I’m round me mum and dads, for an impromptu Sunday dinner celebrating the fact that Lady Beestonia is now DOCTOR Lady Beestonia, when I realise something is up. I have a quick look at the stats of this blog, which tell me exactly how many people read my guff. Quite a few, since you ask, but only because a Baltic state recently ran a promotional campaign called ‘BE ESTONIA’, and we got loads of their hits. Plus, looking deeper into the google hits that drove traffic here; BBC East Midland’s Kylie Pentalow seems to be a draw, though I’ve only mentioned her once, and in no way in a state of undress various surfers seem to be assuming I’m hosting here. Shame, readers, shame. Not YOU of course, but the others.
Anyhow, I go into a brief panic. The little quibble between our local MP and myself lends one to a certain pricked-up nervousness. I’m not a proper journalist, after all, and I have no material possessions of any value asides from an original Iggy Pop promo and a signed photo of Leslie Grantham so a law suit would hardly strip me of professional integrity or wealth: I’m pretty bereft of either, but still. Would be a bit shit to be proven wrong by our MP cos a bit of personal integrity is all I really have. That and the ability to write a sentence like that without sounding like a total bell-end. And two kittens which are TECHNICALLY OWNED BY MY PARTNER SO NOT BAILIFF FODDER.
I jest. I’m not scared as such. Soubry is, as a former barrister, is professionally well versed in the law and its complex mechanisms while I, err, once did the photocopying at a Law School. I stand by my arguments against her judgements; as readily and as robustly as I would stand with those I feel correct, should any come along.
It’s with great relief, therefore, that I discover it’s our erstwhile MP, Dr Palmer, who wrote me a guest article recently (see Beestonia passim) who has attracted this attention: his reach is beyond mine. It is, all said, an article that solidified my opinion on a tricky, emotive subject. It’s possibly Nick’s plunge back into national politics: if so, possibly we should salute this, whatever our political stripe. At least he’s engaging, as opposed to the alternatives. If Soubry or the Lib Dems wish to send something, I’ll extend NHS week into the month it’ll become.
I was recently invited to a rather odd thing: a meeting at 7.30am. At a pub.
I’m never one to shy from intrigue, so I drag myself from my duvetwomb and stagger, and yes, I staggered, to the Last Post in Beeston to meet a score (or just shy) of business bods who gathered to say hello to each other over compulsory coffee and breakfast.
It’s something called the Beeston Network, which is a collection of businesses in our town that have started to get together to collectively promote each other’s independence and personalised skillz to YOU, Beestonia. I’m all for this: to me it encourages independence, localism and other stuff that stops us becoming a town which just calls in a generic, multinational company for every whim or necessity. Keeping it local is what we’re all about, apparently. Though I would argue that being able to call myself a Lord is also a key component.
They are having a get together on Monday, December 3rd, The Last Post, at 7.30am. Pop along. It’s a tenner, but you’ll get a free breakfast, as much coffee as you can glug and the potential to launch your business into the stratosphere.
And I best mention, we’re doing the next issue of The Beestonian on the tram. Yep, we’re sticking our head into the crocodile’s jaws; pointing to the massive elephant’s presence in the room; etcetera, etcetera. Fill my comment box. Fill it good.
Picture of the kittens? It can be my christmas present!
I’ll stick one up next post, Kerry.
That really was an awfully well written and entertaining post. Rather A A Gill – esque to be honest, Which is a compliment. And might bring you more traffic.
This just shows what a huge following Nick Palmer has. Let’s all make sure he returns.
Aww. Even I support Nick Palmer & I don’t support the Labour party. Looking forward to the tram one. Despite it running at the bottom of my garden, I’m one of those evil pro-tram folk that everyone talks badly of on the buses.