Sunday, 20 February 2011

Hope I die before I get old!!

When Roger Daltrey bawled out his lyrics to "My Generation" it was in a post Cuban Missile Crisis world and one where the old folk definitely did not understand the younger generation.  Roger is now a multi-millionaire pensioner, did not die before he got old and lives in the lap of luxury, unfortunately most old people have been fucked over royally by the State and this needs addressing and redressing.

Take old people born in the 1920's, between World Wars One and Two, now in their eighties: Most of the men born then will have either fought in the War or provided effort for the WW2 fight, some of them will have been wounded, some captured but all of them "doing their bit" for the UK. They then came back to the "Land fit for heroes" and went through times of austerity during the 50's as the UK tried to recover from a crippling war with massive war debts courtesy of the Americans which only got paid off in the new Millennium.
These men and women raised families, paid their taxes and National Insurance all the time believing that the new National Health Service and Old Age Pension would cater for them when they got sick or old.
These people were frugal and had a saving ethic in the main, during the War they had bought National Bonds and they put their money into National Savings and also into Banks and Building Societies as a safe way of saving for their children so that they could have better lives.  These people actually believed that Governments do not lie and that being prudent and careful was the best way to be to provide for both their futures and their children's futures.
However political winds of change were blowing and all of the Nationalised Industries were being eyed up by fat cats who wanted more cream and so one of their puppets, let's call her MT to keep her anonymous, got elected as Prime Minister and immediately sold off the Gas, Electricity, Water and Telecommunications to the City of London (Mainly foreigners in sharp suits who for some reason are allowed to leach off the UK citizens). At the same time she started trying to dismantle the Welfare State and partially succeeded however in the process managed to carefully conceal all evidence that people had actually contributed for decades to the Welfare State - she also put the propaganda out successfully that using the Welfare State was the province of scoundrels, slackers and ne'er-do-wells and it was NOT for decent people, "Decent people" had Private Medicine and Private Pensions and owned stocks and shares, and were called "Sid".

The next changes were were for all the very best of reasons (The chief amongst them being that if you can privatise Medicine you make an absolute killing) targets and over management were brought in to a very badly managed NHS.  Instead of replacing bad management with good management, three more layers of bad management were added to make the NHS even more top heavy and even worse managed than it was in the 60's.

Added to this mix was a tacit agreement that inter-departmental warfare was not only allowable or acceptable but also to be actively encouraged.

This meant "Silo-Based" Government departments that caused tragedies like "Baby P" to happen undetected and unchecked even though in total the authorities had all the information necessary to save him.

It also brings us back to the point of this Blog today.

So, our Fred, the octagenarian who has fought and bled for his and our country, who has paid his taxes religiously, who has soldiered on for decades without state handouts and even avoiding doctors and hospitals because of his "stiff upper lip" and who have saved as much as he could from his meagre income in order to "leave something for the kids", has a fall, or he gets a urine infection or similar and ends up in our much vaunted NHS Hospital.

Well, I say "ends up" as sometimes even getting one of our privileged class Doctors off his arse and out to visit is a herculean task to say the least of it, however let's assume that this happened on a weekend and so the normal Doctor is on a weekend skiing in Aspen or similar and so Fred gets seen by an on call Locum who is not rich enough to have his own practice and is still keen enough to be a good caring Doctor and so an admission is arranged.

Fred's first day in hospital will be taken up mainly with giving a history. This is his medical history, all of which information is already held in detail and triplicate by the NHS and allegedly on a Computer system that links the entire country. However they still ask for it again, not in order to catch Fred out lying or indeed to find out new knowledge but in reality because although they have all this information, they haven't a clue how or where to access it.  (Maybe if some of the new Managers had been Staff Training Managers??? - Nah, too obvious). The other part of the day will be taken up by being prodded, punctured, weighed, urinanalysed and measured in what they term an "Assessment Unit".  This is a fancy name for a holding area while the hospital "Finds a bed"!!

