Just back from a rhapsodic week in rural France, ensconced in a 300 year old, three storey mill, surrounded by sun, sheep, donkeys, cattle, birds (including large woodpeckers), flies, ants, snakes, mice, the odd rat, a turgid stream, unlimited supplies of wine, champagne, delicious bread and andouillettes, which you all know is a appetising sausage made from the small intestine of pigs and which, if it does not smell strongly of shite, is not worth eating.
The news which I am about to relate is all over the front pages of French, Italian and German newspapers and will make your toes curl with delight. This tit-bit, so I am told is also in the Russian and Israeli press but that is only hearsay as I could not translate their stuff. So wait for it…..
The reason for the urgent government meeting a week ago, that had been called by our lovely, fluffy David Cameron, was because his best mate and Cambridge buddy BoJo, Boris Johnson the Lord Mayor of London, has been waving, prodding and yes, inserting his magic and over-used wand into David’s beloved Samantha. Not once during a coke-filled weekend at a country house party, not twice in a fit of exuberance after a satanic ritual they had both attended but on and off for about five years and according to the continental papers it has been more on than off. Samantha has been a busy girl, working overtime because it is well known that Dave likes his bit of nooky as often as possible. In the foreign press there is talk of a love child and they seem certain that their is film footage of the two non-contracted lovelies going hell for leather for the whole world to watch and judge on style and technique. They say the Mossad and the KGB both have copies and are urging Dave to come to heel instead of thinking the odd independent thought he is known to have occasionally.
It has been known for years about Samantha and her liking for coke and S & M sessions and obviously when she flashed those long slender legs at poor Boris, he had no option but to suffer the whip and the lash and offer his large, oversized phallic digit for Samantha’s devourment. So be it, it seems some kind of D Notice has been slapped on the whole scene in England and we decent underbaked Brits will never read of it, while the whole world quakes with mirth at the happiness of it all, the chatter of cafe society from Moscow to Messina, from Vancouver to Volvograd.
Enough of the absurd, I was trying to write this blog last week whilst sunning myself in Ruritanian France but some bastard(s) hacked my blog, for the fourth time no less and by the time I had alerted my technical people and they had righted the wrong, my window on the French computer system had been lost. So pardon me if what I am about to relate is old hat but it does need saying for the odd eejit connected to St Bede’s College in Manchester who still does not keep his ear to the ground in the present climate.
One of my whistleblowers who I am convinced lives in Danny Kearney’s back-pocket has sent me significant and highly disturbing news of recent events at Bede’s. The triumvirate of Quinlan, Kearney and Pike have become a quadripartite, the three having co-opted no less a power than Andy Dando, Director of Studies into their midst. Now Andy Dandy was dead against the bias towards which Bede’s was tending and was offering his obviously very bright young lad for adoption at the local comprehensive. Now that he has joined the club, having thrown his boy in as a bargaining tool and presumably getting free education for his mite, he is responding mightily to the new Bedian vision of QuinKearnike education.
They made a unilateral four-sided decision to create the middle school without referring to the parents; those bonkers who pay the piper. They met great resistance from Mrs Carr Deed, who had been working wonders at the Prep in her short time in charge. Her Prep has been thriving whilst the College is failing. They have appointed a Head of Middle School and side-lined Mrs CD, who has been left as a nursery manager. Her position has become untenable and she has resigned. Kearney, Pike and Dandy Boy are putting out false signals saying the root cause of the College’s failure in attracting new pupils is because of the Prep’s inabilities. The Prep and Mrs CD are the fall guys. Shades of Michael Barber’s removal; same instigators, same modus operandi.
The teachers all know of this horrible intrigue but are unable to deal with it. I have said before and it has happened before, faced with machiavellian opposition teaching staff disintegrate. It is not in their being to be strong, they are just sheep leading lambs. The great hope in this scenario is that a strong-minded parent, there must be one or two knocking about, takes up the cudgel and faces this quartet and asks the question WHY? Why are we paying £9,000 plus per year for sending our kids to an under-achieving institution? You will have the massive majority of the staff on your side who will then work out ways of removing the total bollocks that are now in charge. Unfortunately all the half-decent governors have now resigned, they will have no help from that clergy poxed group. The task for this latter-day Jeanne d’Arc is massive but it desperately needs doing. The ship has been torpedoed, is listing badly. It is all down to thee.
My third point to day is even older news, news that happened a week ago and as we know even yesterday’s news is boring but my point has to be made.
Last Sunday as I relaxed in rural France surfing the net, sipping cold dry wine in a balmy 23C which was cooled by a soft westerly breeze, I laughed and chuckled whilst reading the long interviews Barry O’Sullivan, Catholic priest of the Salford Diocese, had given to the national press. The idiot Bazza sensing his great moment had arrived gave it hook, line and sinker to the assembled hacks of the main stream media. His whole life story, his experiences with child safeguarding, his depth of understanding as a therapissed, what total rubbish. A heavy blanket of lies spread over a rickety framework of life. His best move would have been to say nothing like any self-respecting priest or therapist but he was lured by the golden apple of fame and made a complete balls of it.
I know and Barry himself knows that he had no more concern for victims of clerical child abuse than the man in the moon. The sole purpose of his job during his 10 year tenure in the Safeguarding Commission was to act as long stop. Not to let any claim against the Salford Diocese gain legs, except of course when the claim was reported to the police first as with William Green’s case. I could write a book about his antics and when I think about it I probably have, with all the blog postings I have dedicated to his memory.
His record as a therapissed bears out his utter uselessness. How could he not spot that the child murderer, Mark Bridger, was not an inveterate liar after 20 odd sessions of therapy. Barry is one total nincompoop and that is why the press gave him hundreds of column inches so that he could sink his already dirty feet into the midden. The Mail on Line mischieviously put Bazza’s photo alongside that of the murderer and as my lovely wife of 40 years said “They look like a pair of twins”.
Poor old Barry he has completely lost his way, not that he knew he had a way to lose in the first place. What is it about the Catholic Church and especially the Salford Diocese and St Bede’s College, that they cannot see the utter balls they make of every action they take. Nero and his fiddle and Rome come to mind.