Archive | May, 2014

The Life of Brian is my favourite film!

27 May

I don’t usually go for baiting people. Look if you want to believe in fairies down the garden, angels coming down and telling you stories, spending eternity sitting about on a cloud that’s up to you. Just don’t try and impose it by threat on others you fuckwitted microbe. Its that that really gets my back up…and before I start the original title for this blog has been changed as it contained lots of naughty words!

So I’ve just got back from Paris and before I’ve had chance to open the demanding letters from the NAT WEST BANK on THE HIGH STREET BEDFORD I’m in Bedford where we are seldom seen and I can hear one of the fuckwitted twatheaded microbes using a mini sound system to sound off across that gap between Clinton Cards and Boots about fire, damnation, boiling oil, pokey sticks, satan, how god will only really love you and let you past the pearly gates if you repent sort of like now…RIGHT NOW you sinner , on your knees , none of this deathbed rethink or having second thoughts when your 84 and your husbands died of dementia and let …..oh fuck it I can’t even be bothered going into the specifics.

I will not let you get between me and the word of god..

I will not let you get between me and the word of god..

Anyway this prize fuckwit is on a little ladder with a few bouncers holding placards and an umbrella and making sure that no one gets a word in edgeways. Now I can be pretty loud when I want to be so having worked out that he’s talking total shite I’m in there playing at decibels with him with my opening gambit of “Explain the holocaust away” “Where was your god”. Then  he starts on me accusing me of being a non believer and being doomed to burn in gods hell. All because I asked why his god sat about and let it all happen.  Apparently god is in charge of hell as well, satan, the unholy host is on gods payroll so he’s got both doors covered there! Meanwhile Mr Fuckwitt hasn’t answered my question and all he’s trying to do (quite successfully I might add!) is drown me out with his head microphone so I up the decibels although this time I claim the vocal high ground by demanding that rather than being sent to the furnace when I die his god might want to just cut me down with thunderbolts and lightening there and then which might drum up support, sort of make his case and get me in the papers as my remains smoulder. That’ll teach me. Come on big sky man, strike me down…. Nothing happens! Actually something does…there’s a small crowd forming so I change tac, god has spared me for a purpose, I start jumping about a bit saying “I’ve seen the light” “god has filled my empty soul with love and prawn flavour crisps and so on although after a minute or so I looked at the people near the library admitted I wasn’t serious and it was all a load of poo! and got a rough sort of applause from some folk sheltering from the rain over the road. Then some big geezer slides up to me and says that I should just leave him (god man) alone. Now I don’t know why but for some reason I went along with this suggestion and made to walk off in the direction of Waterstones but then I twigged that everyone around was watching me which was real weird. So I went back for seconds. Noah got a mention, why kill all the animals off? Fucking big boat. What about Polar bears? How did Noah get two of them, did he save two of each virus,  I got cobbed out of Sunday school for this sort of thing (Methodists, Failsworth, Oldham back in 1971) but again given the chance to explain things to me all he did was drown me out with more fire and damnation, a few quotes from his very wet book and basically I am evil personified. Spawn of Beelzebub! Disciple of the Lord of the Flies..Now its pissing it down and I really want to go home (via Specsavers and Oxfam) but I’m not letting this little gobshite win…then the troops arrive in the form of some young girls (pictured) who then proceed to say their bit, one of them pointing out that his book is going soggy at which point he points to me and says its better than burning in the fires like he will (that’s me) and then off camera a gang of good old hoodies come up for a laugh. So what about the holocaust…well he answers, Christians did a lot to help the holocaust…although what he meant by this I don’t know but I terminated my part in this comedy routine by suggesting his god maybe might have been able to do more. At which point I walked away. I was wet through and it was time to make my appointment with the optician. I nearly said Wicker Man then but I guess some of you worked it out!

Go on, slip off you prize twat!

Go on, slip off you prize twat!

This sort of “shout everyone down” tactic does I will admit work. You struggle to get a word in and lacking a microphone you end up having to shout but having had chance to think about this I have an idea that could be both very funny and specifically make the point that the god man is quite literally barking! I need a volunteer, circa six foot as it involves wearing a costume and making a total fool of yourself safe in the knowledge that I shall be doing the same and no one will know who we are. Debs and Pete are you reading this?

