Foreign Nurses Flee Lancashire

Ayup, yon nesh foreign buggers ist bahn fer’t gua whum acause um’s not unnerstan t’local lingo. We’st’nt be mithered abaht it, uz’ll ‘ave more pies fer uzsel’s nah.

Ah’ll sithi at chip shop.

Meat Pies – Lancashire Penicillin (Image source)

Foreign nurses hired by East Lancashire Hospital Trust are quitting the NHS because the north is nothing like London (FUCK ME, ISN’T IT? I HAVE NEVER NOTICED). A quarter of recent recruits have left, in part as they are unable to understand the regional accent.

Christine Pearson, the chief nurse for the East Lancashire Hospitals NHS Trust, told a recent board meeting that the new recruits were under the misapprehension that they would be moving to London, the Telegraph has reported.

(Yeah, London, Blackburn, Burnley, accrington, Clitheroe, Barnoldswick, they all sound so similar its an easy mistake to make)

“When they came to England they felt they were coming to maybe London, so that was one of the issues we had to work on,” she told colleagues, adding “I had a patient say to me ‘you’re not from round here’, so even if you live 25 miles down the road in Manchester such as me, you’ll always have language barriers.

(I get the same and not only was I born in Manchester, 25 miles down the road, I have lived in East Lancs for over thirty years. Perhaps it was the years I spent in Shropshire when young that confuses them. can’t possibly be the fact that I went to a posh school and picked up standard grammnar can it?)

The trust has been forced to give language and pronunciation lessons to the new recruits to help them better understand the local dialect. Words like “blood” and “bath” were causing problems for foreign nurses more used to hearing southern British accents.

(Yeah well ‘blahd’ and ‘baaaarth’ aren’t in any dictionary, not our fault Londeoners can’t speak English)

The course, introduced last June, also familiarised the recruits with local phrases such as “I’m starved”, which means “I’m cold” in Lancashire, and “am a get”, as well as more common colloquialisms such as “make us a brew”.

(No wonder these people are confused. It’s ‘I’m a gate’ which puzzled me for years until I worked out the homonym, ‘I’m a gait’ – I’m going)

But 23 year old Italian nurse Greta Veneruz, who had moved to Blackburn, said: “We learnt English like how people speak in London and when we came here it didn’t sound the same.”

(As I said, Londoners don’t talk proper like wot we do)

The Royal Blackburn and Burnley General hospitals, both of which are run by the East Lancashire Trust, have between them recruited more than 40 nurses from mainland Europe in the last year. Most are from Italy, but a number have also arrived from Romania and Portugal.

The Truth – Labour Privatized The NHS between 1997 and 2010, Now Their Toxic Policies Are Bankrupting It
In the run up to the 2015 UK General Election, and without doubt beyond, one of the great political controversies will focus on the future of the national Health Service (NHS). While most voters consider The Conservatives to be the party of private profit and thus consider Labour a better choice to look after the NHS, Labour has in fact done more, and more damagingly, to privatize health services.

Labour’s NHS Privatization By Stealth PFI Deals Are Killing Hospital Patients
It is really gobsmacking to see every day, Labour supporters blaiming the Conservatives and Lib Dems for the NHS cisis and accusing UKIP of wanting to privatize the NHS,, when in reality UKIP, the only party whose leaders have real world business experience, are the only party that can or even wish to save the NHS. Get wise to LabLibCon corporate piracy.

Has Ed Miliband met his Bigotgate already?

Dan Hodges, a rabidly Blairite columnist for the Daily Telegraph (which explains perhaps why the DT is following The Guardian and Independent down the pan) commented on the incident in which Peter Baldwin, an aircraft electrician at BAE systems near Preston, Lancashire confronted Ed Miliband about Labour’s abandoning its working class roots.

Red Ed, the posh – boy Marxist, not only belittled Baldwin’s trade by equating it to a contruction electrician or the bloke wot fixes your granies washig machine (twenty – five quid for cash, luv) but similarly denigrated all skilled manual workers. And Hodges compounded the insult thus:

‘Now let’s have a look a Peter Baldwin. “The question on everybody’s mind is the referendum”. No, it isn’t. The question on everyone’s mind is who killed Lucy Beale?”

The Labour leader (right) asks electrician Peter Baldwin, “So who do you think killed Lucy Beale” (image source)

I sprayed the kitchen wall with cornflakes, then laughed so much I nearly shat. The idea is so ludicrous it deserves a prize at the comedy awards.

