Manchester, the infernal city of my youth and memories.

Rainy, grainy, dingy, dirty, derelict, drugs and drink.

Dougie Flood, the Quality Street Gang, Peter Tut-Tut, Giant Haystacks, the Circus Tavern, blob shops, the King Cotton bar … Rafters, the MSG. The Magic Village.

And despite everything, way back then, Manchester was my magical city.

Bunney’s on Oldham Street, Affleck and Brown, Lewis’s, the UCP cafes and the thunder of print inside the blue glass of the Crusader building. The rumble under Withey Grove.

Slack Alice and George Best, The Grapes and Coronation Street… Tony Wilson, the Hacienda, Granada Reports and pissed-up Bill Grundy. Ray Gosling trying to fly despite all his broken wings.

Foo Foo Lammar…

I’ve been lucky since I swaggered out the City of Tall Chimneys, tenements and terraces in the mid-Eighties – the grittiness of Manchester is said to have rubbed a rough edge into my writing. It’s taken me all around the world boys.

But I’ve always found myself looking back.

Here are some of the stories The Society has published recently about my ‘hometown’.

CLICK THE LINKS BELOW

Hough Hall should become a monument to Manchester’s towering infernal chiefs – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

A visual tribute to Manchester’s victims of the Arena bomber – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

Let’s stop them stealing any more of North Manchester’s history – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

Why we love you Manchester – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

Moston’s tombstone blues … plea to reunite family with their ‘stolen’ statue of memory – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

HOUGH HALL … AN OPEN LETTER TO THE PEOPLE OF MOSTON – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

How the magnificence of Moston’s cinematic history is being replaced with ‘little boxes’ – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

On the way to bed and I hear a noise … 22 men women and children dead in city I love – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

#Manchester #moston #crime

#DougieFlood #QualityStreetGang #GiantHaystacks #CircusTavern #blobshops

Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the Nobel Peace Prize laureate and fighter of South Africa’s apartheid, has died aged 90.

Desmond Tutu was the nation’s conscience, respected by Black and white. He won the Nobel prize in 1984  for his non-violent opposition to white minority rule. A decade later, he saw the end of the regime and chaired a Truth and Reconciliation Commission, set up to expose atrocities committed under it.

Jean-Marc Vallée, the Quebec director of films like “Dallas Buyers Club” and TV projects such as “Big Little Lies,” has died. He was 58.

His producing partner, Nathan Ross, said in a statement, “Jean-Marc stood for creativity, authenticity and trying things differently. He was a true artist and a generous, loving guy. Everyone who worked with him couldn’t help but see the talent and vision he possessed. He was a friend, creative partner and an older brother to me. The maestro will sorely be missed but it comforts knowing his beautiful style and impactful work he shared with the world will live on.”

Janice Long died on Christmas Day following a short illness.

The 66-year-old, who was the first woman to regularly present Top of the Pops, enjoyed a 40-year career in broadcasting, hosting shows on television and radio.

Brought up in Liverpool, Janis – the sister of late children’s television presenter Keith Chegwin – started out as a radio assistant on BBC Radio Merseyside in 1979.

She went on to work at the BBC’s and was also the first woman to have her own regular daily show.

She championed stars like The Smiths, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Primal Scream, Adele and Amy Winehouse and was one of the main presenters of the Live Aid charity concert in 1985. 

OTHERS WE LOST IN 2021

Prince Philip died on April 9, aged 99. He was the longest-serving consort in British history.

Gerry Marsden. of Gerry & the Pacemakers,  died on January 3, aged 78.

Larry King died on January 23, aged 87, after contracting coronavirus.

Captain Sir Tom Moore died in hospital on Feb 2, aged 100.

Capt Sir Tom’s fundraising saw him walk 100 laps of his garden before his 100th birthday, raising more than £32 million for the NHS.

Christopher Plummer died on February 5, aged 91. He was perhaps most famous as Captain Von Trapp in The Sound Of Music.

