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A Blog of Wisdom from Mr Pineapples - to you and The World. Be Grateful. The P is here to help - to teach - to nulify non-wisdom. This Blog will incorporate many things - much of which will be Wisdom of the P. The P is an anarcho-syndicalist co-operativ

Updated: 2018-03-07T15:08:33.630-08:00





What was I doing when the planes hit the two towers?

I was returning home from work, pulling into my driveway. Head still working on an insolvency case – some bloke had gone into liquidation owing the bank a small fortune and bank was out for his blood……but I digress….

Easing out of the car the radio news is telling me a light plane has crashed into one of the trade centre towers (not that I knew very much about those buildings).

I think – oh well – some silly sod in a little plane lost his way, hit a building. Why do they fly silly little planes anyway? Get a life.

Walking into the kitchen I turn on the radio – in the minutes on leaving the car the news had become more serious. Turn on the TV. And what I saw has been etched into my memory.

My mate Mark is painting my house that week and so he and me sit and watch the news together for the next hour or two – both incredulous as to what we are seeing. Saying things like – “Bloody hell…..” and “ I can't believe this….” Too shocked to utter anything profound or meaningful.

We are actually watching as the second tower folds like a concertina. Over in seconds: smoke, and billowing dust.

I phone Mrs P – who is at a friend’s house ¼ mile away and tell her to watch the news.

And that’s what I was doing. Mundane – but as alive in my mind now as it was then.

The TV has been filled this week with stories and documentaries about 9/11 (in the UK we would say 11/9) and the suffering of the folks then and now. And I feel very sad about all of this.

It was a very major event in terms of the immediate spectacle, the subsequent turn of events and the effect on the American Psyche. In the UK we have had terrorism and God knows what for many years; the IRA bombed our arses off for decades and ironically the Americans (not all of them) supported the Republican terrorists with finance.

In fact - I came close to having an Irish bomb blow underneath me - but had left the building before the fire bomb exploded. BOOM.

We Brits also got bombed to bits in the 2nd World War – so collectively the British know what it’s like to face onslaught. The Americans were never bombed in WW2 and so 9/11 was unique - like waking from a dream.

Now our trans-atlantic cousins have that terrible knowledge; ending the Age of Innocence.



Listen my Dear P Club – I appreciate that P has been away – and I know how you have pined…but here He is – BACK.In the interval P has been in The U S of A (in a place called "Kansas") – and He will tell you all about that. But wait up…there’s something else to tell.P will tell of morality and offer enlightenment.The Foal and the 2 ScumbagsThe news has been full recently of an event, which took place near where I live. This story, although local to where P lives, was taken up by the national press and even grabbed the attention of folks in New York. It's all about animals and hence the vast British interest - with us being animal lovers and all - no Spanish cruelty in our country - No Sir! We are the humane nation.One afternoon two teenagers were observed taking a little foal into our local park in the middle of the day. They then proceeded to kick and stamp it to death – laughing their arses off as they did it. The geezeer who saw it - felt powerless to help as these teenagers looked mean and nasty and oftentimes in the UK - an intervention can result in a knife in the head or at least a good kicking.The press went totally Ape-Shit and there ensued a moral panic the size of London. Fibres of the trainers (sneakers) were taken from the dead animal and a lab in the States offered to analyse them. They did and hey presto - we discovered who these shit-heads were.Well – they have caught the little scumbags and they are awaiting trial – one 19 year and one 17 – with a spotty faced 14 in tow. Trouble is – my kids know these little scumbags as one of them came to our boxing club for a short spell. I don’t get it – can the P Club please explain to me the psychology of this event? What attracts 3 kids to kill an animal in this way? It's worse that it was a foal - not sure why - but it just it.2 more scumbags and Little PBut there’s a brighter tale and this one happened not too far from the foal-killing park. 9 o’clock at night Little P is walking with a friend through the mean streets of our village. Little P is 15 years old – but he’s quite tall for his age – but very slim built. Underneath his shirt he’s a typical boxer boy – fit as a ferret.Anyway – two individuals start to cross the road towards Little P – two youths aged approx 19 and 20. Much bigger and older than Little P. Deliberately they barge into Little P, and not wanting trouble Little P say “Sorry”.Next thing – this big guy pushes Little P up against a fence and feints a punch into his face. Little P looks scared – and youth turns and laughs to his friend.BIG MISTAKE.The twat – leaves his chin hanging in mid-air.Little P – clips him straight underneath with an uppercut, right on the button of the chin and knocks him out cold.Sparko – bloody-unconscious.Little P said to me that he saw this idiot’s eyes roll into the back of his head before he hit the deck. He lay on the floor for at least two minutes having a refreshing nap.Next thing- the other idiot tries to take on Little P and his friend and gets nowhere. In fact the guy gets roughed up by Little P and friend. In the meantime our hero as awakened from his slumbers and staggers towards Little P - mouthing obscenities.Little P simply reminds him that he was knocked out and advises that there's more were that came from. Knocked out by a kid.I was so pleased that it happened – that Little P let this big fat bully have it. The thing is - he is used to throwing a punch - it comes second nature.Always let scum-bags like this have it before they have a chance to start on you. I can tell when trouble is on the horizon and I have taught my boys to hit first and then run.This sort of violence happens all over the UK – all of the time.I am so glad that I have taught Little P how to box and to get the retaliation in first. Had he not decked this idiot he was in serious trouble.WE MUST BRING BOXING BACK INTO OUR SCHOOLS.Nice to be back.Oh Good Grief – it’s fantastically nice to be back[...]



(image) Dear P Club

I need some advice.

There’s this woman in work who is driving me mad. Generally - I find that I get along with all womanfolk - but there is a certain kind who I have problems with - and they are characterised by:

- overt aggression
- insecurity
- no sense of humour

We have formed a group of like-minded folk dedicated to a certain aspect of the law –We work together, organise functions and marketing events, share technical knowledge etc. etc. So far – so good.

