Trumped

On the 15th November Donald J Trump, idiot in chief, announced he was going to sue the BBC for a Newsnight edition that had been broadcast in the UK some 54 weeks ago, before the US election.

The Newsnight edition was not shown outside the UK, not available on the i player for anyone outside the UK, and was not repeated after November 2024.

Trump's lawyers wrote to the BBC stating the considerable reputation and financial damage Trump had been caused.

Careful reading of the letter revealed that no instances of said reputation and financial damge that had been caused, despite the claims having been made at least three times in the letter.

The UK media, especially the BBC, reported on the story, that Trump was going to sue the BBC. Resignations followed of the BBC top brass.

Lawyers for the BBC responded asking for evidence of the reputational damage, and that records of such needed to be retained.

To my knowledge, no reply to the BBC's letter was received.

The broadcasting regulator wrote to the BBC asking for evidence that the program had been broadcast in the US, specifically, the State of Florida.

In other words, there was no evidence that the Newsnight edition was broadcast or available, legally, in the US, and as such the US regulator had no juristiction.

The story was huge for days, wreaked huge damage on the BBC, and then nothing.

Now the BBC is insisting that presenters, permanent and freelances abide by regulations to limit what they say onstage: critism of Trump, support of the LGBTQ community, so much so that Robin Ince, creator and joint presenter of the long-running radio show, The Infininate Monkey Cage, has resigned.

This is where the BBC is, where the country is.

Thursday 11th December 2025

Thursday.

And, well, lots happened first thing.

And then not much happened.

Being a T day, I went to the gym first thing. Up at half five and in the gym by twenty past six, I was in a hurry as Jools was travelling with Jen to go to Sylv's in Bolton/Bury, never quite sure is nearest. And Jools was itching to get going to get ahead of the traffic.

I get back, and Jools wants me to drop her off at Jen's already at quarter past seven.

Have you called Jen?

I'd just check.

Good job as Jen was still needing a shower and would be half an hour before ready, so we have a brew and wait at the clock ticked towards eight.

It was busy on the road, but the school run had yet to begin, so not many cars parked near to Jen's. and she had packed and just locked her front door when we arrive.

We all hug and kiss, they climb in the car and are ready, so I do the same to let them out, driving home via the new Co-Op to buy some rolls and peanuts.

Back home i have breakfast, then a shower and so am ready for the day. But the sun quickly faded and a steady drizzle fell.

I had nothing to go out for, so listen to podcasts, watch stuff on YouTube and keep the cats fed all morning and into the afternoon.

In the afternoon, the cats really settle down, so I sit on the sofa with Scully snoring beside me as I watch Bangers and Cash.

Dinner is fishcakes, steamed veggies and all smothered by the leftover cheese and mustard sauce, which was all wonderful I have to say.

The cats having been fed, Scully slept on the office chair as I ate.

All very rock and roll.

Wednesday 10th December 2025

Wednesday.

Middle of the week.

Or used to be until we retired, and then it's just a milk delivery day, and for me, a rest day from the gym.

And as I could lay in to eight, my stupid brain had me awake at ten past five.

Again.

I lay in bed and put The Sound of Football podcast on, at least for half an hour, before leaping out of bed, getting dressed and going downstairs where Jools had made a coffee.

Not much on at first, but an otherwise packed day with bridge in the morning and the churchcrawling group in the afternoon.

First up was to drop Jools in town for her next fitness class, then go back home for breakfast and be ready for ten past nine when I would leave for Walmer and the bridge morning.

Whatsapp chimed, and as we only had four playing, were anyone to drop out, we'd not have enough for the game. And indeed one lady messaged to say she had a migraine, so the morning was cancelled.

Instead, I went into town to buy Jools a Christmas card, then meet for lunch at her new favourite place.

Before then, as she was having a hair cut, I went up to St Martin's, where Kent County Council had built a proper path round the gun emplacements as it is part of the Saxon Shore Way.

