A Tale of Two Squirrels

There’s two squirrels in my garden that I am rather fond of.

They steal all of the nuts from my bird feeders and I never seem to have enough to satisfy their taxation demands on the birds’ earnings so I have named them David and George.

I won’t do anything about them though, they’re quite endearing little thieves…

That’s the economy in a microcosm. The birds ‘earn their peanuts’ by being pretty and arriving in a festival of colours. Feeding them gives me an enormous sense of satisfaction and wellbeing. Then along comes Dave and George to empty them out periodically destroying the woodland economy as they do so.

We have all got to make tough decisions they say (my squirrels talk *will be explained later…)

It does not look too tough for them though. They are fat squirrels as opposed to my fat cat that sits under the bird feeders oblivious to the fluttering feasting that’s going on above him.

Yet when the bird feeder is empty I know who it’s really tough for, so I fill it up again.

As we speak there’s a little woodland hospital being shut down right now. Next to Mr Toad’s Library, now staffed by volunteers without the heating on…

As a working man my stash has been emptied more times than it’s ever been replenished.

I am kept skint and miserable by government policy because all of the jobs and the wealth have either gone or are going to China and India, despite the fact that employing foreigners simply because they are cheap or are being forced to work has to be the most racist and dehumanising thing you can do.

Sometimes it’s criminal gangs, setting up sweatshops. Other times it’s governments forcing people to work in horrible conditions without pay and overseen by jackbooted Nazis who have no sympathy for their charges. The Jobcentre really sucks..

The one thing that we have all got in common, all over the world, is that we are all increasingly getting a lot of government interference. The type of people that naturally rise to the top of government are not the type of people you’d like representing you. Most of them belong in the cell next to Hannibal Lector. They want power and the ability to exercise it.

They also want more than anything, not to give it up! Remember Margaret Thatcher crying when she left office, after years of wrecking people’s lives.

The Term Public Servant is Synonymous with ‘Public Master’

Whether it’s new laws such as the recent ruling that you’ve got to put your dog on a lead if requested to do so by a policeman (fair enough) or an “empowered” council official’ (what?) or terrorism laws being used to check if you put your bins out early, we all get a shit load of interference in our everyday lives unless you happen to live with a tribe in Borneo, or within the rings of Saturn!

To borrow a phrase from the politicians, ‘let me be absolutely clear,’ in no way is a council official anywhere near or as worthy as a policeman to be trusted with power…

I’d rather give legal authority to one of those pigeons outside Gregs in Carmarthen than an overzealous council worker.

Why is it that when politicians talk of being absolutely clear, you can either see right through them or you cant see them at all?

A cell does not a prison make…

Also when did Carmarthen’s Gaol Hill turn into Castle Hill. A change of a nice historic name like that, wouldn’t have anything to do with the council offices being situated within the old Victorian prison there, would it?

Or was it changed when they tarted the old castle up next door?

Either way, ‘Castle Hill’ it is not, as it leads away from the castle…

Begin the resistance…

Keep doing what I do, and refer to it always and forever as Gaol Hill. They didn’t ask me or you for permission to change the name so **** the lot of them… Especially as the council offices are all converted jail cells.

That last sentence more than anything I have typed in the last few years gives me more satisfaction than anything I have ever written.