The meat of the matter

There may be some of you out there who have looked at my avowed decision to eat meat exclusively for the next month or two (or three, or six) as insane and possibly dangerous. For those of you so inclined, might I present some backup for my belief system? Stop rolling those eyes. I can hear the clicking from here, and let me provide some evidence for my assertions.

You know the food pyramid? How it says you should eat mainly grains and high carbohydrate foods for preference, and that fat is the big bogeyman rather than sugar and starch?  Starch being a complex of sugars. Here’s a little history of how such a piece of politicised ‘science’ became public policy.

Watch and make up your own mind, but I say this is just another instance of how politicised ‘science’ produces bad policy and why we have an ‘obesity’ crisis and ‘epidemic’ of diabetes II. 

I could list all the health myths, but what good would that do? I’m just a single voice, and all I can do is point the way that I think the evidence does. Whether anyone believes me or not is completely up to them. We all have to take our chances as we may. And ‘Government health policy’ is so far proving a very poor guide indeed.

Maybe if governments stopped giving out such advice it might be a good idea?

Just as an aside

Mrs S and I are currently trying out the ‘carnivore diet’ and I thought I’d share some of my feelings / experiences. We’ve been doing it for just under two weeks and noticed the following:

• Reduced appetite and lack of ‘food cravings’
• Old injury pain reduction / feeling fitter
• More energy / less lassitude
• Increased mental acuity
• Shrinking belly fat
• Not quite at one meal a day, but we’re getting there
• Mrs S has developed an increased appetite for crispy bacon
• I’m not snoring so much

On the cooking front I did have a go at making some extra virgin olive oil mayonnaise, got the texture right on the second attempt but the oil in question was the cheap greasy stuff from Tesco’s and the end result was very bitter. Will get a better quality of light olive oil next week and try again. Should save me a fortune on store bought Mayo. Should have watched the video below first, too.

Well Yanks a lot..

Chilly day. The ground is still drying out so there’s still not much for me to do until the shed roofs get fixed next week.

I see there’s a lot of war talk in the news at present, from the Yanks bringing nuclear weapons back into the UK to Blow Job Boris stating that he would ‘join up’ to fight those dastardly Russki’s. Then there’s the row over conscription, where I think I’ve already made my feelings plain.

There’s a lot of pro-war rhetoric going around but it’s not those talking up war who will be on the casualties list, nor their sons or any of their daughters. It’s the sons and daughters of the ‘lower orders’ who will be thrown onto the bloody altar of the war hawks. And most of the war talk is coming from the current US establishment. They’re even bringing nuclear weapons back onto UK soil, which makes the UK a serious target again. Yanks a lot boys. If we’re your ‘friends’ then that’s like being mates with the biggest bully in the playground.

On the topic of war, I’ve long been in favour of the concept of single combat. You want to fight someone? Go ahead and knock yourself out. Perhaps those that want war should be sealed inside a Stadium with a dump of edged weapons in the middle to fight it out. 

It goes without saying that no substitutions should be allowed. 

On second thoughts, here’s a proposal; why don’t we make the whole thing an event? A neutral stadium on an Island somewhere. Televised on pay per view of course. I know it’s not a new idea, but we have the technology, so why not? Your could have close ups, instant replays and even some commentary. “Well yes Brian. I feel that Xi and Vlad threw the match at this point when they failed to behead Johnson and by proxy seize those two provinces.“

Could be quite a lot of fun to watch blowhards from both sides who are happy to send others into harms way beat each other to death. Give them something like a two metre Halberd and small sword each, no armour, then watch their resolve fade. Afterwards the wounded / deserters / survivors could be shot when they’re all too exhausted to fight on.

We could make it a public holiday.

Maybe the board of BlackRock could be persuaded to put up a team? Want those resources boys? Fight for them.

Or we could simply ask the people in a given region who they want to be governed by.

Not a chance

Now I suspect the retiring General who made comments about the return of UK conscription to ‘defend against Russia’ did so as an act of sour grapes. But the UK hasn’t been a country worth fighting for since the Blair era.

Not that the Russians are going to invade. Just think about it for a moment. Moscow is about 1600 miles from London. For an ‘invading’ army the geographical and logistical challenges are effectively insuperable. 

Think about what’s between the Russian border and the English channel? Huge open plains, swamps, hills and mountain ranges. Vulnerable all the way to flank attacks on the supply train of an army of less than three million, which will be shrinking with every defended kilometre. 