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Election Round-Up, Everyone won, except the voters!

24 May

Yep! Listening to the media, everyone’s celebrating. Even the Lib Dems are attempting to wave little flags. Simon Hughes was on Radio 4 trying his best to carve good news into his arm with a rusty knife. Simon Hughes, he won  a monumental victory (their words) in the 80s. Labour had chosen Peter Tatchell as their candidate and everyone but everyone crucified him on account of his sexual orientation. Hughes stood back and let it all happen. We couldn’t possibly have a pooftah as an MP could we? It was the 80s, we’d had Tom Robinson singing Glad to be Gay, it was OK for the odd pop star but not for Peter. So he got a mauling, the count was almost a nazi riot as the NF were out in force. Simon Hughes in a move that shows how we have progressed has since come out. A welcome move but it sits quite badly with anyone who remembers Bermondsey. Tatchell has since gone on to achieve more than Hughes could dream of. When he’s on the news, he’s listened to with respect however when Hughes is on, he’s a mouthpiece for rogues, rascals and slayers (Tournier, Revengers Tragedy)

Vote and then fuck off peasants...

Vote and then fuck off peasants…

A husband and wife team were also on the Radio, for legal purposes I shall call them Mr and Mrs Smith. She’s certainly done well out of the Blair years but the fact that she was knocking anyone off that she fancied was something of an embarrassment, one minute she’s got her tongue down either Jim or Kevin’s throat and next she’s cuddling up to her hubby. I often wonder if he knew…

Yes, Labour are celebrating. The Conservative’s are denying a potential mid air link up with Nigel Faridge mostly it seems to save their jobs in constituencies where UKIP could knock them sidewards.

Nigel Fridge was down the pub faster than my dad after he’d been paid. Mind you his gang of winners are going to have a shock as they have volunteered to take part in a system where entire evening can be given over to discussing whether Mr Evans gets to build a conservatory that might be bigger than they want! Stunning stuff but if its anything like Bedford Borough Council they will have a pub near by that they can retreat to after to put their expenses back into the economy, mostly a brewery near Ipswich.

Rosemary Bootiman retained the Lib Dems a council seat in Bedford after the last one quit, rapture I gather but like the national picture nothings changed much. People will still face the courts through the bedroom tax, mental health charities will be thrashed financially, HIV is on the rise as cuts to education budgets continue, I could drone on and on…but I won’t. We will be offline til late Tuesday as Bedford Bypass is going to Paris for our second Annual General Meeting since February, the meeting will be held tomorrow afternoon in a nice little pub on Rue Mouffetard which despite a comical name is one of the few streets in Paris not to have been bulldozed by General Haussmann some moons back. We shall report on decisions made one of which may be of interest to anyone totally brassed off with the crushingly boring state of the way we are pushed and governed. Back soon….Debs and Pete are in charge and will be monitoring any emails sent to  mcclintongill167@gmail.com

We Are But Shadows. Umbra Sumas, Visions of You and then The Sun Does Rise

We Are But Shadows. Umbra Sumas, Visions of You and then The Sun Does Rise

 

Lock the door and wander off!

23 May

And now we gop over to Debs who saw something in the property pages in that crap free paper last night which had her hopping…

Bedford www

OY! Sod off, you ask me to write a Bypass blog and then interfere…

I saw something in the property pages of our lacklustre free newspaper (You woulnd’t buy it!)  last night which made me hopping mad and sums up everything that’s wrong with the housing market.  There is a 1 bed flat advertised in Castle Quay and the blurb goes ‘A perfect first home, buy to let or lock up and leave’. 

Lock up and leave.  Does this literally mean that? You buy it and it stays empty, in the hope that it will appreciate in value like a 1970s Cindy Doll in its box up in the attic.  Meanwhile, house prices in this country are crazy because not enough properties are being built, and people are waiting years for social housing or staying for years in substandard or too small social housing because there’s nowhere for them to go.  Mind you, at £137,500 the price is hardly extortionate for Bedford considering the facilities, so it must be pokey.  In fact, the photo of the sitting room makes it look as inviting as a dentist’s waiting room. 

