I wonder how many of you recognise that title ... Sandy Beds. Well, when I first sent off my 10 shilling postal order to RSPB Headquarters, Sandy, Beds it was after a rather gormless 2-year delay. This was because the thing you joined then, the young people's bit of the RSPB, was called the Junior Bird Recorders Club. Being a naive soul, I thought that meant you had to have a tape recorder and you had to do lots of taping of bird songs. What twerp I was. But why did they give it such a stupid title ? Far too earnest and cumbersome and ..well .... dull. Anyway, that cost them a couple of ten-shilling subscriptions, so there. Also ... 10 bloody shillings was an absolute fortune back then, although, to be fair, it might have been 5 shillings .... even that was about 8 years pocket money. Seeing as I'm going to be a tad critical of the RSPB, I'd better give it a code name so they won't know what I'm talking about. How about the STQC .. that'll fool them. And they are a bit stqc up their own arses in some ways. It's based on that computer, HAL, which is IBM all moved down one letter. Except that I've moved it all up one letter. Anyhow, many many many years later, The Significant Otter and me were motoring around in't South .... I can't remember if we had the twins with us ... I hope not ... and we saw a sign .. it said ... Sandy !! So ...we went to the legendary Sandy, Beds at last. I was going to see what they'd done with all my money. I was not impressed with the reception for a start. And they hadn't a bloody clue about what birds might be about. Not only that, but they weren't interested either. They also had a map which was totally useless.... as are all maps dished out by places like that. But I won't mention it now. No. And then we wandered around trying to find something worth seeing .... nope ... and in the distance we spotted a HUGE building. And do you know what it was full of ? It was bulging with hundreds and hundreds of STQC workers, all beavering away doing MARKETING. Yes, MARKETING. Selling tea-towels with Avocets on them. Maybe other things, I don't know. Thimbles with wrens on I expect. I believe they even do Joy Division Oven Gloves now. I didn't like that. It fulfilled all my direst expectations. I fully expect that 98% of the money they raise get snaffled up by the management. Maybe 99%. And here's a thing ... that magazine they do ... over the years it has gone more and more useless, pathetic, populist and crap. And I bet the pages full of advertising has increased by 20% per year, and will asymptotically approach 99.99999 % of the blasted thing any time now. But hey ... I'm sure they know best. I'm not even going to mention the vast amounts of money spent on misguided improvements, on posh chalet-style fancy hides, on bigger and "better" restaurants and outlets, on VEM's ( Visitor Experience Managers) who spend all their time trailing parties of infants and/or Boys Scouts around their reserves, pointless hierarchies of interns, volunteers, managers, under-managers, over-managers, opportunists and halfwits. And isn't it strange that nearly all of those interns are attractive young women ? No ,not really. So .... that's my humble thoughts triggered by my visit to Sandy Beds. I've tried to keep it as positive as possible. But now, 'tis music time ..... and guess what .. it's "Joy Division Oven Gloves" by the wonderful Half Man Half Biscuit ... Well they say she’s too hot
Yeah but guess what I’ve got Joy Division oven gloves If it’s her desire I’ll put my fingers in the fire ‘Cos I’ve got Joy Division oven gloves I’ve got Joy Division oven gloves Ooh ooh tropical diseases Ooh ooh chemical alarm Ooh ooh I’m a little blase In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves Oh I’ve been here and I’ve been there In me Joy Division oven gloves I’ve been to a post-punk postcard fair In me Joy Division oven gloves Ooh ooh Nagasaki towpath Ooh ooh tickling the Laird Ooh ooh checking out the Quantocks In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves On a sinking ship a sailor yearns For his Joy Division oven gloves Nero fiddles while Gordon burns In his Joy Division oven gloves Talk to the hands, talk to the hands In my Joy Division oven gloves Dance dance dance dance In your Joy Division oven gloves Ooh ooh piccalilli shinpads Ooh ooh polishing the knave I keep wicket for the Quakers In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves In me Joy Division oven gloves My grandfather’s clock was too tall for the shelf So I sold it and opened up a stall Selling Joy Division oven gloves We got Joy Division oven gloves Get your Joy Division oven gloves Hallelujah
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AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
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