In warfare, it is a truism that territory costs lives. A quick browse through the stats from the old Soviet invasion of eastern Europe in WWII. The old Soviet regime lost around 8.7 million of their military to flatten the Nazi’s of that time. With the aid from the USA and entire British Empire. 

No, I believe Vlad Putin has read his history. He knows he simply hasn’t the population or resources to ‘invade’ Europe. At least not for some considerable time. In addition the Russki’s are fighting mostly defensive actions on well defended lines like the Germans in WW1, soaking up mass infantry assaults and drone attacks but inflicting massive casualties in the process, drawing attacking forces into carefully planned killing zones. However, this is where the globalist elites want to throw the next generation, and the generation after that.

Not to ‘defend’ any of the European nations, but to turn a crooked buck for the lobbyists and politicians. Even though the Russians won’t be coming. Unless of course NATO keep prodding the bear and Russia is forced into full mobilisation.

In the courtroom, with a pen

You know all the fuss in the US and Canada about voting machines? How all the electronic terminals were so secure and the vote was absolutely, cross our hearts and hope to die, secure?

Well a computer expert managed to hack a Dominion voting machine by putting it into safe mode and manually altering the data tables. For clarity I repeat; in a Georgia courtroom. In front of a judge. With a pen. 

 It was that simple.

Yet the mainstream media have been calling all assertions regarding Dominion as ‘far-right’ and spurious. Now the hack is public domain. This calls any election where these voting machines were used into question. My only comment is that the mainstream and big tech did brag that they’d helped ‘fortify’ the US 2020 election.

In light of this, maybe, just maybe, said elections should be re-run. Properly this time. Just to, once and for all, undeniably confirm the results. For veracity’s sake.

Update; apropos of nothing, but Dominion Voting Systems are owned by Staple Street Capital, a private equity company, who in turn are owned by another private equity company, Cerberus Capital Management which offers high level investment services.

Books

Mrs S and I are readers. We like books, and I made a quick estimate the other day at 300 hardback and paperback volumes. A library whose content ranges from Fiction across to History, folklore, science, politics and civil rights.

So this morning I did a recount. The total is well over 400. The most recent additions being Douglas Murray’s ‘Madness of Crowds’ and ‘The strange death of Europe’, both of which make depressing reading, at least in the first two fifths, which is as far as I’ve got, because Mrs S tells me reading such works makes me gloomier than usual during these Winter months. I haven’t felt this glum since struggling through Niall Ferguson’s ‘The Great Degeneration’. So she rations me to a section at a sitting.

One thing I find helpful to raise myself from the pit I have sauntered innocently into is from book six, saying thirty one of Marcus Aurelius’ writings known as his ‘Meditations’

Come back now to your sober senses; recall your true self; awake from slumber, and recognise that they were only dreams which troubled you; and as you looked upon them, so look now on what meets your waking eyes.

Now I copied that directly from my penguin paperback copy of Maxwell Staniforth’s translation of ‘To himself’ published in 1964 (ISBN: 9780140441406). Yet like a lot of quotations, all the matches Google comes up with are paraphrases, often not very good ones at that. So maybe using the Interwebs as one’s sole source of information isn’t the greatest idea.

One of the greatest problems facing business and public life is the dogma of DEI (Diversity, equity and inclusion – allegedly), or as it should be realistically described; Divisiveness, Exclusion and Inequity. This cancer has crept into the world of publishing to the point where mainstream discourse is difficult and heretofore successful authors are forced to toe the ideologues line or face publishing oblivion.

Like ESG, DEI is a toxic ideology which cannot brook any point of view but it’s own. Fall in line or face editorial oblivion, it demands. To espouse publicly any other point of view generates a whirlwind of a well organised minority voices who wield power beyond any merit, while they are free to preach that only the white man is vile and therefore should be erased from the earth, and other similar belief systems. Yet these are the people who rail against ‘toxic masculinity’, and call moderating voices ‘white, male and stale’. Negative phrases which are both racist and sexist, presumably verboten to all but those who dictate what DEI should mean. Apart from ‘do what I tell you-peasant!’

Well stuff ’em. I’ll read what I please. From Mao’s ‘Little red book’ to Greer’s ‘Female Eunuch’, Tom Paine’s ‘Common sense’ and any half way decent book on any topic I damn well please, and woe, woe and thrice woe to the asshat who tries to dictate the content of my reading list.

This man’s books are not for burning. 

After the storm

Well wasn’t that fun? Now that was what I call a proper storm. Trees down, power cuts, smashed garden ornaments and slates off one shed roof. All over the yard. The house is still standing, although I think one of the old satellite dishes vanished over the fields. I’ll find it sometime. An empty beehive blew over. The occupied ones remain intact. 