Saw the sign, I waited around, god never came, I went to Oxfam!

Saw the sign, I waited around, god never came, I went to Oxfam!

Debs

And in a ground breaking first having struggled with reviews of the new X Men film where past and future collide in a confusing way as Captain Picard died a few films back here’s a blog from the future from the internationally respected media portal BEDFORD BYPASS from the year 2173. And if you are wondering how we got this its all down to our Back to the Future car which we invented in a few years. We invited you to invest in this sure cert and there’s still time but take rampant inflation into account and about £1000 should get your name on the log book.

 

The Future Sound of Bedford

The Future Sound of Bedford

“We struggled with the door, mostly the lock but also several hundred years worth of free crap newspapers on the other side with the Mayor on the front page but after a while we eventually kicked it in and there it was, preserved within the ruins of Castle Quay, a cheap hastily jerry built block of apartments was a genuine circa year 2000 flat exactly in the same grim conditions as when the owners locked up and sailed away! They tried to return but all got turned to dust as they all died in that nuclear reactor meltdown storyline that we started a few years back but have since forgotten where we left off!

McClinton Droid THX1138

Putrid Feculent Detritus..

21 May

I imagine having to tell people that you are a Liberal Democrat is like owing up to drowning kittens in a sack!

They’ve formed the most unholiest alliance and are suckling the breast of the Devil’s darkest  concubine! All those promises you made on the doorstep, in leaflets and on those short broadcasts before the news, rescinded binned and replaced by Nick Clegg, the political equivalent of Prozac wringing his hands, squirming, looking for all the world like a seven year old that’s lost all his toys and his favorite Grandad in a hit and run incident that may or may not feature in a free paper in a suburb of Birmingham.

Rorscach

Rorschach

 

The one thing they wanted to gain from playing Russian roulette with the Conservatives was the AV Referendum. A move in itself which would have given the Liberal Democrats an eternal say in our future. They lost the vote on this, maybe by a chastened public who saw Clegg and his jolly band of sell outs for the double dealers they are. I’ve not voted for years as by doing so you are endorsing the system and can’t complain if someone you didn’t want gets in but on the AV issue I popped my paper in the box, fuck you Clegg you wanker!

Their penance, they’ve been forced (?) by the price of power to implement slash and burn across the face of the country and the funniest thing is that the tories have achieved exactly what they wanted whilst being able to watch the Lib Dems take the kicking in the bollocks almost each week if not more! If Nick Clegg’s name is associated with something it turns to dust and blows across the landscape of a decaying city.

The only idea they have come up with in four years that ranks as having any merit was their frankly potty idea to stop The Sun being sold in newsagents before 9.00pm on the basis that as you are reading in depth journalistic comment on the situation in the Ukraine you won’t be diverted by looking at someone called Melody showing us her tits whilst expressing solidarity with orphans in Syria. The Sun should really be the official paper of the Lib Dems and the only reason I sort of liked this idea is back to my old hobby of Hillsborough and the deep affection that good people of my home city feel towards that rag of a newspaper. article-2224739-15BDE83D000005DC-648_306x510So many years on and new footage is being shown.

Noting that grand display of soon to be recycled leaflets in the blog below (I SAID BLOG!!!) the reason none of UKIPs missives were included was that they went straight into the recycling bin after a failed attempt to teach Wiz to shred them. The only one that could be said to included any commitment to any form of social justice is from the Green Party however as an anarchist if I opt to play a part in the carnival of the absurd all I will have achieved is to legitimize the the next round of expenses scandals and freeloaders caught screwing around! Tough decision?

Gill at the helm!

Election Fever Competition! Win! Win! Win!

21 May

Well folks” Its election day tomorrow and you will have the wonderful opportunity to ensure that someone you don’t know and quite probably will neve know gets to carry on doing whatever it is they do over in Brussels.

To celebrate all that is good and scrummy about the British electoral system of convincing you that your vote is something more than a pass card to posh restaurants we have another great competition for you to enter!

