Up Close and Personal
The Monthly Opinion
by CTM founder, Phillip Day

Hi Folks,

June is here with the interminable World Cup and Wayne Rooney's metatarsal scare. I was blessed with no football genes so, forgive me, but I'm left colder than Le Carré's spy at the sight of our boys going 'into the fray' led by a Swede dating an Italian. A pity Britain's pyhrric patriotism in honour of a pig's bladder does not extend to the nation's real issues, and perhaps that's the real scare. When a nation can sigh easy in its bed, burping up Red Bull, cheering on Becks and Co while the final instruments of its conquest are being dotted and crossed in the far-off corridors of a foreign power.

Let's talk about the English spirit. Eight-year-old Cait Atkins is struck crossing a road in Aylesbury and the driver does a runner - no surprises there (the number of scumbags in Britain today has quintrupled, one must inevitably make allowances). What happened next, or rather didn't, is the real shame. Up to a dozen cars drive around Cait's crumpled form as she lies in agony in the middle of the road. Not one stops to offer assistance. One even waits impatiently for her to crawl out of the way.

Brian and Sarah Neal, the first who did stop, were beside themselves with anger: 'You could see a trail of blood where she had dragged herself most of the way across the road and she was screaming in pain with a bone sticking out of her leg. People were having a good look and driving straight past.'

Another scumbag, Barry Chambers, takes refuge on a Gloucester roof after allegedly stealing a car. He bombards the police with bricks and missiles. So, instead of going up there to fetch him down, Gloucester Police buy him a KFC meal, a bottle of Pepsi (the can was rejected in favour of a two-litre bottle) and a packet of fags so his rights aren't 'infringed'. In the unlikely event the plan was to plug up the fellow's arteries so he rolled off the roof and landed between the paws of a K9 unit, one could at least admire such a unique approach to the problem. Sadly, this wasn't the case.

Which is why no-one has any respect for the police in Britain anymore, least of all the criminals who once feared having their collars felt. With such a bovine, uncaring and self-indulgent population willing to let all this continue, we can expect more of the same until we find us some real national pride, tell the EU and its Human Rights charter to get stuffed, and bring an end to this tragic, liberal experiment with the mores of our civilisation. Patriotism for life, not just for the World Cup.

On the health side, MMR/autism is back on the books - once again the pharma-rodents scurry for cover. Apricot kernels get another bashing but Ad Lib magazine comes to the rescue. Some great testimonies. Oh, and I've decided to change one of the 100 Simple Changes icons. From now on, Start Complaining. Let's have Outraged from Tunbridge Wells, Fed-Up from Fargo and Ticked Off from Toowoomba. Or, like Gloucester Plod, we'll soon discover allowing the loonies free rein of the asylum will cost us all a little more than just Barry's Bargain Bucket and a packet of Winstons.

Happy, fighting-mad June everyone!

Phillip