Hey, we had an open fire, plenty of candles and battery powered lamps while our power was out. In the twenty eight hours we were so isolated, it gave us time to strip down and revise our Wi-Fi setup. Which is running far more efficiently now.

Having spent a chilly hour this morning, picking up slate fragments strewn across our yard, Mrs S and I decided to spend our time reviewing future plans. With some success I might add. Lowering our potential financial outlay in the process.

If anything these storms should be a wake up call. The all electric green dream is a death sentence for society. As are all the crazy top down pronunciations coming from the WEF and their fellow travelers. 

There will always be power outages. As the robust little Winter storm called Isha passed and left chunks of the country temporarily without a means of staying toasty in Winter demonstrated. Relying on one source of energy alone is facile and foolish in the extreme. 

It doesn’t matter whether you are callow enough to believe that the output from ICE engines or cow farts can affect the weather, or that ridiculous people like Kier Starmer are stupid enough to tell us that his political faction can stop storm damage. Storms happen. Rain falls, snow falls, the winds will blow and the sun will shine (However briefly) on Summer days. Politicians telling us that they have the power to somehow control the weather is a ludicrous assertion. It’s beyond satire.

In one of our jaunts out to the local towns in the last two days, we saw trees and telegraph poles leaning at crazy angles and even felled by the winds. A centuries old Beech snapped off at the roots. The chainsawed remnants of less aged arboreal specimens where they had fallen across roads. Telecoms were disrupted. We even saw shredded cable ends lying on the back roads. Yet Starmer et al are telling us that their bunch of sub literate virtue signalers could have prevented this? Oh dearie, dearie me, how stupid does he think the public are?

The parliamentary Tories are no better, a few backbenchers notwithstanding. As for the Limp Dems and Greens, they are much worse, and deluded enough to think that the dodgy ‘science’ of Mann et al with their faked up hockey stick graphs and fudged datasets, as well as all the data models produced therefrom is ‘proof’. These cretinous assertions are the reasons our power infrastructure isn’t robust enough to meet the challenge of what I’d call a moderate Winter storm.

Enough now young Bill. I’m sure anyone who bothers to read this far knows the majority of our current political class isn’t worth a simple pencil stroke. We deserve better. Although it seems that politics alone without experience in the greater world is sufficient nowadays for the vain and ignorant to shoulder the mantle of ‘leader’. 

BTW: anyone with an all electric home and mode of travel care to comment on how the power outages put a crimp in their day? What happened to all those EV’s unable to charge up overnight when the electrickery went down? Enquiring minds would like to know.

Brrr!

Just got back from a chilly midweek break in Donegal. Only an inch or so of snow, but it was enough to keep many sheltering indoors. We went to bookshops – snow closures. Beach visit – snow down to the high water mark. 

There were a couple of tense moments on the way home while Mrs S hit some slush and we were suddenly driving sideways around bends. However, she’s an experienced driver and brought our car back under control with admirable aplomb. It was pretty alarming in the front passenger seat, however, we’re all still breathing, so that’s good. Did see recent gaps in the hedges where less experienced drivers had hit ice and not had the skill or time to recover. On our way through the higher ground, as we headed toward Sligo, some of those gaps were still plugged by wrecked cars. 

Of course via Instagram and Whatsapp feeds, everyone in our global family is gleefully posting pictures of snow and ice. Children (And some adults) are making snowmen. You might say it’s a bit parky out there.

The other weather news is that the rain is due to return over the weekend to complete the thaw. So, a slightly chillier, but nothing really out of the ordinary Irish Winter. ‘Hottest year evah’? What utter tosh.

Mrs S and I have also recently started what’s called ‘the carnivore diet’, a health regime which is widely acknowledged to result in weight loss and better health. Yes there are risks, but so long as you eat enough fat and drink enough water, you should be fine. Mrs S unfortunately doesn’t like essential parts of the diet like liver and bacon, which means to get the full balance means supplements. Rather like most diets out there.

I like eating a high meat diet because it means I don’t get food cravings, which means, at best, one meal a day with no snack foods. Which helps with the food bills, even though meat is more expensive than veg. However, by cutting out all the sweet stuff, like chocolate, cakes, bread, rice and potatoes, I’ve been able to find space in the budget for far more protein. Not sure if I’m saving money, but I’m certainly not spending much more.

