John Healey

A good watch, Charlie Kirk at Oxford... My Full Speech At Oxford: Make England Great Again youtu.be/2I_YoS234TM?si… via @YouTube

Dear @Keir_Starmer you’re falling well below the standard required to be the prime minister of the United Kingdom. You are actually making the majority of the country ill and depressed, we have lost hope and feel utterly defeated. Resign, and let people live again.

Where does Keir Starmer belong?

Would you like to see a full, independent investigation into the activities of - Labour Together? Please RT after voting thank you.

F ing walkers. Can’t shut a simple gate, ewes and lambs all over the spring barley. If you can’t follow the Countryside Code then keep away

Now THIS is what a proper ambassador does. Take note @Keir_Starmer and Peter Mandelson!

Where we are at.🙄

@kat_maryb Crumble it with chopped boiled egg and mayonnaise for a bacon & egg mayo sandwich, the next day...

What do you do with leftover bacon?

Mega Poll. Is Stamer Honest? Retweet for wider coverage.

@Matt_Pinner "Well, by the dirt 'neath my nails / I guess he knew I wouldn't lie / 'I guess you're tired,' / He said, kinda sly" The lyric is from Bob Dylan's 1964 song "Motorpsycho Nightmare" on the album Another Side of Bob Dylan.

What do you call a person who has nails like that?🤔

@Amy_90_x Start of the Asparagus season, buying mine tomorrow...

St George's Day tomorrow

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I honestly can't believe we are in a situation where Keir Starmer misled the house AGAIN. He said Olly Robbins said "No pressure existed whatsoever" But everyone knows that's another LIE. Watch for yourself. The man is a *compulsive liar*. He's a disgrace. GET HIM OUT!

@EdwardJDavey, with respect, that analysis is back to front and the facts don't support it. Trump did not ask for Mandelson. He asked for Dame Karen Pierce to stay. She was already in post, already trusted by the incoming administration, already known to Trump personally, and his team had made clear they wanted continuity. A senior Trump campaign adviser described her as professionally universally respected and lamented her removal. Trump himself has since said the Mandelson appointment was a mistake. Starmer did not replace Pierce to flatter Trump. He replaced her despite Trump's preference. The decision to install Mandelson was driven entirely from the British side, by people around Starmer who wanted that specific figure in that specific post for reasons that have never been satisfactorily explained. So the question is not why Starmer tried to appease Trump. The question is why he overruled Trump's own preference, removed a diplomat the Americans trusted, and installed a man the security services had said should not be cleared, in the face of warnings about Russia and China connections that were sitting in his own due diligence report. That is not appeasement of Trump. That is something else entirely. And it is the question nobody in Parliament has yet succeeded in getting Starmer to answer. "Trump did not ask for Mandelson. He asked for Dame Karen Pierce to stay."

@MahikRani50377 All...

How many of these have you actually used in real life? Be honest👀

@Geniustechw Boxing Day for me! A reminder to follow the local hunt, it's a great Christmas family tradition...

What’s the FIRST thing that comes to MIND when you see this?

Every time a German Messerschmitt pilot wanted to escape a Spitfire on his tail, he did the same thing. He pushed the nose down. In a dive, the German engine kept running — it used fuel injection. The British Spitfire's engine cut out. For one and a half seconds the Merlin went dead, the aircraft shuddered, and by the time it caught again the German was gone. Worse: if a German was behind a British pilot and the British pilot dove to escape, the German could follow and keep shooting while the British engine was silent. Pilots were dying because of a carburetor. The engineers at Farnborough knew about the problem. They were working on a long-term solution — a redesigned carburetor that would take years to perfect and manufacture. A woman named Beatrice Shilling fixed it with a washer. She was born in Hampshire in 1909 and was the kind of child who spent her pocket money on Meccano sets and tools. At fourteen she bought her first motorbike. Her mother, with the inspired instinct of someone who understood what her daughter actually was, found the Women's Engineering Society and arranged an apprenticeship at an electrical firm. She went to Manchester University — one of the first two women ever to study engineering there — graduated with a degree in electrical engineering, stayed another year for a master's in mechanical engineering, and in 1936 joined the Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough as a scientific officer. By the late 1930s she was one of the best carburetor engineers in Britain. She was also one of only three women to hold the British Motorcycle Racing Club's Gold Star — awarded for lapping the Brooklands racing circuit at over 100 miles per hour on a motorcycle. She had reportedly told her future husband, an engineer named George Naylor, that she wouldn't marry him until he earned his own Brooklands Gold Star first. He earned it. They married in 1938. The problem with the Merlin was specific and lethal. The SU carburetor used a float chamber to regulate fuel flow. Under negative g-forces — the forces experienced in a sudden dive — the fuel flooded to the top of the float chamber and starved the engine for 1.5 seconds. Just enough time for a German pilot to turn the tables entirely. The RAF had known about this since the Battle of France. The formal solution — a redesigned pressure carburetor — was in development but wouldn't be ready for years. Shilling was thirty-one years old, working in carburetor research, and she designed a fix in weeks. A brass thimble with a precisely calibrated hole in the center — later simplified to a flat washer — fitted inline in the fuel line just before the carburetor. It restricted maximum fuel flow to just enough to prevent flooding without cutting off power. The key breakthrough: it could be fitted without taking the aircraft out of service. No downtime. No factory return. The old guard at the RAE looked at it and called it a plumbing fix. They called her a plumber. The first batch of 5,000 units was made by a Birmingham firm that normally manufactured plumbing fixtures, which they found embarrassing. The RAF pilots who flew Spitfires with Messerschmitts on their tails called it something else. They called it Miss Shilling's Orifice. With deep affection. By March 1941 she had organized a small team and was personally touring RAF fighter stations across England — traveling between bases on her old racing motorcycle — fitting the device to every Merlin engine they could reach. Squadron leaders all over the country were demanding installations. The word spread faster than the official channels could keep up with. The Germans noticed. They couldn't explain why British fighter pilots had suddenly started following them into dives. They were baffled by the new aggression. They didn't know about the washer. (More story replies)

