I am depressed; absolutely mortified; inconsolable in fact; you may well ask what it is that has me in this state? Chelsea won at Liverpool, okay the rugby semi-finals were a disappointment if you’re Irish, but something far worse has now occurred in village life.
“She who wears the Trousers” popped into Morrisons the other day and observed a new form of ploughman’s pie on sale. You will recall that over Easter, I expressed my distress that the beloved and now much missed Pork, Cheese and Pickle Ploughmans pie had been removed from sale. Well having brought a slice of the new version for my delectation, I can only report that this is not only an inferior version of our much loved stodgy delight, but it looks absolutely nothing like a ploughmans pie. In fact one would hesitate to call it Pork.
I have a picture of the aforementioned material below: you can draw your own conclusions.
Leaving aside the assault on my tastebuds by the cheap imitation above, I feel moved to report that there doesn’t appear to be much in the way of election fever around our village. Apart from a few leaflets from the main candidates – all delivered by some miracle via Royal Mail – there is a particular dearth of actual candidates knocking on the doors. As a keen observer of village life, not even our prospective local councillors have paid us a visit, they are also relying on leaflet drops and the odd telephone canvass. The British Numpty Party have managed to festoon the front of one house in Brownhills with it’s posters – either that or they’re skimping on the decorating again.
With a live candidate about as common round here as rocking horse manure, the Labour candidate did pledge that if elected he will move into the Brownhills ward – assuming he can affect a mutual exchange with another tenant to move closer to Walsall – as if people are that keen to move closer to Walsall ha ha.
Seems like I now have a reason after all, to retrieve the polling card from the recycling bin – and vote for someone else!!