A bit like “Spot the Ball” all you have to do is study the below photo taken here at Bypass HQ and see if you can spot the bogus election leaflet. Actually when we say “bogus” what we mean is it isn’t a real election leaflet even though through use of the vernacular its probably the only one that sums up the whole process with any accuracy!

So get yourself a drink, put your specs on and look hard to see if you can literally “Spot the Balls”…look we’ve even given you a clue! Good luck dear readers (240 yesterday for some unfathomable reason) send your answers to mcclintongill167@gmail.com and if we aren’t too exhausted after the post election celebrations we will think of a prize.

Total total Bollocks!

Total total Bollocks!

Incidentally there are a few unclaimed prizes, mostly bask issues of Now or Never behind the bar at The Bear PH on the High St and Paul is wondering what to do with them. This applies to Rich and Will who have gone awfully quiet of late!

Bedford’s Victorian Lady

20 May

We like it when people take the trouble to contact us through mcclintongill167@gmail.com which is a multiuse mailbox and here’s a welcomed and much appreciated missive following on from Deb’s “My Day Out” published last week. The blog mentioned the intriguing and noticeable Victorian Lady that can be seen around town wearing (at all times) period costume and parasol and we are not alone in our view that she adds to an otherwise drab town! article-2224739-15BDE83D000005DC-648_306x510

Debs pointed out that nobody seems to bat an eyelid when they see her leaving me to theorise that she’s an echo from the 1800 manifested across time by static electricity and therefore only visible to the gifted or the damned. Debs meanwhile has suggested the much less plausible reason that she’s been about so long everyone’s gotten used to her! 

 

And lead you through the streets of Bedford!

And lead you through the streets of Bedford!

Now I do know her name but let’s leave the Dickensian air of mystery hanging! To us she’s the Victorian Lady! And meanwhile here’s our guest contributor who has been given the Honorary title of Mr G. All photographs are random and totally unrelated to the text although if anyone has a pic of the Victorian Lady in question that has been taken with her permission for publishing please drop us a line!

Hello Bedford Bypass!

As an occasional lurker on your site (I’m an exile from Bedford, and BB keeps me more in touch with the old stamping ground than either of the town’s papers) I felt I should crawl out of the woodwork to chip in about the strange, wonderful and exotic creature that known as The Edwardian Lady, mentioned in today’s entry (16 May 2014).Garrick

I always look forward to ‘spotting’ her whenever I visit my home town, and have often felt moved to celebrate her spirit of individuality with a solo round of applause when she comes into view. (Sometimes people nearby have joined in, so it’s not just me). She acknowledges this appreciation with a graceful wave and smile worthy of the dear old Queen Mother herself (God Bless Her).

I can share the following insights about her behaviour and travels and I hope that these may be of interest to fellow fans.

She often travels into town by bus — I don’t recall which ‘number’ bus (or is it still ‘planet’-themed?), but more than once I have embarked at the stop near Kempton barracks, bound for St Paul’s, and found her already aboard with her pull-along trolley considerately stowed.

So much better in the Victorian period...

So much better in the Victorian period…

She has been sighted as far afield as the Black Cat Roundabout (unless she has an inferior imitator out in the sticks — but TWO Edwardian Ladies seems unlikely).

Kylie Said to Jason..It's all in the mind!

Kylie Said to Jason..It’s all in the mind!

She has been observed to go in and out of the telephone exchange building at the junction of St Loyes and Harpur Street. Since this place is heftily-protected and has a security pass system, I infer that she works there — but she seems to come and go irregularly, and her perambulations around town often occur on weekdays at non-lunchtime hours. This is a source of intrigue to me.

The only other thing I know about her is that she makes all her own clothes (well, you couldn’t buy them anywhere!): But this is not enough, and I want to know if she lives in a retrofitted Edwardian house too. Perhaps with gas lighting, a pianola and a parrot on a stand?

Next time I’m in beautiful Bedford, I shall have my phone with me and take a picture for you, as I nearly always see her on her travels.

Do not confuse the two!

Do not confuse the two!

Talk of Bedford’s many notable eccentrics reminds me of “Merlin”, a character whom I miss greatly, and I wonder if anyone has any news of him.