The upshot is that I get to lose weight without all the hardships and end up feeling replete most of the time. Then there’s the allowed treat of an Irish coffee (no sugar) before bedtime, which is a nice sendoff into the land of nod.

The downside of course is that every single restaurant serves food smothered in unhealthy sugar and loaded with equally unhealthy starch. So, little eating out unless you shell out for a meal and only eat a third of it. With the one exception of carvery lunches on a Sunday. No Chinese food either, which is a bummer. No Pizza, fries, or anything else that puts inches on thighs. 

In some ways giving up the carbs is like giving up Television. Most of it is unnecessary crap that leaves you unhappy and unsatisfied. Yet we are told quite loudly that the converse is true.

So what do we trust? Real life experience or what some talking monkey, (like Piers Morgan for example) on the boob tube tells us?

Hmmm…..

Something’s burning

Mrs S and I are concerned. Because the burnings are increasing. Galway. Donegal. Dublin, Roscommon. Leitrim. Kildare. Cork. Wexford.

Although we have good relations with our neighbours and have nothing to do with the influx of migrants who are housed by the Government, we are worried that us expats are going to get caught up in this craziness. Because that’s what happens when people are pushed so far they lose their patience.

The political class by contrast appears to be running around with their fingers in their ears going “la-la-la I can’t hear you!” whenever they are challenged, trying to tell us that Ireland needs these people, when a lot of the younger Irish born guys and girls are actually heading out of Ireland, particularly into the fabled land of Oz, because Ireland has limited scope for employment of the type they are skilled for. Healthcare professionals particularly (I am told) are moving for the warmer weather and the better lifestyle.

Yet the politicians and media are telling the rest of us that we need these unskilled incomers to fill all the job vacancies and ‘improve GDP’. According to them we need skilled migrants, but from what I can see, most of the newcomers aren’t of that calibre.

Here’s an analogy; how migrants ‘improve GDP’ is very simple. This is a crude example of how GDP is artificially inflated. You set one guy at fulfilling a low skill role like digging a hole. Then you set another one to filling it in again. Hey presto! Two jobs filled, two wage packets means more money going round, with holes getting dug and filled up, more GDP. Hooray! Time for tea and medals.

Does this mean the economy is doing really well? Actually not so much, because the figurative guys filling in and digging the holes are subsidised by the taxpayer. The newcomers also help keep wage levels for the native population suppressed by providing an apparent surplus of labour. “Look at all the job vacancies that we’ve filled / created.” say the powers that be, whereas the real economic activity generated is wholly artificial.

This state of affairs has existed for a couple of decades now, both in Ireland and the UK. Unfortunately, over here, matters are beginning to come to a head. As a result the arson attacks are increasing and will continue to do so. I just hope our little homestead is spared the worst.

Qwee bo-no

There’s a place not too far away from our home called Ballinrobe. As a town it’s not much more than a crossroads. Just a place on the N83 north from Galway city to Castlebar. It has a racecourse and a tiny town centre you do not want to have to take a large truck through. This is a quintessential rural western Irish market town. Trying to negotiate the streets around six on a Friday evening is a bit of a nightmare. Because of this I try not to go through there at any time when it’s likely to be busy. There are faster and better ways south to Galway or north to Sligo and Donegal.

Recently this has made the national news with local protesters getting up in arms about the new migrant hostel being set up there. Of course all the protesting locals are branded by the ignorant as ‘far right’, which I can tell you is a foul and flagrant lie. Because the main thrust of the protests are being driven by the local female population. The womenfolk have even complained that it’s hard to get their menfolk out on the barricades, saying that they are more interested in sports or the pub. So, ‘far right’? No, but not far wrong either.

Yet the Dublin centric media, ensconced in their cushy offices prefer to throw cheap political labels at them, totally dismissing the genuine concerns of small town Ireland with unpleasant rhetorical slime. Effectively telling the locals that they should shut up and go home. The media, safely ensconced in their little metropolitan bubbles, think that all the sympathy should go to the asylum seekers, none for the communities they are dumped onto. After all, according to the dazzling urbanites, those of small town western Ireland are simply the ‘little people’, and as such of no consequence.

Which to me sounds like what our colonial cousins in North America would cynically call a ‘snow job’, or what the inhabitants of the British Isles would refer to as ‘a whitewash’.

Me, I look at all what the local Irish are calling ‘plantations’ (and this is a very emotionally loaded term throughout Irish history) and wonder who is making money out of all this. Because there has to be a net benefit to someone, somewhere, doesn’t there? And we know it’s not the local economy.