And along comes this new lady – she’s a bit butch – short hair cut – men’s clothes – in fact looks like a man, but is not a man. Nothing wrong with that – I wear men’s clothes all of the time, and I enjoy it.

But by Gawd – she is so aggressively insecure and has the social skills of a duck.

For example:

She has designed a course, which we are running for the legal profession and all I did was make a few suggestions as to how we could improve it. But the reaction from her was severe – she argued that I was “stepping on her toes” – in short – she went ballistic!

I must admit she did make me laugh. And my first response was to make a big bloody joke out of it. Which made her even madder.

But if anyone tells me how I can improve something I am keen to listen and will often amend or even dump what I have prepared. My kids tell me all the time. It’s all about getting better at doing things - improving. But this lady won’t listen to anyone.

Anyway – I don’t mind really – she is certainly insecure and I can understand this; who wouldnt feel nervous around The Great Mr P?.

But she has started to tell little lies - and I cannot stand folks who tell lies - it erodes trust. I will give you a recent example:

One of our secretaries left because she couldn’t work with this woman any longer. Anyway – along comes our woman to one of our meetings and announces that the secretary had declared in her “EXIT” meeting that she had problems and issues with ALL OF US. That was news to me. Personally I try and get along with everyone.

So I phoned the secretary up and asked her if she did have issues with us all.

She was puzzled by the suggestion and explained that she had no issues with us – but only with our shorthaired friend – importantly she had never said any such thing at her EXIT interview.

A little lie.

And that is just one of many. I am coming to the conclusion that she has lost the ability to discern the truth from the fiction.

So P Club – I appreciate that this is all rather pathetic and of no-consequence. But how would you deal with this woman – if at all?

I am raising a very important and deep issue here you see: HOW DO WE CONFRONT EVIL?

I am certainly going to tackle her over the lying – because we cannot allow this.

How do you deal with someone who will not listen to reason?




(image) In this time of dire economic and social news - Mr P thought He would put up some great thoughts:

Successful people don’t wait for everything to be perfect to move forward. They take initiative; momentum is their friend.

“To fear is one thing. To let fear grab you by the tail and swing you around is another” – Katherine Paterson.

People who take initiative and work hard may succeed, or they fail. But anyone who doesn’t take initiative is almost guaranteed to fail. To have a chance at getting what we desire we have to work for it.

We should be people who do the right think without being told.

Successful people don’t need a lighted fuse to motivate them. Their motivation comes from within.

“Tomorrow is the only day in the year that appeals to a lazy man.”

Everyone experiences setback. We all face obstacles. From time to time, we all feel that the deck is stacked against us. We need to show initiative anyway. Dick Butler asserted. “Life isn’t fair. It isn’t going to be fair. Stop snivelling and whining and go out and make it happen for you.”

We need to take responsibility and act.

All problems become smaller if you don’t dodge them, but confront them. Touch a thistle timidly, and it pricks you; grasp it boldly and its spines crumble.

Try scheduling a specific time for something that you don’t like doing. For example, if dealing with difficult people are a regular part of your job, but you tend to avoid doing it, then schedule a set time for it. Maybe the best time would be between two and three o’clock every day. Treat it like an appointment, and when three o’clock rolls around stop until tomorrow.

You must take action in order to become who you desire to be.

Desire isn’t enough. Good intentions aren’t enough. Talent isn’t enough. Success requires initiative. “Ideas are worthless. Intentions have no power. Plans are nothing, unless they are followed with action. Do it Now !!!”



(image) Mr P has been in Italy over the past few weeks: doing a bit of this and that.

And He’s still alive.

Thank Gawd…I hear you all say. Yes – thank The Lord.

Still Alive after a near- death experience – and all because of Mrs P’s Bloody family.

It goes like this:

Went out one evening: Mr P, Mrs P,her younger brother Paulo and his girlfriend Monica (nice girl – bit opinionated, but otherwise okay). We go to this weirdo “Pub” – great according to younger Bro; all made up like a scene from Edgar Allan Poe – but with skeletons in each corner and drinks served by vampires….only in Italy can something this naff be in existence.

All I had was a piece of toast and a non-alcoholic fruit juice – cost me twenty five squid !! Younger Bro had two pints of some fizzy cold yellow stuff, which he laughingly referred to as “beer”.

Anyway – two hours later he’s driving us home; either side of us is the Venice canal – very thin road – and dense fog – not enough space to allow two cars through without a bit of give and take. “CAUTION – is needed” - I hear you all say.


My Arse !

Younger Bro – just hits the pedal and starts to hammer through the fog – me and Mrs P in the back seat – him and Monica in the front.

He’s cranked up his car stereo – playing “Woman in Chains” by Tears for Fears (a great track circa 1989). It is very loud and my body is shaking with the boom of the base. It's putting my nerves on end.

Little Bro is smoking a foul Italian cigarette – which bounces up and down in his mouth as he jabbers away – which is often – because the silly sod is turning around in his seat to speak to me . Why is he speaking to me?

Because I am telling him to slow down, to turn that bloody music off and look where he’s going.

But will he?

Like hell he will – he just talks faster – arguing with me, wondering why I am so afraid, and he then speeds up – going 60+ miles per hour in dense fog – on a skinny Italian road – with canal either side… a said.

All along the way there are memorials to Italian Youths – who have died on this road – they wiz past like a dream – but I notice them, as well as the bat’s squeak of fear.

Nothing is working with this jerk – so I pray – grab Mrs P’s hand and vow that if I get out of this alive – I will change my ways – be kinder – be gentler – smell the flowers – walk the dogs more – love the neighbours – speak peaceably to everyone;

And deck this twat of an Italian brother in law with one swipe of my hoary hand and then bounce the car door off his head.