It opened last week, so I thought I had better record it, and the morning light was glorious, so I took a dozen or so shots walking round past the three emplacements until the view over the town and St James opened out, with the castle in the background.

Snapped.

And that was that.

I found a parking space in Ladywell, walked down Biggin Street, calling at the Card Factory to get the card, then to Café Melange.

And then to wait for her to arrive, I looked at the menu card and thought a cheese and bacon toastie would be splendid.

Which when it came, it was.

Anyway, Jools arrived and had a frittata: cheesy mushroom thing with cheese and chorizo on top, which she said was filling.

Anyway. That eaten. I go back to the car to drive to Walmer to be in place to pick up Martina to take her to Eastry for the church.

Just time to pop into the Berry for a pint of Harvey's Old I thought.

But on arrival, it opens now at four, in some three and a half hours.

Bugger.

Instead I went to Deal and parked up, listening to a podcast to fritter away the forty five minutes until it was time to pick Martina up and drive to Eastry.

I take us out through Upper Deal, Sholden and nearly to Sandwich before turning down the Eastry by-pass, turning off and going into the village and finding a parking spot outside the church.

We had forty minutes to wait for the rest of the group to arrive, so when they did, I began to read John Vigar's description of the outside of the church, the tower especially, and then entering through the lean-to porch and down into the Nave.

The Warden was waiting, and we all shook hands, so I carried on with the description, pointing out the paintings above the Chancel Arch, and then the Dominican Perpetual Calendar on the hexagonal pillar on the south side.

We talk more about funerary hatchments, something new for the warden to learn, and touched on other things she did not know about her church. But all done in a friendly manner.

It was getting dark when we left at twenty to four, and several cars did not have lights on, even when the gloom deepened after I dropped Martina off, and on the Deal Road going through the wood.

They must drive by brail.

Back home and we have a brew, were not hungry, but I use up some breaded chicken to make chicken in a bun, followed by a slice of Christmas cake with a brew.

Yet more football in the evening, which I won't bore you with the details of.

Bed at ten, and I slept well for once.

7,824

This is a true story.

A story about a box of matches.

Most fast military jets have what is called survival equipment, and this is to be used in emergencies, as part of kit available when the crew has to eject or bail out.

In the kit there can be things like emergency rations, signal flares, thermal blankets and matches.

This is about matches.

All equipment on an aircraft has a "service life", and when that expires it either is inspected and recertified or replaced.

In RAF srivivl kits there could be one of three different matches:

1. Safety matches. Like the ones we use at home.

2. Windproof matches.

3. Waterproof matches.

The latter two come in plastic containers, on te lid of which is a surface for striking the matches, and these will light in either very windy or very wet conditions.

This is a story about a pack of ordinary common or garden. Or kitchen, safety matches.

It was December 1993. I had been posted to RAF Laarbruch in Germany, where two squadrons flew Harrier jets. I worked in the bomb dump, and our job, mostly, was to get exposive stores, including matches, but could include bombs or missiles, ready for issue.

One of our jets had landed at RAF Gatow in Berlin, and the aircrafts survival equipment had gone life expired, or the safety matches had, and the jet could not take off until the box of matches were replaced.

As we were transporting explosives into the shared occupied zone around Berlin, certain regulations had to be followed. An RAF MT driver was needed for the vehicle, someone traned in handling exposives (me) was needed to be responsible for the matches, and an armed RAF Military Policeman had to accompany us on the six hour drive across Germany to Berlin.

I was tasked, at short notice to get an overnight bag and kit, and report back to the dump in half an hour.

When I returned, a red locked metal ammunition box was waiting, I signed the paperwork and took responsibility for the box and its content. The MT driver arrived with a high spec Austin Montego, which had been the station commander's car at RAF Gütersloh.

The car came complete with a mounting on the bonnet for star flags. A set of star flags. These were used when one of the occupants was an Air Commodore or higher, and so anyone in uniform who sees a car with a star flag showing, had to salute it.

