conrad gerrard

@GMB @susannareid100 @edballs You got to thank @GMB who have shown us again why we shouldn't vote Green. We do not need their crack pot ideas

'I don't think it's unreasonable Zack Polanski to ask you about your integrity, about your beliefs, about what you say.' @susannareid100 and @edballs challenge leader of the Green party Zack Polanski about claims he's previously made about using hypnosis to enlarge women's breasts. Zack Polanski has previously apologised for making the claims.

@TheCanaryUK Those aren't police and you know that bit it doesn't suit your narrative

We're at the World Day for Animals in Laboratories demo on Trafalgar Square - and yes, never mind any far-right fash that might be hanging around. Police are more concerned about activists trying to rescue and feed pigeons. Unreal.

@Xenosmilus4 You clearly have no idea how an investigation works or the time all this takes. They've not clowned themselves. Maybe if you think you can do better apply the police are recruiting now

@ConradGerrard It could be true, yes. If only they had searched the cctv before appealing for information, they wouldn’t have be clowned themselves.

'How can we shut this down without blaming the woman who made the report?' 'Accidental head injury?' 'Perfect! Another doughnut?' 'Don't mind if I do...'

Always alert - off-duty Dyfed Powys officer saves woman's life before working 24-hour shift as usual. Hero. orlo.uk/PycxI

@____Foxtrot____ I would love to have a cuppa with this gentleman. The world would so much better if there were two of him.

The Japanese Ambassador is the model visitor and long term resident in the United Kingdom. He doesn’t impose or seek to change. He doesn’t take or demand. He simply enjoys the British culture, English especially today, and affords absolute respect. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🇬🇧🫱🏼‍🫲🏽🇯🇵

A female Swan who fell ill and was taken to an animal hospital for treatment. This is the moment she was reunited with her partner, from whom she'd been separated for 3 weeks. Such a touching moment. 🦢❤️

When the cows are let out of the barn for the summer 🐄

Double the beauty in my garden last night #badgers #nightgarden

@Gilly1044 You know the Royal family is in safe hands with these two gems 💎

He was supposed to be on vacation. Spencer Stone, 23, was dozing on a high-speed train hurtling through Belgium at nearly 320 km/h. He was backpacking across Europe with his two best childhood friends—three young men simply looking to see the world before life got complicated. Suddenly, a man emerged from the restroom, a Kalashnikov in his hand. In seconds, the calm of that summer afternoon plunged into the unimaginable. Passengers screamed. People dove under the seats. A French-American man named Mark Moogalian rushed to grab the rifle and was shot in the back. The assailant was armed with a pistol, a box cutter, and 270 rounds of ammunition. The train was locked, speeding along, and the police were nowhere to be seen. 554 people had nowhere to go. Spencer Stone had no weapon. No body armor. No plan. He got up anyway. Without a word to his friends, he started running—at full speed down the center aisle—directly toward an armed assailant who had already shot someone. His friend Alek Skarlatos followed closely behind. Anthony Sadler, a student, joined them. A 62-year-old British businessman, Chris Norman—a complete stranger—also joined them. None of them had to. They all did. Stone reached the assailant first, pinned him in a headlock, and forced him to the ground. The struggle was violent and desperate. The assailant pulled out a box cutter and slashed Stone's face, neck, and hands—giving him a deep gash on his neck and nearly severing his thumb. Blood soaked the aisle floor. Stone didn't let go. For nearly 90 seconds, four ordinary men held a terrorist on the ground as he planned a mass slaughter. They finally subdued him and tied him down with belts and a tie. Then Stone collapsed. Bleeding profusely from his neck wound and fighting to stay conscious, he saw Mark Moogalian lying a few meters away—the man who had been shot while trying to stop the attacker. His wife stood beside him, screaming in terror. Stone crawled to him. With one hand, he pressed down on his own wound to close it; with the other, he worked to save Moogalian. The young pilot managed to keep the wounded man alive—breathing and speaking—until the train made an emergency stop and the rescuers arrived. The surgeons who subsequently treated Stone said his neck wound had been only millimeters from fatal. He had lost a tremendous amount of blood. He had come within inches of not surviving. But he pulled through. When he regained consciousness after his operation, he asked only one question—not about himself, his injuries, or what lay ahead. He asked if anyone else had been hurt. He was told no: no one else had died. Thanks to what he and his friends had accomplished in those 90 seconds, 554 people were able to return home to their families that night. French President François Hollande awarded Stone, Skarlatos, and Sadler the Legion of Honor—France's highest distinction. President Obama received them at the Pentagon. The world applauded their actions. Stone consistently declined all honors. “I only did what anyone would have done,” he kept repeating. But that’s precisely the difference: most people wouldn’t have. When danger strikes, all your instincts tell you to flee in the opposite direction. The rarest thing in the world is to see someone run toward that danger—unarmed—for the safety of strangers they’ve never met. Three friends from Sacramento and a British stranger they’d never spoken to decided—in a spontaneous and unforeseen moment—that the lives of others mattered more than their own safety. That decision saved the lives of everyone on board that train. 554 people were able to get home. Because four ordinary people had chosen, without the slightest hesitation, to do something extraordinary.

This little beauty visits my garden most nights.

