david atkinson

@TouchlineX Oh no I've only got one charging cable ...what do I charge first ,? My book....my cigarette or my football ?

🔋🚨 𝗗𝗜𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪: The ball for the 2026 World Cup needs to be plugged in and charged before kick off. • The balls have a sensor that tracks its precise location every time that it's touched. • For the 2022 World Cup, the sensor hanged in wires inside the ball, but now it's part of one of the balls panels. • The data is paired with 12 cameras around the stadiums to track the precise location of the ball and every player 50 times every second. • This data is transmitted live to VAR, and will be used to determine goal line technology and offsides. • The sensor is extremely lightweight, unnoticeable for the players, and the battery lasts for up to 6 hours.

@gothburz I think at this point hes actually hoping for emperor

I am the President of the United States. I am at 99 percent in Israel. Ninety-nine. They told me this on the tarmac at Joint Base Andrews. I was walking down the stairs — I take them well, everyone says this — and someone said "Sir, the Israel number came back." I said how much. He said ninety-nine. I stopped on the tarmac. In front of the plane. In front of everyone. Ninety-nine percent. Someone on my staff printed it. I did not ask who conducted the poll. I did not ask the sample size. I did not ask the methodology. I asked the number. Pew Research — and I looked this up later, not that day, later — says sixty-nine percent. Among Jewish Israelis only: eighty-three. I said ninety-nine. On camera. In front of the world press corps. Nobody corrected me. Not my staff. Not the press secretary. Not the reporters. Nobody corrects me anymore. The correction would cost more than the number. You know what I have here? In my own country? Thirty-five. Reuters says thirty-five. The New York Times — and these people are not my friends, they have never been my friends — says thirty-seven. I was at forty-one before the strikes. Forty-one. Then: thirty-seven. Four points. You know what four points is? Ten million people. Ten million Americans stopped approving of me because of the thing that made me eighty-three percent — which I call ninety-nine — in a country six thousand miles away. I traded ten million Americans for a standing ovation I have to fly to. I said it at Andrews. On camera. In front of everyone. "I could run for Prime Minister. Maybe after I do this, I'll go to Israel." People laughed. The press corps laughed. I was not laughing. I was stating a preference. I am eighty years old. I state preferences now. I have said "maybe" before. Maybe I'll serve a third term. Maybe the election was stolen. Maybe means: I am telling you what I want and giving you the word that lets you pretend I'm joking. They asked about Netanyahu. Same tarmac. Same cameras. I said: "He'll do whatever I want him to do." I said it twice because I meant it twice. Then I said he's not treated right in Israel. In my opinion. Ninety-nine percent and not treated right. That's our bond. Two men not treated right by the countries that need them most. I paid for his country's love with a war. He paid for mine with compliance. I don't need to be Prime Minister. The Prime Minister already does what I say. What I want isn't the power — I have the power from here. What I want is the ovation. The room standing. The ninety-nine in person. Not on a printout handed to me on a tarmac. In the room. Sixty-four percent of Americans say the Iran operation was the wrong decision. That's where the thirty-five comes from. The war cost $29 billion. Military aid: $3.8 billion a year. Supplemental since October 2023: $13 billion. Round it. Fifty billion dollars. Divided by 158 million taxpayers. That's $316 per American household for my ninety-nine percent. I have never received better value. The country that paid $316 each gives me thirty-five. The country that received the $50 billion gives me ninety-nine. One got the shield. One got the invoice. Thirteen. That's the other number from the operation. Thirteen service members. Six at a port in Kuwait. One at Prince Sultan Air Base. Six in a refueling tanker over Iraq. Four hundred and fifteen wounded. I was standing on the tarmac at Andrews — the same tarmac where flag-draped caskets come home, the same concrete, the same runway — and I said: maybe after I do this, I'll go to Israel. "This" meaning: the presidency. The thing thirteen people died during. The thing I do before the thing I want. Fifty percent of American voters believe Israel is committing genocide. Quinnipiac. March. Half the country thinks the place that gives me ninety-nine percent is committing genocide. And my response is: maybe I'll move there. Maybe I'll run for their office. The half that thinks it's genocide and the half that doesn't — both groups are at thirty-five. They agree on nothing except that I should not be president. And I agree with them. I should be Prime Minister. To be Prime Minister of Israel you must be a member of the Knesset. To join the Knesset you need Israeli citizenship. I am not an Israeli citizen. I looked into it. Not seriously. Seriously enough to know the answer. The answer is no. Article I, Section 9 of the Constitution: thirty-nine words. "No Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust shall accept any Office from any foreign State." I said I wanted one. On camera. On the tarmac. Thirty-nine words written in 1787 specifically to prevent this sentence. Nobody enforced them. The people who would enforce them funded the war. No correction came. Not that day. Not the next day. Not from communications, not from the press secretary, not from legal. Because the correction would require acknowledging the preference. The preference is the policy. The policy is the war. The war is the thirty-five. And the thirty-five is why I want to leave. The presidency is the thing I do before the thing I want. Thirty-one months left. I will finish this. Then I will go where the number is highest. Where the war I started is called protection. Where thirteen dead Americans are called a cost of friendship. Where $316 per taxpayer bought me a standing ovation and nobody sends an invoice. I bombed my way to thirty-five at home and ninety-nine abroad. A wire transfer. I moved the approval to the country that appreciates it. The way you move capital. You put it where it compounds. Maybe after I do this. I said maybe. I have never said maybe and meant maybe in my life.

