We made good time on the return journey, mostly because the kids were so knackered after their week of late nights and frantic activity, that they slept through it. We only needed to stop once, to let the poor hound stretch his legs, while those of us who were awake, unloaded our bladders.
And oh boy, was I pleased to get off those bloody horrendous highways and byways. I guessed my blood pressure would be soaring and I had to see McGivitup the following day!
You couldn’t move in our house after all the gear had been unloaded. And I just knew it would be down to me to sort it all out and put it away! Then there was the pile, or should I rephrase that to, enormous mountain, of washing, it took up most of the kitchen floor! And that was without mentioning all the picnic stuff, the pots, the pans, blah de blah, that would need a good scrubbing before it was put away for next time. I was not looking forward to the following few days!
Still, I rang the surgery and made an appointment to see McGivitup.
After running about like a blue arsed fly washing up, laundering and generally trying to get back to normal, I was quite surprised when McGivitup announced that my blood pressure was normal! My God I couldn’t believe it, there was something about my life that was normal! Wonders will never cease, them there Scottish hills must have worked their magic.
McGivitup even commented on how well I was looking.
“I had quite a chat with your father while he was in hospital and then again when I paid him a home visit.”
Now why didn’t that surprise me?
“So your best buddies now I suppose?”
He ignored my sarcasm.
“He tells me your something of a political activist?”
“What can I say, guilty as charged.”
“He also described you,” the doc grinned, “as being the type of person who can fall into cess pool and still come out smelling of roses!”
“My God, that was mildly worded for Father Augustus. Normally it would be a cess pool of bubbling, festering turds!”
“Your father tells me,” he said, picking up on the general sewage theme, “that that you took on the might of Yorkshire Water when they were polluting the sea with raw sewage. Now that’s a story I’d like to hear.” His eyes were shinning with anticipation.
“Now that is a long story.” Then I suddenly remembered, “but I did keep a diary of my run in with the water board nincompoops, because it started way before Father Augustus realised, he only found out what I was up too when I got my ugly mug on the tele.”
Bugger, my mouth had run away with me again! Why did I have to go and admit I’d kept a diary, the docs eyes were now begging me to let him have a read! Only I couldn’t remember quite what they contained? But this was me Constantine Payne, my diary was bound to be written my stylie, which McGivitup would definitely consider mad, gibberish, deranged even!
“I’m on hospital duty tonight, I could do with some reading material.” He said hopefully.
“I’ll see if I can dig it out.” I reluctantly said, committing myself to nothing.
“Oh good, I’ll call at your house later to see if you’ve been able to locate it.”
I had risen to leave and had just reached the door.
“I have an afternoon free tomorrow if your interested in a bike ride?”
“Yeah sure,” I replied.
“And if you don’t mind, I’ve been studying the ordnance survey map and I’ve plotted a route for our next adventure.” He beamed.
Now why did that send a shiver down my spine?
All the way home I was wracking my brain, trying to recall what I’d written in my diaries all those years ago. As snatches came back to me, I got the distinct feeling I had just dropped myself into one of Father Augustus’s vats of bubbling festering turds! The question was, would I come out smelling of roses this time or would McGivitup be signing the papers for the asylum?
It took me minutes to find the dreaded diaries, I started to read.
Dear diary, run in with the water board nincompoops, summer of 1991.
You know I keep trying to tell them what they are letting themselves in for, but do they listen? Do they hell as like!
And that’s where they are heading, hell!
Take our local water authority as an example, they think they are really clever with the millions they cream off the punters, who incidentally, get no say what so ever, in what happens to their money once it reaches the water wasters sweaty mits!
Well oh boy have I got news for them, because they are not clever at all, they are really quite stupid! And like I said, I did try to warn them, when they decided, without my knowledge, to take me to court for a thirty quid debt , which they successfully doubled to sixty, by slapping on court costs! I mean, we are no different to the majority in this country, eking out a living on a low income and vast outgoings. My old man The Top Dog works, he works damn hard, but we still find it a constant struggle to make ends meet. So naturally, from time to time we flounder and get a bit behind. But do the plebs even try to understand? No they do not! So obviously, when I discovered I’d been taken to court without even being informed, there was steam coming out of my ears, I declared war there and then!
