazed by really dull things. 



A big-boned youngster enlists his friends to winch him up from the bench



And finally, with the capital’s rising multiculturalism and its welcoming of citizens from all over the world for the Olympic competitions, it is good to know that one person from Mitcham is still keeping it old-school. He hasn’t mentioned dogs or the Irish though, so I suppose that’s progress. 

Olympic Update 15: The Arrival of the Paralympics

The Paralympics officially began last night with an opening ceremony based on a science theme, simultaneously heavily emphasising progress and enlightenment, and harking back to lines from The Tempest. Again. Stephen Hawking played a major speaking part in the opening ceremony; despite not being the obvious choice for this kind of thing, the eminent scientist still managed to sound less discordant than the Spice Girls a few weeks ago. The teams entered the stadium to huge applause, but bizarrely some of the Iraqi members decided to arrive on the scene wearing balloon hats. It is not clear whether they were wearing them as a way of showcasing new safety equipment for wheelchair rugby, or it was some kind of patronising effort to entertain the mentally ill. Either way, I found them hugely entertaining.

“I want one shaped like a sausage dog”

 

Former government minister Edwina Currie enjoyed the parade immensely, and even became sexually aroused at the arrival of the Italian athletes. Making sure that everyone was aware of her feelings, Currie swiftly withdrew her mobile phone from wherever she keeps it and Twittered gleefully, "Italians are gorgeous even in wheelchairs. Love 'em." Oddly some considered this comment patronising, and when criticised for this she later Twatted "Get off with the patronising. Look at them: they are gorgeous, and they're in wheelchairs. I bet they'd agree." I bet they wouldn’t. One Twitterer said that the comment was "singularly the most offensive thing I have seen on Twitter". He obviously doesn’t follow Frankie Boyle.

Like the opening ceremony for the main Olympic Games nearly five weeks ago, Sebastian Coe took part by giving a protracted and windy speech loaded with unnecessary and ill-fitting superlatives, and once again lecturing those who remained awake long enough on the true meaning/spirit/importance of sport. Near the end of the nightmarish sermon Coe promised that the attending crowds would be “unprecedented”, a promise that, in the cold light of day, might best have stayed in Coe’s jacket pocket alongside his driving gloves, Extra Strong Mints and stacks of corporate tickets.

 In a situation of typical Britishness the Olympic flame nearly didn’t make it to the stadium in time for the ceremonial lighting of the caldron, as it was running behind schedule by two hours earlier in the day. A contingency plan was put into place in which a breakaway flame was lit and Sir Cliff Richard was refused entry to the venue on the grounds that he might be tempted to sing during the possible delay. 

“Okay guys, who knows NWA’s ‘Fuck the Police’?”

The Paralympics are seen by some, James Berresford the CEO of VisitEngland in particular, as and opportunity to “show off the UK's world class accessibility to the disabled”, the world class accessibility which I have proudly highlighted before. But not everyone believes that Britain is at the forefront of caring for the disabled, particularly yesterday’s protesters who are a bit peeved that Atos, the private company contracted by the Department of Work and Pensions to investigate disabled people’s benefits is in fact also, alongside Samsung and Visa, one of the three ‘Paralympic partners’. Could it be that Atos are sponsoring the Paralympics using the money that they have collected from the government, who in turn have collected it – with the help of Atos – from the disabled people to whom they were previously paying benefits?

In a way it's beautiful.  

London's Hard Working Animals Make the Capital Proud

With the economy in the state that it is, households and local businesses can do with all the help that they can get, and that help appears to be coming in the form of the capital’s animals. Leading by example is Larry, the cat of number 10 Downing Street. In a wonderful illustration of the Big Society in action, the unpaid cat, after taking some time to procrastinate, decided to pull his paw out and catch a mouse recently, having been brought in for the purpose last year. "I can confirm that the cat did kill a mouse this morning," time-wasted a Downing Street spokeswoman, before making a hilarious gag concerning David Cameron recently being publicly asked if he is a man or mouse: "The only dead mouse in Downing Street is the one Larry caught this morning." Arf!

But Larry is not the only working cat in London; Hackbridge Station has acquired a feline stationmaster of sorts. The cat has recently been turning up to oversee the platform at the Wallington station, much to the befuddlement of commuters. Mr Relf, editor of Farmers’ weekly, a periodical specialising in bottom problems, said: "There I was, dashing platform-bound through the waiting room, when what should I see? A cat…other people on the platform were similarly surprised.” Indeed they were, and according to Mr Relf this astonished bewilderment at seeing a cat in a public place had a mysterious effect on the morning commute.