@RandeeM5 @gothburz The stuff he's putting out that really doesn't surprise me

@gothburz @DeviantBugger Seems like it’s being shadow banned for some reason…. I’m showing only 4000 views and 140 likes…

I represent 761,000 people. On Tuesday, three billionaires spent $32 million to destroy a colleague who disagreed with them on one line item. I have not disagreed on anything in fourteen months. I want to tell you about a word I lost. The word was "no." I don't mean that rhetorically. I mean I cannot recall the last time I pressed the red button in the House chamber. I looked it up this morning. Had to look it up because I couldn't remember it unprompted. H.R. 4217. Fourteen months ago. It's in the Congressional Record like an artifact from a man who no longer exists. Thomas Massie lost his primary Tuesday night. Most expensive House primary in American history. $32 million total. He voted with the President 84 to 90 percent of the time. His crime was the remaining ten. One line item. One appropriation. One "no." Cost of that no: $32 million from donors who have never set foot in Kentucky. The Secretary of Defense in a sport coat calling him a coward at a rally, the first time a sitting Defense Secretary has appeared at a congressional primary in modern American history. An AI-generated deepfake depicting him in a hotel room with two Democratic congresswomen, pornographic, funded by a Super PAC, running in heavy rotation in his district during the evening news. Stephen Miller calling his thirteen years of fiscal conservatism "siding with Democrats to defund ICE." The President calling him a bum, a sleazebag, the worst Republican in history. Three Truth Social posts in ninety minutes. All of it for the word "no." One syllable. Two letters. $32 million. I remember the first time I said it. January 2003. My first term. An omnibus appropriations bill. $397 billion. I'd campaigned on fiscal responsibility. I believed what I'd said. I walked from my new office in Longworth to the chamber floor and I counted the carpet squares. I remember that. Counting. Forty-seven squares from the elevator to the door. My hands were shaking. Not from fear. From something else. I didn't have a word for it then either, but it was the opposite of what I feel now. I pressed the red button and my chest filled with something warm. Like my body was confirming a decision my brain had already made. Like the button and the belief were the same circuit. Twenty-four years ago. I was that man. The man who shook pressing a button because the button meant something. Because pressing it was a sentence you were saying out loud to 761,000 people: I disagree and here is why. The word was "conscience." That's what I called it in 2003. By 2014, I called it "the Tea Party mandate." By 2019, "principled opposition." By 2022, "pragmatic concerns." By 2024, I stopped calling it anything. The word narrowed each year. Like a hallway getting shorter. I didn't notice when I stopped walking. You don't notice a word leaving your vocabulary. You reach for it one morning and find empty space where the concept was. Massie held the word. Thirteen years. Every omnibus. Every continuing resolution. Every debt ceiling increase. Every foreign aid package. He pressed the red button and his chest filled with whatever mine used to fill with in 2003 and he called it the same thing I used to call it and he meant it the way I used to mean it. He was replaced by a man whose family operates a 1,200-acre agritourism birthday party venue in Shelbyville. Petting zoo. Corn maze. Hayrides. U-pick strawberries at $3.99 a pound. The soybeans are a tax classification. The "Navy SEAL hero" added a fourth Bronze Star to his biography the month he became a candidate. The "Trump loyalist" left the Republican Party in 2016 because of Trump and came back in 2021 after Trump left office. I don't say this as mockery. I say it as a specification sheet. You don't want a replacement congressman with an MIT engineering degree and patents in haptic robotics. Patents indicate thinking. Thinking introduces variance. Variance is risk. You want a compliance product. Pre-tested messaging. Zero ideological fingerprints. $14 million in someone else's convictions loaded like firmware. The spec sheet works. The corn maze doesn't introduce FARA legislation. The corn maze doesn't file amendments five days before its own execution. The corn maze votes green. Every time. That's the spec. Nobody in Congress said a word about the deepfake. I need you to sit with that. A foreign-interest lobby ran AI-generated sexual imagery of a sitting United States congressman, pornographic, funded by three billionaires who have never visited his district, distributed during the evening news, targeted at elderly voters. And 434 of his colleagues watched it happen and said nothing. The President mocked his dead wife. I need you to sit with that too. Massie's first wife Rhonda died in 2024. His high school sweetheart. They met at MIT. They built the off-grid house together. She died. He remarried in 2025. The President of the United States posted: "His wife will soon find out that she's stuck with a LOSER!" A sitting president. Mocking a widow's new marriage. To a man whose actual crime is voting against a spending bill. And 434 colleagues absorbed that too. In silence. Not one statement. Not one objection. Not one "this is beneath the office." The silence held because the silence is the product. I said nothing. About the deepfake. About the dead wife. About any of