Cox Fallout / Muir Cox/ oops.

The Nottingham Evening Post, bless it, eventually gets hold of the Craig Cox story and runs it, with quotes from Soubry, Cox himself but not me. They must have lost my number, although I email it daily to them and am often to be found of an evening standing outside their offices in a sandwich board with it scrawled over in silver gel pen. Ah well, nice to see it appears, and then nice to watch the comments board fill up over the next few hours. I even think Cox could have been behind the more vehemently right-wing comments that were posted up. But regular readers of this little corner of the interweb know that its not my  style to post up possible slander, unless its involving Gideon Osbourne, cocaine, tramps and burning money.

So I’m feeling particularly happy about this turn of events, and then find myself in a coffee bar reading the Guardian’s diary page earlier today. I suddenly remember I emailed the journalist responsible, the quite lovely Hugh Muir, while researching Mr Cox, and dropping them a few lines on him. So I see if he has made an appearance, and bloody hell, he has. Apparently hes challenging,and in a strong position, to take over as head of Conservative Future, those strangely waxy creatures that future Tories pupate from. So Muir throws in a mention of his little accident with the racist placard, and I splutter over my Americano. Beestonia has gone National. Sort of.

Anyhow, back to the Post. Soubry’s defence was ‘he was very young’ (it was less than two years ago), and there were ‘more important things to  talk about’ (yes there is Anna, but that is reductive logic that would lead us to all stop thinking what socks to wear and contemplate the Meaning of Life in the morning. Its still a pretty indefensible thing to lie to the electorate AND hire a bigot, but hey! The economy! Afghanistan! ) .

Cox is contrite, unlike immediately after the event,when he bleated to The Daily Mail

The real story here is that the NUS wants to run a show trial that would make Stalin blush. Due process, natural justice and fairness are, in NUS eyes, mere concepts that can be readily ignored when it suits them.’These witch-hunts have got to stop. It’s about time the NUS started representing ordinary students again and stopped acting as a front for Left-wing zealots.’


He also argued he couldn’t possibly be a racist as he was gay. Fascinating logic again.

He also tries to blame his behaviour on an incredible series of hilarious events,. Cox is obviously a fan of Father Ted (Channel four have barred all the youtube clips, so heres a still image)

Sadly, Cox’s ambition is a steely thing, and I have no doubts he’ll breeze through and one day become an MP. Possibly PM, and I hope so, only if Ed Balls is Leader of the Opposition, just for the funny headline potential.


Best reaction to the story breaking was my mother. WhenI told her about it, instead of the lavish  praise, she sighed, said ‘Matt, you’re really getting into dangerous territory here’ . How so? reply I ‘well, you know what happened to Dr Kelly’ . Maternal love has a great way of bending logic and amplifying worry, but I’m touched by her concern all the same.


Googling your name is always a distressing experience, as this fantastic story from fellow blogger and Nottinghamite Ben Barton relates here: . Ben met David Miliband with me a few weeks ago, where I introduced myself to DM using my proper name. He gave me a funny look, and seemed rattled. This threw me too, and when I asked for his autograph/ signing the contract that will make me benign dictator, I called him ‘Dan’ . Three times. Anyhow, I have discovered why. This man is Mr Matthew Gould, MBE:

Hes presently the British Ambassador to Israel, but before this was Dan David Miliband Principal Private Secretary when DM was Foreign Secretary.  So it seems I possibly led the future Prime Minister to believe I was having some sort of bizarre joke at his expense.  Great. Thats two potential Prime Minister’s I’ve annoyed in the last six weeks. Exile beckons. I’m off to Venezuela. Night.


Bing Bonkers; Move Over Beeman…

Lots of interesting stuff going on in the sweet land of Beestonia, but this will be but a small post, as

  • I fell in a bramble hedge/ nettle patch at the weekend and my hands are so covered in little cuts and scratches its agony.
  • Its too hot, so Im dressed in the bare minimum of apparel, and one must retain some decorum when writing, so must be properly shirted. This doesn’t apply to Sophie Dahl.
  • The really juicy stuff might be popping up Thursday, but I’m going to be all cruel and keep mum till then.  Watch the skies.

So a bit of Beeston Weird.