"We did that rarest of things for train travellers near London - we started talking to one another. ‘Where does it come from?’ we asked. ‘Does it live in the station?’ ‘Look,’ one person said, not quite believing their eyes, ‘a cat.’"

“Touch me, madam, and I’ll sue”

In the unlikely event that people could somehow one day come to terms with the astounding sight of seeing a cat – yes a cat! – at a train station, perhaps they could become accustomed to dog commuters. Jack Russell terrier Frankie caused rather a stir when he decided hop on the train at Gravesend, Kent to seek his fortune in London. The cheeky canine was unsuccessful in his search for gainful employment when he was cornered by a jobsworth train manager before he got to Kings Cross and sent back home. The plucky little dog has been forced to join some internet employment agencies instead.

One dog that is certainly earning his chum is stupid-looking Labradoodle Cooper from Worcester Park. He acts as chief taste tester for his owner Vivian Nutt who has started a company pointlessly manufacturing dog treats that are also edible to humans. Talking of how the business began Ms Nutt said: "The treats I used to give [Cooper] were really smelly and horrible, so I started making my own. As far as I’m concerned, if I wouldn’t eat it, I wouldn’t expect my dog to eat it.” The mad-as-fuck doggy baker continued by barking "What I’d really like to do is to have a dog cafe." 

“I’m not eating this shit”

Of course, not all of London’s animals are helping the economy; some are a ruddy menace, like urban foxes for example. When they’re not spreading the contents of our wheelie bins across the pavements on bin day, or doing pointy, foul-smelling shits on our vegetable patches, these ginger menaces are attempting to ruin sporting events. They allegedly chewed cables, wrecked microphones and soiled the podium area of the shooting venue of the London Olympics. A solution to the problem was not found, despite the fact that there were dozens of Olympic standard marksmen wandering around with their guns for large parts of the day. Perhaps they should have employed guard dogs.      

Police a "Highly Visible Presence" at Notting Hill Carnival

The bank holiday weekend saw Europe’s biggest street party, the Notting Hill Carnival, take place. The yearly event, in which revellers descend upon the London borough of Kensington and Chelsea to dance to loud music, publicly smoke cannabis, eat goats and stab each other, was hailed as a peaceful success this year by organisers and the police. So successfully peaceful was it that during the two day event a mere 299 people were arrested, mostly for public order offences, compared to last year’s anarchic 214 (which was incidentally also hailed as a peaceful success by the police). It is clear from these figures that success is measured by the number of arrests the police felt necessary to make during the carnival. Furthermore, there were 500 more police officers on patrol at this year’s event compared to last year, so it is clear that with regards to the carnival, more police = more arrests = peaceful success. Lovely.

Police officers congratulate themselves on a job well done yesterday

Despite there being a few arrests there was nothing in the way of serious crime at all. Well, apart from a 14 year-old boy being slashed by a sharp object in Golborne Gardens; a 16 year-old girl sustaining a leg wound; a 20 year-old man being left in a serious but stable condition after being stabbed in the back and buttocks in Ladbroke Grove; three men being stabbed on North Pole Road, leaving one of them in a critical condition; and multiple incidences of public semi-nudity:

They'll catch their death, mark my words

Some carnivalists considered the atmosphere so good that the police presence was not really needed: Jade Walker, who had travelled all the way down from Middlesbrough to join the hip-swinging action said

"There's not a lot of need for it. This is my second time here and I've never felt threatened, but maybe that's just because I'm from Middlesbrough and it's rough there."

Here is a clear solution to people being intimidated by the ‘edgy’ reputation of the carnival: ship them in from rough areas and by comparison they will feel like they are at an Isle of Wight church fete. Mrs Walker’s husband Gary agreed with his wife (probably wise to do so – she is from Middlesbrough after all). "It's just a fun, friendly, happy vibe,” he blathered happily while tugging his wallet away from a hooded 13 year-old on a BMX.

So it appears that the police are to be congratulated on a job well done at the Notting Hill Carnival, and no one would like to congratulate them more than Commander Bob Broadhurst who was in charge of policing the festival.

