The Pontrieux Report

Watching David Davis making his statement I was instantly transported back to the eighties and Wogan. I was open mouthed then watching another David begin a very public nervous breakdown. Thankfully unlike with David Icke, David Davis hasn’t started accusing senior government figures of being lizards – not yet.

David Davis’ statement also had a whiff of Jonathan Aitken about it, when he resigned his government post to carry wield his trusty sword of truth.

It is not clear if David Davis is a nutter or that it is his vanity that contributed to today’s impulsive behaviour. Neither of these traits is appropriate for someone who could have been Home Secretary one day.

Today David Cameron had won a get out of jail free card. The Tories used to pride themselves on being the party of law and order. Yesterday on the Today programme David Davis was going solo with party policy committing a future Conservative government to rescinding 42 days.

On David Davis’ watch the Conservatives have gone soft on terrorism. In seeking to gain short term political capital by opposing the government they have also taken a stand against the British people who are largely in favour of the government’s anti-terror proposals.

Little should be made of the appointment of Dominic Grieve. David Cameron had to make a quick replacement without getting bogged down by a full shadow cabinet reshuffle. By the time of the election David Cameron will have appointed someone more in tune with the public mood.

David Cameron will go to sleep a contented man tonight, that troublesome “What are we going to do about David Davis?” problem is no more.

My lunchtime nap today coincided with listening to the second practice session of the Bahrain Grand Prix on 5 Live Sports Extra.

Felipe Massa had run over a kerb, which led to a display of ‘Formula England’ at its worst, with much trashing of Felipe’s driving ability, about how undisciplined he is, how he hasn’t a long term career as a Ferrari etc. I can’t envisage them taking a similar approach to talking about an English driver, Anthony Davidson for example.

The bitching about Felipe only came to an end when a car smashed into the tyre barrier. “It’s not Nelson Piquet Junior”. No it wasn’t that foreigner or any other, it was Formula England’s Golden Boy who had made a mess of his car and probably his pants.

As the second practice session came to an end Felipe topped the timesheets for the second time today - without trashing his car.

PS. Note to the Arthur Mullard sound alike who was commenting with Maurice Hamilton. As there were only about 10 of us listening to 5 Live Sports Extra, is doesn’t really matter if you use the term “Pissed off”, but if you want to get a gig on 5 Live proper during the day, you’ll need to watch the mouth.

In the idle moments of a Saturday afternoon in France I notice that a Mr Daniel Homo is putting himself forward as a candidate for March elections in the town of Trélivan. Meanwhile in Guingamp you can vote for Mona Bras. On Monday’s literally seconds of fun can be had at Pontrieux’s market if you visit the fruit and veg stall run by Mme. Bastard.

Indeed you may be so overawed with the hilarity of funny foreign names you may want to pop into my tearoom for a lemonade. I should warn you that I only serve Pschitt! lemonade. “Would you like your Pschitt! in a glass or with a straw?”
Before tutting commences I would like to point out that the French manufacturer is fully aware of the word play – why else would their website have sections labelled “Pschitt! Attitude” and “Pschitt! Yourself”?

It has taken a while, but it looks that Gordon Brown has finally got the measure of PMQs. In what was his most impressive performance to date he has conquered his stuttering and dispensed with all those irritating trite phrases.

The details of the Northern Rock are perhaps not of great interest to the wider public; however I would hope that people recognise that the government is trying to do something to safeguard the future of the bank. Gordon Brown was quite right to point out the lack of any alternative plan from the Tories.

David Cameron’s jokes were rather lame. The fact that he persisted in trotting them out rather than suggest any alternative for the bank only underlines his reputation for vacuousness. Jolly japes are fine from the stand-in leader of a minor party; one expects a bit more substance from someone who aspires to lead our country. The more personal and spiteful Cameron becomes, the more he resembles a public schoolboy bully. Hardly a vote winner in the long term.

I fear I may have committed yet another faux pas, this time with the local artist community, some of whom used to use my tearoom as a meeting place to plan their exhibitions and events.

Although not a particularly artistic type I embraced my new found friends, happily publicising and attending their events. They didn’t seem to mind getting trapped in my toilet  - I didn’t mind their impromptu pagan dancing and singing in my courtyard.

All was well until I noticed that they had stopped dropping off flyers for their events, the invites to the ‘gala’ openings dried up and the realisation that they hadn’t popped in for a coffee since June.