"Finding a bed" entails a great amount of management and many many phone calls but no-one knows by and between whom (As an aside, when I was taken in to hospital with a heart attack two years ago I was kept in an assessment unit for 8 hours whilst they "tried to find me a bed" - After 6 hours I got bored, rang the hospital on my mobile phone, got put through to the Cardiac Ward and asked them if they had a bed spare for me and found they were expecting me.  I then dressed, picked up my bag and notes, left the assessment unit by tailgating a junior doctor who was going for coffee and too tired to keep an eye out for absconding patients and walked to the Ward myself. I was then undressed, checked, given a cuppa and put in to bed and then after another two hours the ward rang the assessment ward to ask if they had "lost Mr Khan?" ). NB, if you need to "find a bed", look in a fucking Hospital Ward, there are loads of empty ones there all unfilled!
However after this mysterious rite is performed Fred gets a bed (This is normally in a large ward with loads and loads of empty beds and he is tucked up cheek and jowl with a couple of loony old ladies to left and right and three dying old me opposite him in various stages of dementia.
At that point, the first thing the Ward Staff do is SET A RELEASE DATE FOR FRED whether he will be well or not by then.  When challenged on this, the staff's defensive response is that by setting a release date it gives everyone something to aim for.  Indeed it does, because come hell or high water and including if Fred is half dead on that date, the NHS want him out of "their" hospital and into the community.
The rest of Fred's stay in hospital will be punctuated by a great many tests to chart his progress or lack of it, some visits by Doctors and Registrars but very little care to see that Fred is actually eating the food that is delivered with clockwork regularity by very lowly paid workers with no healthcare training and who take away uneaten meals and dispose of them without too much comment.
After Fred has been in hospital for two or three days and providing no major surgery is scheduled the NHS will do their level best to bully Fred into agreeing to either going home or somewhere other than an NHS facility.  If he is in need of care that will probably involve the Social Services.  However IF the Social Services can either prove Fred does not need care or that his care needs are very high, then they can either not pick up the tab because he does not need it or they will not pick up the tab because the NHS needs to do so.

And herein lies the rub.  Two Government Department who, if Fred is ill, will fight each other tooth and nail to shove his care costs on to the other, actually have a vested interest in proving that Fred is actually totally OK and should be released home to the tender mercies of his Fat Cat GP who gets paid for looking after Fred even if he never visits Fred at all.  So Fred is right royally fucked by the system.

Now, let's say Fred develops Dementia due to his untreated infections whilst in hospital and the arguments over getting him out of the hospital.  In that case he will be transferred to a Nursing Home which will cost in the region of £700 per week and if Fred's house and or is savings are worth more that £14,000 yes fourteen thousand - less that a saloon car, the state will not pay all of that.  If they do pay all of that then he will have his State and Occupational Pensions taken and he will be allowed to keep approx £22 per week as "pocket money".  That's not all, if he has any living relatives, the local authorities are instructed to morally blackmail those relatives into "topping up" his care home fees instead of the State on threat of Fred being take out of his "nice" Home and put into a "nasty" Home. (And let's face it, the "nice" ones are pretty bloody horrible unless upmarket private ones).  Maybe instead of bleating on in his upper-class Toff, call me Dave, half-baked way about some form of nebulous "Big Society" that even with his Landed Gentry, Eton and Oxford background and education he cannot articulate so even his peers, let alone lesser folk can understand it, he should hark back to his penultimate predecessor with a similar background and instead espouse "Joined Up Government" (Departments at least) and start considering the fact that people have been paying in to the welfare state for decades with little complaint or demurral and in their time of need they need to be treated with respect, afforded dignity and indeed loved by the Government that inherits their support for all those years.

Fred and his ilk are heroes and the salt of the earth and should NOT be considered or discussed as a burden or a problem.  They have paid all of their dues.

So Fred, when you were listening to Roger Daltry singing "Hope I die before I get old!!", did you ever think that maybe when they asked you to fight a war to save this bloody ungrateful country you should have just told them "Why don't you all FFFFFFFFFade away!!"  ??

Ghenghis 2011

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

It's an odd life being a punter

Over the years I have had a few funny, strange, odd or even (hopefully) abnormal experiences and have regaled a few to mates and on boards but thought it worth putting down here for posterity and to raise a few wry smiles for my reader and his girlfriend.

Did the earth move for you?
Mid way through a particularly energetic session with a young lady in a brothel in South London the bed suddenly collapsed.  OK, that happens to a lot of folk so no big deal eh?  The problem was that the leg of the bed had not collapsed but instead penetrated a mouldy floorboard and having gone through that, propelled by our combined weight had then penetrated the ceiling below and brought a light fitting down in the Kebab shop underneath!!  Red faces all round and some explaining to do for the Maid as we were still starkers when the door went!

Sticky Condom Syndrome
Down in Berkshire with a lovely Indie, we had got through a couple of condoms without a result and finally filled a third.  Trouble was, in the dressing and clear up we could only locate two.  After a cuppa and a chat whilst relaxing afterwards I left, walked 300 yards to my car, drove home 45 miles and when home went to the loo etc.
A couple of hours later my wife walked in and shortly after that said to me "Any reason why there is a condom on our cloakroom carpet?".  A real OMG moment but thinking fast as well as being totally puzzled I went and looked and took it and flushed it.  I said that I must have trod on it outside the house and walked it in but neither of us could work out why a condom should be on the path outside the house.  I was amazed that it had stuck to my sole as I dressed and then endured the walk back to the car, drive home and walking in to my place.  I now check myself, including soles, before leaving t
a Lady's house.

