Who is this?

Any ideas? Just found this face on google images. I've never seen him before, have you? There are thousands of faces like this on google images. I don't know where these people come from.

Look What Doctor Finlay Has Bought Me.

I thought the doctor loved me. I am not supposed to know about these boots. The other morning the doctor was still fast asleep and I just found myself raking through his things and this is what I found. On the gift tag it said, "My dearest Janet, when I met you I felt that all my Christmas's had come at once. Now, living with you, everyday is like Christmas, Easter, New Year and my 21st birthday again, all rolled into one glorious experience. Happy Christmas Janet. Love Doctor Finlay'. On the reverse of the gift tag it said, 'PS - thank you for all of your help in the surgery, and in particular for keeping it so fresh and clean. You're the best cleaner we've ever had'

The Leg He Loved.

The doctor is sat behind his desk, looking down at Michael Johnson's file.

Michael, a retired miner from Barnsley is sat directly in front of him, he is nervous, and a bit reluctant to talk about his embarrassing problem.

Doctor: Michael when did your leg start shaking?

Michael: Well, if you read my notes doctor, which you have got in front of you, you would know that I have had a shaking leg since I was a young lad, roughly about the time Shakin’ Stevens was popular.

Doctor: So, that’s about the early eighties?

Michael: Correct doctor.

Doctor: It’s been very hard for you, hasn’t it?

Michael nods his head in agreement with the doctor’s statement.

Doctor: Just talk us through what happened. I need to know so that I can get to grips with the condition. (Raises his eyebrows, looks perplexed) You see Michael (exhales, then looks up at him), you see (pauses to consider his next statement), it’s not something I’ve ever come across before. (Removes his glasses, rubs his eyes). I’ll be honest with you; it’s not easy, not even for me, to know what to do with your leg.

Michael: (Nervously starts to tell the story) Well doctor, I was watching ‘Top of Pops’ and that’s when I saw him.

Doctor: Who?

Michael: Shakin’ Stevens.

Doctor: Right, right, sorry, carry on.

Michael: I just really took to what he was doing, the dancing was just great, I mean mind blowingly brilliant. It was all that shaking, of his limbs. I thought wow; I’ve never seen that before.

Doctor: What happened next Michael?

Michael: I got up, out of my chair and copied what Shakin’ Stevens was doing. I started shaking, my legs, and my arms all of me shook. I was literally ‘all shook up’.

Doctor: Ah ha. You were all shook up?

Michael: Yes doctor, I was all shook up. But, it was after the song had finished that the problem started, my leg just wouldn’t stop shaking. The rest of my body stopped, but my left leg continued to shake.

Doctor: So, then what happened?

Michael: Well, I couldn’t go down the pit after that, because it was shaking constantly. My wife took me to the hospital, they put a calliper on it and it shook its way out of the calliper.

Doctor: And then what?

Michael: They put plaster on it.

Doctor: A plaster cast?

Michael: Yes doctor, a plaster cast and still, give me your hand (reaches for the doctor’s hand).

Doctor: (The doctor refuses to take Michael’s hand) Michael, I can see your leg is still shaking, it’s okay. So, that’s almost thirty years you’ve had your leg in a plaster cast, and still it shakes?

Michael: Yes, doctor. Look they said you would be able to help me.

Doctor: (The doctor pauses for thought as he considers his response, he closes Michael’s file) Yes Michael, I can help you. We will amputate that shaky leg of yours, it’s the only way. That’s the bad news. The good news is …

Michael: I suspected that it would have to go. That shaky leg of mine has ruined my life doctor. For a while you know I was able to make money in the Northern clubs and bars as a Shakin’ Stevens impersonator but then Shakin’ Stevens career took a nose dive, and so did mine.

Sorry, did you say there was some good news, doctor?

Doctor: Yes Michael I did. (The doctor smiles) Michael, (he reaches for Michael’s right hand and pats it in a supportive way) I’ve already got you a new leg.

Michael: Thank you doctor.

Doctor: It’s not what you think. Nurse! (The doctor calls out to the nurse who is next door) Nurse! Show Michael his new leg.

The nurse shows Michael a photo of his new leg.

Michael: Wow! Hang on ….. That’s not a fake leg …. It’s real.

Doctor: I know Michael; we’re going to make medical history. You are going to be the first man to have a leg transplant.

Five years later ….. Michael is sat in a Porsche car with the doctor in the car park at Royal Free hospital.

Michael: Doctor, I offered to buy you a year’s supply of stethoscopes and still you won’t tell me the name of the donor, why???

Doctor: You’ve changed Michael. You’ve become cocky, arrogant, you’re not the kind man you were five years ago.