Mary Wilson died on February 8, aged 76. The Motown legend found fame after co-founding The Supremes aged just 15 alongside Diana Ross and Florence Ballard.

Johnny Briggs died on February 28, aged 85, following a long illness. He played Mike Baldwin on Coronation Street for three decades.

Jessica Walter died on March 24, aged 80. Appearing in many TV shows and films, her most famous role was of matriarch Lucille Bluth in Arrested Development.

Bay City Rollers frontman Les McKeown passed away aged 65 on April 20.

Songwriter Jim Steinman died on April 19, aged 73. He was best known for writing many of Meat Loaf’s biggest hits, including the Bat Out of Hell album.

ZZ Top’s bassist and founding member Dusty Hill died aged 72, on July 28. He performed with the legendary rock band alongside Billy Gibbons and Frank Beard since the 1970s.

Sean Lock died from cancer, at the age of 58 on August 18. The stand-up comedian and writer was best known for appearances on panel shows such as 8 Out Of 10 Cats.

Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts died aged 80 on August 24.

He was the band’s drummer.

Entertainer Lionel Blair died on November 4, aged 92. The dancer and actor was one of the most-seen personalities on stage and screen for many decades.

Actress Sally Ann Howes died aged 91, on December 22. The Broadway and West End performer was best known for starring as Truly Scrumptious in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang alongside Dick Van Dyke.

Covid kills the Cornish laughter … we say farewell to Jethro – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

Sadness as Mike takes the last train from stars-ville – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

Mick Rock was beautiful and soulful, says Bob – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

#DEADPEOPLE #2021 #TUTU #LONG

All the best to our 250,000 readers AND everyone else in this topsy-turvy world … let’s stand up and be counted! Let’s stand up for The Truth and Our Freedom …

In Christmases past it was a joy to write about the festive lights at Bob Dylan’s magical Malibu mansion.

They were just a string of shining baubles attached to some brushy branches along a fence at Point Dume.

It opened up a lot of good-natured banter, like Did You Prefer it Before Bob’s Lights Went Electric, or Bob’s Christmas Wishes Blowing in the Wind…

Then the joke wasn’t funny any more. Hell’s fire killed at least three people and burned down hundreds of homes and businesses.

And Bob’s lights vanished. Whether they were taken down or disappeared in the flames that licked against the edges of his onion-topped compound of eccentric dreams and design indulgences, doesn’t really matter.

One way the string bean of electric humour never came back. A blow-up nativity scene did appear behind a chicken-wire fence for a short time. But that too was removed very quickly.

Bob was lucky and it might have been a little inappropriate to continue the grand joke of his strange lights.

Many of his neighbours weren’t, their homes were badly damaged, satellite pictures still reveal the scars of the devastation.

However, now, three years on, we are re-running the story below, we believe it is still an amusing story of the eccentricity of the world’s greatest songwriter … But we publish it with respect to those who suffered awful loss in the fire.

Please enjoy it for what it is … a colourful bit of Bob’s past.

Well, what do you think? Do you prefer Bob’s colourful baubles before they went electric?

We wrote: The geriatric, but still wayward star, has had the Christmas lights at his £100million Point Dume compound scoffed at for years – and not without reason!

When, nine years ago, he first paid his skewwhiff homage to tradition on the massive hedge which hides his home from the world, it was just an untidy rope of bulbs – some looking broken.

That’s when Merrill Markoe,  known for her work on The David Letterman Show, spotted them as she drove home, one dark and chilly night,  and decided to photograph them.

Her chronicling of the lights over the years became an hilarious series of articles insinuating Bob is using them to send secret messages to the world.

She said: “I wasn’t planning to write about Bob and his lights this year, but the events of 2016 left me little choice. In a year that took both David Bowie and Leonard Cohen and left Donald Trump in their place, it was impossible to ignore the fact that the world was in desperate need of timely reflections from Dylan, this year’s recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature.”

