My second post

Firstly, many thanks for all the words of support I have received from my fellow bloggers these past few days. Secondly, there seems to have been a paucity of interesting political stories this week - sure the French held a general election but, ultimately, who cares? - so like a mother sparrow I'm going to regurgitate something I found elsewhere. Sort of. I noticed John the Teacher posts occasional reviews of local hostelries and I found this appealing for some reason, so here are my first 3 offerings:
The Old Chapel, Smethwick - A venerable old pub, about the size of the average shoebox, with a friendly but frayed looking clientele. One Sunday afternoon when I was sitting in the bar generally drowning my many sorrows I overheard the following snippet of conversation - 'E's missed his dinner now; e'll ave to go ome to ginger snaps and arrowroot biscuits'. This made a pleasant change from drinking in Birmingham, where for some reason everybody seems to be having a competition to see whos chin is receding the fastest, and Dudley, where normal conversation is of course impossible due to their slow sonorous twist on the Black Country accent which causes me to drift off to sleep in about 7 seconds.
Any pub on the high street in Oldbury - Best avoided unless its 2:15 am on a Saturday night, you have only £3.83 to your name and are nursing a desperate longing for a whisky chaser and some Class B drugs, in which case the Bulls Head should be your first port of call. And probably your last too.
The Sunflower Lounge, Birmingham - Situated close to the towering eyesore that is New Street Station, this is the pub of choice for the city's 17-25 indie crowd. Assymetrical haircuts and aged jeans abound but the atmosphere is welcoming and in deference to John the Teacher Im sure I once heard the walls reverberating to the strains of 'The Freed Pig'

Having libelled several well loved establishments, I now remember one thing I did find interesting about the French general election. I read on Sky News that apparently part of Royal's socialist platform was shipping off young offenders to boot camps. The wisdom of letting John Reid help out with your manifesto escapes me.

My long anticipated first blog

I would like to begin by acknowledging the work of two well established bloggers who have inspired me to put fingertip to keyboard. I refer of course to Bob Piper, a much loved and consistently insightful councillor and theatre aficionado here in the Abbey ward and also Brummie Tory, who is a Tory from Birmingham. I think. Cheers lads. Anyway, on the long and achingly tedious bus journey from the social democratic citadel that is my house to Dudley College (where I am, among other things, a student) I have noticed a number of BNP signs affixed to lamposts - a remarkable feat when you consider the average British National Party activist's lack of opposable digits - bearing the snappily inane slogan 'People like you, voting BNP'. Firstly I would suggest that most people like me would require a significant incentive ( a gun to the head/testicles springs to mind) to mark their cross next to an incompetent gaggle of fascists; secondly, I notice it is St George's Day on Monday and, as uncomfortable as some creatures of the left are with the concept of patriotism, I think it's important that everybody who shares a vision of Englishness that denies nobody the right to belong are prepared to come out to celebrate and present a positive alternative to the BNP's unrelenting diet of poisonous lies, childlike perversions of logic and crap folk tunes. We owe it to our communities and to ourselves.