Well actually there’s a lot of money to be made out of asylum seekers. Much of it from tax money raised from the natives. Let’s work backwards. 

First there’s property development companies that seemingly spring up overnight, funded by entities outside of Ireland. They make money by buying up larger properties like hotels in financial trouble or shut down by the COVID debacle. Then charge the taxpayer to house the asylum seekers in the style to which they would like to become accustomed. 

These companies buy up buildings and political influence, charging the taxpayer for the privilege via virtue signaling politicians, then skim the profits before no doubt, eventually fading into the air leaving naught but a Cheshire catlike grin behind them when their skullduggery is latterly exposed. This isn’t the precise process, but as Canadians say it’s “Close enough for Government work.“ Looked at from the correct angles the whole ‘asylum’ thing has all the air of very well organised crime. The kind that owns banks and politicians type of criminality.

Then, working backward further, there are the networks of various pro-migrant NGO’s, who firstly raise money off urban public sympathy for the ‘oppressed’, and here is one of the rumours I’ve come across, also take darker money from the people trafficking gangs who promise the migrants the world and an easy life if they just uproot themselves from their home nations and jump straight into an alien culture. 

We know that said NGO’s are active in migrant holding centres and on transit routes between countries. Even in the originating countries themselves. Yet they too are making money from the ‘migrant crisis’. Then have the sheer brass to lobby politicians and convince them that it’s only being ‘fair’. And of course we have to help these poor, oppressed (Allegedly) ‘asylum seekers’, legitimate and law abiding or not.

Incidentally, the native Irish people, especially around County Mayo, I would like to tell you, are some of the most fair minded and welcoming souls it has ever been my pleasure to encounter. And they feel their legitimately genuine concerns about having forty odd dubious characters from God alone knows where suddenly dumped in the neighbourhood are being dismissed and demonised by their own political class. The locals are worried about things like the increase in crimes like violence and sexual assault that are known to follow these ‘people dumps’ happening in various areas. So naturally they oppose them.

Our neighbours welcomed Mrs S and I two years ago into their hearts and homes with a generosity and openness I have rarely encountered anywhere else in this world. They are good people. Better in some ways than we deserve to know. A friend down in County Clare referred to Mayo folk as “Kind, gentle people.”. But they are people worried not about the odd one or two foreign born (and self supporting) families moving into the area, but busloads of potentially problem single male freeloaders being dumped on their doorsteps. And they would like some breathing space. 

Twenty or thirty years of it on a much, much smaller scale for preference.

But there’s no easy taxpayer funded money to be made from that, is there?

Rumours

Out today in the frost and cold. The ground outside is frozen, but it’s only a thin crust and there’s still a lot of water in the soil after a run of four frosty days.

Went out for a check up by my physio, and he tells me there are moves in train to make those silly surgical masks compulsory again. No idea why. They don’t do any good in stopping airborne viruses. They even act as a sink of infection, thus upping your local viral loading. 

It’s weird that the hospitals are doing this, as all the reasonable studies show that there is no use in wearing a surgical mask outside of an operating theatre. They give zero defence against airborne viral pathogens.

Frankly if they make the bloody things mandatory again I’ll just ignore the edicts. There’s no real threat than usual from any virus, no matter what the mainstream media want to dramatise. 

Indeed, given the excess death figures, I’d say there is a higher risk of death from the mRNA ‘vaccine’ under 50, which is where a large tranche of the premature deaths are occurring, at least according to the figures I’ve been able to find. And those are just the ones from official sources. As well as the anecdotal sources from autopsy data from Germany. I’m also still waiting for some information from a cousin who is retiring from the Funeral trade shortly. He’ll be able to tell me if all these stories of massive blood clots have any truth in them.

For now I am giving all hospitals a wide berth. They’re the best place to catch something nasty, as I know from my own experience. It’s a pity that the current regime of censorship is preventing the flow of verifiable information, because that creates an information vacuum which all sorts of crazy people are filling with wild ideas.

But censorship and suppression of information is just one of those crazy rumours isn’t it? Yeah, right.

Well I never…

Last night I was going through my notebooks and found a half forgotten memoir of the early 2000’s. Just notes, a travel diary in my half legible longhand. But notes that have triggered a whole series of memories, thoughts and impressions.

Let me explain; whenever I travel I keep a journal. A record of daily doings and miles travelled by various means. A record of my impressions and feelings from the exhilaration of riding a motorcycle long distances, to the frustrations and tedium that is endemic to long haul air travel.

