How can it be right that you can earn more than the man on the London omnibus by doing absolutely nothing?  Nada. By contributing absolutely nothing to society except bringing children into the world? Zip.  Children who statistically go on to be an additional burden to the hard-pressed tax payer……..and so the circle completes itself.

How can it be that the Jeremy Kyle generation can live in houses in areas that a working family cannot?

If, Heaven forbid, I was to lose my job and could no longer afford to pay my mortgage then, guess what, I would  have to move and downsize. That is the commercial and inevitable truth.

And, I am bemused as to how the left wingers and politically correct do-gooders and the Bishops can claim otherwise. Yes I feel sorry for the children. But the solution is not to give these people more money and to reward them for having more children that can grow to be an even bigger burden on the country. You solve that issue through education, tough love (such as a benefit cap), and, as a last resort, social services.

Most working families factor in their ability to afford as part of the family planning assessment.

It is not ethnic cleansing. It is simply common sense.

I saw a news report with a single mom who was receiving a weekly rent of £600 per week who claimed it was totally unfair that she should be expected to a) work and b) move to a smaller house in a less nice area. Why? What right do you have to take taxes from people working harder than you who cannot afford the lifestyle you have chosen for yourself?! You should get what you earn and reap what you sow. It makes my blood boil…….

Related articles

• The Independent View: The benefits cap policy is based on myths (libdemvoice.org)
• The benefit cap: what does it mean and why is it unfair? (newstatesman.com)

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Mr Gadget is not happy.

PI have today returned my second generation Apple TV back to the shop and had my money refunded. And, I am so unhappy that I had to do so. I loved the concept – the whole idea of instantly downloading movies.

Well, my idea of “instantly” seems a tad different o Apple’s. I wold have been ecstatic with less than a minute; I would have accepted less than fifteen. But, our first rental took nearly two hours to download, and, when we then hit play, it needed to reload which took a further hour. Unacceptable!

And after a number of Google searches it quickly became apparent that we were not the only sufferers. It seems to be a common error. With suspicions failing to find an obvious cause and no obvious solution it just had to go back. I can get to the video shop and back ten times in the time it took to download that movie – and the film stank too: Troll Hunter.

Does anyone know if  Netflix is any good?

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I know that 40 is the new 30 but……..

Tomorrow I have the joy of visiting an opticians to select the frames for my new glasses. To be fair, this will be my first ever pair of spectacles. To date I have had perfect 20:20 vision and have survived without the need for glasses or contact lenses. But no more! The arrival of my forty-fifth year has coincided with an increase in my use of laptop, iPad and iPhone and I have been diagnosed as suffering from “near use fatigue” which, I guess, is newspeak for “you need reading glasses”.

Now, I know I should count myself lucky that I have got this far without the need for glasses. And, I know that my better half will select a REALLY EXPENSIVE and nice pair of designer frames which will (hopefully) magically make me look both more intelligent and handsome at the same time, as if that were possible……..But, I cannot help but take it as further evidence of middle age and bodily deterioration. I’m not happy……………..

So, my eyesight is deteriorating. I am already virtually deaf (and often selectively so) in one ear. I have a dodgy knee which prevents otherwise startling displays of physical prowess. I have been a “silver fox” for a number of years now and I am losing an ever more difficult battle against the thick, curly grey hairs attempting to take over my eyebrows. And as for nasal hair and ear hair, well, let’s just not go there. And, my moobs are, unfortunately, more Katy Price than Peter Andre.

But, somewhere inside there is still a virile, enthusiastic, fit twenty something struggling to get out…….

Related articles

• Is It Time for Reading Glasses? (everydayhealth.com)

I am not having a great day.

Over the weekend I discovered that I had a very flat tyre. Now, back in the day I would have simply whipped open the boot, removed the spare tyre and jack, jacked up the car, and, a bit of a huff and a puff later and Bob’ your proverbial – job done and all you need to worry about is getting the spare tyre fixed/replaced at a time that was convenient to both you and the man at Kwik Fit.