As you might imagine from the nickname, he is/was a tall and remarkably spindly old man with a long grey beard and hair, dressed in outlandishly non-matching charity-boutique clothing. His skinniness was accentuated by his tendency to wear stripy leggings (i.e., with coloured rings around the limbs) leggings — green and black were favourites — rather than trousers.

He sometimes drifted into the beer garden of our joint favourite, The Bear. I particularly remember that one Christmas, he came into the beer garden, produced a little framed picture of a Christmas robin, set it on the ground and gave every appearance of worshiping it, chanting something under his breath. Then he went away again, leaving the picture behind and leaving us all agog. lumumba

The legend attached to this notable person was that he was once a brain surgeon, but left the planet after one too many acid trips. This sounds like an urban myth to me, and I wonder if any other reader has heard other tales of Merlin’s past or seen him elsewhere.

Is he still alive? What happened to him? He seemed to just disappear around 2009/2010. I like to think that someone so extraordinary would ascend into another dimension rather than do anything so everyday and boring as dying.

Gx

Ralph, Dylan, Tom, John CC and Ralph again!

19 May

I’m into connectivity! Not in the electrical sense although it comes in handy, I actually mean when one thing leads onto another often over long periods of time or when there’s a nice coincidence!

Thirty three years ago I acquired an album by Ralph McTell called “You Well Meaning Brought Me Here”. I’d never heard of him until someone said he’d written Streets of London which was a sort of pre Big Issue comment about homelessness and urban isolation. It’s been his bread and butter for decades but something of a curse in that he’s been writing brilliant stuff since the mid sixties and Streets while popular is eclipsed by both earlier and later material although as soon as you say Ralph McTell to anyone they go “Streets of Lon…” and it really must piss him off. It’s not till you see him live that I think you can fully appreciate him and his musical skills as writer and stand out solo guitarist! I saw him at an intimate folk club near Stockport in 1982 and he signed the LP!

I hit 52 this weekend and having gone through the maudlin morose bit plus two rather enjoyable nights out and a scrummy triple chocolate cake courtesy of Debs that most certainly wasn’t suitable for diabetics on insulin (!) I found myself the very pleased owner of a four CD boxed set spanning McTell’s forty odd years. I knew I was getting it as I’d found it reduced in a Paris music shop last February! Connectivity of sorts as many of his early songs were written in or inspired by Paris in fact his hit started out being called Streets of Paris which sort of takes the shine off it a bit!

The Boy With A Note

The Boy With A Note

Included in the boxed set are tracks from a 1992 CD called “The Boy With a Note”, a homage to Dylan Thomas and (connectivity) this at the time pinged me off in Thomas’s direction and I ended up quite absorbed in both Dylan and Caitlin Thomas but only so far as their personalities and live, I can struggle with his poetry but what a chaotic life and fractious relationship underwritten by genuine devotion they had for each other. McTell’s track Summer Girls hints at Dylan Thomas’s main character weakness, this being that he struggled to believe in himself!

Tom Hollander, better known as the Rev on BBC nailed Thomas’s looks and character as far as I had imagined them in a BBC drama last night with Essie Davis doing the same for Caitlin, though I doubt the interiors were shot on location the Boathouse at Laugharne was extensively featured.

Tom Hollander as Dylan and Essie Davis as Caitlin

Tom Hollander as Dylan and Essie Davis as Caitlin

Given that I can take or mostly leave his written output (except Under Milk Wood and Rage Rage Rage) I don’t know why I’m drawn to Thomas but the Boathouse has a kind of magic to it, it genuinely brings the past to the present. Last time we were there it was unusually busy and by chance it was the Laugharne Weekend and as we were walking away from the house none other than (connectivity) John Cooper Clark was heading down there to read his own stuff to a sold out max capacity audience of 20 in Dylan’s front room. He was doing a bigger crowd later which likewise was sold out! Unable to see one of my favourite poets partly because I didn’t know he was there I headed off to the churchyard where Dylan and Caitlin are to be found enjoying a serenity that evaded them in real life.