Sure enough, the messages in the display could be his most complex Christmas message ‘since god rest me merry gentlemen’ on his 2009 festive album.

But there is no doubt somebody at the Point Dume complex –  a bit of a scrapyard actually, for the old vehicles Bob uses in his wrought iron gates sideline  –  has put a bit more effort in to it all this year and there are more bulbs and certainly a bit more colour.

And Merrill says there appears to be the letter N hidden in the hodgepodge of lights which could be an allusion to Bob’s Nobel Prize debacle – the old curmudgeon sent his old amour Patti Smith to collect it instead. She gave a rendition of Hard Rain for the gathered academics and literati and unfortunately forgot the words.

About his Royal Bobness’s house … it’s an eccentric mix of Santa Fe, Spanish, Moorish and, unexpectedly, Russian styles – including a tower crowned with a copper dome – and a lounge big enough to ride a horse through.

Good on ya Bob!

#christmasintheheart #bobdylan #christmaslights #Pointdume #Malibu #feastivefun

A happy Christmas to everybody … once again the last year hasn’t been a merry one, far from it for so many of us. It has been a year of confusion, doubt and very often anxiety and fear brought about by a fat greasy bug. And no, I don’t mean Boris, I mean Covid and its many sticky, obscene varieties.

The world has been brought to its knees, we see dissension on streets where there should be music in cafes at night, we see angry people misled and bamboozled by propaganda and lies on social media, we’ve seen a stumble-bum president who appeared to forgot his wife’s name, we’ve seen an orange-stained leader ‘tango’ the world with lies, hatred and a Mephistophelian charisma, we’ve watched Boris’s Bozzos snigger at the UK and we’ve seen ‘red’ armies spill the blood of immigrants on the barbed wire of a country wanting the shed it’s borders.

Oh, what a world we live in.

Over this ear-glue, blood-in-the-eye, heart-breaking year The Society has reached 250,000 readers. And we are proud of this.

We’ve done it by telling the truth and shooting from the hip. We will continue to do it.

And here we celebrate three people who we believe have stuck to their own guns… Bob Dylan (singer) Kaye Howarth (survivor) Andrew John Teague (fighter)

Kaye’s Story Part 1 …

Kaye’s life … the heart-breaking and inspirational story of a true survivor – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

Bob’s compendium of life at 80…

A compendium of reality and fantasy as Dylan continues his never-ending tour through our lives – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

Andrew’s story of fighting for the love of family life …

Join Andrew and court the real family truth on Christmas Day… – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

#bobdylan #dylan #andrewjohnteague #kayehowarth #legend #family #breastcancer #survivor #fighter #family #love #christmas #hope #inspiration

The Society is publishing the true story of a woman who went to hell and back because of breast cancer. This is Kaye Howarth’s story in her own words. Thank you for wanting to share with us and the world Kaye.

Biography … Bald Bird Surviving Breast Cancer

Part 8 Next Week

Emily and George

Throughout my diagnosis I have tried to be as honest as I could be without trying to frighten Ems and George too much. Emily has a firmer understanding of what we’re going through and bless her has taken to looking after her brother to heart.

It’s difficult to keep normality going when such things as illness raises its head within a family, but I think it’s important to keep a balance.

Both Ems and George continue to go to school. However, I did phone both schools and inform them of my treatment and asked them to contact me if either child was finding it difficult to cope or was upset.

Children can be strong, and some cruel. George came home with a bruised face one day, I got out of him gently that a lad had teased him about me having no hair, so George retaliated. They had a punch up in the school yard.

I went to the school the next day and waited for said boy, after school. Drawing him aside warned the little shit- never to touch George or tease him again. I was so sodden angry; I think he saw that. Needless to say, this never happened again, as far as I’m aware.

                                             58.               

Something to look forward to!

Mum takes the kids swimming. Mum has membership to a hotel, where there’s a pool, with lots of rubber tubes floats, and toys.