Perhaps toes have been trodden on. After seeing a price list for one of their pieces of work, I commented that it was a lot of money. The piece in question was 5000€. To put this in perspective I would need to let a room in my B&B for over 100 nights to get that sort of money. I didn’t say it was too dear or not worth the money, just factually that it was a lot of money. This did not go down well.

Failing that, it is all my mother’s fault. While on a visit I persuaded her to come along to one of the exhibitions. This was perhaps not a good idea as my mother is even less of an arty type than me.

The exhibition consisted of a number of rough drafts of poems with assorted paperbacks tied up with string and pinned to the wall. Another exhibit consisted of various wine glasses glued to a French window. This work is by Pontrieux vitrailliste Julian Lannou and looks stunning.

What was not expected was someone breaking the silence by playing this exhibit with drumsticks and wailing. This was followed by three people walking round in a circle hitting cowbells and chanting, finishing off with a bagpipes and a rendition of The Wild Rover

I knew the effect this would have on my mother. She was attempting to hide behind me, tears rolling down her cheeks and her fist in her mouth in a vain attempt to suppress the laughter. My mother’s critical response to the spectacle unfolding may have been the most honest, but I fear may have harmed Pepworth-Artist relations.

A mixed performance from Gordon Brown at PMQs today. He has clearly listened to my advice to lay off “I think people will…” and “I’m not going to take any lessons”. Sadly he hasn’t got to grips with the stutter. I hope the Hansard stenographers d-d-d-d-d-don’t leave them in.

Less impressive was his parting shot at Cameron, “As for competence I remind him, I remind him, that in 1992 he sat there when interest rates went to 15%…….”

What was David Cameron, who at the time was not even an MP, doing sat on what were then, the Labour benches?

On the first and 3 subsequent hearings of Vince Cables “Stalin to Mr Bean” joke, I am convinced that he got the gag wrong and actually said Mr Beam. Not to worry, he won’t have been the first Lib Dem leader to appear at PMQs with lunch on his mind.

One of the players in “Cash for Peerages scandal” was a certain Jack Dromey. He thought it would be helpful to appear in a TV studio and ‘sing like a canary’ about how he had no knowledge of the loans despite being the Treasurer of the Labour Party. He was so indignant I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel.

I couldn’t understand his motive for so publicly airing his grievances on the inner workings of the Labour Party other than to undermine Tony Blair and hasten his departure.

A few years on, there was found to be no scandal and regrettably Tony Blair has moved on and Jack Dromey is still the Labour Party Treasurer.

I am looking forward to seeing an appearance on the news by the Labour Party Treasurer telling us what he knew of the latest donations. Was he aware of them or not? Also was he aware of the donation received by the winner of the Deputy Leadership contest? The problem for Mr Harriet Harman is that this time he can’t credibly play the “I was kept in the dark” card.

Listening to you floundering in defence of the latest cock ups under your leadership, some observations:

You need to get a grip on that stutter under pressure. It makes you sound evasive and nervous. You don’t want the tabloids to start referring to you as Arkwright of Open All Hours fame.

Stop trying to tell us what we think. You have developed what you believe is a clever phrase to use as your shield (now you can no longer hide behind Tony) - “I think people will (+ verb)”. The trouble is that you have over used it and it lacks effect. Worse still people could infer the phrase as your own distress signal, like the “I’m going not to take any lessons……” line you use at PMQs when you get rattled.

One of the joys of having a property in a busy street is discovering the presents that have been left on your doorstep overnight. Usually they are quite mundane – a pizza box or wine bottle.

The other Sunday I was greeted by used toilet paper that was also sodden with blood, to the extent that it had soaked into the stone.

My dismay at what may be a comment on my cakes was equalled by being somewhat perplexed that your average Breton carries shitty toilet paper about their person. No doubt such activity attracts a generous handout from the State.

Today’s unusual present is a bath mat that has been draped over my back gate.

I am not sure if there will be a Christmas market this year in Pontrieux. Last year it was held the weekend of 9th December, so potentially the Christmas market is just over a fortnight away. The fact that it hasn’t been advertised is not necessarily an indication that it is not going to happen (see my earlier post about the Fete de la Musique).

Perhaps after last year’s effort they aren’t going to bother. It was a shame that there were heavy downpours that weekend; it was also a shame that the Christmas market also appeared to lack any association with Christmas.

I accept that I am hampered by my ‘anglo saxon’ thinking, however if you consider the concept of a Christmas market, certain images are formed. I posit that the distorted sound of The Who and Rolling Stones, blasted through the town’s tinny pa system is not one of them.