“If I ever forget my NI number that will mean I have lost my memory”
Known as the Sceptred Isle the condition of a city or town of the island is reflected in the city or towns slot in sports tables as Southampton, Leicester, Birmingham, Leeds, Nottingham, Coventry and Derby have declined. All inland except Southampton. Portsmouth nearby has flourished. But Hull and Stoke is a conundrum and anomoly requiring explaination. What of Newcastle, Sunderland and Middlesborough?
Charity is a middle class racket in the UK. Oxfam, which now have branched out to Berlin only employ middle class people in their outlets. The shop in St. Marylebone Lane, sold me a poetry anthology, albeit in immaculate condition, for more than the original price of £2 10s, some 45 years after printing. Clothes and books are absurdly overpriced, often equivalent to new commercial prices. The West Bridgford shop employs old middle class ladies who are disdainful at best, and the Hockley, Nottingham branch has a younger set who use the shop as a disco. Of course, all are armed with language skills and arrogance and can swiftly disarm a customer with well chosen words.
Facilitated by euphemistic and vague use of language by default exploited by charity managers and staff, who whilst being nice personally, preclude lower class involvement, except in handing over cash, clothes and books.
Acting independently, the educated will siphon off cash for themselves, or when on charitable deeds abroad, which invariably are their typical sunny holiday hotspots, like Kerala, will treat these trips like holidays, and say take only a cursory glance at the rabid dogs the money was for.
Ask, however what the money was spent on, dirty looks are cast, and evasive language quickly deployed. The middle classes have immediate access to food, clothes and shelter from charity shops.
Then in 2003 in Kerala, India, my posh hotel neighbour for a month , a wealthy woman from Oxford allegedly helping dogs with hydrophobia, who never left her room unless for sunbathing, apart from one meeting in the capital Trivandrum, in a motorised rickshaw hired for the day.
Charity is now being hijacked in the snootier parts of town, by Waitrose, who in their new Newcastle store have a choice several charities, all in their own territory of Jesmond. Similarly, in Gloucester Road, the benefactors are fee paying schools in Kensington. Their check out staff are forced to force this on their customers.
The only deserving charities are those helping old people, a growing social group, but who are targeted also for their money. Cynical as one might be tempted to be about this charity, the old people of the country are deserving of charity and the more organised the better.
There is nothing worse than being old, and nothing more unkind than neglecting them. Care for the old makes a civilisation civilized.
The English have learnt to exploit each other at all levels and have exported this to America, Australia and elsewhere. This is enforced by ‘mind your own business’ and through secretly using training, knowledge and information to promote oneself and autonomous groups. Nottingham, Durham and Southampton universities have built universities for foreign students mainly, and even have whole universities in holiday locations like Malaysia. Astute and aloof these people did not ask anyone if they could.
Tax Credits are a Halloween (clever people frightening the poor) method of extracting money and tributes from the poor.
There will shortly be a downward charm offensive launched by the middle classes, like a hippy joining a worker’s colony. Apparently we will be all in this together.