An Inspectre Calls #narrowboat #boating #boatsthattweet

Yesterday, when all my tribbles seemed so far away, a gas-qualified Boat Safety Scheme Inspector called – and a very nice chap he was too.

Mark from M & L Canal Services is the chap.

MandLCS

Yesterday – this probably being the reason why all of my tribbles had taken themselves far away – was also cold, lashing down with rain and blowing a hefty 40mph+ wind through the willows. Yes, lovely indeed for a day when all of the covers would have to be off and some poor chap would needs must crawl around into the gas locker and the engine bay and wotnot.

Happy, very happy, to report that Cardinal Wolsey passed muster without hiccough or itch, and we are now – or we will be when the paperwork is done and the “the online” updated – certified until Feb of the Ruary of 2024.

I shall be hanging the Cardinal’s fresh certificate on the wall next to mine.

He’s officially safe and I’m officially sane.

[Although, it must be noted, the Cardinal’s certificate is more recent than is mine.]

Safe and sane, when you think about it, is more, much more, than may be said for England at the moment. Tomorrow, in case you had forgotten, is the day when Her Majesty’s Sheople get to choose between voting for the various parasitic-personages and hyena-parties of:

something nasty that dangles off the U.S.A.’s arse;

something that ought, by rights, be sitting next to a garden pond with a little wheelbarrow and a fishing pole;

Typhoid McMary – who, being self-declared McForeign and actively campaigning to have nowt further to do with England ought by rights not be elegible to stand for office in Westminster;

and some other blank metropolitan quarter-wit who is green or liberal or both or something and wants us all to have a gender-fluid unicorn each because emissions, yeah, innit, yeah, gimme a skinny latté and an oyster-and-cress baguette with silver sprinkles.

They’ve all (apart from Sturgeon, who utterly despises the English) promised us the earth of course but, silly me, given that in my lifetime they’ve delivered da nada, naff all, total sodski apart from the current monumental mess, why the hell would I believe one word out of their mouths this time. That was a rheorical question, so no question mark.

We’ve voted and voted and voted until we’re blue in the face and what we’ve ended up with is this lot. Why would anyone imagine that voting again for someone from the same political, social and “intellectual” puddle would produce a different result this time?

Beats me.

There is, sadly, no “None of the above” box on our ballot papers. Would that there were.

Ho hum. Ho humski.

I don’t have a television aboard the Cardinal (or anywhere else for that matter – I don’t even have an “anywhere else”).

I refuse to pay money to the B.B.C., a once-great organisation that is now so infested with ideologues that even Rentokil would turn down the contract to clean them up.

You can’t watch television – or even live broadcasts over the interwebnets – in England without paying £154.50 per year to the marxist-feminista-politically”correct”-climate-shrieking cause.

Rather splendidly, not having a “Big Brother” screen in my home does mean that I can (and have) mightily reduce my exposure to the nonsense. All of the nonsense.

Boing. Boing boing boing. Time for Florence, said Zebedee.

Have I mentioned that the Cardinal passed his B.S.S. inspection yesterday?

Thatam chuffed about.

Now, to begin saving up for the Canal & River Trust Boat Licence (which has gone up by 20% in the past four years, in stark, stark contrast to my pension!)…

That licence, sadly, I cannot opt out of.

At least, not until after the bloody revolution.

Dream on, Hutson, dream on.

Chin-chin.

Ian H.

1P1170722
Spraying for Nature.

11 Comments

  1. I refuse to buy a TV license too. I do, though, watch ITV, and channels 4 & 5 on ‘catch up’, as long as I don’t watch any of those as the programmes are going out it is totally legal. And sometimes, YouTube will allow me to see various BBC offerings if they are truly worth watching.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. As far as the goggle-box goes I miss the rugby and I miss the occasional decent documentary, but the rest hasn’t even been missed at all. There is, as you say, a lot of good stuff on the interwebnets video channels anyway, and with the occasional DVD my “square eyes” (16:9 really) are satisfied. 😉

      Tis a shame about the Beeb, it was once a great organisation, now it’s just a national embarrassment. Along with all of the rest… !

      Like

  2. Bird-bomb be brilliant! … certifiably certified certainly sounds spiffy …ejection election encompasses entropy
    … ah well, as Miss Scarlett O’Hara was wont to say, “Tomorrow is another day.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I’m a little confused; .oO(not unusual). You said “I shall be hanging the Cardinal’s fresh certificate on the wall next to mine.” Which mine it that you are speaking of? I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to dig a mine of any sort on a narrowboat. Perhaps you mean a mine on the bank next to the Cardinal? If that’s the case why hang it there when you have to move soon?

    Liked by 2 people

    1. In the words of my late great aunt, Colonel Baden-Baden Powell at Mafeking, we is relieved. I am not good at enjoying getting these things done, but done they must be and done now, for the time being, it is. Splendiferous and tickettybooboo. 🙂

      Like

  4. You know it occurs to me that if we sent in someone with gas mask and a spray bottle of the right sort to the various political halls of governments – we might get the infestation under control…
    But that’s not quite workable… I mean, like bed bugs, they are probably immune.

    That photo bombing bird is AWESOME. Did you piss it off somehow or was it just a dick by nature?

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I suspect that in the Palace of Westminster it just needs a light to be turned on for there to be a scuttering of MPs into the shadows… 😉

      The bird gave me the full-on wings beating on the face & on the camera job – I think it must have nested in the hedgerow and I was too close for its liking. I had no idea what was going on at the time, being busy taking a hum-drum photo of what I thought was a pleasant countryside lane!

      Like

Comments are closed.