The Compostual Existentialist

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Daventry Local Elections 2014–Emma Collins

Every election – local, European or General – I offer the local candidates the opportunity to come and tell me why I should vote for them.

This year I am providing insights into the candidates running in the Weedon ward in Daventry.

And, so it seems, is the BBC.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-northamptonshire-27471122

collins

Emma Tiny Picture Collins

Today, Emma Collins – Labour.

Now, considering that Daventry is a crucial Conservative hot spot you would expect a lot of campaigning by the opposition parties. Not so here in sleepy Norton. Sure, European election leaflets have fluttered unbidden onto my door mat but local candidates seem to be few and far between.  Considering the election is only a few days away, the opposition candidates had better get a move on if they want possible swing voters to make their minds up.

I have no leaflet for Ms Collins. I knew nothing about her, her policies, what issues she feels strongly about or whether like Mr Smith she likes to have a poo in a field before standing up and fighting builders. With her fists.

So, using my l33t skills and well honed research methods, I had a poke about on the internet to see what I could find out about Ms Collins. It’s scary what you can find about people online, or so they say. Heh, that’s why, I suppose, I don’t use my real name online.

And never have.

Anyway, I know where she lives but where’s the fun in that. I mean this kind of information is given by the election’s returning officer and in the election notices. Turning up unbidden on her doorstep is a bit creepy so I wouldn’t do that. Although I suppose I could go canvassing. You know like candidates do only as a voter…Or will that get me arrested…Maybe not eh?

So the first port of call was Google. Using a bit of Googlefoo, I was able to find Ms Collins’ twitter account. So let’s do this in real time and send her a tweet…

 

tweet1

I’ll post her response if it comes….

Her feed seems to be akin to Mr Chris “I’ll block you if you question my insistence that Margaret Thatcher was the best thing that happened to the UK” Heaton-Harris. Jokes, asides and retweets of the odd bit of opposition political linkage. Nothing that says “Hey, intarwebz, I am young and clued up about social media and know how to market myself as a potential politician! Vote for me!”

Nothing that says “I’ll have a fight with navvies in a field if they so much as look at it through the windscreen of a JCB”

In fact there’s nothing. Nothing political…Couple of possible leads but out of decency I won’t mention those. But I did find three Emma Collins on Facebook in the Northamptonshire area. None of which, look like the tiny picture above, they all look like they’re still in school.

Ok, so let’s check the old Twitter feed….

Oooh! Look! She’s replied!

 

tweet2

 

So it’s off to the local press.

Good old Gusher. They are now part of Johnston Press so their website isn’t very good. Their weekly newspaper is often a bit low on gripping local news and is more akin to the old “Man who Once Passed through Daventry Met Elvis” kind of headline. But none-the-less, we should all use our local press or we will lose them. And then where would we be for news about Angry People, new toasters in Estate agents or cats stuck up trees.

Anyway, a quick search on the site brings me:

Nothing.

Nada.

Not a peep.

A few articles containing the words “EMMA” and “COLLINS” but nothing about our candidate. Meh.

Maybe my skills aren’t as l33t as I think. Maybe Emma Collins is still waiting for her leaflets to come back from Vistaprint. Maybe she’s going to pull out all the stops on Thursday by filling the sky with giant letters explaining what her policies are. Maybe now she’s heard of me, she’ll take me up on my offer of joining me in the White Horse in Norton so she can tell me why I should vote for her.

 

Or maybe not.

 

I’ll let you know if she gets back to me before Thursday…

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Strange to me would be buying a loaf and coming straight home.

So last night I was in my old bedroom at my mum and dads. Weird thing was the gerbils I used to keep were still there even though nobody thought to water or feed them in the past 20 odd years. Anyway, while I’m fussing with the poor malnurished blighters an aeroplane flies over head out side. I look out of the window and see a little parachute dart being thrown out of the plane. It opens and falls onto the bit of the garden where the conservatory is now but never used to be.

