Let’s just get this out there.

It’s all YOUR fault.

We don’t have enough housing for the population.

That’s your fault.

Our sainted NHS is a badly managed shitshow with a postcode lottery that will determine the quality of our care.

That’s your fault.

Our roads are a joke, if pothole dodging were a sport, we’d be world class, along with India and Gaza.

Public transport in rural areas is almost nonexistent.

Both of those are your fault.

Nonces, rapists and terror suspects are out on bail or given laughable sentences.

Middle class women that made a mistake on social media have been imprisoned, Lucy Connolly’s appeal failed so she’s still in prison at our cost despite being no threat at all to the public.

That’s your fault.

The Metropolitan Police arrested and charged a Jewish man for taking the piss out of Hezbollah.

That’s right.

A fucking terrorist organisation is being protected from offence by our police.

That’s your fault.

Our government just gave away the Chagos islands to a foreign power that’s a client state of China.

That’s bad enough.

We’re paying them somewhere between 10 and 30 billion pounds too.

That’s your fault.

In one street In Leicester, at least 43% of the population don’t speak English.

I’m willing to bet that some areas are even worse.

Many of these people are having their whole lives funded.

By us.

That’s your fault.

Our councils have lost the battle to square the finances in the face of this huge influx of immigrants and are penalising the council tax payer as a result. Even though services reduce year on year.

That’s your fault.

Over SEVEN MILLION people in the UK are functionally illiterate, a staggering figure and one that should terrify us all.

We’re breeding generations of people that will find the concept of electricity and running water impossible to grasp if we don’t put a stop to our decline.

That’s your fault.

Our Prime Minister has been apparently targeted by a gang of Rent Boys, but the press, as usual are more or less silent.

The same Prime Minister has been called a congenital liar so often that he probably thinks it’s a compliment.

That is also your fault.

Rape, murder and assault figures are at the sort of levels that we used to associate with failed African states. The numbers are hardly reported and if you want to discuss them, you’re a fucking bigoted racist, gammon Nazi.

Or something.

That’s your fault.

It’s all your fault.

Or should I say Our Fault.

It’s nearly unfixable now.

What comes next is going to be grim.

Happy Sunday.

Some statistics from this week.

Forty Seven days

Two years

Ten miles

Thirty nine hours

Twelve years

Ten hours

Today’s the 18th of May, it’s a Sunday and I’m sat in the garden, drinking beer, listening to bird song and watching Cairo drift off to sleep in the sunshine.

Or I was, she’s wandered off again. It’s even money as to whether she’s gone hunting or wandered off for a doze. She was so broken yesterday after walks and ‘helping’ me work and playing with the water gun, that she could barely move.

Milo’s definitely asleep somewhere, we did a nearly six mile walk earlier and he’s also had a couple of patrols around ‘his’ land.

It’s been forty seven days since I left work – I only know this because they haven’t closed my accounts properly and I’m getting mails telling me that my phone is out of policy.

I miss it even less than I thought I would. My days are still full, but not tied to an artificial timetable.

And for the first time in weeks and weeks, I went to London on Thursday.

It was a full day, up at six, walk the dogs, home, shower, put a suit on and drive to the station.

Train to London, cab to the Army and Navy Club and then lunch in the bar above Waterstones on Jermyn Street.

On to Piccadilly for a couple of drinks with the son of a friend who passed last year – and one of my feral ponies.

Meet The Smurf, go for dinner in Mayfair and catch up on her recovery. She’s 90% there but the strain of a very close call with death and a genuinely life altering operation is there on her face if you know her well enough.

I pretend that I don’t and keep the compliments flowing on a semi-regular basis.

Get a text from one of the other feral ponies – three of them are in town.

Meet them at the Cellar Door – chat to the singer, she vaguely recognises me – have I been there before?

Erm. Yes. Twelve years ago, we went there a lot.

Drink like seahorses with the ponies, one of them pays for it on his corporate card, I’m apparently four people from Security.

Onto Soho with the ponies and The Smurf, three clubs, litres of gin and all of them packed off in cabs by 3am.

Off to bed.

After ten hours of drinking.

And I can’t fucking sleep.

Breakfast in the club, cab to Euston and a train back home – I’m in First so I have a bit more food.

Home for a quick lunch and then a walk across the fields to install a new kissing gate for the parish.

Walk back home to get chainsaws, saws and a fucking tomahawk so that we can clear the tree stump from Hell.

Many hours later, ten miles of walking back and forth, more swearwords from a couple of us than I think the third of our group has heard in their lifetime and the motherfucking stump was cleared. The cunt.

And our gate was installed.

Home for a couple of beers and a bit of dinner.

And sleep.

I’d been awake for thirty nine hours at that point, I’d walked ten miles and was somewhat surprised to make it to early evening.