Em’s and George have hours of fun chasing Little Nanny as they call her around the pool, having play fights with the foam tubes. When they return, frazzled but content Dave suggests as we sit having a tea, juice, he was thinking of doing a loft conversion.

 Emily is thrilled, stairs to get away from George! George could have Emily’s room. The planning begins in earnest. Dave draws the plans with Emily and George. I sit back and smile. Something for them to look forward to.

George asks if he can choose the colour for his room, he currently has red and orange his two favourite colours adorning his walls, “sure!” says Dave pulling a face at me,” As long as it’s not black Georgie!”

 George grins “Well it is my room…!” I know George is joking, hopefully.

The next day work begins on the loft. Dave needs this something to work on, Ems and George needs something to look forward to. A future.

                                                      59.

Third Chemo.

15.03.00

Mum again drives me to Chemo. See Jan about lump in right breast, she believes it to be hormonal. However, appointment is made for a mammogram this Thursday. Dr Dean has also examined me and agrees this. I have Chemo, Jan my Breast friend joins me, we both look like Army Recruits. Session finishes. Book next session. Mum drives me home. However, we are low on food, so we decide to stop off at Asda to stock up. I am wearing a green woolly hat today, couldn’t be arsed with” Linda”. You know I must be accepting my illness and prepared myself in some way for what would happen next. I was wondering round the veg isle looking at food I didn’t really want to eat, and then wham.

“Hi Kaye, how are you?!” Simon says. Simon is the husband of Joanne, Joanne and I had our first born children at the same hospital, ward. We became firm friends, and found we lived in the same street. Eventually I moved away from Dorchester to Portland, so we now just bump into each other as and when. But it’s always such a treat to see them.

Anyway, he carries on teasing me” Smart hat!” I take a deep breath, and say, “Haven’t you heard?”! I then calmly explain what has happened to me, about Chemo.                                   60.

He s great, and asks me questions, am I ok, is there anything I need, he says he’s sorry to hear that, me too I say. Simon gives me a big hug. I send my love to his wife, we say goodbye. Just an average conversation in a shopping Isle. Mum rests her hand on my shoulder, gently smiles, puts her arm round my shoulder and leads me on to finish shopping.

Once home I crash again, I’m knackered. Mum once again over the next five days, cooks, cares, loves. I’m knackered, and look it, my skin looks grey, I am hollow eyed, and I feel and look like a walking skeleton. I have lost lots of weight. I’m feeling low to.

Dave’s mum offers us a lifeline and invites u up to Bristol. This means my mum gets a rest, Em’s and George have a change of scene. The following weekend we go to Bristol. Feel a bit sick on the journey up, but however we get there.

I am wearing “Linda” and feel a total prat. Dave’s parents are kind, and say I look great. Ummm. Katie sits on my knee once we’ve all settled and starts to pull at my hair, it slides over, and I quickly read just, she pulls and so on the game continues, until Bett calls Katie off. I’m now feeling tearful, so slope off upstairs with Ems and George. George is on his Game boy we share. I mutter angrily to myself.

                                               61.                

Lunch. I’m not hungry but make the effort.

Cadburys World is our next choice to visit this afternoon, we have a wonderful day, and funny enough chocolate doesn’t make me feel sick, now there’s a thing!

That night Emily is sick. (Too much choccy.)

Emily asks to stay with Bett, and Norman as still isn’t feeling completely pucker when we talk about going swimming. 

 Katie and Rosie really want to go, so does George. Sure, that Emily is settled and happy before we go, we set off.

I don’t swim, I watch can’t risk getting a bug, or cold just now. On our return Em’s is running around the garden and seems much better.

That evening George gets raging earache, and a temperature of 102, he sleeps in with me and Dave. Were all worn out. In the morning Dave gets Calpol. George rallies later that evening, so we decide to take a slow drive home. It is a few days after that poor Georgie feels well enough to return to school. 

See George off to school and decide that I will go into Weymouth. I will go to the Library and get an informative book to read. I park the car and walk through the town. I go to the library.

                                    62.                           