Now this is where it becomes interesting, because I sat down and put pen to paper and sent them this little missive.
Dear Sir or Madman,
I would just like to ask your company, and indeed the judge who judges such cases, exactly how do you suppose that doubling some-ones debts by court action, when it’s obvious that they are already struggling financially can possibly aid your own, or indeed any-ones case?
I would just like to remind you all, most especially the judge, that one day you will have to make answer to your creator for your judgements, and as it is supposed to be the judges job to judge fairly, then I know some of you are going to have a hard time explaining away the added burdens they place upon the innocent. Thanks to the gross unfairness of this system, people like us have trouble surviving day to day, without being crippled by un-understanding companies like this one, that sees fit to crucify struggling families with court costs, instead of offering a little time and tolerance.
To my mind if anyone ought to be on trail, it’s the governors of this fair land, that sees fit to punish the innocent with their endless rules and regulations that benefit only those who aren’t in need of benefit! But then this old world is run on corruption isn’t it?
Still, who cares, it’s only their own lives they are sacrificing , life eternal or death eternal at the end of the age, and we all know where the unjust are going don’t we?
So thank you and farewell.
That told ‘em!
But that’s not the end of the story, not by a long chalk. At the end of my missive I added a PS, to the tune of, I’ll offer to pay five pounds per week to pay off any arrears.
It wasn’t long before I got my reply.
Five pounds per week simply wasn’t good enough. Slapped handies! And if I didn’t offer a more substantial amount, or clear this debt completely by blah, blah date, which was ten days later, then they would be taking me to court again, at a court about fifty miles away from where we live!
That would be loads of travelling expenses to cough up!
I didn’t have to go of course, I could have offered a few more quid.
But I didn’t want to offer a few more quid! We had little enough money to go round as it was, and besides, I was busting for a confrontation with these people. I wanted to tell them loudly, exactly what I thought about their stinking rotten methods.
So, I didn’t even bother to waste a stamp to reply, I just sat back and waited for my invitation to go and play. I must be the only person who has looked forward to going to court, and oh boy did I enjoy myself when I got there.
I stepped into that courtroom proud, with my head held high, fully armed with ammo to fire at them.
I was met by a representative from the shit shovellers and the judge, both sitting. Judgie was in the process of reading my letter and I swear, when I walked into that room, he had a tremble on, not obvious like, but my letter appeared to be doing a bit of quacking in his sweaty mits! He immediately referred to my letter and the criticism of him as a judge, and much to the water wasters consternation, the first half of the sitting consisted of judgie making answer to me for the position he is in, and no, it’s not always a fair system, but he is only doing his job as the law dictates! Catch that word did you? Dictate, that’s what they do, dictate…think about it.
Still, the judge and I had already established that the law was out of order and I was beginning to warm to this bloke.
Meanwhile sewer rat was obviously pissed off as he did his best to keep up the officially intimidating stance, as they do, he didn’t succeed , especially as I had trouble keeping the smirk off my face every time I looked at him. No, the poor lost soul was destined to go steadily downhill from there on in, as we moved onto the reason for us all being there. My whopping great debt of sixty quid, of which you will recall, only thirty was the original figure.
I was asked if ten pounds per week was an acceptable amount to clear this debt?
Well I’m not actually sure I want to pay it, said I, especially considering one hell of a cock up had been made by these plebeians at Scalby, where they had quite literally flushed millions of the customers money down the drain on a sewage scheme that no one wanted and which caused horrible illnesses among the locals from the ghastly chemicals they used, and that’s without mentioning the horrific chemical stink they were forced to live with! There had been public outcry about this matter, but did Yorkshire Water listen? Did they hell as like. They went right ahead and did exactly as they pleased regardless of public opinion or consequence, just like many other corrupt corporations do!
There was no stopping me now.
I gave the water waster the evil eye as I said off the top of my head, there are a LOT OF VERY ANGRY PEOPLE out there who are demanding the heads of the chairman and his board of directors, for having proved themselves to be totally incompetent and therefore unworthy to manage, or should I say mismanage, the publics money that is paid to take care of the water which is life!