Michael: Look I had a shaky leg, I was broken inside. But, it was you doctor, you put me back together again. Look I just want the file doctor.

Doctor: I’m not giving you the file Michael. I have told you time and time again. I cannot divulge any information about your donor.

Michael: This Porsche is for you doctor, if you just give me her name and address.

Doctor: If I do that will you leave me and my wife alone?

Michael: Yes doctor, you will never see me again.

Doctor: And the Porsche? I get to keep the Porsche?

Michael: Yes doctor, you get to keep the Porsche. Okay. Her address….

Five years previously, shortly after the transplant.

Michael’s ex wife: When Michael came home with his new leg we were all ecstatic. It was a special day for the family. My mother even baked him his favourite cake – Victoria Sponge. When the bandages came off I was in a state of euphoria, at last he had a leg that didn’t shake. But, that euphoria soon changed when I realised that his new leg was from a woman. I was furious, especially when he became more interested in her leg; I mean his leg than my legs.

He was always touching it, shaving it the bath, putting my expensive moisturising lotions on it. He even wore one of my skirts, once, with heals and stood there admiring it in the mirror. What a bastard!

In the end I left him.

Doctor: Michael became very rich as a result of his new woman leg. The media were fascinated by him. I personally think, he became arrogant. He says that he just fell in love with the leg. He kept saying to me ….

Michael: Doctor, my new leg is not complete unless I find the rest of its body.

Doctor: In the end I gave in. I couldn’t stand the bombardment of phone calls through the dead of night. I didn’t want my wife to divorce me and believe me it was getting to that stage. So I gave him her file.

She was a ballerina, a perfectionist. A young woman who decided to sacrifice her career and dedicate the rest of her life to charity work. She was sick of the limelight.

Ballerina: The pressure was so intense, that I decided the only way I could get out of this life of mine, was to let my leg go. I thought if my leg could bring genuine happiness to someone else then why not.

Doctor: But, your legs already bring so much happiness. You have thousands of fans around the world that love your legs. What about all of those appreciative audiences around the world. How will they feel? It’s like a betrayal. Why stop now?

Ballerina: Doctor, I’ve had enough. Please take my leg and give it to someone who really needs it, I implore you.

Doctor: So, he found her. He travelled four thousand miles around the world and found her, in a school in Africa, teaching kids how to read. I believe they are now very happy together.

A story about an illegal car parking space, a theatre company called ‘Wonder Pants’ and a persistent official from Perth and Kinross Council.

There was a time when I just couldn’t get any decent work in Scotland. I tried everything; I even worked in a call centre for six months which drove me potty. I couldn’t stand the repetitive nature of the job and being hemmed in like a bloody battery hen, it was all too much. The thing that particularly annoyed me about the regime was that you had to ask permission whenever you wanted to go to the toilet. It was an absolute sweatshop, often the reaction I got from the miserable, spotty, adolescent supervisor was, ‘Can’t you wait?’ The thing was, I couldn’t wait, so I quit.

At the time, eight years ago, I was earning just one hundred and forty five pounds a week – grim.

One day, in a sulk I took myself off to Edinburgh for the day. Whilst I was there I met the people in the photo above. I got talking to them; well I had nothing else to do. I was broke and miserable, so I thought I would speak to the idiots in the photo for a bit, thought that they might cheer me up.

They were a friendly bunch, who were out, on the Royal Mile, handing out leaflets advertising their fringe show.

They told me that one of their actors had broken his leg, during a midnight bender. Then they said, ‘How long are you in Edinburgh?’

‘Me, well I live in Perth’.

Actor playing a duck: Hey, she’s about the right size, isn’t she Bert?

Bert playing a pelican: (over enthusiastic) Yeah she is. Are you free this afternoon? We’ll pay you. You’d really be helping us out, you know.

Me playing myself: How much?

Susan playing a vulture: (with difficulty removes her beak, in order that she can speak and be heard, otherwise it would have been a muffled kind of a voice). Fifty pounds per afternoon.

Me: Okay, I’m in. (I shake hands/paws/claws with the animals/human beings)

It was easy work. I felt like a bit of a tit though, but I did it. The production was called ‘Animal Magic’, we showcased the work at the Botanical Gardens, in Edinburgh. It was by the avante garde playwright Johnny Mufflecakes. He was a former student of Warwick University’s experimental Theatre workshop, which took its inspiration from the now deceased, revolutionary Theatre Practitioner, Jerzy Grotoswki.