So I tap him on the shoulder and grab his earlobe and whisper in his ear (in Venetian dialect) – that I want him to speed up – so we get home quicker, while I’m still feeling mad – ‘cos when we get back I am going to spread his nose across his face and break his jaw into 10 digestible pieces.

P Club – let me tell you this:

Italians do not like violence – No Sir – they do not. And so twat Brother-In Law – slows down – straight away. So I tell him – to speed up – I need to get home quick –'cos his arse is grass.

He does not speed up and spends the next 10 minutes saying sorry.

So there we go – P is still here.

Alive and Well.



(image) Problem One – the War in Gaza

Am I missing something?

Palestinian militant groups send rockets into Israel from the Gaza Strip and Israel retaliates. No body wants to see a war, death and casualties, but there is a very simple solution:

Stop sending rockets into Israel.

It’s bloody simple isn’t it? What is Israel supposed to do? If the French were bombing us (their neighbour) would we just sit back and take it?

I don't think so.

As for the demonstrators around the country – demanding a cease-fire and condemning Israel – why don’t they just be grateful they live in a democracy that allows freedom of speech and religion etc. These idiots even attack the British Police like it’s our bleedin' fault. And we see the usual old jump-on the band wagon hacks like Tony ("The Ego") Benn and Ken Livingstone all marching around too. Oh my Gawd - it's really is.

If you poke a lion with a stick he is going to bite you.

Hamas – My Arse

Problem Two – the Economic Meltdown of the UK (and the rest of the World)

Gordon Brown is a toss-pott – a totally useless Scottish Gett. Am I right? He is not the saviour of our country at all, but one of the reasons why we are in this mess.

He allowed the Banks to lend massive amounts of cash to idiots who could never pay the loans back.

Again, am I missing something?

If you borrow – don’t you eventually have to pay it back?

Couldn’t that miserable looking gett see that we were heading for financial ruin? An economy, which evolves around inflated house prices, will eventually dive into the sand. Isn’t this as obvious as the nose on your face?

And as for the get-rich mentality – we have become like a body builder who beefs up his neck muscles so that they eclipse his head.

What is the point? It’s ugly and utterly, utterly meaningless. Why do folks need more money than they can even spend?

Who has bewitched us into believing that wealth is all we should aspire to? Fooled into believing that riches and material things are all that matters in this world?

- Celebrity culture stinks

- Overpaid sports stars stink (of cologne no doubt – but it makes a very bad smell)

It’s a fools’ paradise with fools’ gold. Bugger off: long expensive holidays – new cars – bigger houses – better jobs – better education. Bollocks to the lot of it.

A reshaping of our Western World is taking place.

You’d better believe it.

Problem Three – who gives a monkey’s cuss about Cricket?

Come on BBC – we just don’t care about that boring game – so STOP going on about it.



Welcome to 2009 P Club.Hey Listen.P had a party for New Year’s Eve; I never get invited to parties so I must have my own. And what a bleedin’ nightmare it was.Anyone who comes to P’s party is up for a fun evening of PARTY GAMES……it’s compulsory. I have loads of kids to look after…..I cant just let them sit in a corner and look bored. And I don’t leave the kids with grandparents whilst Mr and Mrs P bugger off down a nightclub.No – for me – family life is my whole life.So – it’s Hearty Party for the whole of P household.In Mr P’s parties there’s none of that drinking shed loads of booze, taking drugs or smoking fags. Done that years ago – was boring then and is boring now. P’s body is a temple – never fill it full of krap like that.Truth is – I have to cater for all ages at The P household parties: little kids (loads of them); teenage boys (with their mates), friends and neighbours. This year we invited some neighbours (who have been going through some tough times) and Mrs P also decided to invite some folks from Belgium.Can you bleedin Adam and Eve it? A bunch of Belgians? In our house !So – I get party games going…..yes Party Games. Crazy – zany – wacky games. But it was like winding up the dead. So many folks just refused to play. But – Mr P never gives up – and yes the buggers did play the games. I bullied them into it.But it was hard work. And them some of the little girls started arguing and crying…..and we had kids sneaking off to play = Play Station.I spent the whole time cajoling folks – rounding folks up – telling kids off – encouraging them to join in – looking for the dogs – serving drinks.Why do folks come to a party and then sit po-faced and refuse to speak to anyone unless someone speaks to them – and then refuse to take part in Mr P’s (compulsory games) – I resorted to threats of violence in the end – seemed to work.Oh Gawd – how I dislike introverts who refuse to socialise. Quiet people are okay up to a point – but when invited to a party they should either join in, bugger off quick – or better still – refuse the invite by saying:“I am a quiet person….I will not make any bloody effort to get involved – but will sit in the corner expecting you to entertain me the whole bleedin’ time – and on that basis – I must decline your kind invitation”.Thank Gawd for Mr P’s kids.My kids are up for everything – and my teenage boys are totally bloody fearless – they don’t give a monkeys cuss – will play any game I ask them to – will dance and have a laugh at anything. And they don’t mind a bit of a scrap either…During our party they decided to strip off down to their boxer shorts and go for a wander around the village – freezing cold with 3 mates. Got chased by some old bloke who took offence at their sprightliness.I even made them wear compulsory lion masks – my boys wore them – but my girls point-blank refused.HEARTY PARTYThen one of the dogs goes missing – had to go looking for the little monkey; found him down the road.I totally cocked up the food – told someone (on the phone) to bring a cake and mentioned there were 26 people coming to the Party – the idiot brings 26 pudding and cakes. Mrs P blames me. We had so much food – cakes all over the place – bottles of wine wherever you turned.I drank one glass of mulled wine all evening. Too bloody busy getting folks to join in on my party games.ANYWAYAt 11 o’clock I wrapped up the whole party – sent the boring buggers home – and The P family went off to another party – with about 100 people. That was a funky time.What did you boring buggers get up to P Club?[...]



(image) Yup – P has totally sussed out women.