His face was a picture to behold, and I mean, he wasn’t to know that I was the majority doing the demanding was he? But then maybe I’m bigger than any mass could ever be, just by being me! Fish…that’s all I’ve got to say about that is…FISH!
Anyway, I returned to judgie to ask for his opinion on this problem, telling him plainly I wanted to rebel.
He told me that it wasn’t his place to promote rebellion but then proceeded to advise me to get loads of local coverage, radio, newspapers, that sort of thing. I was becoming quite fond of this chappie.
We began chatting about associated topics. I told him about some truly wonderful people I was lucky enough to know, The Sons of Neptune, a group of professional nice guys who did silly things like parade through busy high streets, dressed in mourning garb, carrying coffins, to highlight the murder that is and shall continue to go on through the sea being polluted with raw sewage.
It turned out he knew one of them, my pal the lawyer. But apparently the lawyer didn’t yet know the judge was a judge. I gave him my wickedest grin and said, no,? Well he soon will!
Our social intercourse was brought to a close, mostly because the sewer rat was looking decidedly peeved. So an agreement had to be reached. Judgie advised me that my best policy would be to pay up, because if I didn’t the only thing that I would achieve, would be me amassing more and more court costs. So it was sort of agreed that I would pay ten pounds per week, but, I made it clear that although I was saying I would keep to this plan, I wasn’t promising anything.
And as it turned out, I made one payment and then promptly lost my paying in book!
It must have been when I sent it to Paul Foot, of daily Mirror fame, as part of my documented proof of case. Good old Paul informed the nation what a pack of useless money grabbing plebs are in charge of Yorkshire Water, but meanwhile, oh dearie me, I appear to have lost my paying in book, what a tragedy! And then promptly forgot all about it.
Anyway, it came to pass that The Top Dog, that is darling hubby, decided it was time to forget about all the bills and spend the money, which isn’t a lot, even though he does work his bollocks off, on a few days camping. Have a rest sort of thing, and what a rest it was I tell you! Carting a massive rucksack each, a tent, our little love bug…or spoilt brat depending on the mood of the moment, his pushchair and one of our two woof machines, a huge fat blob of a collie, who hates buses would you believe, on and off busses all over Northumberland! Beautiful place, wonderful friendly people…but relaxing? Never!
We got home completely knackered to discover, that not only had the two teenage monsters, that is my two kids from a previous marriage to Peter the fisher of men whose fluffed it, had had a gathering…that’s a wild party in our speak, which is another story completely. But, our wonderful water authority had dropped us a pleasant little ditty, informing us that unless we paid fifty smackeroo’s, by, the next day by now, then we could fully expect the bailiffs to pay us a visit to recover that amount in our goods, or, if that failed they were legally within their rights to disconnect our water supply…can you believe that? Do you understand the sinister undertones of that statement?
It means they have been granted legal licence to murder poor people!
Could it be that they have a conspiracy, you know, a dirty deal, going with the Magog Hag whose finally figured out this long term answer to the unemployment problem?
Like, I’ll sell you the water industry, which the thick suckers paid to install in the first place with their taxes, you lot can get good and fat and filthy rich on all the profits your gonna cream. Then you push the costs up and up until they are out of reach of those working class commoners, then you cut their life line, they snuff it because I’ve already made sure the rivers and streams are poisoned, so they won’t be able to resort to those, then hey presto, no more unemployment! In fact, a lot less of those nasty, vulgar, tedious commoners who keep threatening our glorious powerful positions with their constant wails of injustice! So, if you’ll scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours and together we’ll solve this problem all legal and above board!
But yeah anyway, back to our tale of woe.
The bailiff came, quite a small chap he was, and reasonable too. I asked him if he had anything to do with Yorkshire Water? No, said he. Aren’t you the lucky one? Said I. He agreed.
And to cut a long story short, he accepted a fiver a week off my massive debt and offered to call round every week to collect fivers until the debt was cleared.
I wonder how much that cost them? But it’s not for me to question the wisdom of their ways. LIKE HELL IT IS!!! A sea polluted with meningitis, hepatitis, gastritis, even the aids virus, without mentioning the rest, I’m not questioning, I’m condemning!