Peter Baldwin was talking about his fellow engineers in the staff room.

Does Danny Boy really believe that a bunch of engineers sit around discussing Eastenders? Who is Lucy Beale? Even my wife does not watch East Enders.

In my time I have worked with engineers, trod the factory floor, been a market trader and a computer professional. All put me into blokey environments and in none of them was Eastenders (or any soap for that matter) a topic for discussion. Who killed J.R.? Who gave a fuck?

Most conversations centred on sport, sex, and comedy. On occasion however the lads did discuss politics. And even tough I retired at fifty (Sixteen years ago), immigration and our relationship with the EU was high on the list of priorities, as were economics and foreign policy. On the EU, interestingly, the majority thought we should to get out because it was clear even then that Brussels was pushing towards a single federal state and that would mean loss of sovereignty and loss of civil rights.

Later in my career, as an IT consultant by then) I was involved with a corporation that employed more females and leftie types and guess what?

They also do not sit around discussing Eastenders – though to be fair they also don’t pay much attention to the EU either, preferring yo babble idiotically about equality and ‘yooman rights’.

The campaign has not even started properly yet, the election is still over two months away and already Labour, the paedophile l;oving party of elitists are busy showing their utter contempt for the the white working class, the demographic one whose votes they must rely for any hope of winning a majority.

What an awesome leader Ed Miliband has turned out to be. If David Cameron, Nick Clegg, Nigel Farage, Nicola Bennett and that weird woman who is more crab paste than caviar had selected the Labour leader, they could not have picked on who would aid their campaigns more.

No major UK political party has a coherent plan to cut immigration.
As the election creeps nearer, and latest figures show immigration has gone out of control again, it is clear UKIP is the only party willing to address the issue. The Liberal democrats would simply open the doors and dismantle all controls, while Convervative and Labour leaders mouth empty promises but are too afraid of being tagged ‘racist’ to act.

Ed Miliband Sounds Like A ‘Public Schoolboy’ Says Traditional Labour Voter

Labour out of touch on immigration

Miliband leading Labour into the wilderness
Labour rejects beer and pies for chardonnay and prawn sandwiches
Labour’s authoritarianism out of the closet

Labour, the (very rich, elitist) People’s party plans to ban your beer and pies

If Ed Miliband becomes Prime Minister in 2015 he plans to make him self even more unpopular than Tony Blair and Gordon Brown could ever achieve by implementing restrictions, tax hikes and outright bans on the sale and advertising of alcohol, junk food and tobacco, which are among the favourite things of Labour’s core voters.

hollands meat pie
Source: Wikimedia commons

Labour also plan to end the £300million sports sponsorship by drinks firms and impose minimum alcohol pricing to try cut down on the damaging effects of heavy drinking on people’s health so in another Public Relations faux pas, Red Ed is attacking the voters favourite pastimes as well. Talk about death wish politics.

Documents leaked to the Mail on Sunday, reveal proposals for new laws to limit the amount of sugar, fat and salt in food aimed at children, and a ban on advertising unhealthy products on TV before the 9pm watershed.

Drawn up by Andy Burnham (the Amazonian cockfish of British Politics) and shadow health secretary, the plans are alleged to have sparked a backlash within the party led by Chukka Ummna, tipped by some to succeed Miliband (sooner rather than later if Ed goes with this Nanny State bullshit). Supporters of Mr Umunna are worried the plans will appear ‘anti business and interventionist’, the Mail on Sunday reported. Obviously Ummna and his Blairite buddies are as out of touch as Miliband. They are more worried about the corporate profits of Coca Cola Corp, Kraft, Nestle and Macdonalds than the welfare of the people whose votes they take for granted.

Burnham’s nanny state plans may not help business but they are a direct attack on the working class lifestyle. And if there is one thing working class Labour voters will not tolerate it is being told how to live their lives by a bunch of effete, Oxbridge educated elitists.

So Labours big election winning strategy is to launch a direct attack on the lifestyles of their core voters. Smart move, let me give you an example of how this may work out: Wigan is known as the Land Of Pie Eaters; Wigan and the surrounding Lanshire constituencies vote solid Labour and love their pies, brands like Pooles, Rathbones, Oddies and Greenhalgh’s are famous and folk songs heve been writen about Hollands Meat Pies (video). Pies are classed as unhealthy food by cous cous loving metrosexual elitists like Andy Burnham (who is from Leigh, which makes his betrayal of Labour’s roots a hundred times worse.