But not these days. Modern vehicles are not equipped with spare tyres. Or, at least my might Audi Q5 isn’t. I could have spent extra when I bought he car and had a “collapsible” spare wheel fitted. But I didn’t. I bought the spiel of the salesman who assured me that a) the tyres were virtually indestructible and b) that the “complimentary” tyre repair kit would suffice.

The tyre repair kit consists of some noxious chemical in a squeezey container – marked “Death” – and a compressor that you plug into your cigarette lighter.

Fortunately, my brother-in-law to be (he who survived the Taliban suicide bomber and never stops talking about it) was over on Sunday. He is car mad and I managed to persuade him that he would be doing me a great favour if he helped me with the job of repairing the car. This meant that he took responsibility for handling the bottle of death and all the mucky and dirty stuff, while I read the instruction manual. It also meant that my estate could sue him in the event that the wheel fell off and I was killed in a horrible high-speed traffic incident.

The noxious tyre weld chemical seemed to work. At least my willing worker was able to inflate the tyre to the required pressure and it passed the compulsory “kicking the tyre test” to my satisfaction. But, we also found the cause of the puncture – a bolt the size of my thumb (which is a big and manly thumb) was still embedded. So, I was not confident that the weld would hold.

And so, it was a rather anxious Middle Man that set off on his forty minute drive through leafy Cheshire backwaters first thing this morning en route to Wilmslow and the delights of Kwik Fit. It was a tentative drive as the bolt resulted in a rapid tut, tut, tut as it contacted with the road surface on every revolution. I stopped four times to kick the tyre to make sure that it was safe to proceed and, eventually, made it safely to Kwik Fit just as they were opening their doors.

Now, bear in mind that I had phoned them on Saturday to check that it would be OK to turn up on spec and they had assured me that they would be able to sort me there and then and get me on my way in no time. But, things seem to have changed by Monday morning. Now they were recommending that all four tyres be replaced and they informed me that they were not carrying the tyres in stock (as if the Audi Q5 is a rare species in Cheshire for chrissake) and they would have to order them in……..Grrrrrr……..

But, they assured me that they would get the tyres before noon and would put two men on it straight away and get me on my way within half an hour. Which gave me just four hours to kill…….Grrrrrr………

And so, I went and got my haircut in the footballers barbers of choice – Flanagans of Wilmslow – sat next to a guy bemoaning that his latest Porsche was a waste of time as he had only done a thousand miles in it since October. I then went and got my eyes tested – I had been finding it harder to harder to read the Trivial Pursuit questions during the Christmas festivities – and sure enough I am in need of spectacles to help me with my “near fatigue work”, whatever that is. And, I froze my nuts off sat outside Starbucks while on a teleconference at work and nursing an ever-chilling vanilla latte. How Cheshire!

Well, it was now twelve thirty and so I grabbed a Greggs’ meat and potato slice to warm my hands and improve my mood and wandered back to Kwik Fit.

My tyres had not arrived. They phoned to chase them. The people that they chased could not commit to a delivery time, but, it would be “today”. Grrrr…….

I sat in Kwik Fit for thirty minutes just to get warm. Still no sign of my tyres. And so after a quick couple of calls I headed back into Wilmslow to console myself with a Greggs’ steak bake before heading off to peruse the shelves of Waterstones. And now I find myself sitting in Caffe Nero, for a scenic change, surrounded by ladies who are lunching and suits who are trying to look both clever and important. And, I am waiting to hear from Kwik Fit that my tyres have arrived. Grrrrr……..

It’s now 3.30pm and I’m back at Kwik Fit having had my fill of the “joys” of Wilmslow and having consumed a gallon or two of latte. Grrrrrr …….. The bloody tyres have still not arrived. But, I assured that they are imminent and they have already removed my old tyres and have a “team of lads” on stand by. I am assured that it is going to be like a Formula One pit stop – but to be fair, their assurances are wearing a tad thin by now……Grrrrrr……

3.38pm and the tyres arrived and a full thirty minutes later, having paid off the equivalent of the national debt of Portugal, I was on my way……..