Yesterday was a day of walking and more work , the dogs had some fun on the canal and helped me check a shed in a copse of trees that I’m going to repair for varmints.

And today was spent walking, doing minor jobs and chilling.

It’s been two years since my Dad died and I wasn’t sure how I’d feel today.

Life is there to be lived, I miss him, but can’t bring him back.

And I won’t be sad.

Life is here for us to enjoy if we so choose.

I choose to.

Remember to live.

Those stats won’t stay still

Sunday, May 11th 2025

A beautiful, glorious, sunny and warm day.

A day to spend outdoors, in the fields, in the park, on the streets, in your own garden.

An almost perfect English Summer’s Day.

If you’re not looking at the news of course.

Don’t go outside?

Fucking Hell.

Our ancestors are so mortified that they’re actually cringing in their graves. They’re too traumatised to spin.

We’re that pathetic.

It’s around 1830 right now and I’m drinking a beer while I cook dinner. The doglets are both shattered.

Milo because he’s walked around 5 miles today in the killer heat ( spoiler, I carry water as well as home made treats like dehydrated chicken and chicken sausages) – Cairo because she’s followed me all round the land while I cut bits of tree down and burn them – oh yeah, I dug a wildflower area over too. And also because we played for the best part of an hour with the hose and the water gun.

She absolutely loves it and so do I,

We get to play in the open air, she goes absolutely fucking apeshit, and I laugh.

A lot.

I can’t tell anybody how to live their lives, I can’t say what’s good or bad. I can’t say what’s safe or dangerous, but I can tell you what I know.

Days like today are for spending outside, having fun or getting things done. Or both.

The day that the MSM can tell us to avoid sunlight are apparently here

All we can do is laugh at them.

Hide inside.

Fuxake 😂

See that line in the field behind the dogs?

We made that, we did it over a few years and we did it by walking the fields.

Hardly anybody uses it, apart from the chap that owns all 216 acres of it and it links to more fields, a short road past a vineyard and even more fields.

I know this because we walk it regularly, anywhere between four and seven miles on a given walk – and Milo still has enough energy at the moment to run for the sheer joy of it for lots of the time.

Cairo is still propelled by rocket fuel but she’s better at coming back now after she runs off on the hunt.

We do a LOT of walking and we added some time on today to help look for a farmer’s lost dog ( not found yet, but I’m hopeful it’ll turn up soon).

Because that’s what you’re supposed to do, I think.

You don’t have to be the life of the party or one of those fucking people who wants to be everyone’s friend.

But when you get offered a choice, take the nicer one if you can.

Walk instead of driving sometimes, take a moment to look at the everyday beauty that you miss if you’re head-down and hurrying, or calling another driver a cunt because they don’t want to drive as fast as YOU do.

Take a breath.

There’s miles and miles of bluebells around here right now, they’re ethereal, beautiful and short lived.

Like us.

If you can, choose that slower, nicer path, enjoy these days while we have them.

Happy Sunday all

200 years ago ( more or less) our ancestors were building the Stockton to Darlington railway line and fighting the first Anglo-Burmese War.

We’d smashed French hopes of domination a decade before and we ruled the seas.

If we wanted something, we took it, by trade or force or both.

The greatest empire the world has ever known.

All from this tiny island.

We brought an almost universal language, education and modes of government that still exist in many places.

We weren’t very nice but we were driven.

A hundred years later and despite the immense losses of WW1, we still ruled a vast empire and the country was a hothouse of scientific and cultural progress.

Coal exports ( exports ) had slowed and this would cause issues but our impact on the world stage was still immense.

A hundred years later and we’re importing coal from Japan to feed the last remnants of a shattered steel industry.

Hundreds of third world, fighting age men arrive every day and instead of pressing them into service or sending them straight back to mainland Europe, we give them housing, phones and money.

They want for nothing while our people are taxed more and more and more.

People have been locked up for YEARS for words on a screen that challenge this new normal and the robbery, rape and murder increases that have followed.

In 1985, 1800 rape offences were recorded.

In 24/25 it’s 68,000.

And nothing is done.

We’re continually told that diversity is our strength, a lie on a par with Arbeit Macht Frei.

We’re bigots for noticing, for complaining, for protesting when little girls are butchered and our own government colludes in a cover up of the facts because they’re so scared.

Of us.

Our ancestors were barbarians, they took what they wanted by force, held it by force and gave zero fucks.

We’re not that far different, we’ve been indoctrinated with a drip-feed of how they think we SHOULD behave, but the walls are crumbling.

They’re worried about what comes next.

They should be.

They’ve done nothing to fix this for years and I have a bridge to sell you if you think that ANY party is different.

I’ve used a photo of Milo lying in the sun with some beer that I took a few minutes ago deliberately.

This is my land, my England, my way of life.

I’m fucked if I’m letting it go without a fight.

Let’s be Barbarians again.