"For the last two days our officers were out there working hard to make sure that those who wanted to come to the event and have fun could, and those who wanted to break the law were arrested or disrupted,” he ‘ello, ‘ello, ‘elloed. "We had a highly visible presence out on the streets of Notting Hill to make sure those troublemakers who thought violence and crime was an option were met by a swift response."

 

Good work chaps. 

Sweet Friday Afternoon: Half-Arsed Weekly News Round-Up

Likeable, wobbly-headed pop folkster David Gray caused a stir in north London this week when he announced plans to convert his Crouch End based recording studios into flats. The studios were originally built in the nineteenth-century chapel by Dave Stewart of the Eurythmics, and have been used by a number of talented artists including Bob Dylan, Radiohead, Depeche Mode and Kaiser Chiefs. Elvis Costello has also recorded there. The decision has not been a popular one with local residents, particularly Sue Hessel, chairman of the local Haslemere Road residents’ association. “This is so sad. Crouch End has enough flats. Its music heritage is what makes it such a special place to live. Turning a culturally rich building into flats is not in the spirit of Crouch End,” she ponced, omitting to mention that maintaining the spirit of Crouch End appears to be taking a culturally rich building and turning it into a bakery that charges £4 for an organic, wheat-free, poppy seeded, freedom loaf of bread, or a shop that will sell you a tatty, paint-stripped office chair from the seventies for £250 without a hint of irony.

The lighting of the Paralympic flame took place this week at the top of the four highest peaks in the United Kingdom. It could be argued that this was a poorly thought out plan for a Paralympic event, as wheelchair access was understandably limited. The caldron in Trafalgar square was lit this morning by paralympian Claire Lomas, to the delight of the watching crowds. Proceedings then took a downturn when David Cameron stormed the stage and started to bleat on using the word ‘proud’ 126 times in two sentences. Really, as if the disabled don’t have enough to contend with.



Even the Olympic mascot, whose job it is to be enthusiastic, looks like he's lost the will to live

Police launched an appeal yesterday following a burglary in Claygate in which thousands of pounds worth of cigarettes were stolen from a convenience store. Several men broke into the store last week and carried out what is described in the local press as ‘an untidy search’ before making off with a large quantity of the smoky lung treats.  The police have no clue as to the identities of the men that carried out the crime, but have released a picture of a shady looking character lurking nearby thought to be the mastermind behind the heist:



It was announced this week that as of next year if you want to urinate or defecate in London’s royal parks you will have to pay 20p for the privilege, or just find a discrete bush to take care of your business. The move comes following a series of cuts to public park funding over the course of several years which have forced park officials to introduce the charge. Disabled and playground toilets will remain free, so at least the capital’s impoverished cottagers will still have somewhere to meet.

And finally, much to the relief of local residents, essential works have at long last been carried out on Wimbledon Common.

London's Takeaways Are the Finest in the World

Fire fighters have issued a warning to gormless Londoners not to leave the house while cooking, after they were called out three times in one day this week to extinguish fires in the kitchens of half-wits. In all three incidents the fire brigade were called after residents had started to cook something – in two incidences on the hob – and then decided to go for a lovely wander outside, leaving their delectable creations fiercely bubbling away at home. On one of the occasions fire fighters were forced to break into the property to rescue a cat that was seen at the front window. It is not yet clear whether the cat was an ingredient in the ill-fated dinner.

“That smells delicious darling. What is it?”

“Err…chicken”

With home cooking being the dangerous extreme activity that it evidently is, it is no wonder that people in London enjoy takeaway food so much. And if you are making the effort to dine à la delivery why not go for a delicious kebab? It was estimated earlier this year that there are over 140 kebab selling establishments in London, and of that 140 kebab shops I estimate that 132 are in Wood Green, probably. But none are finer than Meze Mangal in Lewisham, which beat some of London’s top restaurants in a customer satisfaction survey on Trip Advisor, with a staggering 95 per cent approval rating. It’s no wonder that customers are so delighted with the food, as owners Ahmet and Sahin Gok trained under the very best; when they arrived in England in the eighties, they spent several years cutting their teeth at the Kingston upon Thames’s branch of Wimpy. Not everyone, however, is happy with Meze Mangal’s success in the Trip Advisor ratings. Pasquale Cosmai, the manager of Michelin starred restaurant Aspleys, which came two places below Meze Mangal, is not happy at all.

