Chelsea Mercs

In The Dating Game, I discussed how the rapid growth in use of social networks has created dramatic changes in the challenges faced by kids when they they start dating these days. 

They're not the only ones feeling challenged.  

I was standing at a Club bar last evening with an old chum who told me a quick and simple story that should be a warning to every middle aged man out there. 

At a party many months ago, he was approached by an engaging and elegant forty-something girl who had been taking photographs at the party. They exchanged cards with a "must have a drink sometime." Four months later they did and another three months after that they had a second drink. Nothing untoward happened and perhaps my chum was mistaken in not telling his wife, but he was then shocked to be in receipt of a series of emails accusing him of being a "typical arrogant, loud, aggressive, selfish ex public school ex Army blah blah..." Naively, he replied and some email piing pong went back and fore until eventually he demanded she leave him alone and sensibly cc'd his wife on the email.

Curious as to who this lunatic was he called the party host from when it all began and asked who she actually was, "never seen her before," he said, "thought she came with someone; don't worry, probably just a Chelsea Merc." 

You may well ask. 

He wasn't referring to German motor cars, not to Chelsea football players but to a certain type of women who apparently roam the environs of Chelsea social life aiming to entrap and blackmail married men. With so much easy-to-use electronic recording equipment available, like a mobile phone, the poor bloke whose vanity and ego needs an uplift quickly concludes any liaison with a large bill. The going rate is apparently £5-10,000. Not too big that it breaks the bank and probably small enough to hide from the wife but enough to make you feel a fool for the rest of your life.

It's probably been going on for hundreds of years of course and perhaps the most sensible thing for any man to do if and when he is ever approached by a stranger should be to ask the obvious question, "why me?" Single men meanwhile should of course pretend to be married and that is definite and absolute 180 degree turnaround from traditional behaviour.

Even better, no more salutatory tale than the one above should be needed to convince the average bloke to stay within the safety and sanctity of his Club when in search of refreshment.

The Best Man & Dancing Dad's

Time to lighten up and being bang smack in the middle of the wedding season we're reminded that things don't always go exactly to plan on the great day. My own past performances as best man have been, well, lets call it inconsistent but sincere over the years. This chap though, is clearly a leading exponent from the "How Not To Do It," school of Best Men....

Clumsy Best Man Ruins Wedding - Watch more Funny Videos

Top of my own particular hate list for weddings is the dancing thing. I escaped it at my own wedding by taking the precautionary step of simply not having any and did the dancing world a favour by formally retiring from all dancing some years past. I just know though, that at the next one in a few weeks time, I'll be hunted down like a scared rabbit and dragged onto the floor by some half pissed demented aunt or teenage cousin. Dad's just shouldn't dance. This clip, whilst not of Dad's themselves, nails the styles you're most likely to see employed by the vast majority of fathers who have thrown themselves into the spirit of the occasion rather more enthusiastically than is strictly required.



The howls of indignation about phone hacking and the News of the World emanating from the Outrage Bus parked outside Westminster has, to my ears, a hollow and tinny sound; like the sort of pinging a cheap Chinese watch makes. It's an absolute fact that to the detriment of anything resembling standards in our society the leaders of all parties have for years courted Murdoch and his papers, even to the extent of employing former editors as their spin meisters. Well, Cameron's got a big old septic boil to lance now.

That it took the revelation that a murdered child's mobile telephone was hacked to give Westminster some backbone after years of sycophantic toadying to News International is just profoundly depressing. Perhaps our formally unelected upper chamber was the only constituency in the country which was independently minded enough to stand up to them. Well, they're not around anymore.

Moreover, hacking into bereaved relatives phones leave one wondering if the story can get any worse. Don't worry; it can and very probably will for these vermin know no limits in their pursuit of so called "stories." 

No-one to whom I have talked is in the least surprised by any of this. The general public long since abandoned any confidence in the ability of our tabloid press to lift themselves out of the grimy, manipulative and nasty sewer which they call home. 

Audience participation though will no doubt spike when we get to the point when some of these cornered rats begin to turn on themselves and begin to spill the beans on each other, Westminster and their competitors. It's just a fact that the press always have more stories than they dare publish. None of them have yet gone nuclear but I suspect someone will, "I found Jesus and he led me to the truth.... when I worked at the ........" and so on. 

The broadsheets needn't take on that holier than thou stance either. In "Newspaper Reporters Plumb New Depths," I discussed how reporters from the Mail and Times trawled the Facebook pages of children for gossip and stories. Odd too how the Mirror is strangely quiet; given they were happy to fabricate stories about British soldiers under that supercilious reptile Piers Morgan it's only a matter of time before their name pops up in the frame. I have experience of their reporters door stepping bereaved families; contempt doesn't come close to what I think of them.

However, the deeply troubling aspect of this disgraceful episode is the reprehensible action of a small number of police officers who accepted bribes from journalists. They will be found and they will go to prison, it's as simple as that. We should chuck the editors and journo's in with them and melt the keys.