He understands them now – can outthink them – bloody easy.

Just pretend they are in charge and go along with any krap they come out with. Let them get it out of their systems – and let the bollocks run its course.

For example:

P mentioned Christmas to Mrs P – asked what we are doing this year – suggested what fun it might be.

And she went totally bloody ape-shit; chucked her toys out of the pram and the pram through the bleedin’ window

Made P write a list of all the stuff we are NOT going to do this year – a list of rules – made P stick it on the wall for everyone to see.

The List of Not to do:

1. No watching telly
2. No boxing DVDs
3. No arguing, whining or complaining
4. No sitting around doing nothing
5. No Christmas dinner
6. No noise or loud talking
7. No screaming
8. No fighting
9. No going to bed at 2 o'clock in the morning and getting up all grumpy 'cos we all knackered


Then a list of stuff we MUST do:

1. Everyone takes the dogs out for walks
2. Visiting folks
3. Phoning folks
4. Curry take-away instead of Turkey
5. Organised games
6. We all sit down together every evening and read quietly

So I write out this krap – (she dictates and P writes it all down) and I stick it on the wall – with celotape all around it.

Trouble is – the kids come along and add comments in red ink – stuff like:

“No Tiny Tim”

“Dear Ebenezer……”

“Love Scrooge….”

“No breathing……no laughter…….no life……”

“No grandparents……”

“No Christmas”

But here’s the psychology P Club:

P went with it….didn’t complain……nodded sagely at the wisdom of the list……promised to keep to its strictures……

Next thing – Mrs P takes it down (after a week) – and announces that she’s going to have Christmas after all…….and that she feels better now.

Hoorah for Bleedin’ Christmas.






(image) Dear Members of The P Club

Please note

If any of my lovely club members receive a message on their blogs, which appears to be from The P BUT, is:

Full of profanities

Not witty
Many references to body parts

Then – it is not a real message from the P

There is Scottish man called Dave – he has a little moustache and blond hair. Those messages are from Dave.

He has a blog – which nobody visits, but him. P has popped over to his little Blog - left a few messages and Scotty Dave has pooped his pants.

He admires The P

And want to be The P

He has mirrored The P’s blog
Mirrored The P by mirroring The P’s profile.

He is obsessed with The P and wants to be The P

So be warned.


Good/witty/inspiring messages = Mr P

Sad/profane/uninspiring messages = Scotty Dave



(image) So I walk back to the car – carrying my blue bag and all of the papers. I was worn out despite the fact that all I had done was wait for the decision.

The Head Master pulls out of the car park – sees me, stops and winds down his window.

He’s done it before you know. It’s bloody ridiculous to see him get off like that. Do you know his history?”

Well, actually I did. I knew what he had, in the past, been accused of, and what the disciplinary reports had said about our teacher. To summarise, let the record show that:

1. After provocation he had attacked a teenager in the school, and had caused some physical injury, although not serious. There had been an internal enquiry, and our teacher was disciplined. The boy did not wish to press charges;

2. He had spat at a child, again after provocation – there followed another internal enquiry – with a caution given to the teacher;

3. On a school trip there had been an altercation and a child (16 years old) had his nose broken – there was circumstantial evidence, which pointed towards our teacher – no one was saying anything and so the matter was dropped.

Our case was the forth incident.

I knew all of this before I went into Court – and had fought tooth and nail for these matters to be hidden from the jury. The Judge decided that they were highly detrimental and that the case should be brought on its facts alone.

So – P Club – the case was not as clean, straightforward as it appeared.

I said to the headmaster that I did know the teacher’s history and could understand why the case had aroused so much emotion.

With that – the headmaster swore and sped off.

I got to my car and drove home.

Another day at the Office.

As for our teacher – his last comments to me were that he was going to have a serious chat with the headmaster - to put him straight - to ensure that his career was put back on track.

Our case is now at an end P Club…..hope you found it entertaining, enlightening and enriching.

Justice in the raw.



(image) The Jury go out.

P has a little chat with our teacher – he presses me for my opinion – I say “It’s all gone very well…but one never knows” – he then recounts some of the things I said in my closing – “Herculean strength” – “the message a guilty verdict would send to society”. He liked it all – some of his friends compliment P on the way the cross-examination was carried out – “very clever” – “you nailed it”.

I say nothing more.

Anyway – these are tense times – I hate the wait whilst the Jury is out.

P goes for a wander – a swift walk around the Court – then out into the park – keeps his eye open for the nutters – just in case they want another pop. I can’t go too far in case the verdict comes back.

So I give it half an hour.

As I walk back into Court the usher is waiting at the door – “Verdict is in”.

We take our seats; I look around at our teacher – he is ashen faced – gives me a nod – his family are all there – in the public gallery – tense – apprehensive.

In they walk – 12 good men and true.

The Foreman stands and we have the usual verbal formalities. I maintain an impassive expression throughout.

Verdict is announced: “Not Guilty”.

The Jury look at me and I retain the expression – win or lose – the same impassive expression. It’s my shield.

There is a bit of a commotion and I turn to see our teacher standing to his feet – gives me the thumbs up – beaming – I also see the headmaster storming out of the Court – with some others.

Outside I speak to the teacher – he is overwhelmed – his wife and friends are hugging and kissing him and then they all gather around – thanking me, shaking my hand – unsure whether to hug me too – they fidgit and decide not to. There is talk of champagne and celebrating. But not for me.

As I go to leave the teacher says to me; “The little bastard deserved it….the little shit.”

With that.

I go back to the Robing Room to get changed and to think things over.




