Edward Colston: Four deny damage to Bristol statue


Oh not so fucking #brave and cocky now, are we.

Interesting thing is, they were all so keen to cause criminal damage to the statue, oh yeah, “#BLM”, and yet as soon as they’re up in court for doing just that, they’re all “not me guv….I didn’t do anything!” Surely if you’re so “anti-racist”, and oh-so-woke, you’d be only TOO KEEN to go “YES!!! That was ME!! And I’d do it all again in a heartbeat!!”

It’s almost as if you don’t actually believe in the cause you’re shrieking so loudly about.



There’s an incredibly long and personal post I will be working on that one day soon I might make public. That’s all I will say for now.

I’m having a very lazy Saturday – which is always healthy. I’ve been reading a lot of disgruntled Royal Mail employees on Twitter, all “cutback after cutback” and “it was so much better years ago”. These employees all have one thing in common – they’ve all been there for at least 20 years.

Yes, of COURSE things were better, at just about ANY once nationalised monopoly company. I dare say I could find you BT employees bitter as hell after 25 years working there, wondering why they can’t all have all the same pay and all the same benefits as they did when they were Government owned.

Sadly we’re not living in some idealistic utopia. Sadly there are shareholders, and stocks, and there is also increased competition. Sure, if you want the land of milk and honey to return – watch as all your pay and benefits are restored….and then your company sinks and you’re out of a job entirely. Which is really the more preferable.

In any case, if you’ve spent 20 years or so in a company pre and post privatisation, you’re going to lack a perspective anyway. That perspective being, yes you guessed it – working in a fucking care home. 0 Bank Holidays, 0 Statutory Sick pay, 0 pay rise (or a derisory one at best – but most times none at all), 0 carry over for any unused annual leave days. Royal Mail give ALL of those, and those are just the main ones I can think of right now.

“Oh so you’re quite happy with less pay are you Stephen”. Well in an ideal world we’d get more. But this was, isn’t, and never will be an ideal world.


I don’t think Royal Mail will ever really know or understand fully just quite what they’ve done for me. Saving me from endless drudgery at the care home. My days all blurred into one. Days into weeks, weeks into months.

My mental health has improved 10 fold since I got out of there. They picked me up and gave me a chance, at an age precious few would have (supermarkets and DIY stores excepted – but I could not handle working in retail).

My gratitude goes on, and I continue to do the best I can.

Also got another stop added to Route 2 of my Collections – starting on Monday! So more business for them. Going to be a pain to remember it at first but I’ll get there. I won’t ever forget it because the list on the PDA brings them all up.

Overcoming what….????

Yesterday I went and did parcel delivery for the first time in weeks. And it was a big achievement. The night before I was umming and erring over whether to go do it. I KNOW I need another £60 extra in my pay this week. That part isn’t hard to work out. Equally, I knew that last Sunday, when I also could have gone back, as I was sat around in my flat, I happened to look at the clock on the wall and it was already 1:25 – and I knew I’d have been back home by that time anyway – yet having been paid money. But I also just wanted to rest and hide from the world.

I had to force myself out of bed. And after my bath, and being ready to go, I had to force myself out of my flat. At the last roundabout before the depot I almost turned my car around and went back home. But I ploughed on. And I’m glad I did…

The manager, who is this very old school bloke (that’s something 20 year olds turn into “hateful misogynist”) told me “Now, I want you to behave yourself today…” I thought “ooookay wtf is coming”, and he continued “cos I’m going to pair you up with Chloe here”. Chloe just happens to be the prettiest young University student with a body you’d probably cut off your…..left arm to fuck, but hey – it’s just me!! Anyway we got chatting away whilst scanning our parcels, then AG (his actual name is a mystery – everyone there just calls him AG) strolls up and says hello to me again. It was so good to see that man after weeks away. Then along came Mr Misery. I don’t even KNOW the name of Mr Misery, all I know he is a miserable fucking grumpy git ALL THE FUCKING TIME, WEEK IN, WEEK OUT!!!!! No matter HOW civil I am towards him, and I am, he is STILL fucking grumpy as hell towards me, and never civil back. Anyway, the best part was that the ONLY time I’ve EVER seen him not being a grumpy, miserable git is when he starts talking to Chloe. And ohhhh did he not like seeing us 2 chatting away!! 🤣 When I came back a little later once everyone else on delivery had left, to try and flush the filter of the van engine (you have to leave it running for about 10 to 15 minutes) he was there going back and forth with the mail cages and he not only didn’t say hello, or even question what I was doing (he normally would), he didn’t even acknowledge I was there – never looked at me, acted as though I was invisible. That’s MY kind of fucking justice in action.

And before I left to deliver, Abu came on over to me and told me “I just want to say to you, I am very happy with your work, and all that you do on Collections” and that “if I had my time again, I would choose to hire you again – I would make exactly the same decision again”. He also claimed that “everybody there likes you”. Woah. This hit me hard! It’s only just sunk in a day after. I can only ever guess what anyone thinks about me at work, and just hope for the best, and try my best. But to actually be told that outright, out of the blue….that was something else.

So in the end it turned out more than alright – bearing in mind my little get back against Mr Permanently Grumpy there.

And after all of that, I rewarded myself for hauling my arse in, by walking into town and getting a Double Quarter Pounder with cheese. And ohhh my god was that a good one. The beef was so moist, and piping hot – they’d clearly made it there and then, not just grabbed me a pre-made one. It’s easy to tell the difference.

What a difference forcing yourself can make. But I still don’t overly know what the fuck was bringing me down the night before all that.

Tarmac Memories

I will never forget the day I was driving behind this white trailer van, and it smacked straight into a cat. The cat went spinning around in the air like it was going for a spin dry, and ended up flopped at the side of the road, rather conveniently on the pavement. It didn’t look too clever after that.

I’m sorry but that was one of the most fucking funny things I’ve ever witnessed.


Ohh fuck I feel like crap. I feel lethargic, and quite down. Last night I forced myself to stay awake until about 2 or 3:15am. After which it really didn’t take long to knock myself out with an audiobook.

No this is not an experiment, it is because I agreed to pick up my ex-colleague and friend from Stansted Airport on Monday morning at 1:30am. Fucking stupid package holiday flights. Google Maps estimates it is at least a 90 minute drive. However, Google Maps has previously estimated a “38 minute” drive for what turned out to be over an hour. So there is that.

Being that there is absolutely no fucking way in hell that I would be awake at 1:30am normally, I am having to prepare myself to BE capable of driving down some fuckarse motorway for nearly 2 fucking hours in the middle of the night by forcing myself to stay awake, and getting up later. And.I.hate.it.

It serves to me as validation that all my longing to live normally was right. I know I’ve said but context is a thing so I’ll just say it once again- I used to drive to work at around 9:20 and drive past some houses in the next village, and they would have their lights on in the upstairs rooms, and their curtains open. I used to look in as I drove past (lack of traffic in front of me and oncoming permitting) and think it looked so cosy. I used to know they were just winding down for the night……and I was just about to START my night.

Now, I live that way myself. And already this weekend I feel just as crap as I did back then. So I’m going to do whatever it fucking takes to get back to my healthy routine by the end of next week.