Two wheels good

Heard the Tories and Labour debating who has the biggest claim to cycling on the Today programme this morning.

It was all a bit bizarre, really. David Cameron and all pedaling away like fury. Labour saying it was a working class sport. Less working class when you’re flitting about on three grand’s worth of Canondale, perhaps.

But... there are now speed gate things on the Regent’s Canal (very Labour) – presumably to make sure no cyclists mow down one of the fearsome looking dogs that stalk the banks, or the drunken and hostile anglers, or the drug dealers.

Chavs batter cops

Holy crap.

Teenage girl drops litter. Policemen tell her to pick it up. She does, but then drops it. Police not happy. Mob attempts to lynch police. Police rescued by truckloads more police.

This is absolutely bonkers. At what stage is it OK to batter the police over a bit of litter. Come to think of it, at what stage is it OK to drop litter.

Put with the crazed fashion for stabbings, this shows just how insanely out of control is chav culture.

All that surveillance. All that bleating about ID cards. All that hammering of folk over parking fines and whatnot... And the real deal is that a good chunk of the population is feral.

What we need to solve it are some committees and targets, I reckon. That’ll take care of it. And some more citizenship lessons. 

Sweater girl research

On reflection, I think the chap mentioned in my last post was confusing Lana Turner with Betty Grable.

Easy mistake to make.

The picture clearly shows a sweater and dates to 1939, apparently.

Uxbridge earwig

Was up at Uxbridge this afternoon to see Middlesex v the touring South Africans. Not a particularly interesting day’s cricket as the visitors plundered a weak Middlesex attack.

Overheard three older chaps talking. I couldn’t help but listen after I heard this…

‘Of course, Bridgitte Bardot was a sex kitten... And just look at her now.’

[general agreement]

‘And Dorris Day…’

[more assent]

At this point the second chap chimed in...

‘Of course, you’re a little bit older than us. Do you remember Betty Grable?’

‘Oh yes. The girl in the sweater?’

‘No. The legs, the legs.’

The conversation progressed to tales of National Service days. The Betty Grable questioner was recounting an episode that had brought him into contact with a colonel in the Home Guard, whose brown boots he remembered vividly.

‘He hadn’t served in the Second World War. He hadn’t served in the First World War. He’d served in the Boer War…’

You wan’ skunk?

On my way home I tend to pass through Camden on the Regent’s Canal. On the towpath of the Regent’s Canal, to be exact.

For years, this has been a place that is positively heaving with drug dealers and it has been rare to see a police officer in the vicinity. 

In recent weeks, I think this has changed. Not sure if that is to do with the new Mayor of London or not. Tonight there were four PCOs and four fully fledge Met officers down there. Admittedly, they were grilling a pair of hagard-looking, ageing Camden druggies and there wasn’t a dealer in sight, but it seem as if at least a point was being made.

Won’t be so good, of course, when the dealers decamp to outside Defiant Towers.

Sir’s shirt, sir

I’ve been more busy than a busy thing and I’ve rather let the Defiant slip. Nobody likes a slipped Defiant.

Still, I did buy a couple of shirts from TM Lewin today. I noticed recently that they didn’t have a sale on. That came as a surprise, because I thought they always had a sale on. Suffice to say, the sale is now back on so it’s £25 for what seems to me a perfectly decent, smartish shirt that can be worn in the orifice.

Noticed that the folks working there put on airs and graces à la Jeeves or Bunter. I always find that quite endearing in a cut-price shirt emporium where there are a plate of boiled sweets amid the silken knots and other bits ’n’ bobs.

Helped myself to a Murray Mint – seemed only appropriate given our boy was about to go into battle against the unfeasibly muscular Nadal. It was rather good (the mint, not the tennis). Don’t think I’ve had one since 1984.