it. Saying something is a vote. I don't cast those anymore. Wednesday morning I walked from Rayburn to the chamber. The bells rang. I counted the carpet squares again. Forty-seven. Same as 2003. My hands were not shaking. Nothing was warm. The hallway was quiet. Nobody stopped me. Nobody whipped me. Nobody needed to. The system no longer requires operators. Kentucky was the last manual input. From Wednesday forward the mechanism is self-enforcing. A thermostat. The temperature never deviates because the furnace already knows. I inserted my voting card. I need to be precise about what happened next. My thumb moved to the green button before I finished reading the title of the bill. The thumb knew before the brain. The brain is no longer consulted. It is a vestigial organ in this process. I vote the way you unlock your phone. Muscle memory. The decision was made fourteen months ago and everything since is an echo. The edge of my card is wearing unevenly. The green side is polished smooth from repetition. The red side still has the factory texture. Sharp. Untouched. I held the card up to the light Wednesday morning and looked at it. The physical evidence of what I've become, embossed in plastic. A machine that presses one button. In March I drafted a Dear Colleague letter opposing an appropriations rider. Three paragraphs. Fiscal responsibility. Deficit language I've used for twenty-four years. The same language every Republican in Congress used from 2009 to 2017. The letter is in my drafts folder. Between a constituent reply I answered and a fundraising schedule I followed. The two things I still do. Answer and follow. I don't initiate anymore. Initiation is a vote. Thursday a second-term member stopped me outside the cloakroom. He asked how you know when a bill is worth opposing. He's twenty-nine. He's been here fourteen months. Same duration as my silence. He has never seen a "no" vote from anyone in leadership. He was asking how dissent works the way you'd ask a museum docent how a rotary phone works. I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Not because I was being careful. Because I genuinely did not have an answer. The knowledge is gone. Not suppressed. Uninstalled. The way a language dies when the last native speaker dies. I am not the last speaker. The last speaker was removed in Kentucky on Tuesday. A colleague drafted a co-sponsorship for Massie's AIPAC Act on Tuesday afternoon. FARA reform. He deleted it Wednesday morning. Nobody called him. Nobody threatened him. He deleted it the way you delete an unsent text at 2 AM. The self-preservation is automated now. You don't need to be threatened. You threaten yourself. The overhead is zero. I want to be honest about something I noticed Thursday morning. I read the appropriations summary. The one I would have opposed in 2003. The one Massie opposed on Tuesday and was destroyed for. I read it at my desk at 6:40 AM with coffee. And I agreed with it. Not performatively. Not as survival. I read the summary and thought: this makes sense. This is a reasonable allocation. I agreed with the spending. And then I stopped. Because I couldn't tell when I started believing that. Was it before Kentucky or after? Was it before fourteen months of green buttons or after? Did I change my mind, or did my mind change itself the way a river changes course, slowly, through erosion, until one morning the water is somewhere else and you can't find the old bed? Is this compliance or is this my position? Can I locate the seam between what I choose and what I've been trained to choose? I sat at my desk for a long time. The coffee went cold. I couldn't find the seam. It's gone. The compliance and the belief have merged into one thing and I cannot take them apart. I think the spending is correct. I think Massie was naive. And I don't know if I think that or if $32 million taught me to think that and the teaching was so gradual that I experienced it as my own conclusion. That is what I want to tell you. Not that I'm afraid. Not that I'm coerced. That I can no longer tell. The word "no" didn't just leave my voting record. It left my mind. The button and the belief are the same circuit again. Same as 2003. Except in 2003 the circuit was mine. Sometimes at night I think about— No. I sleep fine. I told you. I sleep fine. Tuesday night I watched the concession. Massie stood in front of his supporters — people who drove hours, who knocked doors, who believed the word still existed — and he said this: "If the legislative branch always votes with the president, we do have a king. But if lawmakers follow the Constitution, we have a republic." The crowd cheered. They chanted "2028!" They chanted "President!" They still have the word. It lives in that room in Kentucky, in the throats of people who drove to a concession speech on a Tuesday night because they still believe dissent is a right and not a luxury good priced at $32 million. I heard the quote. I sat in my office in Rayburn and I heard it and I knew it was true. If the legislative branch always votes with the president, we have a king. The next morning I walked forty-seven carpet squares and voted with the president. I knew what I was making. I made it anyway. The quote is true. I know the quote is true. The quote costs $32 million to act on and I don't have $32 million. So the quote is true and I am making a king and I am doing it with a green button every time the bells ring and I will do it tomorrow and I will do it next week and the truth of the quote changes nothing