Weird dreams don’t impress in anyway


Flaming Scallies

On my road in Brierley is a lovely Georgian hall with a horrid 1960s extension that, until recently, was used by the council as offices.

In Barnsley Council’s unfettered intelligence, towards the end of last year, the offices and hall were vacated and put on the market. It was very sad as the hall is lovely (apart from the horrid extension) and rumours abound that developers were rubbing their hands together at the prospect of more land to build houses on.

However the hall, being a historic one, is listed and demolishing it would prove to be expensive and controversial. When I saw the boards going over the windows I said “Well it won’t be long until that burns to the ground will it?”

True enough, this morning on my way into uni I espied 2 fire appliances in attendance and policemen busily closing off the road. Yep. Some horrid bastard scally has set fire to it. Gone is the historic flooring; gone will be the lovely panelling and gone is any chance of the council meeting the reserve placed on it when it goes to auction next week. Call me cynical but I wouldn’t be surprised if now the whole thing gets razed to the ground and a lovely featureless warren of cloned houses get built on the land.

Thank fuck I’m not going to be here when the village gets ruined.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/south_yorkshire/7865192.stm


Shock Brierley News

I interrupt my LJ abstinence to bring you some slightly smouldering news:-

At 15:30BST on Friday 25th July 2008 a van containing cylinders of acetylene “mysteriously caught fire” in the Hill Top area of Brierley (which is about 1km from Chez Gnomepants). Of course this being the middle of hicksville doesn’t account for spontaneous hydrocarbon combustion, as you shall see.

Upon the wife and my return from an evening out with the in-laws we were shocked to find a “large” area of Brierley cordoned off by old plod and the FyA boyz kReW. Indeed our diversion back through South Hiendley through to Shafton took us a fair way back on ourselves. (See here for cordon greenery). On investigation of the BBC News website we learned of the goings on.

(Friday’s newzz )

Saturday the area was still buzzing with Old Plod and da FyA Boyz Kr3w. Rumours were abound and curtains twitched with alarming regularity. People were still evacuated from their homes and even after our return from a day out to Goole (of all places) people were STILL out of their homes and da FyA BoyZ Kr3w were still round in their big red engines. Oh! What a sight to behold!

This morning local chins wagged further as news broke that Old Plod had arrested a 28year old woman on suspicion of having her arse on. Oh the scandal! Nothing this exciting has happened in Brierley since the church had it’s roof lead pinched.

(Saturday’z Newz)
(Sundayz Newz)

We now return you to the abstinence and the delights of Guestwriter.


Horse Pr0n

So after a long hard day attempting to motivate myself into doing some of the tonnes of work I have to do before April 16th I return from Uni and put the car into the garage.

While I am closing the garage door I hear a strange harrumphing noise coming from behind me. Worried that it might be G the Human Dog in distress I look round to see, in the field behind the field behind the lane with no name, the horses.

Now you may recall recent events where the people who own the field behind the lane with no name went and bought a rather beautiful chestnut mare much to the delight of the white and black patchy horsy in the field behind the field behind the lane with no name. Since then, the black and white patchy horse (who shares a field with an off white horse and a donkey), has been putting on a fine display of horse widginess. I tell you, you’ve never seen a knob so big in all your life! It even rivals mine! So theres the patchy horse wopping it on display like some weird Long John Holmes of the horse world driven to heights of lust and desire by the chestnut mare, separated by a barbed wire fence.

So I’m there, I’ve looked round, and my eyes beheld a sight which I’ve only ever seen in websites frequented by kasperskyUncle Monty and billzyGirlzy. The two (male) horses in the field behind the field behind the lane with no name…..were…..bumming!

:-O

Of course I’m insanely jealous of this. But I tried to take a picture of the act for billzy you to wank gasp in awe over but the sun was in the wrong position and my camera phone is a bit slow now it’s over a year old. Still I’ve shoved it below the cut to protect the more sensitive readers. Even if it’s a crap picture.