Johnny Mufflecakes, is the guy in the photo, right at the back, with the mask on. He gave us the brief, that’s what he called it, the brief. He said, ‘I want to push the boundaries between audience and performer’. He didn’t want the audience to be passive, no, you see what Mr. Mufflecakes wanted was for full audience participation, he wanted them to feel the actors – literally, we’re talking skin against fur, hand against claw, lips against beaks.

So, this is what we did. There was no script, as such, well animals don’t speak, do they? No, instead we were all given a tape recording of the animal noise that we should be making during our performances.

Johnny Mufflecakes now playing a sleuth, with sinister looking, uneven claws (stereo-typical personae of a RADA trained actor): Under no circumstances can you enter into dialogue with any members of the public. It is a fundamental part of this production that you embrace with your entire physical, emotional and spiritual being the nature of the furry animal that you are wearing. If you deviate from this, then you’re sacked and ‘Wonder Pants’ will never use your services again. Do you understand?

Entire cast of thirty animals: Yes, Johnny Mufflecakes.

Johnny Mufflecakes now playing a Brazilian Bull frog: (Evil, ironic, melodramatic laugh) Ah, you see cast of furry creatures, you got that wrong. Do you understand me?

An embarrassing pause, confused people in badly fitting furry costumes looking around at each other for ….

A tiny actor wearing a penguin costume pushes his way to the front of the crowd to confront Johnny Mufflecakes.

Tiny actor wearing a penguin costume: (squeaky voice) Sorry, Johnny, at this point are we all supposed to be making our animal noises, in recognition of what you just said?

Johnny Mufflecakes now playing a baboon with a large red bum: Yes exactly! Whenever I speak to you, cast of thirty, you respond with your animal noise. So, let’s ask Mr. Cow over there. Do you understand me Mr. Highland Cow?

Large Sweaty Lady, who is not coping very well under the multi-layered Highland cow costume: (slight pause due to the woman sucking on her asthma inhaler, then ….) Moooooooo Mooooo Mooo.

The entire cast of thirty all make their animal noises, which represents their approval/recognition of Johnny Mufflecake’s (who is now dressed as a Centipede) directions.

We were all dressed like all of the animals in Noah’s Ark, so I was zebra; someone else was a crocodile etc … etc… Then of course there were ducks, a couple of tigers – God they were scary, but then I remembered there weren’t really any tigers there, it was just a couple of guys wearing fake fur suits, they were human beings actually.

Anyway we all hid in the bushes and some of us hid in the undergrowth, in the greenhouses, at the botanical gardens, and every time a member of the public went past, we jumped out at them and then wrestled them to the ground.

Johnny Mufflecakes now playing a kangaroo: Look, I don’t want you people to differentiate between any members of the public, they’re all human beings, so you all just jump out at them, wrestle the fuckers to the ground. And, to answer your earlier question, Catriona, if they have crutches you treat them in exactly the same way as if they were able-bodied. Do you understand? Now let’s go and get those human beings!!!!

The cast of thirty people wearing animal suits can be seen dispersing around the botanical gardens, running to their hiding places (Yelling) Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!! Yip peeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! Woooooooooooooooo!!!!!! Let’s get ‘em’! Way to go!!!!

Johnny Mufflecakes now playing an albino python: Christ what did I tell those idiots, they’re animals, not humans!

The story about the illegal car parking space and the council official is to follow.

I have an idea, about the Controversial Barnett Formula ....

The Facts About the Barnett Formula, taken from Wikipedia.

In actual monetary figures, that works out as (per person):

• England £5,940
• Scotland £7,346
• Wales £6,901
• Northern Ireland £7,945

As these regional variations were not ever a consciously decided policy of the Treasury or Parliament this has been cited as a reason for reform. However, as noted earlier these differences are eroded by time, and at current rates of growth in public expenditure they should disappear in thirty years.

It should be noted that the population of England is 80% of the population of the UK. Instant abolition of the Barnett Formula, based on the above figures would result on an average UK expenditure of approximately £6150. This would be a large decrease for each person in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, but an increase of less than 4% per person for England.

Darkersideofbridgetjones solution:

Let Chingford have ago at this now. The people of Barnett have suffered enough and their residents could do with a rest. We should share the financial burden. I nominate Chingford. Well, it's a prosperous area in the South East, and the majority of the residents all have 'loads of money'. They also have a crest which the Scots can relate to - a stag.

Champion Of The Underclass, Nick Clegg's first interview with DSBJ.

Nick Clegg said .....
'I was at university at the height of Thatcherism, I was appalled by this soulless vision, there's no such thing as society. Twenty years later you have David Cameron saying society's anarchic. This is a vision of society, a Tory vision of society which I find by turns heartless and desperate. Now I represent a constituency up in the north, in Sheffield, one of the great cities of the north, which has got social inequalities which are utterly grotesque'.