And I’m allowed to condemn because God Almighty said so!
Yes Rolf, she’s bought and she’s definitely bringing.
I’ve got a stairway direct to heaven, but have they? I don’t think so!
You see, it’s like this, when you pop your little old clogs and shuffle off this mortal coil as it were, it’s a similar action to the water cycle. Actually it’s nothing like the water cycle, because water isn’t wrapped in anything like we are, it just is. But you’ll get the drift when you look at the humble raindrop. It comes down from the sky and meets up with other raindrops, collectively they form streams, rivers, lakes, seas and oceans, and this is the bit I’m searching for, the collectively bit. Because quite apart from the feeding and nourishing they do along the way, keeping the whole of everything alive and living, that humble raindrop comes together with the rest eventually. And that is what happens to you when you draw your terminal breathe and snuff it. Your spirit becomes one with the rest, and this is where you worry folks, this is where your gonna wish you hadn’t robbed people blind, selling something that God gives freely. Because as soon as you evaporate as it were, your every earthly thought, your every earthly action is how you might say, laid open for all above you to witness. Nothing absolutely nothing is hidden. No vision but you see. No sound but you hear. It’s a bit like thought, you don’t see it, you don’t hear it, but it’s there! And I’ve lost myself with all this wandering, but what I’m trying to point out is the fact that you good people are paying over your hard earned money to dead people! It’s the end of the age and all those who abuse Gods trust for their own personal selfish ends ‘aint coming back, at least not unless they see the light and put back all they’ve taken out. Until then they are walking, talking dead people.
Life goes round and around, it’s a circle. The body ages and dies but the soul lives on and ascends to God. Then, dependant upon your actions on earth, either you are free to map out your own future incarnation or your not.
For example, why do you suppose turkey is the traditional Christmas dinner these days? It’s no accident, it’s because that is where all your power hungry, corrupt politicians are heading, gabble, gabble…dead meat!
The Jews are wrong about pork. They weren’t once upon a time, once upon a time their seers took good care of them because those Godly people knew how dodgy pork is without refrigeration, it’s a killer. So God warned them off via the prophets. But He is warning them no more, because we have got hi-tech now where meat can be stored safely. So used under these hi-tech measures and the pigs allowed to grow naturally, pork is no longer a danger. In fact it’s pretty damn tasty. Plus our naughty boys in blue have been aptly named by their adoring public, so do the right thing all you perverted bum inspectors out there. Yes folks, what an eye opener eh? Your tax money being spent to give these debauched twats paid legal access to live out their sick fantasies on your bums, and let’s face facts, it could be you next time, anyone coming through customs these days is a possible target!
But, talking about foreign affairs, we come to the Mad Ass Moron of the Middle East, old Saddam the mad man. David Icke once said he was dead, and he wasn’t wrong, that man is as dead as the do-do, extinct, eternal dead meat. God said the songsters of the middle heaven are to eat of the flesh of Kings, and this sad man who thinks he’s a King, is soon to become a big fat funky chicken just for starters. Imagine it, an eternity of being incarnated to be dished up with mint sauce, apple sauce, stuffing and all the other delights, all to be endured with the awareness of a human, while the rest of us get bombed in his eternal palaces! Doesn’t bear thinking about really does it? But whose fault is that Mad Man? And I wouldn’t like to be in Bush’s socks either! Or the old Magog Hags, because I get first go at planning her future incarnation! That’s how it works see, each and every life that an individuals actions cause harm to, that life owns the same portion of the soul of the inflictor…so that’s her well fucked isn’t it? Her works have caused misery to the vast proportion of the planet!
What’s the betting McGivitup is a staunch conservative who worshipped at the iron maidens feet? Was a thought that flashed through my mind!
I was beginning to visualise life in an institution looming!
If he read this he would most definitely believe there were bats in my belfry! It was too much information too soon. And I hadn’t even refreshed my memory as to what round two contained yet!
I stuck my nose back in my diary.
Run in with the water board nincompoops. Round Two. Summer 1993.
After the last episode concerning our ever efficient friends in the water industry, I began to busy myself collecting associated news paper cuttings.