Dylan and Caitlin

Dylan and Caitlin

I’ve sat by that grave three times now and there’s never been anyone else there but small tributes are always there at the base of the simple wooden cross, small toys, a single measure bottle of Bells whisky. On the same visit that JCC was at large I wandered back from the graveyard in search of Wiz and her minder and bumped into Howard Marks aka Mr Nice who was on his way to have a chat with his fellow Welshman. Then Steve Morris (New Order drummer) and Stuart Maconie were taking tea down near the castle. If you ever find yourself heading from Swansea to Haverfford West it would be remiss if you didn’t take a slight detour. Get the right weekend and it can be quite surreal!

Dylan and Caitlin. Caitlin features on the other side of the cross. Not the gifts at the base!

Dylan and Caitlin. Caitlin features on the other side of the cross. Not the gifts at the base!

When I tore the packaging off the McTell boxed set something caught my attention that wasn’t there when I handed if over for wrapping, a ticket to see Ralph McTell at his 70th Birthday concert in London this December! Thank you for humouring me!

 

Hanging on the Old Barbed Wire!

19 May

In which Ms Heather brings us another poem from the trenches, this time from the perspective of the German side which makes no difference if you are 17 and being shot at by another 17 year old from another country who’s been told by some bloke with a walrus moustache what is expected of him but would rather not be shooting at anyone, the translation comes across as clunky. Unlike Kraftwerk who would always chnge the words on english versions so there was a sense of ryhme. Not that Kraftwerk did war poems!

A First World War poem by a German poet Albert Lichenstein:
Abschied
(Für Peter Scher)

Vorm Sterben mache ich noch mein Gedicht.
Still, Kameraden, stört mich nicht.
Wir ziehn zum Krieg. Der Tod ist unser Kitt.
O, heulte mir doch die Geliebte nit.
Was liegt an mir. Ich gehe gerne ein.
Die Mutter weint. Man muß aus Eisen sein.
Die Sonne fällt zum Horizont hinab.
Bald wirft man mich ins milde Massengrab.
Am Himmel brennt das brave Abendrot.
Vielleicht bin ich in dreizehn Tagen tot.

Leaving for the Front
(To Peter Scher)

Before dying I must just make my poem.
Quiet, comrades, don’t disturb me.
We are going off to war. Death is our bond.
Oh, if only my girl-friend would stop howling.
What do I matter? I’m happy to go.
My mother’s crying. You need to be made of iron.
The sun is falling down on to the horizon.
Soon they’ll be throwing me into a nice mass grave.
In the sky the good old sunset is glowing red.
In thirteen days maybe I’ll be dead.

 

And finally on this weeks edition of War Poetry Please here’s Chumbawamba with a song that was sung by the 17 year olds and the rest that had to be content with being cannon fodder. As a song it was a “tolerated” act of sedition based on the plain fact that the actual target of the song, mostly upper class generals safely tucked away some miles back couldn’t hear what was being said!

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_K1BdDVvV9Q

If you want to find the General....

If you want to find the General….

 

My Day Out!

16 May

In which Debs hits the town and Steve messes things up by trying to find a picture of the Victorian Lady an the red nun, fails miserably and holds this blog up by almost a week! Sorry Debs

____________________________________________________________________________________________

My Day Out!

Another Saturday in sunny Bedford – time to give a load of “pre-loved” stuff to charity, so that I’ve got room to collect more. I walk into the charity shop..the lady behind the till rolls her eyes – I’ve been so totally inconsiderate enough to arrive at the same time as someone who wants serving, so she orders me to ‘leave it over there and I’ll look through it when I’ve got a minute to myself, if you please’. You respond to their emergency appeals for donations and leave feeling like you’ve inconvenienced them!

There’s a temporary pop-up shop in the High Street where Pizza Hut used to be and it is selling vinyl records for the day. Following its long use selling pizza’s it became a short lived charity shop and hasn’t amounted to much since. The place is full of cheerful men of a certain age, some with children perched on their shoulders, flicking through the racks andholding earnest conversations with the stall holders. Like them, I can’t resist looking at the album covers of my youth – but is anyone buying?

Fun in Bedford as the Police deal with some bloke with a machete!

Fun in Bedford as the Police deal with some bloke with a machete!