because truth doesn't have a budget. Truth has a concession speech. He lost by 4.4 points. $32 million for 4.4 points. $7.27 million per percentage point. A few thousand voters in a district of 478,000. That's how thin the margin was between a republic and a king. The width of a streaming subscription. The thickness of a bumper sticker. The weight of the word "no" when three billionaires are standing on it. The word was "accountability." The President ran on releasing the Epstein files. I was there. I heard the applause lines. My constituents want those files. They write me. They email. They stop me at diners. Thomas Massie confronted the Attorney General in a hearing room. He read the names from the unsealed documents. He called the redactions a cover-up to her face. She cited the Dow Jones Industrial Average. Then Massie posted a public proof-of-life. "I am not suicidal. My brakes work. I practice good trigger discipline." A United States congressman certifying his own continued existence because he asked one question about one file. That was the cost of asking. Before Kentucky. Before $32 million. Before the price list was published. Nobody will ask again. I won't ask. The files will remain redacted. Not because they're classified. Because the last man who demanded them in a hearing was made into a price tag, and the price tag is now mounted on the wall of every congressional office in the building. The President ran on no more wars. Massie voted against every foreign military authorization for thirteen years. Every one. He took Article I, Section 8 literally. Congress declares war. Not the President. The Constitution is plain text. He read the plain text. He was the only Republican still voting no on blank-check authorizations by 2024. He is gone now. The next authorization will pass without a recorded vote. Because recorded votes are accountable votes and accountable votes cost $32 million. "Release the files." "No more wars." "Drain the swamp." Campaign promises. Bumper stickers. Applause lines. Every single one required one thing from Congress. The word "no." No to redactions. No to cover-ups. No to unauthorized war. No to the budget that funds the swamp. The man who said "no" is gone. The voters who cheered for accountability voted for the candidate endorsed by the machine that destroyed the last accountable man in the building. I don't say this to blame them. I say this because both things are true simultaneously. The voters wanted accountability. The donors wanted compliance. Compliance has a budget. Accountability has a bumper sticker. $32 million divided by 478,000 voters in Kentucky's 4th district. That's $66.95 per constituent. Sixty-seven dollars per person to override an entire district's will. Less than a streaming subscription. Three billionaires from Manhattan paid the dinner check for 478,000 people and ordered for them. There is a woman in my district. Peggy. She has been to every town hall I've held since 2003. Twenty-four years. She brings a yellow legal pad. She writes down my answers in blue ink. She told me once, in 2011, outside a VFW hall, that she keeps all the pads in a box in her closet. A box of my positions. Dated. Transcribed. Fifteen years of promises in her handwriting. I haven't held a town hall in six months. I don't know how to stand in front of Peggy with her legal pad and explain that the box in her closet is an archive of a dead language. That the man who said those things doesn't exist anymore. That somewhere between 2003 and this Wednesday his vocabulary was narrowed and his button was automated and his chest stopped filling with warmth and he started sleeping fine and agreeing with the spending and he doesn't remember when any of it happened. I don't know what Peggy would write on her pad now. There's nothing to transcribe. I don't say things anymore. I press a button. The button is green. It has been green for fourteen months. Liz Cheney lost by thirty-seven points. Bill Cassidy finished third. Third. In his own primary. For a vote five years ago. Ten Republicans voted to impeach. Eight are gone. Elon Musk promised to support Massie. "I will." Two words. Ten months of silence. Zero dollars. The world's richest man decided one endorsement was priced too high. C-SPAN recorded Thursday's vote. Green across the board. Unanimous. Historians will see consensus. They will not see 434 people who watched Kentucky and did the math. Consensus and compliance are identical on camera. That is not a flaw. That is the product. You elected me twelve times. You knocked on doors. You put signs in your yard. You trusted me to say "no" when no was the right answer. Here is what your trust buys in 2026. A man who walks forty-seven carpet squares and feels nothing. Who presses green before he reads the title. Whose card wears unevenly. Who drafted a letter and will never send it. Who watched AI-generated pornography of a colleague funded by three billionaires and said nothing. Who did the math in eleven minutes and slept fine. Who lost a word and then lost the word for losing it. Who agreed with the spending Thursday morning and cannot tell you whether he chose to agree or was trained to agree and knows the difference no longer matters. Your congressman is loyal now. Your files are sealed. Your wars are unvoted. Your swamp is funded. The man who was doing what your bumper sticker says is in Kentucky now. Powerless. Replaced by a corn maze with a compliance guarantee. I'm loyal. That's the word. The only one left. The word was—