I find an awe inspiring book, though deeply sad, of a young woman who had Breast cancer. Her name was “Ruth Picardie” the title was “Before I say Goodbye”, I can only read a few chapters before tears are pouring down my face. This is a strange need in me, to find out how women my age cope or try to cope with this illness. Ruth did it with courage, that’s what I need to know.

Just at that moment I have a terrible feeling, I don’t think or can’t remember getting a parking ticket… Shit. My memory is really something at the moment. I leave the library bookless, tearstained, and in a panic. Money is pretty short at the moment, now I’m on sick leave.

I tank it past the Art Shop, as I do so I see a painting by numbers (Dave is on at me to get a new hobby) a picture of a Norfolk scene, the setting looks just like Burnham Overy Creek, which is where I was born, I have to have it, scrabble in my purse for the change (£1.99 sheer bargain). I steam in- pay in seconds to a rather bemused gentleman, then leg it to the car park.

Between grabbing at Oxygen, I puff and pant to the car park. Almost unable to bare to look to see if I did get a parking ticket peer at my car window screen, I hadn’t bought a ticket. (Crap)Even more surprising (I now believe I have a Guardian Angel) was I don’t Have a yellow plastic wallet containing a car park fine!

Life is great!

                                                          63.      

Paranoid Thursday.

I wait patiently at the Breast care clinic. I have become acclimatised to this clinic now and feel strangely reassured just being here.

I’m in the Peachy room, wearing the cape of Decency. Mr Graham enters the room.

Mr Graham checks my healthy side, for the lump. But bless it has decided to do a hiding act, or hormonally disappeared. I go red and feel a pillack.

I have the Ultrasound, this shows nothing.

I dress and leave, and drive home.

I recognize that an irrational fear has got hold of me, I think I need to talk this trough with a professional, I keep thinking cancer is springing up inside my internal organs like mushrooms.

I phone my g.p when I get in, who refers me onto a Counsellor.

 Someone I can really talk to; someone I don’t have to be brave in front of. Someone I can be honest and say how truly frightened I am.

                                                      64.

Counselling Session.

I now face a situation I’m uncomfortable with. But recognize I need support.

I’m going for my Counselling session. Now this is cute because I have done some training in Counselling, but now have the tables turned and I’m on the receiving end.

I change clothes about eight times before I eventually get I my car, put on the stereo

Fairly loud to cover my beating heart.

Once I arrive at my destination car park I gently pull in and park up, truthfully, I   consider doing a quick U-turn going back out again, how wet am I. Decide to pull myself together and pull on my fetching blue floppy hat. Get out of the car assertively as possible and flop through the door up to the receptionist.

Give my name to Ms Smiley I’m so damn happy Receptionist lady, with full head of hair (Yes, I’m having a great day today) she asks me to take the first door to my left and wait, I will be collected. I feel like an empty milk bottle. I flop (lack of energy you understand, not bad posture) into a chair.

Chatter in the corridor, staff walks towards me. Oh no! I recognize one of the staff, pure pathetic survival techniques kick in (afterwards I can’t believe I’ve done this)

                                                  65.

. I grab a magazine and raises it high, in front of my face. I used to play netball with the staff member coming right passed me. Eventually, hearing click clack heels quieten, get the courage to lower my magazine, there stands my Female Counsellor. (Luckily not the Wing Attack player for a team I can’t remember the name of just at that moment.)

“Kaye?” …Counsellor Lady queries.” Yes!” I reply and follow her pink cardiganed back down a maze of corridors, to her room.

Well, the session goes ok, I find it difficult to let go of my personnel barrier, well after all, it has been my inner defence for years, but slowly I start to put out information. 

Slowly I give my true feelings of how my life is right now, you know already, so just to say it comes out in blips and blobs. My palms are sweaty by the end of the session.

My Counsellor suggests I look into getting a light hobby or an interest to take my mind off things, meanwhile suggests I book another session for in three weeks’ time, after my last Chemo, this is planned as I’m really nervous about coming off of Chemo. Being left to my own cells that want to attack me. 