Must take this carefully.Truth is – a lot of barristers are stuffed shirts – have never mastered the art of being likeable as well as persuasive. Too much up their own arses to be real, normal and human. They prefer to sound like barristers – educated chaps; addressing a jury in a reserved and distant manner.I don’t like that. Better to win people over with a bit of wit – a touch of eloquence – some magic and charm. Of course the meat of the matter is the evidence but the delivery is the sugar that sweetens the pill.Let the boring buggers be boring – Mr P is never that. Dullness don’t win votes on a jury.Anyway.In a criminal trial before a jury – I always start with a mantra: “The defendant doesn’t have to prove anything – the prosecution brings this case and they must prove it beyond a reasonable doubt so that you are sure….sure….that the defendant is guilty of this crime. You must not rely on gut feeling, or a mere sense of guilt, but must look to the evidence. That evidence can be direct or circumstantial. You must rely on the evidence and the evidence must support the prosecution case so that you are sure of this man’s guilt. You cannot leave an important case like this to chance, there is too much at stake.”I always kick off with that stuff – a jury might not necessarily know it. The judge will include this in his summing up – but it sounds better from me.I then rabbited on about how difficult a teacher’s job has become – how society has seen deterioration in standards of behaviour – the lack of respect – the rise in knife crime – blah…blah…. It’s all true – all verbiage bollocks – but it would have a profound effect on a sensible jury. Most ordinary folks would support a teacher, and I make it clear that I support all of the teachers who gave evidence in this court.I then remind them of this kid’s behaviour – unprovoked – the foul words that were spoken (I say them again....and observe the jury grimacing). I say that this is the sort of thing teachers have to put up with everyday…they need and deserve our support.And here’s the important bit: the summary of my main points – I signpost them right at the start – give them titles – headings – and take each in turn slowly. I say – I have THREE main issues – THREE – and they are simple points – here they are:1. Being hurled to the floor;2. Being grabbed around the neck;3. The evidence of the boy.I watch as the jury members write the three issues down – and underline them on their pads. Then they wait….patiently for me to start with issue number one. It’s there blinking at them on their writing paper – the paper demands words.I am winning already. They are with me – I am simple – at their level – I am one of them.Point One: Being hurled to the floorI detonate my bombs throughout.Who saw what happened? One teacher only…..nobody else….and he was standing 200 yards away (of course he bloody wasn’t ! he was 20 yards away…..but was too hard headed to correct his error….and the prosecution were as dim as a 10 watt light-bulb to take issue with it).And he says he saw – the lad (who was 10 1/2 stone and 5’ 5”) being hurled through the air backwards but miraculously sustained no injuries to the back of his head. It cannot be true, and I point at the defendant – “look at the defendant – he’s not a big man – not a latter day Arnold Swarzeneger (bit cheesy I know) – to have done this – he needed a piece of magic or Herculean strength. It just didn’t happen – how could it have? We must reject this evidence, as being entirely implausible.”“Ultimately – it’s his word against the defendant’s – a 50/50 scenario – not enough to convict this man. What [...]



(image) Nearly there P Club....keep with it....the dénouement is imminent.

Let me tell you about my client: the schoolteacher.

He was a very normal, unassuming sort of geezer - not demanding, not slagging anyone off, just straightforward - a normal bloke - keen on sport - loved football, loved his wife - loved being a teacher.

I really liked the man. We got on like a house on fire – he even laughed at my jokes – and went along with everything I said. Some clients can be a total pain in the arse.

He did appear at times a tad listless, slightly disengaged from the process - his mind distracted. But he was keen to answer my questions and to assist me in any way.

Obviously - he was stressed out by the whole thing and had not enjoyed his suspension from work, knowing that his career and reputation were hanging in the balance. He managed to hide his stress very well, but he was nervous – by Gawd – I could tell that.

He was accompanied to court by supporters - and his wife came too. The whole gang of them were great - buzzing with anticipation and eager for our chap to win.

Barristers cannot train their clients on what to say in the witness box - coaching is forbidden in the UK. But I always say this to my clients:

"Tell the truth - simply tell it like it happened. Don't get annoyed by the other side's barrister - don't get angry and upset. You will be attacked, and called a liar, but you mustn’t let it get you down. At all costs do not get angry because that's what they want - a reaction - to prove that you are a voluble and violent man. Regard it all as a bit of a game, and never ever take personal offence as to what is said. The barrister has no personal dislikes he’s just doing his job."

The teacher got up there and was as good as gold - came across as sincere and hardworking - he told it just like it happened; no guilding the lilly and no colouring of detail.

He had indeed been let down by the school and judged before the facts were known - but he did not attack the headmaster in any way - on the contrary he uttered words of support throughout his evidence.

The Crown’s barrister was totally krap – as weak as dishwater – a wimp of the highest order. Some barristers should have been solicitors – they lack personality in the court – lack courage and the biting will to win.The Crown Barrister attacked him - called him a "violent aggressor", "a liar", and "a bad teacher and a danger to children". But our chap just took it mildly and said that he was sorry to hear those words.

I also called 2 other teachers in the school to give character references for him. They declared that he was a thoroughly sound teacher, who cared deeply about the kids, worked long hours and was passionate for his job.

The man did extremely well, and I know that he made a very good impression on the jury.