I also joined a local action group that had been set up to put pressure on these people regarding the raw sewage they pumped directly into the sea. Yawn! There was an awful lot of talk and very little action, I soon became bored and decided to branch out and do my own thing.
One of Saladin’s friends created for me, on his college computer, a poster like picture of the Christian cross, set in the sea, covered in all sorts of fetid filth that gets pumped out into the sea along with the raw sewage, toilet paper, sanitary towels, blah, only to be washed up later with the incoming tide. He headed the poster, Trying To Get The Message A-Cross! I mounted this at the centre of a huge piece of cardboard, then began to add news clippings with headlines such as, Sons of Neptune Claim Raw Sewage Could Lead to Super Bugs… Not Good Enough for Bestselling Beach Guide… Awash With Dosh… £6 Million Sewage Scheme Slammed… Anger at Revelations of Outfall Chemicals… Dirty Business… If You Saw What Was Dumped in the Sea You Would Never Go Near it Again… And so on and so forth. I added around the information that accompanied the many headlines, statement cuttings I found apt like… Darkroom delights, can you survive?… Health choice you don’t want. Six different clippings linked together issued the warning… How to avoid aids, stay out of Yorkshires water. And so I went on. I even added jokes… Do not drop litter use the ocean provided! I built up my collection until I had some thirty exhibits of condemnation. It was time for a public showing.
Meanwhile, The Top Dog had formed a band, Turn, with his cousin and a couple who are friends of ours. They gigged locally for various charities and had built up quite a following. I began taking my exhibition of condemnation along for the fans to peruse, while making sure there were plenty of leaflets containing the address’s of the people to whom complaints should be directed.
Then the couple in the band were blessed with my God son and the band folded.
So I stopped paying my water bill!
The court summons duly arrived, but this time round I was well prepared.
For my defence I wrote a letter to the court.
Dear Sir or Madam,
In defence to the reasoning behind my with-holding payments to Yorkshire Water Services.
I wish to draw your attention to the fact that despite half yearly profits of £72 million. Yorkshire Water has still increased charges by more than 6% since April, somewhat more than the rate of inflation, which follows last years 7% increase! And yet the chairman and his board of directors STILL wilfully and systematically refuse to install full sewage treatment plants, hence the sea continues to be polluted with such nasties as meningitis, hepatitis, gastritis, even the aids virus!
I find It totally extraordinary, not to mention abhorrent, that supposedly intelligent people can complacently sit back and allow these vile pollutions to continue when it’s common knowledge that the whole world is in a dire state of crisis! Just how does ‘Sir?’ Gordon Jones justify his £2,750 per week salary while the earth dies screaming? Has the man no shame?
They arrogantly disregard such evidence as given to the commons environmental committee by Mr Pat Gowan, a former marine biologist at the university of East Anglia, which suggests that the aids virus can survive for more than 24 hours in sea water. He called for an immediate ban on raw sewage disposal at sea. The committee chairman Sir Hugh Rossi said Mr Gowans claims would be fully investigated and a formal response sought from the government health experts? Mr Gowan said research by Dr John Slade, chief virologist for Thames Water had shown that the HIV virus lives for 2.8 days in settled sewage and is active in seawater for 1.6 days. The head of the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, Prof Arie Zuckerman, had discovered that in swimming pools the virus could be destroyed by chlorination, but this was not viable for disinfection of sea outfalls because it was fatal to the marine environment. But, Mr Gowan, Norfolk Friends of the Earth North Sea Action Group co-ordinator, said all his attempts to persuade the government to research the problem had failed! But with the escalation of aids in the community sea disposal of untreated sewage must be seen as a highly dangerous practice that MUST be terminated!
And this information came to light on 15-03-90! So what has been done about it? Not a lot!
These people that put profit before the welfare of the earth and its peoples are repugnant, they are the scum of the earth. Especially as they act in full knowledge of the situation, yet still insist on putting private profit above all else!
They heartlessly disconnect 100 families per week from the water which is life. It’s worse than Victorian times, at least then there were public pumps, washrooms and bathes where people could get clean water. But do these ‘caretakers?’ of Gods water care? If they did it wouldn’t be happening. They are merciless in their pursuit of profit, they crucify low income families without a second thought! May they burn in the eternal pits of hell fire for their crimes…and I can assure you they will because the damage their greed has caused to the creation that God loves, is I would say, incalculable!