Can anyone tell me how it is a winning strategy to attack the favourite food of voters in constituencies like Wigan, Makerfield, Leigh, St. Helens North and South, Bolton North East, South East and West, Chorley, Warrinton and Warrington North? In all there are 46 Labour seats in Lancashire, its unlikely all would be lost over a pie ban, but start attacking also the beer and ciggies that the working classes who vote Labour love equally and it will only take one picture of Nigel Farage, pint in one hand, pie in the other and a cigar in his mouth and enough of those seats could fall to UKIP to deny Labour an overall majority.

Repeat the story across Yorkshire, the North East and the East and West Midlands and Labour’s crackdown on drinking, smoking and unhealthy food could be a bigger disaster for the party than a “Yes” vote in the Scottish referendum. Again it shows that as Boggart Blog has always said the political elite are so out of touch with ordinary people they might as well be from a different planet. And most of them are, according to David Icke.

farage pint
UKIP will not prohibit your pleasures

Voter Backlash against Media UKIP Smears Is Good For Democracy

Once again the left are offended on behalf of people who aren’t offended

Picture Source: farm6 – flickr

Folk dances that involve ‘blacking-up’ are an English tradition and should not be regarded as racist, a Labour candidate for Parliament has insisted.

Will Straw, (son of a famous Labour figure) is the candidate in the marginal seat of Rossendale and Darwen, where he is already popular with local voters. young Will is looking a safe bet too keep the Straw familiy in Parilament when his Dad steps down as MP for Blackburn in 2015. In fact the biggest threat to Will is not from the Conservative, Lib Dem and UKIP candidates who will oppose him but from people trendy left wing elitist twats who have never been outside the M25 or north of Watford but are absolutely certain they know far more about the Lancashire Constituency than:

a) People who have lived in it all their lives
b) Veteran Labour MPs who served a neighbouring constituency for 30 years
c) Indian, Pakistani, Bangla Deshi and Caribbean migrants who have made their homes in the area.

Like many areas of England, Scotland and Wales, Lancashire has its own quaint, silly traditions which have gone on for years without bothering anybody. One of these, the Bacup Coconut Dance takes place in the Rossendale and Darwen Constituency and Will Straw thinks it is all good fun. He was criticised this weekend for saying so, after posting an image of himself on Twitter with the Britannia Coconut Dancers of Bacup, a 150-year-old troupe of Lancastrian clog dancers who perform every Easter.

Smug left wing twats who have elected themselves as politicaly correct guardians left wing morality are up in arms, they claim it is offensive and racist for rural English dancers to blacken their faces and that such celebrations show ignorance of history. Well fine, if you are one of those ignorant left wing morons who believes the bollocks written about the slave trade. There was never any slave trade in the Lancashire Mill Towns. Liverpool and before it Lancaster have been branded “slave ports” but that again is an idiotic misrepresentation by leftie activists expressing their hatred of their own race and culture.

Slaves went direct from Africa to the market places of the Americas, cotton, tobacco and other stuff came back to ports like Liverpool, Cardiff and Bristol and from there cargoes of … Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead, Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays (h/t Cargoes by John Masefield)went to the traders in Africa, although I suspect axes, knives and guns were more popular that Tyne coal, road rails and pig lead.

While critics claim the Coconutters dance is offensive, because blacking up has often been used by white performers to parody black people and culture, members of the Black and Asian communities (apart from a few troublemakers) are totally relaxed about it, just as they are about the nativity tableaux displayed in town centres every Christmas, which always prompt wailing and gnashing of teeth from lefties determined to be offended on behalf of somebody.

The problem of the left of course is so many of them are emotional cripples who need to be seen to “care” and thus end up offending the people they claim to care about.

Read more about Will Straw and the Coconutters

Should It Be A Crime To Kill Your Aged Parents?

There has been much said and written in the media recently about ending lives that are coming to an unfortunate but lingering conclusoan.

Yoof in Asia seems to get people at the BBC more excited that civil rights abuses in Africa while assisted suicide has really opened up a can of ethical worms.

Still, I’m not talking about either of these things, I am talking about murdering your parents. Or to be specific me and fatsally’s Dear Old Mum, our Dad having shuffled off this mortal coil already.

It is a topic my sister and I have blogged on before.