Kwik Fit, my arse!

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Sarah Palin – gone. Michele Bachmann – gone. We can sleep a little easier in our beds today.

Well, at least with those two crazy so-called MILFs out of the way, the world feels like a rather safer place tonight and things are looking much, much brighter for Obama. Let’s hope neither of them get selected as a Vice Presidential candidate…..

The Republican candidacy looks pretty weak from this side of the Pond at the moment. Although, to be honest, we could do with Rick Santorum catching the failure bus home too.

What is it with conservative politicians ithe US? What a sorry bunch of Creationists, climate change deniers, Christian fundamentalist, bomb Iran nutters……. Most of them make the Iranian President, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, look like a Liberal.

America – still the most foreign country I know. And, I’ve been to a few……..

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 100,000 times in 2011. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 4 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Bradwall Reformatory School

Have you seen the guy? He is currently in Lapland pretending to be the People’s Santa, bringing joy, wisdom, paternity tests and lie detector to results to some of the most genetically challenged unemployed people that he has seen during the course of the year.

I have been off a couple of days already. The year has been so busy that I have been unable to take my full compliment of leave days. So, I have decided to make the most of the Christmas break and am now off until the 3rd January. But, to be honest, I will only truly relax once the rest of my work colleagues have also broken up for the Holidays – it is amazing how many urgent issues have flashed across my iPad in he last couple of days. Oh well, I guess it’s a compliment to be in demand and indispensable…….

The downside of taking early leave before my hard-working better half has finished is that some of the more mundane Christmas chores have fallen to yours truly and I have been forced out and about with the wrinklies and ladies who lunch of Cheshire and into the aisles of Waitrose, Sandbach.

To be honest, it was good to get out of the house this morning. After just a couple of days of daytime TV, sponsored by various online bingo companies, I have almost been driven mad. Not by the TV programmes. Like any man of a certain age I am partial to a Loose Woman or two and the toy expert off the Antiques Roadshow, and, my own channel, Dave, has more re-runs of Top Gear than an average bloke can shake a six pack and bag of cheese balls at.

No, it is the adverts that are pushing me over the edge. I feel guilty. I have all of the ills of the world on my shoulders. And, I am close to bankruptcy. Just £3 a month here to save the Snow Leopard (with a free cuddly toy), £2 a month there to find a cure for cancer, another £2 a month to Save the Children and help Tanzi drink clean water, a donation to Crisis so that all the Homeless can at least get one day a week in front of a TV to help with their Jeremy Kyle withdrawal. And then there is the famine in the horn of Africa, those poor children with their cleft palates, and, oh my God, how time is running out or the poor jaguar.

Seriously though, I know that my blessings are numerous and there are many less fortunate than myself. But, there are so many adverts pulling at your heart strings and your wallet at the moment. It is distressing.

And, so, I was forced out of the house and into the first Waitrose in Cheshire to buy “dry goods” for the Christmas table. It is only Thursday. There are three shopping days to go and it is already absolute chaos out there.

I got to Waitrose about 08.45 and the car park was already full. It was full of Dial A Ride vans while small practical economical cars with be-capped old men and old ladies peeping over the top of their bonnets, and, Range Rovers and Porsche Cayennes full of glamorous housewives in their jodhpurs and sexy boots were circling the car park looking for parking spaces. Chaos! These normally mild mannered pensioners and the well high-heeled of Cheshire turn into animals in their desire to park and get inside before the world shortage of turkey foil, goose fat and Heston Blumenthal’s Black Forest Buche kicks in. To be fair, Heston’s Buche is about as rare as a Cabbage Patch Kid in the 1980s. That’s the power of advertising I guess.