You've been framed!

A Filipino Lady in Nottingham who is now out of the business, and I had been doing some experimental stuff and role playing etc so one day I booked in and went to the bar of the Lace Market Hotel as arranged at the appointed time where the plan was for her to be waiting in Business Woman Dress/Sexy Secretary including stockings and suspenders but no knickers.  She was then going to flash the blokes in the bar (Which she had never done before) and then apparently pick me up and we would go back to my room for sex.
I arrived and there she was with legs firmly clamped together and so I sat at the bar with a good eyeline and ordered a drink.  After 20 minutes without a flash she got up and joined me at the bar and apologised saying that she had bottled it completely!!  I laughed and said I did not mind and we decided to just have a couple of drinks and go up.  When we got into the lift she said she knew how to apologise and dropped to her knees and started giving me a blow job (Fortunately the lift was relatively slow and we were not accompanied!). After the usual fun and jollity in the bedroom we dressed and I walked her down to the reception and then out to her driver.  As we passed reception the staff there gave me knowing grins.  On the way back in they greeted me with smiles and asked "Mr Khan, we hope you are having a great evening !!"  I signified I was and went to the lift.  Puzzling a little and thinking they just knew her, I glanced up in the lift and saw the security camera........................ *blush* ..................... so I smiled up and waved!

Where's the Fire?

Another brothel in South London and the lady in question and I are totally stark bollock naked and making smiles when there is a knock on the door by the maid who informs us that the Fire Brigade Inspector was at the door and needed to inspect the room!!!!!  I asked if it could wait 45 mins but was told no and that they had to do it now.  So both of us hastily donned drressing gowns, mine was a particularly ravishing pink faux silk one and sat there while the Fireman, complete with boots and fireproof plastic overalls inspected the room and bathroom attached!!    For a few minutes I was sure it was a wind up but then looked out of the window and saw the bloody Fire Engine!  The stuff those guys see in a day's work!!

Where's Noah when you want him?

I was in a London Jury's Inn recently with a particularly scatty but lovely Thai Lady who has since gone back to Thailand due to an abusive boyfriend and we had been having a drink and making smiles for a couple of hours when the lady decided she needed a pee so went off and came back and we resumed.
What I had not realised is that she thought I was nearer to "arriving" than I was in fact and had started a bath running, and so eventually about 30 minutes later when we had both concluded my senses returned and I realised that there was a massive pool of water spreading from the closed bathroom door across the bedroom!  Leaping up I ran into the bathroom and found it totally flooded and a full bath overflowing merrily.
I pulled the plug and turned off the taps and dragged every towel onto the floor to start soaking it up. Still stark naked I was getting on with this with the slightly pissed Thai Lady laughing hysterically I heard an urgent banging on the door with a "Mr Khan, this is hotel management, can you let us in please now!!??".
With the catch on the door I answered, apologised profusely and told them we were both naked, true and that we had dozed off with a bath running (Near enough!) and could we have some more towels and we would quickly dress.  The two ladies agreed and went off to get towels and turning I noticed this young, naked, beautiful 25 year old Thai Lady looking over my shoulder so the hotel staff knew what was going on!!
We eventually dressed, apologised three hundred times more and allowed six hotel staff in to start the clean-up operation including an industrial water vacuum cleaner that sucked it all up.
Going out the whole hallway outside the room was under 1/2" of water and being cleared up and apparently the room below was flooded too!!
To give them their full due, the Jury's Inn people took it in their stride, moved me to a new dry room, moved my luggage, gave me fresh towels and did not laugh at me to my face, nor did they charge me any extra for the clean-up operation.  OK, I was a regular customer but nonetheless I would have paid up if asked if only out of embarrassment!  So top marks for Jury's Inns and one of my Top Shagging Venues!
Check out the following day was interesting and I got chatted up by the deputy Manager(ess) as well so I was extremely happy!

Just a few of the odd tails and I am sure that some people will think they are embroidered a bit but they happened exactly as shown, life can be weird sometimes.

Ghenghis 2011

Friday, 4 February 2011

Ladies or Meat?

Ghenghis' thoughts on the Objectivisation and Commoditisation of women.

Typical Gangsta Vid scene
Last night I was channel hopping in post coital exhaustion after a fantastic couple of hours with a Thai lady in a local brothel and endeavouring to recoup my energy by working my way through a Chinese take-away and found once again that a lot of the music channels were pushing out US DJs, all heavily blinged up and Gangsta with women dancing in the nude or at best lingerie or bikinis, normally with water dripping over them or oil.
These videos are pumped out at all times of the day and night, do not, it appears, have a "watershed" or indeed much censorship.