So to my closing speech



Sorry folks for the long delay between posts – but there have been some issues back in Italy which The P has had to deal with. Totally back now….and on with the show.The Headmaster was called as a witness. He seemed a very decent chap – but nervous in the witness box. The other side’s barrister leads him gently through some of the evidence, and out of the blue the headmaster starts talking about our chap's earlier assaults on kids. Weird - because he had been told by his barrister not to mention any of this; and I was assured that he would not. Well up I stands – very quick – I do not want the jury to hear this. I demand that the Judge sends them out whilst we sort out a legal matter. Out they go. I argue that this is “Bad Character” evidence by the back door and should not be admitted. None of the allegations are proven and certainly our chap has never been charged for any crime....ever.The Judge agrees with P – and the Headmaster is advised to stay off the subject. The sick thing is that I had already had this matter dealt with in the Court before the headmaster appeared.So eventually I get to cross-examine the headmaster. He certainly was nervous and smiled weakly at me as I rose to my feet. I acknowledged him with a nod and a half smile. Like I said – a decent bloke – doing a difficult job – no way am I going to tear into this chap. So I give him respect and take things calmly and slowly. The Jury would expect no less.It transpires that he did not witness the incident – was in his office at the time – just saw the aftermath. Found kid lying on the floor crying, sobbing and teacher wandering about wondering what to do...bemused and befuddled.So I asks him what was the point of his evidence.Apparently it was to explain to the Court the strictures and mechanics of “Team Teach” – the system for controlling wayward and unruly kids. So I says to him:“So difficult to prevent your hand moving from the child’s back and arm isn’t it? – Especially when he’s struggling.”“Yes”“Not fool proof is it – “Team Teach”“No”“You weren’t surprised to see the boy sobbing on the floor – it’s quite usual to see upset kids at this school, isn’t it?”“Quite usual”“You didn’t see the teacher hit the boy?”“No”“Throw him to the floor?”“No”It transpired too that in the aftermath, although the child was looked after - picked up and ailments administered to, the poor old teacher was left to get on with it; he was asked to return to the class,on his own, to carry on with the lesson.This was against the rules of the school: he needed another teacher present with him, as all of the children are disturbed and "behaviourally challenged". On that day He was later suspended - without being afforded the opportunity of putting his version of events.I put all of this to the Headmaster who meekly agreed that they had got it all wrong, dealt with it badly, and had let the teacher down through lack of support.And that was it.But as the headmaster was getting out of the witness box – he turned to the jury and said:“I would never employ this man again….he has hit other children……he is not right…..”He had to be forcefully removed and was still shouting and pointing at our teacher as he was ejected from the court.What a scum- bag.The Jury heard and saw the whole bleedin' thing.[...]



The second witness for the prosecution was a young support teacher who was in the class with our teacher when all this kicked off. In this sort of special school -each class must have two teachers present.Her evidence was that our teacher did not handle the situation in accordance with the restraining method of “Team-Teach”, which gives instructions on how to deal with unruly kids. Her evidence was that:-He grabbed him (the boy) around the back of the neck (not allowed by “Team Teach”);-Threw him out of the classroom in a very violent and dangerous manner;-Continued to abuse the boy outside of the classroom.She got into the witness box.Trouble was – she was such a nice ordinary girl – one who commands the sympathy of decent folk i.e. the jury. Her manner was hesitant, a little timid, but nonetheless forthright.No point laying into her – the jury would hate me and be embarrassed for her. Best I could do was to lay some incendiary devices and detonate them later in my closing speech.So I ask her some questions:Grabbing boy by the back of the neck“Was the boy violent and aggressive?”“Yes - he was dreadful.”“Were you frightened?”“Not frightened but concerned for the other boys in the class.”“They need protecting and important to get him out of the classroom?”“Yes, very important.”“The safety of the others was a priority?”“Yes” (DEVICE PLANTED)“It all happened so quickly?”“Yes”“To operate perfectly within Team Teach, can be very difficult, with such an aggressive violent boy? We can’t expect teachers to get it 100% perfect.”“No, it’s not easy” (DEVICE PLANTED) Threw him out of the classroom in a very violent and dangerous manner“Why didn’t you help Mr Jones (our teacher – not real name) in dealing with the boy?”“I had to control the other boys.”“Quite rightly, and you had a major task to contend with? Could have got out of hand very quickly?”“Yes, very easily”.“Had to focus on the other boys?”“Yes”“Watching them was important at that time?”“Yes – I was worried what might happen.”“More focused on them than what was happening between Mr Jones and the boy?”“I had to be” (DEVICE PLANTED)“You didn’t see the boy being picked up and hurled out of the room did you?”“No but I saw him lying on the floor outside as if he had been pushed”“As if he’d been pushed. So you didn’t see him being thrown or pushed out of the room?”“No – but its obvious he had been pushed” (DEVICE PLANTED)“Given the general mayhem and his aggression he could have fallen over by accident?”“It’s possible.” (DEVICE PLANTED)Continued to abuse the boy outside of the classroom“You stayed in the classroom to protect the other boys?”“Yes”“Didn’t venture out?”“No – I had to keep the boys in the classroom” (DEVICE PLANTED)“And there was lots of yelling outside?”“Yes”“The boy and Mr Jones?”“Yes – and others”“So – lots of voices – all a bit confusing?”“Yes” (DEVICE PLANTED)“You didn’t see Mr Jones abuse the boy, verbally or physically because you were in the classroom focused on the other boys.”“No I didn’t – but I was told about it.”“Who told you?”“The Headmaster.”“I wont ask you what he said, but you personally didn’t see what went on outside?”“No” (DEVICE PLANTED)I thought she was a well-meaning teacher but had been subjected to a little persuasion. I was very content with how her evidence went and she was non-the wiser – I had not attacked her – called her a liar – or tried to wreck her story.It required stealth.[...]



(image) I haven’t seen knuckles since our encounter in the car park – he never had much to say anyway.

But I did see fat geezer:

During the lunch break I spotted him in a park near to the court; sitting on a bench – doing nothing much. I was sure it was him – so I thought:

Give him a bit of surrealist cognition.

I am not going to pursue a charge for the punch but I do want to disturb the idiot....freak him out a bit.

So drawing on dialogue from “HUNGER” by Knut Hamsun, which I often do in situations like this, I bound up to him, and with an entirely manic expression on my face I say:

“Hey it’s Mr Happolati from St Olaf Place.”

He looks at me bewildered.

“ is Mr Happolati….how are you after all this time? How are things with you? How are tricks? How’s life with you?”

Suddenly – he twigs – realises who it is (me-with cut eye) and starts to rise up, looking very disturbed.

So I say “Mr Happolati I see you are losing your book.”

He’s looking confused and moves away.