The game is on… let’s see what happens next 😂😂

When U.S. Air Force Captain Robert "Bobby" Kline was shot down over North Vietnam in late 1967 and dragged into the brutal "Zoo" prison camp outside Hanoi, he made a life-saving split-second decision. He would become the camp clown. Not just awkward — completely ridiculous. He laughed at his own mistakes, spoke in a thick exaggerated Southern drawl, pretended he couldn't remember his own rank, and fumbled every simple task with a big, vacant grin. The guards quickly labeled him “the crazy American pilot who laughs at everything.” They mocked him mercilessly, slapped him around for sport, and stopped taking him seriously. Why waste time on a man who seemed half-broken and simple-minded? They had no idea they were dealing with one of the sharpest minds in the camp. While shuffling around looking lost and harmless, Bobby quietly sabotaged what he could — loosening fuel lines on enemy vehicles so they would fail far from base, contaminating water supplies in ways that looked like bad luck, and creating small delays in the camp’s supply chain that looked like incompetence rather than deliberate resistance. But his greatest act was silent and invisible. The North Vietnamese were deliberately hiding the existence and conditions of many American POWs, leaving hundreds of families in heartbreaking uncertainty. Bobby began collecting every scrap of information he could: names, ranks, hometowns, capture dates, injuries, and secret messages for loved ones. He gathered details from whispered conversations, wall taps, and fleeting glimpses of new arrivals. More than 140 names and personal stories. In a prison where any written note could mean torture or death, how do you lock all that information in your head? Bobby turned it into music. He used the simple, repeating tune of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” turning cold military facts into gentle verses he sang silently to himself day after day, night after night, until the information was locked deep in his memory. “Row, row, row your boat… Captain Thomas Reilly, shot down near Da Nang, May 1967, broken arm, tell Sarah and the boys Daddy loves them…” Over and over. While guards pointed and laughed at the “crazy pilot humming nursery rhymes like a child.” In 1972, as part of a propaganda effort to appear merciful, the North Vietnamese selected a small group of prisoners for early release. They chose Bobby because they believed the bumbling fool would make America look weak and ridiculous. His senior officers in the camp made the hard call: “Go home. Take that song with you. Tell the world we’re still alive.” Bobby didn’t want to leave his brothers behind, but he obeyed. The moment his plane landed on American soil, he delivered everything — every name, every detail, every hidden message of love and survival. 140+ prisoners were officially confirmed alive. Families who had waited years in agonizing silence finally received proof their husbands, sons, and fathers were still fighting to come home. The U.S. military gained powerful new evidence to pressure for better treatment and accountability. The “crazy clown” pilot had just completed one of the most effective quiet intelligence missions of the Vietnam War. Bobby didn’t fire a gun after capture. He didn’t lead a daring breakout. He simply understood that sometimes the greatest strength is letting your enemy believe you have none. The North Vietnamese thought they were releasing a broken fool who would embarrass the United States. Instead, they released the one man whose gentle children’s song carried the names and hopes of more than a hundred American prisoners back to their families. Robert “Bobby” Kline returned home quietly. Years later, at a gathering of former POWs and their families, he softly sang part of his old “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” version. Grown men cried as they heard their own names woven into the innocent melody. One wife hugged him and whispered, “That silly song brought my husband home to me.” And somewhere, a simple round still echoes: a children’s song that became a lifeline for families who thought they had lost everything.

@DreyfusJames Stop picking on James

Account is restricted yet again. If you could drop a brief comment on my posts below, it apparently helps that algae-rhythm… Thanking you in advance.

@khnh80044 Love Sade beautiful voice

Do you think Sade belongs in the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame?🤔🤔

@grannies4equal If he simply wanted to use the toilet he could have used the gents as the law directed

This is a horrific breach of the privacy & dignity of a person who simply wanted to use a toilet. What a horrible & unnecessary thing to do. The person who filmed this should be banned from using public toilets until they learn to respect the privacy & dignity of others.

@AndySaxon78 So not London and arrested for assault

‼️BROKEN BRITAIN‼️ This happened today in London, a street preacher spreading the word of God, gets arrested for no reason whatsoever, other than preaching the Gospel? Absolutely, disgusting.

@Gilly1044 Only one way to find out. What's the worst that could happen🤣😂

A British school dinner in 1975 was cooked on-site, from whole ingredients, by a dinner lady who knew, without consulting a nutritional database, what a growing child needed to eat. The dinner was: roast beef, gravy from the drippings, boiled potatoes, cabbage, and sponge pudding with custard made from eggs and milk. Or shepherd's pie from real mince. Or liver and onions. Or fish on Friday, battered and fried in beef dripping. In a single sitting: haem iron from the meat, calcium from the custard, B12 from the liver, vitamin A from the gravy fat, vitamin D from the eggs, zinc from the beef, omega-3 from the fish, collagen from the gravy, complete protein from every component, and roughly 800 calories dense enough to carry a child through an afternoon of running around a playground in January. Then the system changed. In the 1980s and 1990s, local authority catering was outsourced. On-site kitchens closed. Dinner ladies were made redundant. Central production kitchens began manufacturing meals reheated in convection ovens. The roast beef became a turkey twizzler. The shepherd's pie became a pre-formed disc of processed potato and reconstituted meat product. The liver disappeared entirely. The fish was coated in breadcrumbs and fried in vegetable oil. The custard was made from powder, water, and yellow colouring. The sponge pudding was replaced by a yoghurt tube. Jamie Oliver's 2005 campaign filmed children who could not identify a tomato. Kitchens where the only equipment was a deep fryer and a microwave. Menus that contained less nutritional value in a full week than the 1975 dinner contained in a single sitting. The government pledged reform. But the on-site kitchen did not come back. The dinner lady did not come back. The roast beef and the liver and the custard made from eggs did not come back. The 1975 dinner lady, who had no nutritional qualification and had never heard of a DIAAS score, was producing, at approximately 30p per serving, a meal that contained more bioavailable nutrition than anything the modern system produces at three times the cost. She has been replaced by a supply chain. The supply chain is more expensive. The children are less well fed. The dinner lady knew what she was doing. Nobody asked her.