Why is it that people suddenly become spatially unaware when shopping? Some of these people are able to block an aisle with their trolley far more effectively than a Provo and pile of burning Firestone’s. Why does it suddenly become a good idea to stop and chat to the old friends that you haven’t seen since last Thursday’s shopping outing while stood in front of the fast-diminishing stack of double cream and brandy butter?

Well, I managed to grab my cranberry source, my maple syrup, Dundee cake, and box after box of Stollen slices and mini mice pies – the village carol singers are coming tonight for their annual treat of mulled wine and nibbles – and made my escape.

And, there is still the great sprout, fresh bread and salad panic to be had on Saturday……oh joy!

Have a good one, one and all!

Ps. I got the last Buche. I swear a couple of old girls were considering taking me down when they spotted it in my trolley. I may yet put it on eBay and try to recoup just a little of the small fortune I have just shelled out.

Joseph Hoolahan (1877-1991), Private, 2nd battalion Cheshire Regiment, killed in action in Flanders after just four weeks action - Cathy’s Great Grandfather.

Albert William Jones (1893 – 1960), Sapper Royal Engineers, served in the Egyptian Expeditionary Force in North Africa alongside Lawrence of Arabia’s force, mentioned in despatches for gallantry in 1918 – my grandfather.

John Humphries (1912 – 1893), Lance Corporal Royal Artillery, served in Dover Naval Defence in World War Two – my grandfather.

William Henry Woods (1921 – 1943), Able Seaman HMS Quail, killed in action in the Adriatic when struck by a mine laid by U-413 – my great-uncle.

Les Wynne (1934 – 2011), Royal Marine Commando, 42nd Commando, served in Korea, Malaya and the Canal Zone – my uncle.

Related articles

• The Life of an Ordinary/Extraordinary Man (caughtinthemiddleman.wordpress.com)

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OK, so it is the end of a gruelling two week business trip. The first week was spent in Sydney, Australia. The last, in Hong Kong.

I have to admit to feeling a tad more than jaded. I’m buggered! But for now, the work is over and I have changed into civvies and taken residence in the lounge bar of the Sheraton Kowloon, with a nice strong, cold, Long Island Ice Tea as my reward for a good job well done.

My more virtuous travelling companion has rewarded himself with a session in the gym. I am content ignoring his holier than thou attitude to quality time, safe in the knowledge that, in truth, he needs the exercise more than I do……

This has been my first trip to Hong Kong and China. I had thought that my spells in Thailand and in Singapore had made me a veteran of Asia, but I will admit that Hong Kong has been an experience. It is very different. Unique.

Most of the vestiges of British rule have disappeared. Despite the road names and other geographical references, such as Victoria Peak, the colonial heritage is far from evident. Hong Kong is an ultra-modern, high rise city without rival.

It has been a steady 30 degrees during the day and mid-20s at night since we have been here. I think that this will explain why we seem to have been the only two muppets who have bothered with wearing our suit jackets…..

I am told that public transport here is excellent, efficient and cheap. True enough our experience of the ten minute Star Ferry crossing from Kowloon Island to Hong Kong island stood testament to this, all at the exorbitant cost of 20 pence each. However, we did not brave the MTR (underground) or the buses of various degrees of comfort (avoid the green mini-buses as they are “less comfortable” apparently). Instead, we have heavily utilised the local taxi industry.

Boy, the local Toyota sales rep must have retired early on a healthy bonus. Every cab here is a Toyota Comfort. The only difference between the taxis seems to be whether they are petrol driven or LPG. Incidentally, there is a strange situation here that the Government seems to have declared that petrol is more economically friendly than diesel and, consequently, does not allow privately held vehicles to run on diesel. Those of us in the industry will tell you that that is indeed not true and that petrol, and in particular, LPG, are far worse pollutants. But hey, one doesn’t mess with the Communist Party. (I inserted that just to test whether they are really monitoring Internet usage and will choose to block my entry. Probably not the best tactic really just before attempting to leave the country but what the heck). Otherwise, all of the Toyotas were exactly the same. Same colour. Same box of tissues strapped to the sun visor on the left hand passenger side – sensibly they still drive on the left in this part of the world. Same multiple array of mobile phones on the dashboard interspersed with the drivers’ personal effects such as photos of the kids, artificial pot plant and the like.