Tomorrow will be day ten since I left my job behind, waving a teary farewell and leaving things behind.

A new start.

A clean slate.

Well.

Sort of.

One of the reasons that I left was the introduction of a new senior management team with the emotional intelligence of a wasp nest, they didn’t even wait for me to leave before they made a move on one of my offshore people.

He made the fatal mistake of not bouncing around like a hyperactive puppy when the MD and COO visited the country and office that he works in.

That was enough to seal his probable fate, he’d already raised a bullying case against an in country senior manager (that he didn’t report to).

I tried really hard to show the seniors just what a good boy I could be if I wanted to – and that it was a conscious decision to do so.

More of this later.

I picked up a new car on day one and also got my nomination papers in for the local elections, we’re unopposed- so I’m a councillor again.

I had a call with the RAF Cadets to become a trustee and security checks notwithstanding ( amusingly I already hold an above TS clearance via MOD but they have to do the checks apparently) I’m in.

I’m looking forward to that.

And I’ve spent almost every day working outside, building things, repairing, painting and oiling, cutting, shredding and burning, digging and moving wood and earth.

It’s been lovely.

The doglets have spent every day outside with me and watched with interest when I measured, cut and fitted new aluminium trim for my office decking.

Cairo helped me dig over the earth in the wildflower area and Milo is as fit ( if not as young) as he’s ever been.

One of my neighbours may have some occasional work for me to keep the bank balance topped up and I don’t miss work at all.

One of my major gripes when I resigned was that instead of backfilling me, they dumped my whole team onto my best friend – she already had half of the staff and this gave her nearly everybody for no more money, a change in grade or anything material at all.

She then inherited the issue with the offshore guy that they’re stitching up.

So, I’ve found him a lawyer and when they make a move on him in a week or two, he’ll be ready.

He’s also already shortlisted for five jobs.

As for me.

Being nice was always a conscious decision, I hit them with a DSAR on the day that I left, I suspect that I’ll find some interesting communication between a few people.

And more importantly.

It’ll have pissed them off.

Really pissed them off.

Not as much as when the offshore guy does it in conjunction with his lawyer of course.

Or when my friend resigns tomorrow morning as she has a new job outside the toxic shitshow that things have become.

I’ve got people coming for Easter so this week will be a blur of preparation, shopping and picking people up.

It’s going to be busy.

But fun.

And on my own timescales.

I’ll probably only write about the ex-job one more time. When my DSAR comes in ( if it’s interesting, otherwise I won’t bother)

I’ll stay in touch with the Feral Pony Club

https://smallthunderdog.blog/2025/03/30/feral-pony-club/

Because tomorrow (or whenever they find out that my friend is leaving) will sting.

And I’ll help them with whatever they need.

I finally leave my job tomorrow and I’m treating it seriously.

I’ll check and respond to all emails, sign off expenses and reflect on the past six years.

They’ve been really good, I’ve had trips to Malaysia and Australia, Dublin and a load of very, very interesting places in the UK where they do secret and important things.

But 2024 was the highlight, I created and recruited a new team and they are….

Genuinely the best I’ve ever worked with.

The UK contingent (plus my best friend ) is in the first photo and that’s my leaving do, we left the bulk of the people in the bar to do photos.

Oh yeah.

We all had the same shirts and My Little Pony temp tattoos on our left cheekbones. (don’t ask)

That’s me in the black t-shirt.

We started drinking just before 4pm and drank for just under 11 hours, apparently there was some projectile vomiting and I have a lovely bruise on my back after a poor dismount from the bar stool that I stood on to give my leaving speech.

There was a big turnout and people travelled some impressive distances, but in the long run, it was the feral pony club that mattered and I’m going to treasure the memory of our last night.

I have some presents from the wider teams and I thought that was it.

Until yesterday when a surprise package appeared at my house.

An engraved pewter bottomed glass with all their names on it.

I’m not ashamed to say that I had something in my eye

Our story probably isn’t over and I have some updates on my leaving that I’ll leave for a day or two.

But for today.

I did something right.

I’m so fucking proud of them all.

I’m not going all biblical, it’s just the most well known description of a mythical light-bringer.

You can add Eos, Helel, Phosporos and Aurora to the list.

And I think that’s important right now.

Our little world is getting darker, the news is awful on a daily basis and there’s no let-up in sight.

So we have to generate our own light.

Not an original thought, obviously.

Marcus Aurelius wrote this.

‘Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what’s left and live it properly. What doesn’t transmit light creates its own darkness.’

It’s not a bad way to think, he also wrote this.

‘When you arise in the morning think of what a privilege it is to be alive, to think, to enjoy, to love.’

And that should be our revenge against THEM and the status quo, if things are bad, try to find a way to make them better.

If we don’t?

Nobody will.