Don’t get me wrong, I love flying. But I need a window seat and a window to look out of to while away the hours between continents. To travel without seeing, to me, is no fun at all. And the view from over thirty thousand feet plus is amazing. From incredible vista’s over the Rockies, Baffin Island, Greenland and seas across the globe to faintly discerning the curvature of the earth. And it is amazing how little of it humanity occupies.

I like road trips too, but hate being a passenger for more than two hours at a stretch, especially when scooting through places like the midwest of Canada and the USA. Because there’s plenty of scenery, but like the massive cathedrals of conifers in BC, the muskeg and forests of Northern Ontario, or the horizon spanning prairies of Kansas and Alberta, it can get a bit samey. That time in the drivers seat is a drug that I crave above all things. It goes without saying that I am firmly against any farcical invented crisis that puts any limit on my eternal wanderlust, be that ‘climate’ or massively over hyped infection.

From the scribblings I have re-read after over twenty years (?!) my need for constant motion still affects me. Despite the fact that I now have a nice house, large garden, two meadows, great neighbours, and superb views of the Irish countryside (and no other house visible from my office window). My own personal rainbow haunted idyll, yet one that reminds me that there is work to be done before the next road trip. Before my next travel ‘fix’. 

Of course this has all come at some personal cost. Sacrifices and compromises have had to be made, and certain of my ambitions sidelined. However, the future has been set in motion, and the machinations of a few WEF cultists will not get in the way, at least not for long. When you travel, you get used to dealing with officialdom and ways of circumventing it’s worst aspects.

The future is out there. Wherever it leads, it should be interesting. At least to me, if no-one else. It goes without saying that some of my misadventures, both past and present, are and will be documented on this blog, for as long as it, and the urge to write, lasts.

Watch this space.

For the new year….

My back’s been giving me grief for the last few days. Not quite locked up, but just enough to make moving as rapidly as I normally do difficult. Yet despite that I get the sense that there’s something in the wind, a subtle shift in the zeitgeist that gives me hope for 2024 and onwards.

Don’t ask me what it is, but I have a feeling the pendulum is beginning to swing back toward sanity from the nadirs of 2023. Not that it’s all going to be roses, but there’s something nagging in the old hindbrain. Something that tells me the worst has passed.

Could be wrong of course. It could all go into TITSUP mode and we’ll be stuck with the same old messes in the same old world. However, I’d like to say that for the first time in quite a while I’m feeling optimistic about the future. No idea why.

What do I mean by this? Maybe the US and the West will finally walk away from Ukraine and let that unfortunate benighted state make peace and recover. For my part I’ve never believed all the stuff about modern Russia being bent on conquest. Putin isn’t that stupid.

Maybe we’ll get some justice over the whole COVID business, where the big pharmaceuticals and their proxies are held to account for the damage firstly that ‘gain of function’ research wrought upon the world, and secondly that the mRNA ‘vaccines’ have and are causing.

Then there’s the nonsensical ‘net zero’ agenda which is causing such economic damage. Talk about ‘the longest collective suicide note’. It’ll never happen because 2030 is too close, as is 2035 and 2050, and no-one has proven the hypothesis that CO2 is a primary climate driver. The data is out there, and no matter what the paid mouthpieces say, or how many fake charts they come up with, the glass is falling hour by hour, and breaking it will not do a thing to the weather.

Then there’s the whole ‘trans’ thing that was and is complete and utter bollocks on stilts. As it says on my ‘About’ page, men are men and women are women and vive la difference! You can’t turn XY into XX or vice versa. That’s biology for you.

Then there’s the whole ‘racist’ thing where only heterosexual males of a certain ethnicity can be racist. Beg pardon, but isn’t that attitude racism personified? For my part I do not ‘hate’ anyone not of my ethnicity. We are who we are and if you can’t acknowledge that then you’re dafter than you look.

All of the above are finally being seen as the tissue of lies that the real science makes them. The money trails are laid bare. Vested interests can clearly be seen to drive them all. But now these narratives are falling apart. And I think that this process will accelerate in 2024, and we, the public at large, will come out the other side better and wiser, more engaged and positive. Despite all the attempts at censoring public opinion and the misery of hate speech laws.

To kind of set the mood, to start as I mean to continue, here’s Cass Elliot, late of the 60’s singing group the Mama’s and the Papa’s with a song that I feel is right on the money.

Of course I could be completely and utterly wrong and it’ll all end in tears, but I can hope, can’t I? And that’s what I think the song is about.

Pandora’s box is wide open, and if that’s all we have left I for one will take all the hope I can grab hold of.