Let’s be right though, we really do love our Mum but sometimes, just sometimes …

Yesterday for example. We went up to Morecambe to buy Mum a lunch as it’s her birthday quite soon. Now the thing about Morecambe is whenever you go there, to quote a club comedian of the 1960s and 70s, it’s closed. So finding somewhere to buy Mum lunch has been a bit of a bugbear. We would be seeking a classy restaurant or bistropub and turn to her for advice as she’s the one with local knowledge.

Unfortunately that local knowledge only exends to places that do a ‘pensioner’s special’ three course lunch for £1.99.

But anyway, thanks to a feature in The Guardian a few months ago which I’d bookmarked for future reference, we found a promising looking place. The Hest Bank Inn, built in 1543, a traditional English public house complete with uneven floors, low ceilings, several legends (concerening highwaymen, witches, public hangings and Bonnie Prince Charlie), probably a ghost, and a decent menu at what I consider reasonable prices. It is is about three miles out of town towards Carnforth in a delightful and secluded setting. Ideal for a Brief Encounter one might think.

We examined the menu. Cleo Hart who was chauffeuring us to work off her debts to the Boggart Blog crisis fund and who likes seeing her Grandma almost as much as she loves driving my car, it still catching up on her eating after another winter on pasta and tomato sauce in seasonal workers’ shared accom. in the alps and so opted for a steak. Teri and I made our choices and then I turned to Mum who was grizzing about prices.

“Look, I’m paying and I’m not bothering about the price I told her.”

“Well I fancy a hotpot but it’s £11.95. Twelve pounds for a hot pot, that’s outrageous, I told you we should have gone to the Shit Shoveller’s Arms for soup, sheperd’s pie and sticky toffee pudding. It’s only £1.99 for three courses.”

“Mother! If you fancy a hot pot have a hot pot. Have two hotpots if you want. It’s your birthday treat.”

“I’m only thinking of you, you’ve always had more money than sense …”

“This is not a poor persons dinner in the Great Depression mother, it’s a gourmet Hot Pot served in a bitro pub that features in good eating guides; traditional English dishes are all the rage at the momen with foodies.

“Yes but it’s made with the cheapest cut of lamb or mutton with a few potatoes, carrots and onions.”

“Just shut the f-f-f… … … … just order.”

Eventually we ordered the Hot Pot

It looked delish. It smelled delish and if Jesus had had access to such a portion he would have fed 50,000 instead of 5,000.

Cleo was so enraptured with her steak she looked ready to shed all her clothes and ascend to a higher level of being, my steak baguette was wonderful and Teri’s roast beef was about half a bullock’s worth of prime Cumbrian meat.

Mum wasn’t entirely happy however. Her Hot Pot was made wth prime tender lamb fillet and not ‘scrag end’ as proper Hot Pot should be.

“But people will not eat scrag end now, it’s all fat and bone and gristle. Poor people used to eat it because they could afford nothing else,” we all told her. It was to no avail, she was off on a misty eyed reminiscence about poverty, hardship, badger’s arse stew and rickets – none of which affected her family as it happens, although Grandad Redfern could only afford to drive round in a bull nosed Morris Oxford rather than a Rolls Royce throughout the great depression. Yes Mum has known real hardship.

For all it’s lack of scrag end Mum polished off the Hot Pot, leaving nothing on the plate. She did insist on lecturing the waitress about the joys of scrag end however. Teri notoced my finger start to twitch as I gazed affectionaltely at Mum’s neck and gave me a sharp kick. The poor serving wench who was about 18 hadn’t a clue what the mad old woman was on about. She did pick up on our rolling eyeballs and stifled laughter however and ran away giggling hysterically.

As we made our way across the car park Teri commented that as we’d left the £5 tip in cash to get rid of some coins she hoped the same girl cleared the table.

“Five pounds,” Mum said, “You left five pounds tip? When I was that girl’s age five pounds was a weeks wage for a grown man.”

She turned and set off like a whippet to retrieve the week’s wage and leave a more reasonable sixpence but fortunately Cleo deftly tripped her and pinned her to the ground with an armlock.

Age timebomb

Psychic Power

This is not by best piece ever by a long way but I just had to write that headline.

Lancashire psychic Joe Power (see, I told you I had to write the headline) a wannabe celebrity psychic whose by line is (portentous chords) “He sees dead people didn’t see trouble coming his way from live(ish) people when he fell foul of the Merseyside Skeptics Society who question his claim to have supernatural abilities.