After watching the Andrew Marr show on Sunday, DSBJ contacted Nick Clegg’s office to arrange an interview with him.

DSBJ: Nick, you're a champion aren't you, Nick? You represent the underclass, don't you?

Nick: Someone has got to.

DSBJ: That's lovely is that Nick, you're a kind man Nick. Let's go to the phone lines now. We've got Sheila from a sink council estate in Salford, on line two. Go on Sheila you're speaking to Nick, your champion, the champion of the underclass.

Sheila: (cough splutter, husky Salford accent, due to 60 a day habit) Nick love, I smoke 60 a day, my teenage daughter's pregnant, her brother has been excluded from school twice, once for beating up a teacher and the other time for smoking some of that funny stuff. I'm on benefits and I can't get a job. What you going to do about it Nick? Oh, and my husband can't read or write (coughs, nearly chokes to death). What you going to do about it Nick?

Nick: I blame Margaret Thatcher.

DSBJ: Okay, let's go to the next caller, sorry Sheila, we're going to have to cut you off there.

Sheila: Well, what's he going to do to help me....???

Nick: I'm going to blame Margaret Thatcher for everything, that's what I'm going to do about it Sheila.

DSBJ: Next caller. We have Mary from Newcastle. Go ahead Mary.

Mary: I'm too scared to go out at night because of the teenage thugs on my estate. What are you going to do about it Nick?

Nick: I'm going to blame Margaret Thatcher, that's what I'm going to do about it Mary.

DSBJ: Okay, thanks for that Mary. Let's go to the next caller. It's Mike from Tunbridge Wells, go ahead Mike. You're speaking to Nick, your champion of the underclass.

Mike: My wife has just contracted C difficile, what are going to do about it Nick?

DSBJ: Shall I answer that for you Nick?

Nick: Please.

DSBJ: He's going to blame Margaret Thatcher. Ok, next caller, that's a Mrs. Lewis, a 67 year old, who is actually living on the Isle of Lewis itself.

Canned laughter.

Mrs Lewis: I've had my pension nicked by Gordon Brown, and I'm finding it difficult to keep on top of council tax payments. I'm hungry because I’m living off a tin of baked beans every day. What are you going to do about it Nick?

DSBJ & Nick: (together in harmony) we’re going to blame Margaret Thatcher (raucous laughter from the pair).

DSBJ: You're really good at this politicking business Nick. I think after watching you on the Andrew Marr show that you've got longevity in this game; I really do, unlike Ming though. But, I guess when you get into your sixties you'll be doing botox, no doubt, by that time they'll probably be selling it over the counter at Boots.
Right, time for one more caller, and it's Jackie from Milton Keynes. Go ahead Jackie; you're speaking to Nick Clegg the champion of the underclass.

Jackie: But, I'm not part of the underclass. I'm a white, middle class woman, with a degree from Cambridge. I just wanted to say ...

Nick: Cut that bitch off. I'm not speaking to her.

DSBJ: Sorry, what did you say Nick???

Nick: I said cut that bitch off now!! I'm not speaking to her.

Jackie: Hello? Can I ask my question now please? I’ve been waiting for the last twenty minutes, and my baby wants feeding, and by the smell of it, its nappy needs changing as well.

Nick: No! You can't, you superior middle class white bitch!

DSBJ: Look Nick, stop raising your voice like that. That's not the way that champions speak to members of the public.

Jackie: But, I was at Cambridge with you Nick.

Nick: That is beside the point, I'm a socialist liberal. What are you Jackie? No, I mean it, what are you?

Jackie: I'm a housewife from Milton Keynes.

DSBJ: Okay, let's er ... stop arguing ...

Jackie: I'm not arguing with him, I just want to ask him a question.

DSBJ: Go ahead Jackie.

Nick: (murmurs under his breath) Not happy about this, it's supposed to be for the under classes, not smug white middle class people like her.

DSBJ: But, I thought we were a multi-inclusive society Nick? You can’t discriminate against Jackie? Surely everyone is equal Nick?

Nick: (getting increasing irate, trying hard to contain his temper) Not everyone is equal DSBJ, take Ming, he’s not my equal. He’s past it. Like a gone off tin of kippers.

DSBJ: Sorry, I forgot about Ming. You’re right he is just one big kipper. All I am saying is, doesn’t the socialist liberal party advocate equality?

Nick: Fuck equality and democracy. It’s the socially inept I’m interested in, anyway. (His manner becomes increasingly neurotic) I want to indoctrinate them; after all they’re a bunch of fucking morons. Just topping them up with more and more benefits. It’s like we’re anesthetizing them, and then guaranteed, like a junkie, they’ll keep coming back for more and voting for us.