I leave the building and sit motionless in my car feeling rather stunned with it all. I really need to do something to take my mind off things. We’ve always wanted a dog.                                                          

                                                             66.

Aunty Steff holds the key.

My Aunty Steff phones, we chat that evening, she is thinking of getting a Terrier Puppy. Ohh, I laugh I would love a Basset Hound. I can remember Nanas Bassett Hound low slung like a lion. Steff laughs, and jokingly offers to buy me one, that’s if Dave would be okay with it, we muse. How about a Rescue dog, Steff suggests, this of course is the answer? Steff and I finish our phone call.

“Dave…” Dave agrees to my idea as do the children, as long as the dog isn’t allowed in the front room Dave says. We agree. Anyway, phone Steff the next night, who is ecstatic that Basset Hound a possibility. I receive in the post a few days later a card with a Bassett on and some money to buy a collar and lead.

 Emily and I go to a local dog Sanctuary in Poole, sadly no Bassett’s await us, though plenty of Hienz57, also Greyhounds of all colours. Sadly, we are after the more sluggish side of the market. We are recommended to go through a specialist dog rescue and am put in touch with one such lady.

Wendy is in charge of Basset Rescue. Wendy phones me that evening, talking about firstly my illness and if this is a wise decision. Wendy says these dogs are very therapeutic, they make you smile. Also went through how hard work they were and stubborn. Once the vetting process was discussed Wendy said she would arrange for Anne to visit to do a Home Check. Anne also bred Bassets.

                                                 67.

It was the following evening when Anne rang us asking if it was possible for her to pop round and do a home check, I said that was fine. Long Story short we were approved, much to Emily and George’s excitement. Anne leaves us with some Basset books to look at.

A few days later Wendy phones us, saying there is a possibility of a male Bassett coming up for re-homing would we be interested. I’m a bit knocked back as didn’t expect such a quick result, and was planning to finish Chemo first, however having spoken with mum, Dave and children decide we would like to see him.

Emily and George stay with mum, if dog isn’t suitable think, they would find it hard to leave him behind. Dave finds Wendy’s house, and outside are a pack of Bassets varying in size and colour. I spot a beauty, he’s massive but his tail doesn’t stop wagging. Actually, that was the dog for rehoming!

 Barney was soon ours having signed, micro chipped, gone through Eukenuba feed, and Ear Drops. With a bit of help lifting his rear into the car Barney was ours. Looking at him in the mirror with his ears blowing back looked like he was smiling; all that was needed was goggles. We wave goodbye to Wendy promising to phone if any problems. Home. Mum opens the door, and gasps at Barnes length, she thinks he’s more like a crocodile, Barney doesn’t want to be invited in hurtles past in to see Ems and George. They think he’s great. As do we all. Apart from the cat.

                                                    68.

4^th Chemo

05.04.00

Dave takes me home after asking if vitamin supplements are a good idea, the doctor is positive about this but says be careful and not to overdo things, this has been a gruelling session. Each session makes me feel weaker.

Mum sits for us in the evening so we can go out for a few hours. luckily, the weather is still cold, and I can justify wearing a woolly hat. We have a lovely evening. Dave knocks back a few pints; I drink Orange juice and am designated driver.

5^th Chemo

03.05.11 

I’m really pleased with my progress and am beginning to start planning things following Chemo. I wait for Dr Dean to give all clear for my regime to begin. But unfortunately, that doesn’t happen. My blood count is too low. I remember that woman on my first appointment and I feel all her frustration. But hell, what can you do but just accept. It means I wouldn’t finish treatment till end of May; my hair wouldn’t start growing till middle of June…hey hang on here, I’m being optimistic!

I amaze myself. And with this make my appointment and leave with Dave.

                                                69.                       

Dave suggests booking us a holiday. We walk slowly round the shops in Weymouth, I feel like an old lady in a young person’s body. Thinking of laying on a warm beach sounds like heaven.