“My standards of food are high. Other people’s standards are probably different. Some people are fine with a burger,” he spat, choking back tears and throwing his electric whisk out of his Aga pram.

If, like Mr Cosmai, you do not fancy a kebab, what about a lovely curry? Indian food has become the number one choice for the discerning takeaway gourmand due to its exotic flavours, punchy spices and the fact that you only need a fork to eat it. Or if you don’t own a fork you can use a spoon. And if you are not fortunate enough to possess any cutlery you can scoop the spicy meal into your mouth with the innersole of your work shoe – try doing that with fish and chips. Although it does pay to check out the establishment before ordering food from it, as you may get a few more delicacies than you had bargained for.

Curry not your thing? How about ordering a scrumptious pizza from Pizza Hut? Pizzas from the restaurant chain are fabricated exactly like mamma use to make in the old country, using only the finest thick-cut recycled cardboard for the base, delectable cheese containing absolutely no dairy products whatsoever, and hand-picked toppings fresh from the freezers of Costco, all delivered to your door by a struggling immigrant who has been working for 16 hours without a break. Mmm. The branch in Kendal Avenue, Park Royal seems to be particularly popular with those reviewers who have had the good fortune to dine there. 

Is that going in or coming out?

If you decide to make the effort to go out and eat, make sure you avoid the Duck and Waffle in Bishopsgate. For some reason they think it acceptable to serve their customers ‘chip shop cod tongues’ and ‘bbq-spiced crispy pig ears’.

They want shooting, if you ask me.

Fat Cats Wipe Their Arses on Little Londoners

Griff Rhys Jones, one half of hilarious comedy sketch show duo Smith and Jones (he is the ‘Jones’ part of the ensemble), is angry about town planning. And who can blame him? Assuming that he hasn’t made all this up just to get attention, Jones, in his capacity as urban vista maintenance botherer has uncovered plans that he believes will ruin the breathtakingly beautiful landscape of the Fitzrovia area of central London. Who is to blame for these plans? Big business, of course. Apparently big businesses in the area have gotten together with a property developer to turn the Fitzrovia district into a Business Improvement District (BID) and improve the area for business purposes. Furthermore, in order to exclude the little man from their evil plans, it has been decided by someone (presumably not Griff) that only businesses with a rateable value of £100,000 are allowed to vote on potential changes to the area. This, of course, means that the area will inevitably be changed for the benefit of big business while smaller businesses will be squished out by increasing rents, turning the district into a faceless desert of capitalistic activity, which is not nice.  

Jones berates a London fat cat over BID plans

It’s not just small businesses in the Fitzrovia district that are being pushed around by big corporate bastards, people trying to earn a crust in Brixton – where you’d think they’d just be left to their own devices – are suffering at the hands of the bully boys and, to a lesser extent, girls. Indeed Lizzy Daly, who runs an online business called shabbychicoriginals.com from her south London home selling all manner of twee crap (butterfly cookie cutters, floral party bunting etc) bought almost exclusively by bored people residing in Chigwell, is being hounded by a large firm in California called Shabby Chic Brands, who insist that she should change the name of her business. According to the American firm, the term ‘shabby chic’ is a registered trademark owned by a Los Angeles firm called – wait for it – Brand Sense Partners. Jesus Christ; just saying the name aloud makes me want to Google ‘how to make a home made bomb’. Thankfully Ms Daly has no intention of backing down, but if she was to be defeated by the grey-suited, corporate lobotomists she could try running alternative names past Brand Sense Partners, such as Tattered Smart, Ragged Stylish or Untidy Elegance. Just a thought. 

Why?

Even pubs are not safe from the relentless onslaught of big business, as Merton residents have discovered to their cost.  The Grove Tavern, a historic pub which was until recently frequented by dozens of local alcohol dependents, is to become a Tesco Express. ‘What’s wrong with that?’ I hear you shrug. I’ll tell you, shall I? There is another Tesco Express just 500 yards down the road from it.  Furthermore, I have it on good authority from an inside source that Tesco are planning to buy all of the shops in between and build another Tesco Express, a Tesco Metro, a Tesco Extra and a Tesco Ultra Super Duper.

Tesco.

In some cases small businesses are persecuted before they even get off the ground. This poor gentleman from Beckenham had his flourishing crack cocaine business closed down earlier this year. It is rumoured that the recreational drugs market in Beckenham is being gradually monopolised by Walmart. Shame on them.