“Mr Happolati let’s chat…. don’t go’s there on CCTV…all of it…Mr Happolati….. it’s all there….on CCTV……Mr Happolati……you are losing your book…”

By this time he’s virtually running away from me. So I run after him a little way shouting “Mr Happolati ……..Mr Happolati…your book……come back…you are losing your book.”

P Club - I know – it’s entirely weird. But that’s how I like it.

Doubt that I’ll see him again.




(image) What was slightly surprising about this case was what occurred on the way to my car after the excitement of day one in the court. Never happened to me before or since.

Very much a one off - so not going to make a very big fuss of it - just one of those things.

This case was in a city with a port – a large city – a rough-house sort of place - a great city for being a defence barrister (so they say) as most of the jury are criminals themselves and are likely to be sympathetic to fellow crims (so they say). I don’t believe a word of it myself. But this place is not the sort of place, which attracts the finer elements of society.

Anyway – there I am walking back to my car in the deserted multi story when two oiks walk out of the shadows. One youth – short hair – tattoos (I know – just a typical British youth) – the other was older – fat geezer.

Gawd this sounds clichéd.

Old geezer goes:

“You’d better not get that f****** paedo off....”

So I says:

“Sorry – who are you again?”

Old Geezer goes:

“Never mind that – you get that f***** off and we’re going to f****** hammer you…and him….”

So I says:

“Well that’s something to look forward to.”

So next thing – youth with the knuckles punches me in the face.

Catches me above my left eye – I wasn’t expecting it – but if you’re going to be a smart-arse then its best to either get your retaliation in first or run.

Anyway – I just legged it – all the way back to my car.

They didn’t follow me. I don’t know who the hell they were – and I have never troubled myself to find out.

No point fighting back – can you imagine the headlines:

“Barrister for accused teacher, assaults family of child in car park” (Presuming - that's who they were...but I don't know).

Not a case winner.

So the next day in court – I appear with a nasty cut above my eye (I had a bit of scar-tissue there – and it ripped open) and bruising all around it. I could see the judge eyeing me suspiciously – but the jury seemed amused.

Being British nothing was said and we


No - I havent pressed charges - and not going to either - what's the bleedin' point.



So the Prosecution call 3 witnesses: two who saw what happened plus the headmaster who saw bugger all.However, P had to first deal with a problem: the Crown tried to bring in a witness statement from a teacher saying that our Teacher had roughed up kids before. So this was an issue for the Judge as P reckoned that this was “bad character” evidence by the back door. None of it was proven, he was never charged and in any case it was total bollocks. So we had more legal argument.The Judge refused to allow it on the basis that it was utter krap – He didn’t quite use those words but I know that he was itching to.First witness for the CrownHe says he saw our Teacher lift the boy up by his shoulders and throw him 15 feet onto his back – just outside the classroom.He says he saw our teacher run up to the boy as he was lying on the floor in a foetal position and go as if to kick him. The teacher had a very angry expression when he did this.So – he gets in the witness box.I could tell that he was old school and arrogant – obviously didn’t like our teacher and more importantly didn’t like Mr Pineapples.Mr P has a bit of a London accent – a bit of a cockney – born within the sound of Bow Bells.He’s thinking: who the bloody hell is this so-called barrister? He’s not one of us – no public education - no Eton, Harrow or Oxbridge; He’s a barrister by dint of primitive animal cunning;Sponsored through Bar school by the Kray Twins or Mad Frankie Frazer.So – I lay the accent on a bit thicker – he gets prickly – and defensive. I suggest that his witness statement is full of errors, wrong and incomplete – which he denies and with a sad shake of his head assures the court that his statement is 100% accurate.This is GREAT – because P has noticed a typing error: instead of saying he was 20 yards from the scene – the statement says – 200 yards from the scene. This must mean he was standing as far away as the school car park.This is impossible.But he wasn’t prepared to admit an error to this cockney wide-boy and when I read the statement he did not correct the 200 yards cock-up – he had dug himself self into a hole and wasn’t prepared to eat humble pie to get out.So far so good.Hurling the boy through the airHe then assures us that the boy was picked up and hurled backwards through the air (his words) – so P says that the boy is 5’ 5” and 10 ½ stone – the teacher is 5’ 8” and 11 stone. Strangely the boy was gripped by his shoulders.“Were you surprised by this Herculean feat of strength?”“No – not at all” he says.I could see that the jury were.“Any injuries to the back of his head?”“No”“Bit surprising?”“No, not really”The pretend kick“The boy was in a foetal position and wouldn’t have seen the kick?”“Oh he saw it alright”"But the boy had his hands over his head in a foetal position?""He could see alright."“How do you know?”“He must have”“But you were 200 yards away weren’t you and not close enough to see anything?”“I could see what was going on”“He wasn’t kicked was he?”“No”“So all of this is irrelevant isn’t it?SILENCEThe Angry Face“Would you be angry if you’d been called “wanker” “c***” and “fudge packer”.“No”“Kicked in the testicles and punched in the face?”“No”“Why not?”“I am a better teacher – we can’t allow ourselves to get upset by these things.”“Perhaps a tad inconvenienced?”“No”This was the Crown's Star Witness.[...]



(image) And on we go....

The boy himself had given a statement about what had happened. The statement had been taken by the headmaster one hour after the event.

Good evidence?

Damn - YES.

But the Prosecution had not disclosed it.

Can you believe that? It was so obvious that they just wanted to nail this teacher – a man of impeccable character – no previous convictions for anything – a guy doing a difficult job – in a very difficult school. And they were hell bent on jailing the poor bugger – fair means or foul.

The boy’s statement was tucked away in a list of Undisclosed Information – hidden from view.

P had to request to see it and low and behold it basically supported the teacher’s version of events: the boy admits to kicking off – whacking a kid – trashing the room – hitting the teacher – cursing, screaming and yelling – also that the teacher bundled him out of the room – he fell over by accident and broke his wrist and collarbone.