A while back, I reported on how there is a bizarre plaque-based tribute to Bing Crosby in the wild fields beyond Attenborough Nature Reserve. I went back to the same fields on sunday to pick blackberries and root up wild horseradish with my duped housemate who still thinks we just never found the pub we were going to. Here he is, looking really impressed hes been cuckolded into increasing my fruit-gathering operation ten fold with his extra-reach arms:

I took him to the plaque, as it is tacked to a bench with a staggering vista of the Trent and its valley before it, and then I noticed it. Take another look. Can you spot whats weird about it, apart from the fundamental oddness of it being there in the first place?

As Crosby fans,  as all Beestonians are, I bet you spotted it earlier. If not, shame.

The second single I ever bought was Crosby, and his duet with Bowie, (the accolade for first goes to Orville’s eponymous ‘Song’, a song still wreathed in so much pathos, angst and the sound of crushed dreams  tempered with love). I remember hearing that Crosby died soon after this duet, possibly at shock that Bowie lived next door -well, he did in the video.

So WHY ON EARTH are Bing’s dates given as 1939-95? WHY? He died in 1977, and was born in 1903.  What are these dates? If anyone knows, put me out my misery. Please.


Another strange anomaly in this bizarre corner of the far reaches of Beestonia is a cairn-like plinth that possibly once was home  to a sign hopefully explaining what the totally wrong plaque is there for.

I also hear that Anthony Gormley is  looking for a new project, after retiring the concept of using statues of his own body everywhere. If you’re reading this Ant, and I know you and Tracey Emin love a bit of Beestonia,  heres a little idea I have:

I’m thinking stainless steel, possibly gold plated.  Cheers, Gormles.

Soubry Responds! (except she doesn’t)

At last, Soubry has decided to reply to the allegations that she employed

a) A party worker.

b) A racist.

The firstshe promised she wouldn’t do, the second…great PR skills, Anna. Probably provided by her boyfriend who, I believe, also works for her. I know that a boyfriend doesn’t technically constitute family, well, outside of Norfolk it doesn’t, but still. Its doubtful he got the job on merit alone.

So the reply. Not to me, but to Cllr Steve Barber, who let me have a look at what he recieved:

Dear Steve and Pat,

Thank you for your email. I am pleased to set your minds at rest and make sure you are fully informed. Craig Cox is working for me on a temporary basis and is due to leave in August. Craig was indeed a student at Nottingham University and was a former chair of the University’s CF. Following my election as the member of Parliament for Broxtowe I needed to employ someone quickly and someone with experience of working in an MP’s office. Craig had secured a permanent position working for a large company as part of their graduate management scheme. That job commences in September and Craig completed his final exams shortly after May 6th. Craig knew of my need to employ someone as I have described and given he has previously worked for two other Members of Parliament I agreed to employ him until he begins his job in September.

I have advertised for a replacement caseworker now I have a constituency office. You are more than welcome to visit at anytime. I think you will find it a rather different set up and expenditure of public money than the one you were both used to at Harold Wilson house.

With best wishes


Which explains absolutely nothing.

Read it, I know politicians are trained to avoid the question, but this one answers a totally different question,something like ‘This Craig sounds like a nice bloke. How did you find him, whats his experience?…’ Straight talking politics, cheers Anna.

The questions remain unanswered, so my nagging continues. If Mr Cox would like to reply, I’d be willing to print your side of the story. We could even meet for a coffee. Maybe become friends. Worry not Craig, I’m white.

Tea and cake with the Sou Klux klan

Beestonia Carnival Special, featuring Meercats, scissored nurses, firemen and OWLS.

One of the highlights of Beeston Carnival was the darkly satirical performance art on offer, as a team of burly fire-fighters dragged their engine through town with the aid of rope, highlighting the cuts that slash through services. Their message was ‘this is the future, when belt-tightening forces us to ration diesel and employ muscle power instead. Beware! Beware!’. I pointed this out to the old lady standing next to me, explaining what a visceral piece this was, how chilling, how powerful….but she seemed to think it was actually a charity thing, and done on an annual basis, raising money for kids while also giving ladies a chance to perv at strained biceps. How sweetly naive!


Owls, I’m sure you agree, rule. They can turn their weird starey heads 360 degrees, in a manner similar to the little girl out of The Exorcist, who could also pull of that trick and therefore was also rather wonderful. Owls, sadly, don’t expel gallons of pea-green vomit in violent bursts, but they do cough up the bits of rodent they don’t digest; fur, bones, the stuff Iceland stick in own-brand sausages; in the form of little grotesque balls.

