I recently had a chat with a friend I hadn’t seen for something like a year, as usual we ranted about the madness that seems to surround us. Being a farmer he’s been at the sharp end of some of the EU and NuLabour madness, red tape and endless ridiculous legislation. He told me first about the tax on plastic bale wrap – a disposal tax they must pay whilst still disposing of the wrap in the usual manner, that is, on a fire; or how he, on a family farm, can’t smoke in his tractor whilst it is out in the middle of a field, can’t smoke in their outbuildings and must put up No Smoking signs. The crap list is endless.I told him about my blog, but he said he didn’t read blogs. He’s read this one now and has said, “Not sure about the photograph, it looks a bit 'posed' to me, may I suggest the one below as a replacement?” and provided the picture here.
Noting the body warmer, washed out jeans, silly shoes and lack of grey hair, I’d put this in the Eighties or early Nineties. I suspect it was a Mundon ‘Fun Day’, which usually started from the local pub then ended up there.
2 comments:
'fun day' is another english tradition that goes with washing 4 month old children with kitties in whisky filled stove pots, and casting demons out of building foundations by slamming skinhead nationalist deserters into them like a battering ram.
england is fucking perverse and sick in the brains.
did i mention flower picking, skipping, and giggling parliament members?
it's the expression on your face thatreally sells it, neal - awesome! :)
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