News International meanwhile is sinking into a world of financial and reputational hurt, Sunday should certainly be interesting. Some people are even wondering if they used the same password for their email as they used for their Myspace and News International accounts, if they had them. News Internationals statement in 2009 in response to police interest reads as if it were penned by Lewis Carrol, "It is untrue that officers found evidence of News Group staff, either themselves or using private investigators, hacking into "thousands" of mobile phones." Well done Hayley Barlow and Alice Macandrew; just oozing journalistic integrity.

It would of course be warming to think that the News of the World will now go into a death spiral and be quickly buried and forgotten forever. It's unlikely, sadly. Never underestimate how low our fellow citizens will go in their happy pursuit of sex and scandal; however fabricated some of it may be.

And the thing that leaves me feeling like my lungs have been ripped out by an 800lb gorilla? The fact that the Guardian has been the only entity to consistently illuminate the wrongdoing and subversive influence of News International. I'll never be able to bring myself to buy it but they do chalk up some good guy points for the stand they've made. 

As a said earlier, the entire debacle is unedifying and profoundly depressing. Lets conclude then with a story which lays the lie of good journalistic practice bare but leaves us with a smile. Over to Uncle Marvo,


Pilot Philip Foster's skill and training saved his pregnant wife from certain death yesterday when his aircraft's engine failed whilst returning to his home airfield. He averted disaster by landing in a field, avoiding surrounding villages ...

What a hero, eh?

This is the reality.

Philip Foster (the name they used, and nothing like mine) was actually buggering off somewhere else because the weather was nice, rather than returning home, and was skiving off work. The wife at the time was indeed a bit pregnant as I remember, and was reading a book, oblivious to the engine failure which the hero, Marvo, was addressing with what can only be described as the full three degrees of incompetence.

Having looked around for a suitable landing site and found something vaguely greener than most other possibilities, Marvo proceeds to fail to turn off the fuel. He then descends, because this what aircraft do when they have a buggered engine, normally. He fails to apply the flap, then careers into a field of winter barley, about two feet or so higher than the wings, at a rather unusual angle and executes what can only be described as a "crash" which, had it not been for the height of the crop, would have taken out a small village, church and sub post-office.

Marvo then finds the nearest pub and proceeds to drink it dry.

Now, compare that to the MSM article above? Any similarity at all?

No, didn't think so."


Rioters & Tesco

Picadilly Riots; 26th March

Two things that I have nothing but contempt for are Tesco, (and the rest of the bloody supermarkets who are busy colonising our towns and villages), and long haired, unwashed demonstrators who bring mayhem, fear and damage to our streets unhindered, it seems, by the constabulary.

Tesco are however, despite my views of them, one of the best managed companies in the world. Little wonder then that they have managed to run rings around planning officers up and down the country and indeed the competition commision. Strange then, that Tesco and the yobs, (who are apparently anti big corporate), should should come together in a blog, given their seeming mutual antipathy to one another.

What's Crumble on about now, you cry?

Well, an acquaintance was working very close to the disturbances on Saturday near Picadilly and popped out to grab a sandwich at the Tesco Metro on the junction of Jermyn Street and Lower Regent Street. 

The Tesco branch was secured by six hefty looking bouncers, my chum entered and bought his sandwich unhindered. He was though, ever so slightly surprised to see the Tesco staff taking their motto, "Every Little Helps," to something of an extreme with the riff-raff happily buying cases of bottled beer from the store which they promptly took outside and dispatched with some vigour toward the police lines.

Tesco's contribution to the maintenance of good public order is clearly unhelpful, especially to the poor sods at the hurty end of the trajectory of airborne bottles of Carlsberg. It doesn't though, say much for police awareness of what's going on around them at street level. It's straying from the point somewhat but it's as clear as day to me that someone will be killed before long unless the police toughen up their response to the idiots. They have the law behind them and are far too intimidated by the press and every other man jack trying to be Don McCullin for the day to do their jobs properly.

In the meantime, they may want to wander round and have a chat with the Metro manager. Alternatively, they can just get their boss to call Phil Clarke the CEO, here's his number 01992 632222.

Lesson No 1 son, always keep your visor down. Don't worry..... we've all done it and learned the hard way

The Big Society

Is this what Cameron meant by the Big Society?

Floored with nothing more than a handbag containing some tissues, a packet of Werthers Originals, a bus pass and purse.............. but wielded by an angry Granny. Serves them right.

Seen any police.............. no, you won't. They don't do that sort of thing anymore unless there are 36 of them tooled up with armed response, dogs and aerial CCTV.

Expect said Granny to be given an ASBO for breach of the peace.

Sadly, as benefits are withdrawn you can also expect to see much, much more street crime as addicts and other vermin look to replace their handouts. With no police on the streets you can also expect to see more citizens fighting back and that, in all probability, won't end at all well.