I may owe them a said amount of money, but how much do they owe me and the rest of the world for the gross neglect of the responsibility they bear towards the care of the water system and the environment in general?
They are in effect, murdering our planet for profit!
P.S. I would happily pay the amount being asked if I could be sure it was going towards healing the earth, as opposed to lining a few fat cats filthy pockets.
For that particular court appearance I’d hired a nearby hall, where I’d set up my exhibition of condemnation, for the countries press, who I’d invited along to witness my ’shame?’
The press turned up in droves, both the BBC and ITV film crews appeared to interview me. At least three of the local radio stations turned up and I lost count of the amount of jurno’s who swamped me, but I was plastered all over a lot of papers the next day and on the telly. And almost all of those media people encouraged me to go girl go, keep up the pressure! Yeah, Yorkshire Water is really loved in these parts!
But I hadn’t finished yet.
I received a final notice from Yorkshire Water for £20.12, I decided to make an issue out of it and wrote personally to the chairman, a knighted ‘sir?’.
if you would care to look around at the CRITICAL state of the world today, you will come to understand that we are living at the end of the age, as is written in the Bible. And I can assure you, there are plenty of theologians out there who will bear me out on this point. As well as innumerable saintly songsters (listen to the tape) who have been and indeed are, operating on a subconscious spiritual level.
So, people like yourself and your directors who put private profit above the welfare of the earth and its peoples, are going down the wrong path. And we all know what happens to those who go down the wrong path at the end of the age? The old eternal pits of damnation! Wow!
And if you think I’m a joker perhaps you ought to check it out? Let’s face facts, things can’t get much worse, what with the ozone situation worsening as I write, this world is teetering on burn out. And that is without mentioning the heinous pollutions that your people wilfully allow to continue while you wallow in the rewards of your crimes against God! Maybe it’s time you began thinking about making amends before you go to meet your maker? We all die eventually and quite frankly I would hate to be in your shoes, you ought to be a VERY worried person. If you don’t believe me then maybe you ought to begin reading the scriptures to discover exactly what God thinks of you and your kind.
Also I’ve received a final warning from your people for the amount of £20.12. As it is impossible for us to settle this amount in full on a fortnightly income of £160 for three of us, with out goings of £20 electric, £4 rent, and £5 per week to you people before thinking about anything else, I would appreciate the whole thing being broken down into fortnightly payments. I shall leave this problem in your incapable hands because quite frankly, it doesn’t really matter to me.
P.S. Find enclosed music.
Side One. Queen. The Prophets Song.
Side Two. Queen. Death on Two Legs.
New Age Steppers. Some Love, Brings Me Down, Down, Down.
P.P.S. I was born in Dracula country, therefore anyone who hurts me or mine I go straight for the metaphorical jugular!
I received a reply shortly afterwards informing me that the knighted ‘Sir?’ was no longer the chairman of Yorkshire Water Services.
And that Dear Diary is the end of round two. Round three is yet to be fought, but I tell you this, it will be really revolting!
Me and my big gob, now I was expected to hand this to McGivitup! I could all but feel the asylum beckoning…
I glanced at the clock, wondering if I had time to re-write the entire thing and do some serious editing while I was at it!
Then the telephone rang, I raced to answer it, still clutching the offending diary.
It was Father Augustus, who wanted to sing the praises of the wonderful Dr McGivitup. He also wanted to pump me for information on why exactly, was I suddenly a cycling buddy of the good doctor?
Now our telephone is situated near the front door. Being a blazing hot day, the door was wide open, when who should walk up the path but McGivitup!
That put paid to my latest thought up plan of telling him I couldn’t find what was obviously in my hand!
“I’m looking forward to reading this,” he said, as he relieved me of my diary and headed back off down the garden path, not wishing to disturb my phone call.
I’m not, I thought!
“Who was that?” Father Augustus demanded in my lug hole, “it sounded like Dr McGivitup!”
“It was only a nosy neighbour,” I told him, which wasn’t that far removed from the truth.
Why did I feel as if my doom had been sealed?