Gangs of New Pork

Growing up in Leighton Buzzard you were never more than a stone’s throw from a gravel pit or a light fingered girl who worked in the second’s department of Gossards. So you paid your money and took your choice to get into ladies underwear or breaking rocks. We were so hard that we got are hair cut at an old butchers shop run by Mr Pantlin. Tony Curtis pictures lured you in to his floor to ceiling tiled shop where he would set about and butcher your hair while you counted sheep and swine glazed pictures from his single poultry chair. Some of our gang, who claimed they were as hard as nails couldn’t stomach this initiation ceremony and turned their back on the hard man image and meat and aspired to become a member of the Barron Knights gang from the other end of town.

Many years later confessing that they had failed the medical and complaining that Duke D’Monds hands were too cold.


I think these early choices may explain a lot!

Fish like it's 1999

I believe it is conclusive that I am not one of the chosen ones, due to me not being whisked up to a higher place over the weekend or eaten by raptures as the Rev Camping predicted. In fact, had I not been on call on Sunday and called out to a lost key vampire at twenty to midnight (I can only assume that it must be a sun fearing, blood sucker that would wait until this stupid time to decide that they had lost their bloody meter key) that it hadn’t been a bad weekend at all. (St Jon, Chapter one)


Obviously like the 2012 Olympics there is a sizable build up to any major sporting event and the sea fishing weekend of the 18 / 19th June is no exception, so on Saturday we braved a ridiculously early start and knotted handkerchiefs to make our way down to Poole Harbour for some preliminary fish related manoeuvres. On the way out for this specimen hunt we passed the Sunseekers Poole boat yard where 7 million pounds worth of ship had just possibly got too close to the sun, or maybe a Zippo lighters depth of a disgruntled employee? ? “I don’t know”

On Saturday with the potential of Judgement Day and the end of the world imminent I fished like Robson Green’s makeup artist and managed to get some reluctant pouting. Other than that: Pollack, Wrasse, Bream, Mackerel and of course the slim and perfectly formed Lindsay Lohan lookilikee Garfish were caught

Long Life of Brian

Heres a picture of my uncle Brian dressed as a bottle of milk!

The Kings new clothes

These days I feel I have a fair overview of day to day opinions due the supply of electricity being one of the absolute universal levellers, and so I like to call a spade a spade, a coalition a fool’s paradise and a marathon either too much effort, or Snickers. With this access to both prince’s and paupers, I was not surprised to hear yet another real person today stating that they think that we are not all in this austerity thing together as the Big guys would have us believe. The couple’s situation today is one that I have heard an awful lot, with the breadwinners self employed business gone down the pan and into bankruptcy due to everyone cutting back on non essentials and then the trauma of trying to find new work, reduced salaries and spiralling debt. On top of this, the couple’s young family poses yet another dilemma with the incredible cost of childcare, genuinely making the prospects of returning to work for one half of the couple like stepping into financial quicksand.

So I have listened to all sides of the argument, and accept that we do need to address the problems head on, but surely the current Con / Dem fixes are just too quick?

Fools Paradise

‘A fool and his money are soon parted, like Bobby Charlton’s hair.’ I am paraphrasing obviously and taking liberties with fools the world over, but today THIS FOOL was taking no prisoners while searching for essential stuff at Milton Keynes International Bowl car boot sale. Yes, incredible as it might seem people across the world (but particularly the eastern bloc) flock to the Bowl to buy hooky stuff from the large divot near the Watling Street and where Bon Jovi, Queen, the Police and Michael Jackson kindly give up their work for a pound and a bakers dozen of toilets rolls is often unlucky for some!
I couldn’t help but start to rifle through the ‘bald man with a big van’s’ fine collection of rusty spanners in display biscuit tins whilst starting to ponder about the ethics of selling used underwear when I came across a porta-studio laying next to a sketch of Paul Gascoigne. I quizzed the man selling the TEAC 144 if it was the actual 144 that Bruce Springsteen recorded Nebraska on but unfortunately he couldn’t confirm it, so immediately dropped his ridiculous price of four pounds to £3. In principle it was a done deal, apart from my additional demands of a sturdy bag and an 18 month no quibble guarantee which he was verbally able to give, promising all relevant paperwork would be sent in the post first thing on Monday.

Anyway when I got it home I soon realised that it didn’t work so I cursed his ‘big van, bald man’ ways until in desperation I replaced the plug fuse and it burst into life and I got a little Trevor Horn.

Tortoise Attack

Daventry which I am sure I don’t need to remind anyone is famous for the very first radar experiments and the fact that locals once claimed to be able to pick up the BBC World Service on their bath taps, was home today to another Jon Cheshire first in the eye-spy strange animals list. The house had two Yorkshire Terriers (the ones that often have bows on their heads and appear in teacups) two Gray Parrots and two Tortoises which I almost stood on after they attempted to rush me. I really wasn’t sure what actually occurred as it all happened so quickly, but it would seem that I may have been viewed as a threat as they roamed around their natural habitat of a Daventry kitchen. The owner also suggested that I may have been mistaken as some passing fruit,....  which was nice!