Staring in shop windows we see a few deals and go in and ask for details. We then ask if the package entails health insurance, something we can’t travel without I remind Dave. This brings us down to earth with a bang. £500.00 for a week. I say forget it lets just go to Golds Garden centre for a mooch round, tea, coffee and some cake.

Sitting in the garden I exhale and just enjoy not feeling sick or dizzy. Dave has gone quiet. He’s up to something. I follow his gaze as he sips his coffee that follows a path to second-hand caravans.

 Having finished our drinks, we follow the path to caravan heaven. Some are expensive but tucked up in the far corner is a four berth Winetta.

The Salesman came over for a chat, saying she was just in and needs cleaning, but would we like to take a look, yes says Dave.

                                    70.                                     

ISBN:9798662933149

#cancerwomen #cancer #survivor #canceruk #inspirational #powerwomen #wife #family #love #caring #hope

Let’s expose racists, bullies, narcissists and idiots in 2022

‘I’m not a racist but …’

Yes you are Sharna – and you jail-time tears won’t change that

This woman got drunk, got rowdy, spat a drink at a black Wetherspoons doorman, flew into a rage and started screaming at him, pushed him, called him a c*** and a f***** n*****.

Now it is claimed that something tragically similar has happened again … this time in Lemington Spa.

The Wetherspoons racist, Sharna Walker (above), burst in to tears when she was jailed for Christmas.

Now, let’s hope that if the young blonde woman who appears to have verbally attacked the Leamington doorman is guilty, she soon joins her.

I suppose the best we can say is that at least you – Sharna Walker, aged 25, of Woodhouse Close,  Worcester – pleaded guilty to racially aggravated common assault and criminal damage at the Figure of Eight bar on Birmingham’s Broad Street earlier this year.

As well as being jailed for 14 weeks Sharna was also ordered to pay £500 compensation.

Afterwards Birmingham Police Ch Insp James Spencer, said: “This was a disgraceful incident and people were understandably disgusted at her actions. Racist behaviour is completely unacceptable.”

District Judge John Bristow told her: ‘This was prolonged assault and you used a door against Mr Price shoulder. The incident has stayed with Mr Price and he has had to seek help. I am sending you to prison to 14 weeks. I have reduced your sentence because of your plea.”

The worry that the Leamington abuse might be true is suported by this police statement:

A spokesperson for Warwickshire Police said: “We were contacted at 4.06pm on Monday 27 December by a third party, to a report of racial abuse in a video which had been seen online.

“The video is believed to have been filmed outside a bar on Warwick Street, Leamington, between 26 December and 27 December, and involves an individual using racist language towards a man.

“Enquiries are ongoing and we would appeal to anyone who witnessed the incident to please come forward. Any information can be given by calling Warwickshire Police on 101, quoting incident number 209 of 27 December.”

The video of the attack went out on social media and had 2.5m views.

After it hit phones and screens across the world ex-office cleaner Sharna’s  gran, Pamela Croft, aged 62, said: “Sharna is definitely not a racist, 100 per cent.  She was just drunk.”

What do you mean Pam? Sharna’s not racist? Did she just get her words mixed up? Or is she only a racist when she’s drunk?

Is she the sort who punctuates racist conversations down the pub with “I’m not a racist, but..” ?

Because as sure as eggs is eggs that’s a statement about to launch a racis tirade. It uses a smoke-screen of words, a talking-turkey-being-straight-forward-and-honest way of honey coating the unpalatable.

And the person who says something like this isn’t stupid. Far from it! Racism is not a product of stupid people. The white businessmen who created slavery in America knew what they were doing, just didn’t care. The white politicians who justified it for them did that intentionally too. Anti-immigrant policies are all created by intelligent white people.

But they haters. And ignorant. Sharna ignorant, if nothing else.

Ignorance is a decision to ignore facts and realities. And in Sharna’s case, just like slave traders, she ignored the humanity of the black man she was attacking and insulting.