My love of owls is not a solitary one, as proved at the Carnival. By far the busiest stall was the owl sanctuary, where for only a pound you could hold an owl FOR AS LONG AS YOU RUDDY WELL LIKED. That’s value, though some people seemed to feel the novelty wore off after five minutes. I could spend all day getting them to focus on my thumb, then moving it right round there heads. Who needs an X box?

Meerkats also have this effect on the public, and once you tell people that you can see REAL, LIVE meerkats in Beeston, their eyes widen and they beg you to tell them where, I reply Beeston’s (well,possibly Chilwells) New World Exotics:, otherwise known as Beeston Free Zoo ,where they also have a range of incongruous mammals, which means its technically legal to buy skunk in Chilwell now. I always feel a little guilty when I go in there, so buy some locusts for my pet toads as a sort of voluntary entrance fee.

This all has a point, and its this: Beestonian retailers, life is only going to get harder. The recession is still nipping, disposable incomes shrinking , and you’re going to need a gimmick. Get an owl, a meerkat or other intriguing animal. Crowds will flock in, I guarantee. It’s a fact that Ethel Austin wouldn’t have closed down if they’d invested in a pair of prairie dogs to cavort in the front window. McDonalds would still be dispensing clown-meat to the populace if they’d only invested in a proboscis monkey dressed as a butler dancing on the counter.

My consultancy fees can be paid in cash, please


I forgot to post this when it had any relevance, but here it is anyway to act as some filler for you to enjoy: A mole at the Department of Work and Pensions down in Westminster recently told me that as the Treasury were slashing budgets, raising VAT and jumping on the 80’s nostalgia bandwagon and resurrecting unemployment, cuts and Boys From the Blackstuff fun, while they were doing all of this and telling us the importance of belt-tightening, they purchased several HD, wide-screen televisions to watch the football on. This only got leaked through disgruntlement, the mole is a die-hard tory and only told me as they had to watch England spoonfoot their way out of the tournament on crappy CRT tv.


Back to the carnival. Labour had a stall, and Cllr. Barber was in a mischievous mood, making a few changes to a life-size nurse cardboard cut-out proclaiming that she was voting Labour as she believed in fairness, into this mildly disturbing image:

There was also a  petition to save Beeston Resource Centre on Middle Street, a cause I heartily condone, though I can’t find a link to an online petition to lay your John Hancock on right now.

There was also a ‘Name the Teddy’ competition, and I had a go (unsuccessfully). However, I was rather amused and maybe mildly disturbed when I saw that Nick Palmer had chose ‘Anna’ as his guess. Read what you want into that….


Ah yes, Anna. Haven’t forgot. Still no word from our MP, or her anti-abolitionist friend. It is common practice in politics, and other institutions,  to keep a low profile when confronted with a potential embarrassment, in the hope that people will forget it if they keep quiet long enough. I can’t let that happen, so if any other bloggers fancy posting up the story, feel free.  Or contact Anna yourselves: , or ask her directly at Kimberley Pram race this weekend. I was hoping to ask her myself at BeestonCarnival, but despite accepting an invitation to attend, didn’t show. Or maybe she did, and I was too wrapped up in owls to notice.


Someone did respond to my challenge to Anna, from a ‘poltergeist vier’ who wrote ‘what a load of horseshit’ . I initially assumed this was my that funster Mr Craig Cox, but it was probably my mum after a few gins. I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait….

Soubry and the Slavery Fan.

I’m fresh from a gloriously warm Saturday afternoon at Beeston Carnival,  but I’m not writing that up till later. I’m much more in need of a shower-I smell like a folk singer’s sock.

Though I can’t not post this little bit of jaw-dropping information I got in the form of a comment in my last blog. You very well have missed it, so I’ll post it in full for your delectation:

Can you remember how Ms Soubry promised us all that she would not employ Councillors or PARTY ACTIVISTS?Well it’s interesting to note that she now employs a gentleman called Craig Cox. A quick google on “Craig Cox” tells us that that there was such a person used to be the President of the University of Nottingham Conservative Conservative Future group and was stopped from speaking by the NUS after he held up a banner at a conference sayiung “Bring Back Slevery” He was investigated by the University Authorities aand the North Yorkshire Police. see for more detail.Of course there is no proof that this is the same Craig Cox. There may be two who both went to get jobs in Westminster.

The author is titled ‘a decieved voter’, to whom I tip my hat, and hopes he/she doesn’t mind me re-posting this.