It has been a strange experience. You get a sense for how it must feel to be a minority. Just walking around the city you are aware of the very few white and western faces that are around. You feel very tall for sure, but it does give you an idea how strange it must feel when the reverse is true. On a number of occasions we have been the only white faces in the restaurant.

I have also learnt that our Asian friends are not altogether politically correct in their attitude towards us Western folk. Believe it or not, we were asked if we didn’t mind sitting in the same places during our daily meetings because “all you western guys look the same to me and I want to make sure that I get your names correct.” I would have thought the fact that I have a beard and am stunningly good looking, while my colleague is not might have acted as an aide memoir, but, apparently not. I have also learnt that the Asians – for it is broader than Hong Kong as we had people over from Singapore and Malaysia as well – have a slightly derogatory collective term for us. We a referred to as “Potato Eaters” to differentiate us from the local population and their rice based diet. I didn’t feel offended though. But, imagine the fuss if Prince Philip had used similar descriptive parlance in reverse…….

I have enjoyed my downtime here. The food is excellent and there is every kind of variety to be had. Probably the best, however, was at Felix, the rooftop fusion restaurant of the Peninsular Hotel with it’s panoramic views of the high rise neon beauty of Kowloon and Hong Kong. It really did feel as if I was looking out on a film set from Bladerunner. Service in the hotels has been exemplary. There are nice touches such as when you hang your jacket on the back of a chair they cover it with a silk protector. I guess this is to protect it in case of spillage but also to make it difficult for anyone to rifle your pockets while you are away at the buffet bar. Similarly, the service is quiet and efficient. At one hotel there was a magic hot towel – I must have used it three or four times and it was magically replaced without me noticing the invasion my personal space.

Personal space is clearly an issue for Asians. They are all very slim and slight in build and stature and clearly fear being crushed by us stout and manly western types. So, when it was necessary to share cars or taxis they were ever careful to ration the split of westerners between vehicles. Perhaps I should have gone to the gym after all……

What I haven’t enjoyed is the excessive selling. You cannot walk even ten feet from the hotel lobby without being pestered by Indian street sellers offering you tailor made suits and shirts, copy watches and handbags. They will chase you up the street trying to engage you in conversation and trying to drag you off to their private shop. We succumbed just the once as my colleague wanted a cheap pair of sunglasses. Never again. We were marched about four blocks, with a change in our guide half way, taken up into a residential tower block and through a reinforced steel door into a tiny room with a shower room adjacent. The steel door was locked behind us. The room was stacked with fake designer handbags but no sunglasses. The guy was on his phone reassuring us that an irresistible array of fake sunglasses would arrive in “just five minutes” but we were not impressed by his handbags and felt uncomfortable behind a locked steel door so, rather forcefully, insisted we be allowed to take our leave.

We have determined that there is no shopping to be done here in Hong Kong. The locals have warned us off the small shops around the hotel. While they look legit, they apparently are not. This leaves the malls and their never ending array of high end designer brands. Until coming here I had had no idea that Louis Vuitton was such a mass producer. Also, because of the exchange rate there are no real bargains to be had. The price is compatible with the UK even with the tax free discount. And, I did visit the only Mulberry outlet in the city in search of pressure for my better half, but they did not stock the style she is after. Honest!I have a witness……..

So, thanks Hong Kong it has been a blast. I will not be sorry to say au revoir as I am keen to get home and hug my wife. But, hopefully I will see you again soon. If nothing else, because this will mean that we have landed the deal and that this exhausting and demanding trip has been worthwhile.

Until the next time!