The car also came with at least three sets of numberplates, which could be exchanged when needed. It had a set of UK BFG plates, a set of civillian German plates, and I think Dutch as well. When on official business, it had to have the BFG plates on.

These were fitted.

The Policeman with sidearm arrived, and we were briefed on our route, which had been agreed with German authorities, which we were not to stay from. And we could only stop in the case of an emergency.

Remember, this was to transport a single box of safety matches.

We set off in a light blizzard that did not let up, but the driver put his foot down and went to over 160km/h all the way, as we were on official business, and that was one of the perks of the job for a driver. At the time there were very few places on the German autobahn netowk that had any speed limits anyway.

I sat in the passenger seat, and the approaching snowflakes was like the stars whizzing by on Star Trek. I was pretty scared. Of his driving.

But he was having none of it.

We arrived at the Berlin Ring Road in amazing time, but he took the wrong exit of the main east-west autobarn and straight into the Russian zone, where the Russian Army was still there even in 1993.

And ther we were, driving past in a vehicle clearly identifiable as British military and clearly breaking the agreed rules with the Russians and the route specified before we left. This was the short period between the Wall coming down and Putin gaining power, so things were relaxed, and we found our way to Gatow without incdent.

I deposited the matches in the Station Armoury, the policeman checked in his sidearm at the same place.

And as Germany's biggest Christmas Market was under way a 15 minute drive away, the driver swapped the number plates on the car to German ones, and we went hunting for bier and gluhwein.

We found a place to park, spent two hours eating and drinking. Or at least the policeman and I did, as the driver had to drive us back. And as we were told it was Supply Squadron's last ever Christmas party at the base that night, and we were invited, we made tracks and went back to camp.

I remember little of the evening, except at the end, the base's RAF Police took us back to our transit accommodation in their VW Van, classic shape.

And went to bed, tipsy fart.

And in the morning, drove back at warp factor nine in another blizzard and so had been away just over 30 hours.

Thanks to a box of matches.

Tuesday 9th December 2025

Being a Tuesday, its a gym day.

And with Jools feeling better, she is going to her fitness class before eight, so I have to be at the gym even earlier, like just gone six.

I wonder if I am mad, but I like the empty-ish gym and being able to get on and do my session before crowds get there.

And anyway, if I do it early, I have the rest of the day for other stuff.

What other stuff, you ask.

Well, breakfast, lunch, teas and coffees and having a shower and so on.

In short, nothing much, I would have got the phys in.

I try to complete the ride round New Zealand North Island, but it defaults to something in France, so I select an Italian hilly ride, and get going, while the phone plays a podcast: A review of the 1992 Big Break Christmas Special.

Its odd to think that for a few years, Jim Davidson was a mainstream star and hosted the snooker-based quiz, Big Break and then the Generation game.

This a man who had a thick line in racist jokes during the 70s based on his "friends" Chalky, who was African descent.

Its all PC now, you can't say anything lest you offend someone. Well, I would say that Jim "fiend of the Forces" Davidson is about as funny as herpes.

Now his star has fallen, he is reduced to making videos complaining about woke and snowflakes.

I also listened to a review of the Des O'Connor Show from 1991, when he was a huge star, apparently. And on this show had guests of: Bernard Manning, Cathy Dennis, Jackie Mason and Barry Manilow.

All were huge at the time.

Des, best known perhaps for being a foil to Morecambe and Wise, and Bernard Manning best known for being a sexist racist, who I once saw in cabaret on Jersey, and the show being so rude, he was banned from the island for life.

That was the time I was invited onstage to be a magician's assistant. I kid you not.

But that's another story.

The podcasts made the forty minutes fly, and enabled me to get back home before dawn.

And in time for Jools to have the car to drive into town for her class.

I stayed home for a brew and breakfast, before having a shower and shave, so I smelt lovely.