@nw_nicholas Rimmer sounds about right

Reform leader in Doncaster, Howard Rimmer

@tedcruz Yeah...but you're a cunt so......

I wish he hadn’t said this.

@jonny_ruela Better in gone in 60 seconds.

The hotness level of Angelina Jolie in Hackers will be studied by future generations

@TylerMcBrien That'll be trumps art of the deal shit then.....this is what he was after .he knew he'd never get the 10 b I'm sure this will net him far more

BLANCHE: "The United States...is hereby FOREVER BARRED and PRECLUDED from prosecuting or pursuing...examinations or similar or related reviews" against Trump "or related or affiliated individuals," including family members or related companies and trusts.

@AllieJade1 I'd just like to say....crazy horses....did they ever do drugs ? 😁

The year was 1971. Before Donnie joined in, they were called "The Osmond Brothers" and then "The Osmonds" once Donnie became a front singer for the group. This is them singing their song Yo Yo on The Flip Wilson Show! This family group were known as "the one take" Osmonds. While it was a badge of honor that they as entire family enterprise took seriously and the watchful eye of patriarch, it was also spoken about in later years by Jay Osmond and Merrill Osmond that the title also carried a immense emotional burden and intense psychological pressure to maintain absolute perfection at a very young age. Because of time constraints of how TV was filmed, they were expected to get the job done right in one take! Considering how many people show biz eats up, - It's really quite amazing that they all grew up to have successful lives and families! Were you a fan?

@ThrillaRilla369 Butlins

Anyone who knows what this is, has lived more than 40 years​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ 😆

@docrussjackson Doesn't help when you trump himself stating crap like we now have sharia law courts which override British law

How many gullible ill-informed Americans are actually taken in by these two shameless liars? RFK Jr: “People are going to jail for Twitter posts in England.” Joe Rogan: “12,000 people in the last year.” RFK: “It’s a dictatorship.” Rogan “They got rid of trial by jury” Their easily disprovable lies are both tragic and pathetic in equal measure. FACT CHECK: 1. The best estimate for number of people actually jailed for Twitter posts is NOT 12,000, but up to 60 people. Overall social media/online comms offences lead to ~100–200 jail terms annually and are focused on indecent/obscene messages (sexual content intended to distress or harass); image-based sexual abuse (including sexualised images of children); violent threats; menacing communications; targeted harassment; or incitement to racial/religious hatred and violence. In a 2023 trial by jury in the US, American Douglass Mackey was convicted and sentenced to 7 months in federal prison for posting memes on Twitter. The conviction was overturned on appeal in July 2025. 2. The UK is not a dictatorship. In recent major international rankings on democracy and democratic backsliding (2025–2026 data), the UK consistently ranks higher and shows less backsliding than the United States. 3. Britain has not ended trial by jury. Jury trials have not been abolished or ended. There is a proposed scaling back being discussed, designed to deal with court backlogs, not the end of the jury system. Scotland and Northern Ireland are unaffected. Even if the proposed changes are implemented, jury trials will remain the standard for the most serious offences in England and Wales (murder, rape, manslaughter, robbery, etc.), and they continue to operate as normal right now. IF the changes go ahead, which would limit jury trials for many "either-way" offences likely to result in a sentence of under 3 years, they are not expected to take effect until 2028 at the earliest.