Bedford reached number 33 in our most sacred book Crap Towns volume 2 in 2004, but in the recently published Crap Towns Returns Bedford made it into the category of “towns not as crap as they used to be”. What’s changed? According to the guide, Bedford is a haven for eccentrics and misfits. I’m racking my brains as to why people would think that, when the Victorian lady sails into view. This is a woman of a certain age who dresses up as someone’s idea of a Victorian (or Edwardian) lady, complete with twirling parasol, huge hat, long dress and muff in winter time. Once I saw her in a bustle. And no one takes a blind bit of notice of this colourful character. I suppose to an outsider seeing her for the first time that would count as eccentric behaviour – as well as the total and utter indifference from the public.

See, it's a machete! Never a dull moment...

See, it’s a machete! Never a dull moment…

Why don’t they have the decency to point and stare? Unlike a lot of towns these days, Bedford still has a thriving press (I didn’t say a good one). One of the papers once interviewed a motley collection of Bedfordians for their views, and they’d managed to get hold of her. I was looking forward to reading what she had to say, maybe an explanation for her dedication to always wearing her elaborate costumes, but she didn’t. I suppose that’s eccentric, in its way.

God squad!

God squad!

We have an independent Nun of sorts that shouts her love of god and makes everyone jump! Sometimes she’s in red, maybe yellow, maybe black, no one bats an eye lid! 50s revivalists can be seen in increasing number notably Dawn from Bedford Creative Arts! As Crap Towns Volume 2 points out Bedford was a centre for Goths back in the 80s and pale paper thin survivors can still be spotted drifting through the evening mist off the river as can the odd genuine punk! After dark on a Saturday nighttAngels walk amongst us although rather than celestial beings ours are earth bound with red fleeces and help the drunks and the assaulted. Teddy Boys, Mods, Steampunks, we have them all and our favourite pub The Bear up the High Street is a drinking stop off for a great many disparate souls who some would have us believe only see each other when in mortal combat but in the Bear everybody pulls in the same direction!

Charlie Roydens Angels?

Charlie Roydens Angels?

Although its Saturday afternoon and having troubled the charity shop lady and clearly ruined her day there’s only direction I’m heading and that’s home! Maybe that should be Wong Direction?

(and if anyone does have a picture of our well dressed Victorian Lady and that dotty num can they pass them on, usual email mcclintongill167@gmail.com Gill’s just phoned me up to wish me a happy birthday!)

Dignitas Clinic to open in Bedford?

16 May

We have teamed up with Zurich based life termination specialists Dignitas and are hoping to open our own branch here in the old Bedford High Street Pizza Hut shop. Unlike the Zurich clinic which is pretty sterile and not very inviting given that for many it’s the last place they go to we are aiming to have a gift shop for both relatives and those aiming for the departure lounge plus a coffee shop in case you arrive early, there is an equipment failure or we get raided! Ash trays or plates with a picture of your loved one(s) arriving and / or departing, that sort of thing!

The first UK branch of Dignitas, could it be based in the Bedford arcade?

The first UK branch of Dignitas, could it be based in the Bedford arcade?

To raise funds for this brave venture Bedford Bypass are pleased to offer (for a limited period only) a wonderful Buy One Get One Free offer with payment in advance so two people can be assisted* in their desire to be shuffled off this mortal coil for half price rather than wasting away in a shoddy care home sitting in their own body fluids or being knocked about by staff with anger management issues until Panorama come filming.

Both persons requiring euthanasia will need to be accompanied by a relative or at least someone who for legal reasons is able to do a passable impersonation of a relative (put a bit of thought into this) and it might be worthwhile making sure they know exactly who is going home in a box and who expects to be sitting in a chair reading the papers. We don’t want a repeat of last year’s little hiccup whilst we trailed things!

We Are But Shadows

We Are But Shadows

The only requirement of the Buy One Get One Free offer is permission to film one or both of you doing the deed. Given that the US justice system keeps performing botched executions we are hoping to produce a “Best Of” DVD showing how quick and pain free it is!

Remember our motto! “Death…You Can’t Cheat It So at Least Have a Laugh!

*Subject to planning permission and us quelling masses of holier than though twats who believe that someone suffering a terminal or progressive debilitating condition shouldn’t have the human right to make a rational conscientious decision on supported euthanasia!