Rioting. Why are we surprised?

Is it any surprise that this anarchy is tearing the heart out of inner cities?

We’ve got parents who fundamentally disrespect any authority, teaching their spawn how to disrespect authority (either at school or the police).

This means teachers avoid teaching in inner city schools, quite rightly, so the standard of education deteriorates to a militaristic and confrontational state.

The kids prefer truancy to school - and the parents say nothing.

Any rioting is just an extension of a vicious circle with no control.

The only route left is heavy punishment for anyone involved (to deter further rioting) but that in turn is proven to store up more of an issue for later life - so the courts will avoid custodial sentencing.

So the kids will (in their eyes) effectively get away with it. Something they’ve been doing their whole short lives… When all it took was a parent to do THEIR job properly.

Think it’s bad now, just imagine when these little criminals grow up.

It’s depressing, but a sad truth of this greedy world we live in.

The Blaney Buffet (part 1)

Part One: In Harmony

The bountiful fayre to be had in a pub is a wonderful thing. As a pub frequenter myself I’m besotted with the differing array of fluids to enjoy and savour. And I do. Often to excess.

Over the years I’ve come to learn that some pub goers are not satisfied, like I am, solely with this liquid gratification. They want more. More than the wonderful beers and wines. Something solid, something that refreshes the parts not even beer can reach… They want sustenance. Food.

I see food as a necessity rather than a pleasure (but then again I am the size of a jockey). Food to me means time. Time to debate over. Time to cook. Time to eat. Time to pay for. Time that gets in the way of lovely beer.

Time is something that pub enthusiasts often lack. A quick pint does not include food. A beer after work is not a meal after work. Yes, some pubs do serve meals, but we all know they’re mostly untrustworthy, reheated and a nightmare logistically (seating/paying etc.). Frankly, unless you go to a pub specifically for a meal then you’re going to be a): an irritant and b): disappointed.

However we all know that for some, food is important and worth leaving the pub for. What? Leaving the pub? Yes, I know, some people can descend to such a ravenous state they are prepared to commit such a heinous act.

So, in answer to this I have honed a formula, a solution an invention that centres around the tolerable end of pub-based sustenance. Snacks.

Hailing from Leicester - the spiritual home of the crisp - I’ve built up an appreciation for this potato wonder over the years and learnt to work with it as though it were a tool. Although flat, its allure is deep; a majestic beast, available in a cornucopia of flavoured goodness. Yet I’ve witnessed it consumed at such a pace that says nothing for the care and attention with which it is crafted. Frankly crisps are too damn edible, too simple to grasp, they need a counter-balance. A juxtaposition to halt the ravenous crisp gluttony…

Arise the peanut.

Peanuts, although small, are densely packed with flavour, essential proteins and stuffed with brain-boosting Niacin, making them both a perfect partner for the crisp - and any pub quiz. Moreover, like a mouse to an elephant, their diversionary scale will unsettle the advances of even a rugby-player sized paw as it descends on a crispy banquet, locked in a potato frenzy.

Crisps and peanuts united in harmony. Sating the hungry (but not spoiling dinner). Keeping drinking at the forefront of pub activity… Together. The Blaney Buffet.

…Not satisfied with Part One? Get a pint (some crisps and nuts) and meet me back here for “Part 2: The Formula” (coming soon - when I’ve finished it)