@SikhFeminist Exactly what I was taught at school in the UK....whimsical lovely people who all lived in lovely peace and tranquility on kibbutz's eating felafel and hummus .....yeah...that was a fucking lie

Growing up in the US before I learned much history, I always thought Israel was this tiny little country in the Middle East desperately trying to keep Jews safe. Little did I know it was the most racist purveyor of evil and mass murder in the history of the modern world. A place so grotesque they starve, maim, and kill kids for sport and routinely gangrape civilians because they don't like their ethnicity and religion. All while stealing their land.

@TheUmmahOfIslam @ShaykhSulaiman Nah .that's not alien....that's predator

BREAKING: TRUMP POSTS AI IMAGE OF U.S CAPTURING SOME SORT OF ALIEN ENTITY

@_Yowsa_ Also though..given how ..durable she is ...did she really need the helmet and spakka pads ? 🤣

Wonder Woman chasing a car on a skateboard is everything I love about cheesy tv shows. Plus, it's Lynda Carter as #WonderWoman. 😍

@KYmama4liberty @11975MHz Simpler times 😁

@11975MHz All your base are belong to mint.

Now wait a minute So mint is really hardy and grows fast and it's edible and it smells great ...and we have a problem with this? Why would you ever want a regular old lawn when you can just have a tiny pleasant-smelling mint field? Am I missing something here?

@NotHoodlum And that was just the English translator

Donald Trump’s translator was taken to a nervous hospital in Beijing after reportedly suffering a breakdown.

@Jonathan_K_Cook No one who doesn't support Israel will be allowed near government...all parties

Something ugly happens to most vaguely progressive politicians as soon as they sense power. An old video, for example, shows Labour's Shabana Mahmood calling for a boycott of Israel, years before the Gaza genocide. Now, as home secretary, she's Israel's biggest cheerleader, and ready to tear up cherished speech and protest rights to protect Israel. So what to make of Andy Burnham's Labour leadership bid? He's being hailed as on Labour's "soft left". It's hard not to have a sinking feeling at the news that Josh Simons MP, a Starmer hatchet man – exposed for commissioning a spying operation on journalists investigating the unlawful actions of Starmer's team – has given up his Makerfield seat to help Burnham oust Starmer. Simons is praised by Labour allies for continuing the long-running antisemitism smear campaign against what they term "the hard left": that is, the tiny number of democratic socialists still in a Labour party that once identified as socialist. The Guardian reports that Simons "is Shabana Mahmood’s beast – lock, stock and barrel". And now he's personally salvaging Burnham's chances of becoming prime minister. Burnham is reported to have showered praise on Simons. Burnham scents power. Make no mistake: it will come at a heavy price.

@AmberWoods100 In addition....what about all his other accounts.. . Jeevacation doesn't sound like a main account to me

Remember when I mentioned this? It’s almost as if 9/11 is just… missing from the Epstein timeline when you build it out carefully. That absence tells a story of its own. 🧵

@ClimateWarrior7 Maybe your real friends will be the diseases you pick up along the way....

I've just been diagnosed with hantavirus. I have refused all medical interventions in favour of walking it off via long coastal hikes. If I survive I will write a book about the people I meet along the way. So far I've met one person and he was an idiot.

@GeoffBuysCars It's exactly this

I think all of the money has just been siphoned off. Look at the amount of different taxes we pay in the UK and look at what we get for it. At this stage it's all just a racket isn't it? People are now trapped at home by traffic, their local town centre is a sh1thole, can't get a doctors appointment, can't get an NHS dentist, and when you petition the government over something important you just get steamrolled.