Mad Mike Magee’s Musings

THE JELLYBONE rings. It is automated phone spam from a trade union called Unison, which tells me that as the  union general secretary she is calling to say that I should vote for Ken Livingstone as mayor on the 1st of May.

Shome mishtake. I am not a member of Unison. I am a member of the National Union of Journalists (NUJ), which advised me to settle with Sun Microsystems when, at the INQ, I was locked in threatened legal action by legal suits. It was actually mates at the Sun that delivered the advice I needed, certainly not the  bleeding NUJ.

In fact, I am effectively disenfranchised, because I have until tomorrow to register for a proxy vote which means legging it down to the local town hall in ‘Arrow. Apparently you can’t register for a poxy vote online.  

I can’t vote on the 1st of May because I am frying out to Bengaluru, in India. ♣

THE LITTLE Reynard pictured above right in the header pic didn’t blanch when I took a shot of it early this morning.

It must want to be a celebrity fox, like Basil Brush. Boom, boom!

Indeed, the foxes round our yard here are as bold as brass, but timid inasmuch as if a cat shows up, they’ll do a runner.  They are not frightened of humans, even if we wear red coats, have dogs, ride roughshod over garden fences and blow a horn - Tally Ho!

Some of the local residents in this Parish of Harrow  (cough) seem to believe that it is other people’s dogs that are defecating in their yards. Not so. The urban fox has turned into the equivalent of the Border Collie in North West London - they are intelligent enough not to be taken out for runs around the park, although they have played havoc in many back gardens by digging up crocii, brocolli, rocket and the like in their relentless search for, er, worms.

They don’t defecate in back gardens any more, because the moggies see them off - they defecate on the pavements instead. But they spend many happy hours digging up worms out of gardens which doesn’t half irritate those people who grow “rocket” salad in their back gardens, rather than just going down to the local Tesco and saving themselves money and time. ♦

BOGGARD If you’re wondering about the grey strip below the fox brush, this is not a photographic glitch, but represent “storage sheds” built by our three next door neighbours on our left. Harrow Council permits such “storage sheds” to be built three metres high without planning permission. So Monsieur Reynard is sunning himself on one of these concrete edifices, which are just as grey and characterless as New Shanghai.