We’d love to be able to tell you Joe’s claim is actually true because he holds down a day job as a morgue attendant but we could get no information to back that up. We do have information on Merseyside Skeptics Society however. They are the arseholes who earlier this year staged a mass overdose protest against homeopathy. As we reported at the time the Merseyside Skeptics Society (calm down, calm down) got very excited about the sale of homeopathic remedies in Boots Chemist. To “prove” homeopathy is a fraud they gathered outside the Liverpool branch of Boots and drank amounts of homeopathic medicine that vastly exceeded the recommended dose. Then they didn’t die and claimed they had proved homeopathic remedies were useless despite the information on the remedies’ packaging clearly stating “There’s one born every minute,” and on the other side “Exceeding the recommended dose will not harm you.”

I would say the sceptics proved at least one claim made by homeopaths is true.

Back to Psychic Power however. He has alleged that Merseyside Skeptics Society have been conducting a campaign of harassment against him. Nonsense a spokesman for the sceptics said: All we have done is say his powers are mythical. Maybe the thkeptic thpokthperthon wath trying to say mystical but had a thpeech impediment. Could a psychics powers be mythical, like King Arthur or Robin Hood or Jason and the Argonauts? Is there anything in classical literature about The Mythical Mystic of Mykonos? No? Oh well, worth a try.

So in the end does Joe Power have the power? We don’t know, nor do we care much in fact we were happy to have never heard of him until the Merseyside Skeptics Society gave the life giving oxygen of free publicity to his career as the man who speaks to the dead.

The Sceptics on the other hand we have to feel sorry for. The irrational faith in reason and logic of people who go to great lengths and waste their hard earned proving something known to be harmless is actually harmless makes them sadder than the people who ask Psychic Power to contact Great Uncle Fred and ask him where he hid the keys to the safe deposit box. On the other hand if the sceptics really want to scupper Psychic Power’s career they could try putting a curse on him.

Zombies Getting Back Together?

Soft Southerners In The Snow.

We in the north have always known southerers were a bit on the soft side.

Additional proof, if any were needed, came in one of the news bulletins about snow disruption. In rural parts Surrey people who own 4 x4s have been charching owners of ordinary cars £10 for help getting out of snow.

Now if that had been in Lancashire, Yorkshire or places even further north the fee is £25 … and you can say goodbye to your kneecaps if you try to get out of paying.

More humour every day at Boggart Blog

Meat Pie And Rice

You can’t beat meat pie and peas, it was the staple diet of people in East Lancashire according to the late Barbara Castle when she was elected MP for Blackburn in 1945. Rice and peas is an essential part of any Caribbean or Cajun feast. But Meat Pie and Rice? It just doesn’t go.
Now pie and mash may be the preference of Londoners and once prosperity came to the north we soon became upwardly mobile enough to extend the spread to pie, chips and peas. The more adventurous of us, influenced by the influx of immigrants from the Indian sub-continent in the 1970s even dumped the glutinous, tasteless gravy served by chip shops in favour of curry sauce. Meat pie, chips, peas and curry; who said the north is not sophisticated?
We may well prove rather too sophisticated for one member of our government’s American friends because the Rice in question is none other than Condoleeza Rice who has been invited by her opposite number Jack Straw to spend a few days in his Blackburn constituency and see close up the way an integrated community works.
One has to w0nder at the wisdom of exposing a member of America’s religious right to so many turbans, hijabs, shalwar kameez and beards of mass destruction, not to mention the shimmering dome of Blackburn’s new mosque, of which we are all rightly proud. In Ms Rice’s home state, Alabama or Mississippi, somewhere like that, the white protestants are burning the churches of black protestants so the sight of Anglo Saxon protestants hob -nobbing with Bangladeshi Muslims could easily be too much for even a black American. East Lancashire could end up on the A list of turrrist states populated by evil doors and people of Evelyn Tent. It would be interesting to see how the might of the American military would fare against a few hundred hardcases from Blackburn, Accrington and Burnley but I suspect the outcome would be no contest. In the pubs around Bacup people still mutter darkly about revenge for the cotton famine (1861 – 64) that closed the mills and caused widespread hardship. And the Muslim community are not going to be overjoyed to see one of the main cheerleaders for the war on terror.
Maybe Jack Straw is more shrewd than I give him credit for though. Since Blair’s government lent its support to war there has been considerable inter-racial tension in the area but the one way to unite a community is to show them a senior member of the Bush administration.
I hope Ms Rice is treated to pie and peas in a decent chip shop but dread to think what might happen if he takes her for a Chicken Tikka Masala in the Azad caff.
They are oiling the Lee Enfields from Bengal to Bacup.