#racism #broadstreet #birmingham #sharnawalker #tristanprice

A SMALL CHRISTMAS COMPENDIUM OF ALTERNATIVES – IS IT A RASPBERRY FOR THE FOOLE AND SOME TOKYO BLOWS?

I am so bored with hearing the same old music at Christmas time … Do They Know it’s Christmas? Yes they bloody do! The BBC and every radio station in the world tells you it is every two minutes from mid-November!

Rudolph the Red Knows Rain Dear! What’s that all about then? A Russian weather forecaster?

I’ll Be Home for Christmas! Well if you think that’s a good song you should be in a home!

You’re roasting your chestnuts on an open fire? Well, there are special sites for you!

Do you know, there are approximately one million Christmas songs in the world according to recent research? Yep, a million!

Do you know how many songs are on the BBC’s playlist? No, neither do I. But what do you think – ten? 20? A hundred?

There is some balding blubbery posh bloke in John Lennon specs and sandals sitting in a stinky basement at the BBC who’s brief is to find the world’s most over-played, banal, boring Christmas songs ever. And every year he gets paid a Christmas bonus to come up with songs like Jingles Bells oooo-ooo-ooo-oo, Santa Clause is Coming to Town and that load of b*ll*x about the Cavalry!

I worked at the Beeb! I know him! that man exists ….

Here are two out of that million – have a break, take a listen – they may bring back a bit of your sanity!

West Country comedian Jethro has died after a seven day battle with Covid.

The stand-up comedian, real name Geoffrey Rowe, aged 73, had been fully vaccinated but contracted the virus 10 days ago and was in hospital.

His management said: ‘It is with tremendous sadness that we announce the passing of the well known and popular Cornish comedian Jethro.

‘Tragically Jethro passed away on December 14, 2021 after contracting COVID-19.

Jethro leaves behind his life partner Jennie, sons Jesse and Lanyon, step daughter Sarah, daughter-in-law Stacey and of course his much loved grandchildren.

‘We will continue to support each other in the knowledge that our lives will never be the same without him.’

Jethro’s popularity grew in Cornwall and Devon throughout the 1980s – then he made his first national television performance on the Des O’Connor Show in 1990 and never looked back.

In February 2020, he announced on social media that he was to ‘hang up my Mic’ and retire from comedy.

#jethro #comedian #desoconner #des #o’connor #covid

This story is about a cancer survivor, her battle, her bravery and her determination … Admins at a cancer survivors and supporters social media group ‘spiked’ it and and said it violated their rules

Well, maybe it did – but why? Because Kaye Howarth had written a book about it? Because she self-published her book? Because she laid-bare her soul and her heart to help other people? Because, at the lowest point, she wrote something inspirational to help others who are going through what she has been through?

Disgusting…

Who do these ‘caring-sharing’ admins think they are?

They should hold their heads in shame.

This is the group … (1) Cancer Survivors and Supporters | Facebook

And this is the message I have just sent to them …

‘Hi everyone, just wanted to say that once again the story of a woman who survived breast cancer and then sat down to write her own life story which she then self-published to support and help others who are going through what she has been going through – to give them hope and comfort – has been rejected for #violating’ the group’s rules! How can a real-life survival story be a violation? How can this attitude be helping each other? Kaye herself needs support, just like all survivors and yet this is denied to her by this group. Kaye wrote this book – not for me – but for you… what is wrong with you getting the chance to look at it and share your views and feelings? If this post survives please share your feelings – I would also be happy for you to pm me.’

This group has 45,000 members, all who should have the right to make their own minds up about what they read and what they don’t.

This is part 6 of Kaye’s story – the first five sections are there too, just scroll down to them.

KAYE’S LIFE… THE POWERFUL STORY OF A BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR – PART 6 – The Leigh G Banks Preservation Society

Support Kaye and other victims and survivors, not myopic pretenders.

cancer

#cancer #supporters #survivors #admins #facebook