This is my council tax bill, I’m responsible for the 9.9% increase part. It’s fuck all, but we’ll spend it on things that people actually tell us they want rather than hoping Shropshire will sort everything (they won’t).

And we’ll try to do good with the money, more poo bins, more footpath work, more drop in meetings with sandwiches.

My book is published and I have copies for all my team (who don’t know I’ve written it ) that I’ll give them as a memento on my last day.

As for them, I couldn’t be prouder if they were my own children, multiple award nominations (including national) and more to the point:

Our WhatsApp chat is full of how they’ll send me off (and whether arrests will occur).

I’m looking forward to the weeks and months to come, of spring and summer without an hour by hour schedule and spending as much time as possible outside with the doglets.

As for them.

I sometimes think that they’re possessed by demons.

But they’re small demons of light that make me laugh.

Little Lucifers

What matters to you personally?

Is it money, true love, material possessions, the respect of others, climbing up the treacherous ladder of success?

Whatever it is, I wish you well and hope that you achieve a modicum of happiness.

For me, I’m becoming less driven by a single idea or ideal and I’ve begun to let go and just enjoy the days and hours.

It’s been a strange week in a number of ways but I’m lying on a sofa in the sun, music in the background and a beer to sip while I type.

The views from this sofa are spectacular and it’s probably my favourite spot in the house, it helps that it’s in the kitchen.

So what’s been strange about the week?

Well.

I’ve stopped taking new meetings and took part in an all day briefing meeting for my team and the team that they’ll be working closely with as from April.

It ended at 3am for me, in a club in Soho.

More on that in a while.

I finished my book and it’s ready for pre-order on Kindle and Amazon paperback – I have no idea if it’s any good, but fuck it.

I’ve ordered some author copies so that I can give them to my team on my last day in the office – and we’ll see what happens.

I had a call with my pension advisor and we’re looking at a plan for the next couple of years – I may continue work or not.

Depends how much I like being on my own clock.

I had a meeting with Shropshire council to try to sort some road issues out for some parishioners and I’ve helped a chap with his planning application for a single house on 11 acres of land.

I also found out that not only has one of my team been bullied by senior management in a country far,far away, but they’ve tried to close ranks and stitch him up because he logged a grievance.

We have a call to discuss the situation next week with HR and management, I’m going to fucking eviscerate them.

I’ve heard from the guy trying to arrange the Wembley concert and he has a meeting with Wembley on Tuesday- he also has a retired Paratroop General on the committee now.

And…..

After the team meeting on Thursday, we went for dinner (for 12 people) and we were joined by somebody I’ve mentioned before – The Smurf.

Our history is complicated to say the least but she’s one of my best friends, she’s 19 years younger, has a husband, two kids, a lovely dog, a job and a good life.

The plan was for her to be my guardian angel for my leaving do on the 26th as I think it’s got the possibility to be epic.

But.

She needs an emergency operation at the end of the week or she might die.

Not hyperbole or exaggeration.

And the op is massive and life changing.

So, the end of Thursday night was mostly listening to her while we tried to dance and look normal in a series of bars and clubs.

I put her in a cab at 3 and went back to my club, luckily I’d been up for 23 hours so I managed a couple of hours sleep before leaving at 6 to come home.

I’ll catch up properly with her tomorrow to get the latest and to tell her that although I probably don’t believe in a deity, I’ll ask every day for her to still be here for the foreseeable future.

I’ll also tell her that these lyrics from a song by Sixx AM inspired me to write about her today

‘Do you wanna see heaven tonight?
Underneath those lights you will look so beautiful
Do you wanna see the stars before they fall?
See the stars before they fall’

Life’s short.

Enjoy yours, hug your friends and lovers – call somebody that you’ve lost touch with.

Think about what really matters.

It’s too difficult to explain if you haven’t seen all this drama

In the end

But I needed to take a day off on Friday to go and see my aunt – she’s in a care home in Richmond, North Yorkshire.

It’s a nice place and the view is spectacular, her room faces out to this.

I had to take a large delivery of things that were delivered to the wrong address ( mine instead of the care home and my fuck-up) and also to make the point to the care home that the money is going fast and that they need to work with the council to change the payments.

The council have already agreed, so it’s just a timing error.

But it’s important, we need money in her account to pay for things she wants – or needs. Like emergency dental appointments and an extraction, which happened on Wednesday.

It’s a seven hour round trip plus stops and visiting time, so a bit of a full day, but I decided to use it as a dry run for my (not quite fully) planned road trip after I finish work and we get Easter out of the way.

So I took Cairo.

She was absolutely perfect for the whole trip, either dozing or just looking out of the window.

And the surprise she gave my aunt was priceless.

It lashed down with rain for most of the 175 miles home, but it was so nice to have done something good.

I’m incredibly relaxed today and I’m starting to look forward to having some real time to do nice things after March 31st.

It’s going to be fun.