I'm surprised the brilliant Richard Littlejohn - who rails against political correctness and the Loony Left - hasn't had anything to say about this.
If you haven't read his twice weekly column in the Daily Mail here's your chance -
Colm Doherty (pictured with his daughter Cara) was in shock and disbelief when he was told to blow out the candles on his 8-year-old's birthday cake
He was told that despite spending £300 on food, drink and admission fees, they weren’t allowed to sing because he hadn’t paid for a special ‘Happy Birthday’ package. Since when did anyone have to pay for the privilege of singing Happy Birthday? And what kind of misanthrope decides to disrupt a children’s party by calling the Old Bill?
It would appear that Ian Slazenger isn’t quite cut out for a career in Clowntown. He’s lucky he didn’t end up with the cake being shoved in his face.
*************************************************
The milkman of human kindness turns sour
Milkman Kevin Gifford has been ordered to stop whistling after complaints from customers. Five residents on his round in Leicester have protested that his early-morning whistling disturbs their beauty sleep.
His manager at Kirby & West Dairy said Kevin had been warned about his whistling. ‘He was asked to reduce the noise but unfortunately he didn’t heed those warnings and we were left with no choice.’
After formal disciplinary proceedings, a compromise has been reached and Leicester’s answer to Ernie has agreed not to whistle or sing before 8am.
He’s not happy about the ruling, though, or the customers who complained. ‘They should just roll over and go back to sleep. Are they going to complain about the birds singing, too? They make more noise than I do.’
Kevin has a wide repertoire of tunes, ranging from Roy Orbison to the Sex Pistols, so maybe his customers have a point.
I wouldn’t mind a gentle burst of Only The Lonely but I don’t fancy being woken up by a full-throated blast of Johnny Rotten’s God Save The Queen at half past four in the morning.
*******************************************************
Romanian police are being imported to London to tackle the crime wave caused by Roma gypsies who have set up camp in the West End.
Nothing better illustrates the madness of Britain’s immigration policy.
Why not just pull up the drawbridge?
********************************************************
Psst! Wanna buy some wine gums?
The health fascists are never satisfied, they simply move on to other targets. Having swept cigarettes away from supermarket shelves, they now want to scrap displays of sweets next to check-outs.
Plans are being drawn up to force shops to abolish so-called ‘guilt lanes’ near the tills.
Public health minister Anna Soubry also wants food companies to stop using cartoon characters in advertising and force supermarkets to spend a fixed slice of their profits persuading us to buy low-fat and low-cal products.
Having swept cigarettes away from supermarket shelves, the health fascists now want to scrap displays of sweets next to check-outs
Why can’t these people just leave us alone? Anna Soubry is being tipped for promotion. Heaven help us.
At this rate you’ll soon have to be over 18 to buy a pound of wine gums in a plain wrapper.
*********************************************
The great American satirist H.L. Mencken said the ideal relationship between journalist and politician was that of a dog towards a lamp-post. It’s a fine tradition which this column has done its best to uphold.
Come to think of it, the best relationship between a lamp-post and a politician involved Mussolini, who was strung up from one at the end of the war.
That could also explain why some politicians, particularly at a local level, have an obsession with lamp-posts.
Most of us see lamp-posts as a mundane piece of essential street furniture.
The best relationship between a lamp-post and a politician involved Mussolini, who was strung up from one at the end of the war. That could also explain why some politicians have an obsession with lamp-posts
Councils see them as an accident waiting to happen.
In Cardiff, they are chopping down those near the bay over fears that maintenance men changing the bulbs could fall off them into the water and drown.
A few years ago, Bury St Edmunds elf’n’safety banned hanging baskets from what they called ‘lighting pillars’ on the grounds that they could fall on someone’s head.
Now that lead has been taken up by councillors in Henley-on-Thames, who have also ordered the removal of hanging baskets, put up for the annual Britain in Bloom contest, after a rusty lamp-post near the river was found to be leaning to one side.
Further inspection revealed that five other lamp-posts were also potentially dangerous because of corrosion caused by rust at the base. This has been blamed on dogs using them as urinals — what the council describes as ‘unusual moisture’.
You couldn’t make it up.
So all the lamp-posts have been condemned and must be replaced at vast cost to local taxpayers.
Here’s a suggestion for a safety test. Let’s take a leaf out of the Mussolini songbook and string up a few councillors to see if the lamp-posts topple over.
****************************************
A single mother whose shouty sex sessions disturbed her neighbours has been fined by magistrates in Middlesbrough.
Gemma Walker, 31, admitted breaching noise abatement orders and was ordered to pay a £300 fine, £1,000 in court costs and a £15 victim surcharge.
Her solicitor said the punishment would cause her hardship because she is unemployed and living on benefits.
Hang on a minute. If she’s on benefits, she won’t be paying the fine. We will.
And if she’s fit enough for noisy sex, why isn’t she fit enough to get a job?
***********************************************
I can’t Gitmo satisfaction
Detainees dressed in orange jumpsuits as they sit in a holding area at US Naval Base Guantanamo Bay, Cuba
We keep being told how intolerable conditions are at Guantanamo Bay. But they can’t be that inhumane.
Apparently, the most popular book among inmates at Club Gitmo is Fifty Shades Of Grey. The E.L. James soft-porn sensation is even more widely read than the Koran.
I suppose in some circles reading Fifty Shades could be considered a form of torture, especially for a devout Islamist. Perhaps they are forced to read it at gunpoint. Or the audio version of the book is played over the camp’s loudspeakers round the clock — a diabolical version of Hi-de-Hi!
Maybe James should write a follow-up, based on the controversial restraint techniques employed at Club Gitmo.
She could call it Fifty Shades Of Orange.
’