Sureflop Cat Flop

Yesterday a lady gave me this wonderful Christmas message and concise blow by blow ‘How To’ information sheet on getting rid of unwanted Tom cats that terrorise and leak. So firstly she started by suggesting that prevention is better than cure and recommended the internationally acclaimed;-

Sureflop Cat Flop

Then she addressed the issue of where the cat had sproyed with;-

Simple Solution cleaning spray (Clea pest from Jollyes)

And then finally should all else fail shoot the B*stard with a;-

Super Soaker water pistol (silent once pumped up)

Generally at Christmas I would expect to get a bottle of something that would get me pissed, but this isn’t really what I had in mind!

Its a jungle out there

I claim that I can spot an OAP’s bungalow from 50 paces with their plethora of stone animals hiding in amongst the flowers and vegetables and often a sort of windmill arrangement centre piece for good measure. Inside you will find knitted toilet roll covers, emergency tinned corned beef and a very strong smell of Brussels. What you don’t expect is a dog that is as big as a bear, called Rockefeller. “He’s a Plott Hound” the lady explained “they hunt wild boar and bears back in the States” I imagine that the only bare that Rocky had seen recently would be in the pie cupboard after he had eaten everything. As he got onto, and filled the 2 seater sofa he let out a huge fart which made me wonder about all the woman’s senses and prompted me to fall back into the classic British conversation topic of the weather. “It’s windy” I said. At this, she turned the newspaper over and looked at the header and pronounced that it was in fact Thursday.

I really hoped the day was going to get better but feared the worst.

I had to return to the Princess Marina Hospital later in the day to attempt some more tricky meter extractions. The maintenance guy smiled knowingly and shook his head as we set off around the perimeter road to visit the boarded up nurses homes. He pointed out all the original locations of the equipment but suggested due to the fact that pikeys had taken everything else that it was unlikely that our meters would still be there. It felt like a slightly surreal movie plot as he wished me well and sped off home before darkness fell, and I realised that my van may now be the most valuable thing on site! It transpired that only one meter remained to be removed so quicker than you could say “lead flashing and slightly used door furniture” in a Irish accent, I had it away on my toes with the luckiest meter in the world.

Ray Davies(Kinks) Waterloo Sunset Glastonbury 2010

No man is safe!

Although this hasn’t been widely reported in the press, just recently after many years of planning and tracking Barack Obama finally gave the go ahead and ordered the big push to attempt to eradicate the man responsible for some of the worst atrocities that the world has ever seen. It emerged just over a week ago that Donald Trump’s hairdresser had been tracked down to a high walled barbers shop near Arkansas where he was planning more follicle madness from his undercover hair lair. It appears that President Obama finally snapped and ordered the attack after being forced to spend almost an hour trying to Photoshop a number of personal details onto a birth certificate only a few days before. Tragically though a White House employee who many believe to have been a Nicky Clarke sympathiser may have tipped off the mousseing maniac who now may have even fled the country and could be planning new reprisal comb over attacks.   

Book, Cover, Judge!

This morning I visited a property in the south of the city to change the meter. I was firstly told in no uncertain terms by the gentlemen of the house that due to fact that the main room was used for prayer that I could not enter without removing my safety boots. Whilst I had no desire to offend I was also mindful of the companies ‘personal safety / Sorry Jonny boy you didn’t follow the rules, so you can laugh about this all the way to the job centre’ policy, and started to explain the nature of personal protective equipment (PPE) and the implications should I go all ‘Sandie Shaw’ whilst in touching distance of terra firma and 240 volts. This was of no concern to the gentleman, who I think blessed me and promptly left while I tried to sign the finer details of electrocution to his wife. (Please write in with suggestions of how to mime this) Anyway, the lady of the house seemed a little more practical and soon laid down a Ben 10 duvet cover on the first 6 foot of the floor only leaving me the problem of yogic flying the last 12 – 15 feet to the meter position of under the stairs. After a short while (immediately) I admitted defeat and stated that I would need to walk the last bit and was surprised that she accepted my pathetic excuses and turned a blind eye to my un-godly pedestrian ways. As I settled into my position of absolute power of the morning prayers that blasted out on the TV I mentioned that the electricity would need to be turned off. Once again I was quite surprised that the lady of the house was completely cool with this and I proceeded to pull the main fuse and all contacts with digital deities. Very soon, after all the kids had been despatched to school and I had finally fitted the new meter I turned it all back on and the lady of the house (who I am now thinking isn’t quite as religious as her spouse) switched immediately to Lorraine Kelly and her spring collection of wedding dresses and celebrity tat.


Lesson Learnt; Book, Cover, Judge, Never!

At least its not the other!