Your grandmother cooked in butter. Or ghee. Or lard. Or tallow. Whatever fat came off the animal that lived near her. Your mother cooked in margarine, or vanaspati, or whatever the TV advert told her was modern. You cook in refined sunflower oil. Three generations. Three cooking fats. One global cardiovascular epidemic that nobody can quite explain. India is the cleanest example of the pattern, because the timeline is compressed and the documents still exist. For four thousand years, Indian cooking ran on ghee. Clarified butter from the cow. Central to Ayurveda, essential to every dal, every sweet, every samosa. It kept for months without a fridge. It carried the fat-soluble vitamins from the grass the cow ate. Then in 1937, a Dutch trading company partnered with Lever Brothers and launched Dalda. Dalda was hydrogenated vegetable oil dressed up as ghee. Cottonseed, later palm. Cheap. Modern. Scientific. The first proper multi-media ad campaign India had ever seen. Short films in cinemas. Painted vans touring villages. Street-side sampling. Leaflets at the market. The message was always the same. Real ghee is expensive. Dalda is progress. By 1950, Dalda was in half of urban Indian kitchens. By 1980, vanaspati ghee accounted for the majority of household cooking fat in the country. Three generations of Indian mothers fed their children a product that was roughly 40% trans fat by weight. Trans fats are, by a wide margin, the most cardiovascular-damaging substance ever put into the human food supply. India's heart disease rates climbed through the 70s, 80s, and 90s to among the highest on earth. Type 2 diabetes, almost unknown in the traditional population, became endemic. The Indian Heart Association started running national campaigns. The government finally restricted industrial trans fats in 2021. Eighty-four years after Dalda launched. But the cultural damage was done. Desi ghee, the thing Indian kitchens had run on for four millennia, became a special-occasion food. Something for Diwali. Something grandmother used to make. The everyday cooking moved to refined sunflower, refined soybean, refined palm. Not even the Dalda tin with the green palm tree. The ghee survived only in a small fraction of households still making it the traditional bilona way, from A2 milk, slowly, by people who mostly call it a hobby. The same advert ran everywhere. The product name changed. The outcome did not. Britain got margarine. America got Crisco. India got Dalda. The campaigns were successful. The trans fats arrived. The cardiac wards are now monuments to that success. The traditional fat is still being made. It used to be called Tuesday.

Black pudding is one of the very few offal foods in Britain that survived the 20th-century collapse of traditional cooking. When the British kitchen turned against liver, kidney, heart, tongue, tripe, sweetbreads, faggots, and trotters, black pudding somehow got through. The generation that grew up in the 1970s rejecting their grandmothers' offal made an unspoken exception for the thick black disc on the breakfast plate. It survived by stowing away inside the Full English, carried through the century by the cultural weight of a breakfast format no government campaign has managed to dismantle. The recipe has not changed in six hundred years. Fresh pig's blood, pinhead oatmeal, beef suet, onion, salt, pepper. Stuffed into a natural casing, coiled into a ring, simmered until it sets. Stornoway defends its version under PGI. Bury uses pearl barley and eats it boiled with mustard. Every butcher from Morecambe to Fraserburgh has a recipe his father handed him. A ring from a decent butcher costs about £5. Per 100 grams it delivers substantial heme iron in the form the human gut actually absorbs, substantial B12, complete protein, and the specific lipid profile of real rendered suet. Approximately 20% of British women of childbearing age are anaemic. The NHS response is ferrous sulphate tablets at £4 a month, which cause nausea, constipation, and dark stools, and must be taken for six months to correct a deficiency that two slices of black pudding a week would correct in a fortnight. Faggots went. Brains went. Tripe went. Sweetbreads went. Black pudding stayed. It stayed because the British breakfast refused to let it go. Eat it. Support the butcher who makes it properly. That is what kept it here in the first place.

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