I did some fact-checking, and yep, that seems to be the bloke. His initial reaction to the investigation into his actions was to issue a rabid statement claiming he was ‘subject to a witchhunt by…. left wing zealots’, then seemingly issue another statement by proxy: ‘a friend’, stating that he ‘held up the wrong sign, at the wrong time’ which is, if you think about it, entirely correct.

On the left young activists can get all a bit militant to let off steam and under the misguided impression they look dangerously sexy in a Che Guevra t-shirt, and might even stray into the realms of Chairman Mao and Stalin to out-left their fellows. So it follows that the younger wings of right -wing political groups can also try and push the line; and they do. George Osbourne’s youthful  escapades are testament to this.

I remember visiting a friend at Uni in the early nineties, and  seeing some hilarious undergrads in ‘HANG MANDELA’ t-shirts. Japesters. Its not what they believe, not outside the deeper recesses of their subconcious. Its more a reaction against what they percieve as the earnest lack of humour that often infects the left. They see it as frivolous provocation, all harmless fun. I merely think its childish, nasty and indicative of twattism. Maybe I don’t get it, I’ve always struggled to grasp the fun in using dogs to rip up foxes or the benefits of being bereft of a chin.

So Anna, any chance of some feedback on this? Im sure your silky Bar skills will provide an adequate  answer.  I look forward to hearing from you.

Soubry In the ‘Hood?/ Beestonia, the new Rio?/ Beestonia Invaded!/ Ow.

First, lets kick off with some Soubry news.

Our erstwhile representative looks like she is moving to the locale, namely Bramcote village. I wont say exactly where, but her local pub will be the divine White Lion, or as its known to those who imbibe there, The Top House.  Somehow, I just can’t imagine her knocking back the Kimberley Classic in the back bar while feeding the fruit machine handfulls of shrapnel.

If true, this does prove she is keeping her promise to move into the Broxtowe constituency, and for that I tip my hat. Other pledges, however, look less solid.

Its been noted by people I talk to and in the letters page of local papers that Anna is appearing to be more of a Westminster than constituency MP. During the campaign, she trotted out the cliched line ‘I’ll be Broxtowe’s voice in Westminster, not Westminster’s voice in Broxtowe’, which always seemed a little weak considering Doctor Nick was very much Broxtowe-Centric. Her newsletters do seem less constituency focused than Nicks, but its hard to tell right now. In six months, if the coalition is still somehow holding together, it will be worth examining again. On  a more Beestonian level, she isn’t (as yet) holding surgeries here, instead choosing the   of Nuthall and Stabbo. A comment she also made regarding the tram route also worried me, as her objection seemed to be based on the plan running close to her voters, not her constituents (a massively key semantic difference) home.  If this is a case of only representing those she expects to elect her, then this is anti-democratic, and thus will be diligently monitored.

Also, a Beestonian noticed that Caroline Flint has posted this, on :

It is a delight to follow Anna Soubry. I feel that it might not be too long before she is elevated to the Front Bench. In addressing the debate, she demonstrated what she brings from her experience, as well as her thoughtfulness.

Ah, Caroline Flint, the rather useless former cabinet member who cried sexism when overlooked for a plum job in a Brown reshuffle.  I can see the parallels…


Bizarre scenes down by the weir, where the river level has dropped to such an extent its possible to wade to Clifton, if you were a fan of ugly towns. This has also meant Cliftonites have been invading Beestonia, gangs of youths clashing with each other for no discernible reason other than they are twats. I did try and warn you however,  in this piece I wrote last year: .

Nostradamus, me.


Oh, we have aliens invading too.


CARNIVAL!!!! Yes, tomorrow Beeston celebrates the fact that its ace by having a big party from12 am onwards featuring, errr, stuff. Possibly Waltzers and Hook-A-Duck. I will be there, for the first time in years (I missed the last two, once for being at a ladyfriends outside Beeston, the other for being too hungover to crawl out my room: this year I am unencumbered by either girlfriends or wine addiction so will be there, possibly dropping fried onions down my top as I try and stuff a greasy burger in my capacious gob. Rather snazzy website can be found here:


And so to a ‘friend’ I met today in Nottingham, who I haven’t seen in years. We were chatting politics, and he says ‘I read that Beestonia website during the election’. Chuffed, I expect him to say something flattering about by writing skills, but no, he appears to genuinely not realise its me who writes this. I await the flattery, and it comes ‘Yeah, it made me laugh’ he says,and I bask, but only until ‘though the bloke who writes it seems a bit of a cock’.