Gentle rain fell all day, blown by a keen wind. A storm had passed up the west coast of England, Wales and Ireland, bringing force 10 winds and heavy rain there.

But not in Kent.

Birds were fed.

We had our main meal at lunch. Jools had gone to Canterbury to finish the Christmas shopping, so I peeled and boiled the potatoes and prepared the vegetables, before putting in the boiled spuds to roast for 90 minutes.

We sat down to eat at two: beef and stilton pies, the potatoes, veggies and onion gravy.

It was splendid. But also caused us to be rather sleepy through the rest of the afternoon as darkness fell.

No supper needed, so I could watch Norwich play at Sheffield United, and draw 1-1. And play well. And should have won with a last minute breakaway goal. But put it wide.

Still not a defeat.

Monday 8th December 2025

I was going to use this for a GWUK, but Monday was quite quiet.

So here we are.

Jen caught flu or some bug on the last few days of the cruise, and has been ill in bed since last Thursday, so that's why there was no cards on Monday.

And no gym as it were a Monday, and to be honest, my legs still ached from the walking on Saturday, but that was easing, but not enough to join Jools on a walk to the post office to post our Christmas cards.

As during the morning, we sat down and wrote the Christmas cards.

I stared at the list of my elderly relatives and wondered if I should, or had they passed away in the last year.

I don't know, I hear nothing from them, so maybe they're still here.

I last spoke to them about four years ago when I found an old address book with their details in, as Mum's address book had been thrown out by the house clearance people.

One had passed, another had dementia, and so talk was short and visits discouraged.

And that was that.

We dopped a couple of cards off in Whitfield and River, then we went to the Lydden Bell to pay the deposit for a Christmas lunch we booked for the 22nd with Sean and Ange.

And that's where I saw this sign, so snapped it.

There are a couple of old Army training areas nearby, no longer used I think, so anyway. After paying the deposit, we drove home on a dull but dry afternoon.

That would change later as storm Bram would blow in overnight and into Tuesday, sweeping strong wind and rain over mostly the north and west. Just wet and breezy for the south east.

Back home for lunch of buttermilk chicken, homemade mac and cheese (with wholegrain mustard) and the least of the fresh corn.

Was lovely.

But made me sleepy for the rest of the afternoon.

I listened to a podcast on the sofa with Scully who is now back demanding food most of the time.

We needed no supper, but I did have a pint with the last of the sweet and salty pretzels as I watched the Wolves Man Utd game, which was a poor game between a poor team and a dreadful one. Utd won 4-1, but I wouldn't read too much into that.

Sunday 7th December 2025

I said to the guys on Saturday that I would get up early Sunday morning and go to the gym.

At half six Sunday morning, it didn't seem such a good idea.

But after coffee, we both got in the car and drove to Whitfield, where we were the sixth and seventh people in the gym. The rest had gone to the poo, or were playing squash.

My legs ached from the 13,000 plus steps I did the day before, so with a pod cast on, I rode round the coast of some of New Zealand North Island, ending up at some geothermal parks with steaming pools hidden behind the long grass.

My aching thighs said to call it a day after half an hour, which I did, so we could go downstairs and walk to the car, and more people arrived to do their session.

Back home we put the wireless on, as outside the low dark clouds began to produce the steady rain that would fall all day.

We had breakfast, and listened to the radio until the Jazz noodling on Cerys's show, meaning for our sanity we had to turn it off.

Silence returned.

Lunch was warmed up jambalaya, with added shrimp once the pot was getting hot, and then dished up in about half an hour from start.

Then there was football, as the rain continued outside. Brighton v West Ham was up first, and was dreadful fayre. Misplaced passes, no shots on goal, and dull as anything. How either team scored is amazing, but right that neither team won.

That was followed by Fulham v Palace. A better game, and won by Palace, 2-1. Better than the first, but still very average.

There was another early night due to early mornings and several poor night's sleep.