https://dl.dropbox.com/u/4387323/Anglu2.jpg

You sound more like someone who’d go for something between the legs, Josette Jones.

I’d say he *is* a looker compared to the others, but then there’s nothing between them ears. Can’t have it all in life.

That was the order of the day in those days.

My mother once remarked on the shortage of edible potatoes (the ones on offer were diseased and rotted through) at the greengrocer’s and, lo and behold, the following day we receive a threatening letter warning her to shut up or be shut up.

Another time, I had done few hours of voluntary work at the ‘Stamperija’ when somebody called me at work and reminded me how easy it was to fall off the motorcycle I used to get there.

And now they want to pontificate about freedom of speech as if they have any idea what it is. They’ll happily allow a story of sorts made up of a litany of obscenities strung together with a few prepositions but don’t you dare criticise anything to do with Labour or their governance.

Vera zibel.

I remember Inspector Anglu and I’m sure he remembers me.

In March 1984, Inspector Anglu called at my house at 5am and locked me up in a filthy cell just because I took a series of photos at a protest March against the Labour government.

You might impress those who don’t remember the 80s, Anglu, but you won’t impress me. Be sure of that, and shame on you.

Not exactly my cup of tea, but you know, I try to see the big picture. And I mean “picture” in the figurative sense of course.