Make mine a large one...

Found myself behind this transport of delight this afternoon as I struggled to get across town. Some kind of matress transporter, it appeared to be, something the city of Hull can never have enough of, especially if they are all to be as fine as this vehicle.

More talk about booze and binge drinking and underage havoc wreakers in the meedja today in light of comments made in advance of tomorrow's publication of the findings of an eight month review of alcohol licensing laws and Gordon Brown muttering about tightening up on the penalties for those selling booze to under 18s. When I were a lad I used to live in an off-license, my mother being the licensee, and there were certainly strict penalties then that were adhered to. My old ma would never sell alcohol to anyone underage and was a stickler for copping sight of a birth certificate, very often demanding that 30-somethings prove their age just in case. The same laws, unless I'm completely and utterly pissed three decades of binge drinking later, that existed then are still in place. Two strikes and you're out? Again, it won't be policed, will it? It's just fucking rhetoric. Local councils are also chuntering about 24-hour licensing being a failure. As if the culture of drinking that has developed here over decades can be changed in just three years. Young people, them spotty gits that are getting the bad rap, have always experimented with drink. And long may that continue to be the case. It seems to me that British culture and society being what they are, we won't be allowed any legal intoxicants soon, because even us adults can't be trusted to do whatever we fancy when we choose after getting through week-after-week of stressful, badly paid shite to service our debts, or if we're Amy Whinehouse. And for those on low incomes (that'll be you, you "sub-prime borrowers". You'll note that you're blamed for just about everything right now, you scum bags, and rightly so, you've dragged the economy down to its knees) well, forget it, your affordable option is about to disappear as your penchant for the cheap stuff is wrecking your Jeremy Kyle-infested lives. You know this because the government tells you it is the case. What a bloody nanny state this is. Has anyone actually given a thought to this...the reason our use of intoxicants in the west - booze, fags, the odd fix of caffeine and that nice selection of illegal substances - is nothing more than a selfish act aimed at personal annihilation and obliteration is because life for us selfish, money-obsessed, material wealth munching westerners is absolutely and utterly devoid of any spiritual meaning. But, y'know, whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. I blame myself. How about you?

Radio ga-ga

What is it with me? Do I have a flashing neon sign proclaiming "willing victim" above my head? Today, local commercial radio folk KCFM collared me as I meandered through the streets of Beverley, asking me what I thought about gangs of youths drinking in the street. "Let them," I said, only forming my words into a more vox pop-friendly sentence. I decided to go for the sensational approach. "Debauchery is just a rite of passage and, let's face it, we're all guilty of behaving innapropriately at some point in our lives. If not now then certainly in our youth. Shall we stop the scaremongering? Some gangs of young people are actually quite nice and merely gather together for social reasons, not to intimidate others." "So," the interviewer confronted me, "the police should just let them get on with it, let them drink in the street and do what they like?" "Well, within reason, otherwise we'd be looking at a state of anarchy the likes of which KCFM wouldn't know how to deal with." I paraphrase myself, of course. But, I'm delighted to say that on no occasion did I refer to groups of young people as "yobs". Didn't I do well?

Shameless...

I was in a Hull public house last night. There were three customers in and they were all watching that great destroyer of drinking time conversation - a television. Shameless was on and all eyes were on Frank Gallagher's clan. The ad break came and a woman in the pub took the opportunity to make a call on her mobile and got into a rather complex conversation that involved giving directions to someone. The conversation continued as Shameless returned to the screen and, as the woman was listening to whoever it was on the other end of her mobile, one of those full-on slightly brutal and incredibly noisy Shameless sex scenes began. It was very, very noisy. The woman on the phone was obviously asked what the hell was going on. "I'm in the pub...no, no, seriously, I'm in the pub.....that? That's the television...Yes it is...No I'm not...I'm not!"