I then watched a category "15" film which warned me in advance that there would be "Violence, Strong Language and scenes of a sexual nature".

Today I was reading an article in the news showing Sally Bercow, the wife of the Speaker, wrapped in a sheet and although it was not a great shot, it at least only hinted at the nudity but was being pilloried in newspapers that regularly show women nude or semi-nude without a care and a lot of them have a standard topless Page 3 shot which I find almost incredibly Neanderthal in this day and age. How can it be that a man can be fired from a firm for looking at a topless woman on his work PC as it "denigrates women" but be allowed to bring in a paper showing that exact shot and look at it openly in the office without any censure at all?  Society, as I have oft thought, has gone completely barking and the lunatics have definitely taken over the asylum.

I suddenly realised that I was pretty disgusted with how society as a whole portrays women and am not all all surprised that the average hoodies on the sink estates have no respect whatsoever for females, let alone their Mums and herein lies the basis of the rot at the core of the UK.

Now don't get me wrong, I was not riding along on the road to Damascus and a light shone and scales covered my eyes, this was something that I had been noticing if not absorbing over many years and had steadily built up.

I also realise that this point of view coming from a whore monger* such as myself seems at beat naive and at least hypocritical but it is not in my mind, allow me to explain why, also some background.

Despite the current statistics being misleading and based upon over small sampling, it appears from my researches that the average man or woman in the world has under twenty partners in their entire lifetime.

Research is badly affected by the fact that men exaggerate (lie about) their sexual conquests and always claim more scalps than they have actually taken in order to be "a real man" and women tend to underplay their "promiscuity" in order not to be termed a slag or slut.

In my case I have made smiles with several hundred ladies so far and expect to increase that before I die due to the fact that I have never found two ladies or their assets the same and am always immensely surprised and pleased at the variety and availability of the market.  Everyone is an individual.

Therefore it seems weird that someone like me should firstly have a moral compass at all I suppose and even more strange that I think society is as it is.

However, I am not about to go and join the local Mosque, pray several times a day and insist all women should be covered in a Burqha when out in public.  Just that in my opinion, that we need to ease on the brakes here and bring the world our children and grand-children are growing up in to a halt as regards sexuality and start to reverse the trends.

This does NOT mean that grown adults should not be able to see pornography or that said pornography should be banned.  But it does mean that Porn should be difficult to obtain and that once obtained it should be treated like a shotgun and locked away from children.

It also means that newspapers should strip their pages of any and all gratuitous "nudie" pictures unless it can be proved that the publishing of the shot is entirely in the public interest and that the story would be meaningless without it.

It also means that the video nasties that are currently American and Wannabe American Gangsta DJs would be forced to submit their videos to a properly instructed censorship panel.  That same censorship panel would also be told to tighten up their controls and clean up their acts so that CORRECT classifications should be made for films.  Films that are for adult audiences because of explicit sexual scenes should be termed pornographic and labelled as such for the buyers and broadcasters.  Also violent films where for instance someone is being killed explicitly with a chainsaw for example, should be termed pornography.

Although in some cases it would be difficult (Like putting toothpaste back in a tube) it also needs to be applied retrospectively.

When I pay money to sleep with a prostitute, the lady in question has made an informed decision as to how she wants to make money in life and comes to that transaction willingly as do I. In my (paid) time with that lady I treat her with respect and affection despite getting down and doing things that my dear old Mum still thinks are "grounds for divorce" for even thinking about, let alone trying to do.  I get embarrassed seeing Page 3 pictures on the tube even though I am more than happy to examine the minute details of a new breast in person and see no hypocrisy in holding both views concurrently.

All of the Ladies who have slept with me for money have been human beings, not lumps of meat, they have families, in some cases children and brothers and sisters and whenever we sit and chat over a cup of coffee they all seem to feel the same in that they, despite being "scarlet women" and generally despised by the other women in the UK, have a strong moral compass when it comes to what their own children are exposed to.

So, how do we put the Genie back in the lamp here?  Maybe we all need to start tweeting and talking in pubs or at work about how it is time for change and time to allow the children to grow up a bit before being sexualised?  Maybe it is time to complain when a Gangsta Rapper has a video showing women as his sex slaves? Maybe it is time to start regarding ladies as equal participants in the world and not the goods and chattels of men to dispose of how we want?
Let's go and retake the moral highground.

Ghenghis 2011

*whore monger: Punter, a man who pays for the sexual services of prostitutes.