Forget giving them good schools, it’s better that they’re not well educated, education is dangerous, it gives people freedom, liberty. We don’t want that.

Jackie: Can I talk now please? Can’t stay on the phone too long, my baby needs its nappy changing. (The sound of a baby screaming in the background)

DSBJ: Go ahead Jackie, what’s your question for the morally insane Nick Clegg?

Jackie: My eighty-eight year old mother spends over thirty thousand pounds a year, on her nursing home care bill, yet there is a cap on the amount the local authority pays, for residence that require the same, or similar care. Is that fair Nick?

DSBJ: Can I answer that for you Nick, that's actually .... well, I don't know, who's fault is that Nick? It's not my fault.

Nick: (Looking slightly perplexed, in fact looked frazzled and a bit mad) I can't answer that question, I don't know.

Jackie: My mother is going to have to sell her house to pay for the mounting cost of her personal care.

Nick: Why don't you move the old crow to Scotland. Right next caller.

The sound of a phone being hung up.

DSBJ: Okay, now we have morbidly obese twenty-three year old calling, Sharon, from Croydon. Go ahead Sharon.

Sharon: Okay Nick, I'm a Chav. I'm morbidly obese, but I can't afford gym membership, because I am on the minimum wage, and I have to pay my parents rent money every week. And Nick, I can't afford to get onto the property ladder. I've been priced right out of the market Nick.
I did go to university, to better myself, and now I have twenty thousand pounds worth of student debts, to pay back. And, the other thing is, (starts crying) I didn't go into work today, because I wanted to watch the Trisha Goddard show. I thought Trisha could help me, give me some advice, I am depressed Nick.

Nick: Who the fuck are these people? They're total morons! (Rips his microphone off) Do you know what, I'm off!! Forget politics, I'd much rather work for the European Union, like Kinnock, the perks are much better and the job spec is a doddle.

DSBJ: But, Nick, what about all of those people you're letting down? You can't leave now.

Nick: Fuck-off!

He also said ....

'The life expectancy of people living in the poorest ward in Sheffield is a full 14 years lower than the life expectancy of those people living in the richest ward. And that is part, partly because of the ravages which were inflicted on that city by the Conservatives so, frankly, so much of my politics is driven by that'.

This was on the Andrew Marr Show on Sunday.

Please checkout Croydonian's blog, post entitled 'Yet more Labour achievements', where it states that the top twenty worst places in Britain to live are mostly Labour held seats, with a couple of Lib Dem’s thrown in. How long have Labour been in power now Nick?

For these left wing politicians to keep trawling the seabed floor, of what they perceive to be the damage that the Thatcher government did, is grossly unfair, especially, since Labour have been in power now for a decade.

Since Cameron took over the Tory leadership he has made many significant changes to the party. The work that Iain Duncan Smith is doing (Centre for Social Justice), along with Chris Grayling’s work, which is all about addressing issues of poverty, and more importantly helping people to get themselves out of the poverty trap.

Sadly many of us are subjected to the effects of a broken society. Although, according to Gordon Brown (during his party Conference) he denied that this broken society actually exists. What bollocks!

Watching Channel Four’s '20 Best and 20 Worst Places to Live', on Sunday, this show highlighted how much Labour have lied to us all, and failed the majority of the most vulnerable in our society. They, like Clegg, are no friend to the common man or woman.


As doctor Finlay pointed out to me two of those Labour Constituencies, in the 20 worst places to live in Britain, were held by John Prescott and Alan Johnson, two of the highest ranking MP's within the Labour government. Of course John was too busy doing other things, like playing croquet in the nude with his secretary to even notice his constituent’s problems.

Croydonian

The story of Jason the dog and Matthew Parris.

Recently I attended a CWF event with a bishop, Sue and doctor Finlay. It was there that we met Matthew Parris and he told us a very funny bloody story. I laughed so much that I started crying.

I'll probably do no justice to it, but here we go....
When he was a young lad, he jumped in the river Thames and rescued a couples' dog. Te dog was called Jason (the name of the dog made me laugh as well. I've never heard of a dog being given a humanoid name).

As a result of his bravery he was later on presented with an award, which Margaret Thatcher presented to him. As she was making her presentation the dog started humping her leg, but she continued with her presentation, and made no reference to what the dog was doing and just ignored the dog's affections. It made me laugh.

Fingers crossed (not allowed to mention anything) but hopefully Matthew will be visiting Tottenham Cons in the new year. If he does that it will be a great boost to that constituency.