Time for a divorce?/ BumNoseHoover/ Techno Techno Tesco

In a recent letter, Broxtowe’s most famous dole-queuer Dr Nick Palmer made some interesting points regarding the Coalition, and how he felt optimistic about it. I found myself nodding along, temporarily ignoring the (rather hackneyed) cries of CON-DEM NATION! LOLLL!! that rang out from the aggrieved critics of the blue and yellow government.

I found myself impressed with Cameron’s reaction to the Scott report, and even started  to have these guilty twinges that the union might be a good thing for the country and for politics in general. I feel embarrassed even admitting this, the same sort of dampening shame one feels when reading Take A Break; watching a Hollyoaks omnibus or spending a sunny afternoon inside browsing donkey-porn sites.

Now the honeymoon is well and truly over.  The budget is announced, and its the nastiest, snidest, hateful piece of work in a long time. Osbourne, Mr Bum-Nose himself, has decided to slash at the public sector, with the intention of sparing the private sector which he reckons will create growth. Except he forgets  the public sector is a massive buyer of private sector services, products and suchlike; and throw another million on to the dole means that there is one million un-taxable people, people who cant afford products and thus won’t be able to …hold on, I don’t do the intricacies of policy, plenty do. I’ll sum it up simply: Osborne hates you, you vile piece of dirt.  Now suffer, and remember,we’re all in this together.

What is horrible to see,though I confess to a certain Schadenfreude in watching, is the way the Lib Dems, always seen as the nice guys in parliament, now seem in cahoots with the devil. Watch how the once sage-like Vince Cable now has to big-up VAT increases with a face that betrays the horror behind his eyes.  Oh Vince! Save your soul, save yourself, get out, blow a fuse, admit you still have a scrap of integrity, do it Vince! Do it or let the world grow a further shell of cynicism and never believe anything anyone ever says, ever again.

Whats even more dreadful is that the tories have hired  Lynton Crosby recently. Who hell he? Hes the Australian pollster who has a track record of political strategy, managing Boris Johnson’s mayor campaign,  and they need him to do one job and one job only. They need him to make sure that when it comes to the referendum on electoral reform, the public give a resounding ‘no thank you’.

This must make the Lib Dems feel wonderful. The most valuable prize they have staked everything on is being taken away, right in front of their widening, tear-filled eyes.

Their was a honeymoon, but now its slipped into an abusive, uneven marriage, where one partner drags the other through the dirt, the other too terrified to leave and just hopes it’ll change. New politics? Nah, its as venal as ever.


I’m not a fan of snarky, substantiated rumours that the seethe and fester over all corners of  the internet. Thats why when I got told a story at a party a few years back regarding Bum-nose Osbourne, a story from the former partner of one of Osbourne’s university friends, I chose to never pass it on,despite being quite fascinating. Its not right to print allegations about rampant coke habits, especially if its just hearsay, and even if this prodigious powder-love led to some truly misanthropic acts involving burning money in front of tramps to ‘incentivise’ them, well, I’m not going to put that up on my blog. Even if years later another individual relates you to a story with remarkable parallels to the rumour, well, thats just coincidence isn’t it? Plus, i’m sure Bum-nose wouldn’t do that sort of thing.

And if its true there is a quite staggeringly amusing video of such antics , well, we all did stuff in our youth that we might now be embarrassed by, and I hope any media outlet offered it will bear this in mind and let bygones be bygones.


Tesco is fast being put together, the flat-pack being assembled at lightning speeds. They’ve gone and put loads of boards round the site now, teasers promising us the delights that will lie in. Here Beeston! Have a toy department! And a cafe! And, oh, lucky lucky you, we’re throwing in a bakery. Its all written in that plain yet patronising style their TV ads are presented, knowing little puns that are designed to make you sigh ‘Oh Tesco, you silly thing’ and warm to them, forgetting the new store will be an ugly traffic magnet that will suck the life from the already struggling high street. Its a terrible inevitability, and for years any battle against it has been an impotent slog. I started a small campaign myself,far too late, and whenI put it on Facebook was swiftly be-friended by a stranger who had also joined hundreds of other anti-Tesco groups.  My suspicions aroused, I sent her an email asking why she had befriended me, and she swiftly disappeared, as she did when other group-creators challenged her. Cheers, Tesco.

When we are struggling in Broxtowe for affordable housing, and battle rages over what sacrifices will have to be made to the green-belt to accommodate this,a huge area of land is given over to a retail behemoth that cares not a shit for Beeston, even if a Jane Horrocks voice -over says it does.


Phew. Thats all a bit angry. I’ve had a long week, and despite being near midnight its 24c. I will write next time in an ice bath,and let the love flow.  And heres something that appeared on my Facebook page recently, that suggests that FB are either arch-satirists or idiots.

Beestonia and the World Cup (oh yes!); The Beestonia Weird.

Oh joy! After spending the entire weekend desperately trying to hoist Beestonia on the World Cup bandwagon with an article linking this fair suburb with the International Sportsball Trophy Tournament saturating everywhere right now, but to no avail. I’m just about to give up,  flick idly through the BBC’s news site, and find this:


Read it right through, its quite amusing.

You may recognize Prof. P, from an earlier article I wrote, which is right here:


If you can find a better, or a more tenuous link, please tell me…


Its summer, and I’ve oiled up my bike and hit the further reaches of Beestonia. This leads me to stumble on some truly incongruous weirdness….all of these photos were taken in countryside surrounding Beestonia, less some pedant point out they are strictly outside the town walls. A prize of 17 pence to the first person who identifies the whereabouts of these pieces of odd:


Away from any road, and on an overgrown dirt track reachable only by foot or bike , is this. Its a bus stop, which will never see a bus or a queue of harassed looking  commuters or stressed mums with unruly kids. It stands, looking over the buses, just waiting, for eternity.

And what/who can it commemorate?


Wrexham FC’s ground, the Racecourse Ground, is 88.8 miles from this bridge. Why someone has taken the trouble to travel all that way with a pot of lilac paint, deep into the South Nottinghamshire countryside, find a bridge that has long fell into disuse (its cobbles are now a carpet of densely mossed-grass and weeds), display their love for the Welsh club and then drive home baffles me. Perhaps that is the point.

Why Wrexham?its not even in the football league; Im hoping that somewhere in Wales there is a graffitied ILKESTON TOWN FC upon a remote slate wall.


The ultimate posthumous accolade surely must be the bench plaque. A square of brass engraved with ‘LORD BEESTONIA, HE LOVED THIS PLACE’ is how I’d love to be remembered, much better than a dowdy piece of marble beneath a yew tree. However, much as I’m sure Mr Crosby moved around: he lived next door to David Bowie,according to the video to ‘Little Drummer Boy’, but I’m fairly sure he never went deep into the East Midlands, to sit on a bench overlooking the Trent and Ratcliffe Power Station to puff on his pipe.


Know some other Beestonia (and environ) oddness? Send them to me at mattgoold23@hotmail.com