And if you still read it, Chris, you so owe me a pint when I start drinking again. Cock.

Beestonia’s Brush with Power..

Who will be the next Prime Minister?

The coalition is due to collapse on November the third, 2010, when Vince Cable eventually feels so much shame he strips off and starts self-flagellating in the Commons Chamber, begging Charlie Kennedy to rub salt into his opening wounds, and  Nick Clegg suddenly realises his error, staggers over to David Cameron and after picking him up by the waist, hurls him down into the void as the Death Star collapses and Ewoks celebrate on the Moon of Endor.

Who then, will replace Palpatine…errr, Cameron? It looks likely to be the Older Milliband, David. I’ve previously voiced my disapproval of DM, but that was on the not very thought out grounds of him being an older brother and having one of those moustaches that are sort of not really there but not not there, if you follow me.  So when Nick Palmer announced he would be supporting DM in the Leadership Battle, I decided to take a closer look. A really closer look. So close in fact at one point he was practically spreadeagled over me. I’m committed to my vocation, am I not?

Milliband is in Nottingham to shore up support for his campaign, and a Labour activist colleague asks me if I wanted to come along.   So its a stinkingly humid Thursday evening and Im in a hall near the Orange Tree pub and somehow, i’m right on the front row, and potentially one of the most powerful men in the world is sipping water right opposite me.   Thats Gloria Del Piero, MP for Ashfield, next to DM. I’m not sure whats shes doing, but she looked about 12 and was evidently in absolute awe and possibly in love with the member for South Shields.

He spoke for a bit, trying to show the real man behind the robot. This was partially successful, seeing the man in the flesh, thin, slightly stooped, trousers higher than Cowell/ Clarkson and Action Man hair, struggling with a malfunctioning microphone…well, hes just a man. But his attempts to show that he was nothing but a Whitehall-Centric policy-wonk were only partially successful. His answers to questions sometimes seemed rehearsed, indeed, I already knew he was a big fan of the Gruffalo and his favourite box set was Fawlty Towers, as I’d read them a week or so ago in the Guardian.  Del Piero, who is animatedly acting as interviewer, asks a few mawkish questions about Hilary Clinton fancying him, and it doesn’t convince. When taking questions though, he showed true form. Despite being a home crowd (being comprised of mainly party loyalists) he still batted away awkward questions with professional verve while homing in on positives and basking. The skill is undeniable, and the passion surprising.  The person next to me, who previously had rated DM behind diphtheria in her preferences whispers ‘I like him’, and I see shes blushing slightly.

I’m not so sure, and still remain a sceptic, but he does have a good brain, a ton of experience and is charismatic enough to woo those elusive entities, the Floating Voter. I think I’d still prefer Burnham, or even Little Milliband, but am pretty ok if DM does make it. I can also bang on for ages at dinner parties on how I met the Prime Minister before he was Prime Minister, and people will want to touch me and think I’m cool. Yeah. ——————————————————————–

There was an interesting moment in the Q and A section, when a quite terrifying looking guy in a charcoal suit  two seats down from me on the front row asked a question that was so rambling  and dull when it reached its climax, demanding to know if  Milliband had attended a Bilderburg Meeting, I couldn’t remember how it hd started. DM denied he had, but the guy was tenacious: ‘The Guardian said you did, did you, did Blair, did he?’ , to the point DM simply ignored his probing andmoved on to the next question. It was amusing off the script, but the guy came across as a bit of an idiot. Still, I decided to chat to him afterwards, to see if he was just a bonkers conspiracy-theorist or was genuinely concerned about the shady Bilderburg (read Jon Ronson’s ‘Them‘ for a good overview and investigation). But when I glanced over, he gave me the scariest look EVER, and every time I glanced over he was still staring, blank faced, steely eyed. I didn’t talk to him . Not worth the risk.


A big thank you to my knee, for inadvertently taking a great picture  tonight while I rested my Blackberry atop it: This was taken a Mili-second (geddit?) before DM threw himself into the audience and crowd surfed up and down the room to cheers of absolute adulation. Possibly. _______________________________________________________

Oh, I got DM’s autograph. I joked ‘that’ll be a fiver on Ebay’ and recieved  a mock-withering look.  However, Im not sure if DM knew what he was signing… Seamless. My evil plan inches over forward…. ___________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________________________ `