"It was an accident." The boy said so himself - a 15 year old - the victim without any mental illness said so.

Of course he says that the teacher provoked him and that he should not have been manhandled in this way. But what the heck.

So – I says to the Judge “Your Honour – this witness statement should be adduced as evidence as it gives the “victim’s” full account of what happened.”

And the Prosecution objects; they say that the boy’s evidence is unreliable because he is such an unruly child and in the interest of justice it would not be right to reveal it to the jury.

Well bloody hell – 50% of witnesses in British Courts are unruly and unreliable – but that doesn’t automatically disbar them from giving evidence.

So the jury goes out and we have a full-scale legal argument in front of the Judge, who has to decide whether to admit this crucial piece of evidence.

P is forced to bring a “Hearsay Application” on the basis that the boy is indeed unable to come to Court (because he certainly would not turn up), and if he did he probably would throw a tantrum and leg it from the dock. In the interests of Justice - it should be allowed as evidence.

P stated that the Prosecution’s reason for excluding this evidence was farcical and disingenuous. If the statement had supported their case they would have exhibited it as their main line evidence….in the blink of an eye.

The Judge agreed with me, and so in went the boy’s witness statement, which was to be read to the jury.

But P Club…..look how keen the Prosecution were to nail this teacher.

Can someone explain this to me.....from a sociological point of view?




I hate the Law.....honest-ta-Gawd - it's getting on my knockers - it really is..Being a Barrister is just no good anymore – why don’t I get a proper bleedin’ Job?This week I have had two cases adjourned – yesterday because the Court had listed 3 cases on the same day and took 5 hours to decide what to do – whilst I sat with my lunatic client discussing football and the evils of the Police; today – the defendant wasn’t sure that she was insured for the Court case and my clients couldn’t guarantee that they would receive damages if they won.So – P got sent home. What bollocks is this?Still – let me tell you about a case I completed recently. I think we need a big debate at P Club – something to get our brain cells jigging it.Most of my clients are either mad (paranoid schizophrenia is the catch-phrase) or basically bad (plain evil). However, I do chase some serious Crims around the globe, which is quite satisfying. I detest those who rob and defraud big sums of money whilst setting up family members to take the Can if it all goes pear-shaped.Check out The Proceeds of Crime Act (and shiver with fear)But P Club – listen to the following little tale – and P will do it in parts. It’s not jam-packed with gore or action or intrigue – but it does say a lot about our society.You will not be titillated or thrilled – but I hope my little case will engender a major philosophical debate.MY CASEOur teacher had been charged with ABH (Actual Bodily Harm) against a pupil. A very serious matter –suspended immediately and had been sitting at home, fretting his heart away for 9 months; facing a prison sentence – and the end of his career. He was bricking it.So along comes The P.Our Scenario:Our teacher – teaching in a special school for emotionally disturbed and behaviourally “challenged” kids – those the State Schools couldn’t deal with. Coop them all up under one roof – let them smoke – swear – fight – and live it up. Give them lots of rope – few rules – many privileges.Teacher teaching one day in the class. Door smacks open mid lesson and in runs behaviourally “challenged” kid – kid smacks a kid in the face –spits in the face of another kid and calls the teacher:“Wanker” – “fudge packer” and “c***”. (What is a “fudge packer”?)Why did he do this? What's his game eh? Why so naughty?Dunno – nobody knows – but he is emotionally disturbed and “challenged” – so with that label he has to dish out a bit of shit now and again – just to keep it all going.Our teacher tries to protect the other kids – bundles nutty kid out of the room – nutty kid punches teacher in the face and knees him in the bollocks. A computer goes flying - and two other kids kick off.Mayhem - screaming and yelling - As kid is bundled out he falls into the courtyard outside the class – lands badly breaking his wrist and collarbone.ABH.Police are called and our teacher is charged with a serious crime.This is P’s case.Quite straightforward as ABH’s go – but the psychology was truly complicated (As we will discover).What-cha-think so far P Club?TO BE CONTINUED[...]



(image) The Summer has gone.

Strange that

I can't recall it ever arriving.

Anyway - what's with this constant bleedin' rain? Is this the global warming effect?

Yesterday - me and kid Pineapple played a game of tennis in torrential rain. It never let up the whole time. Every time I served - the rain poured into my eyes and the ball skidded along the ground as if on ice.

It was quite a laugh really, and I appreciate that we did look like a pair of lunatics. One old bloke (me) and a young bloke (kid P) running around in deep puddles chopping at a sodden ball.

But By Gawd - we are British after all - and a few torrential downpours wont defeat us.

The little monkey beat me.

Still - there are folks suffering floods - and a few drops of rain at tennis is nothing in comparison.



(image) I can:

1. Click my tongue so loud that it sound like a shot-gun going off. It's amazing.

I get folks to sit quietly and then - "POW" - I click it. Always - always - always - they are amazed. P used to be a bit of a busker on the streets when He was a kid - and used the click to punctuate songs. The click can be heard 100s of yards away.

Awesome skill.

2. P can wiggle His ears. Totally brilliant skill. Some folks can wiggle theirs but they have to move the muscles in their faces to do it.

Mr P?

Just pure ear wiggle. No face interaction.

Folks are amazed.


Fear The P and His Skills.

I wonder what talents you have?



I loved every minute of it. Not that I saw every one – but you know what I mean.Two weeks of sport – how can we knock it? P was utterly addicted to every thing. If you didn't enjoy the Olympics and were not enthralled by the sheer brilliance of it all - then you might as well give up on life right now.Here are the thoughts of The P regarding the Olympics:1. Britain invented most sports – it’s true – and sport is finally coming home to rest with us…’s true home. We achieved 19 Golds – bloody hell – that is unbelievable. Forth in the medal table – just pipped by Russia. A little country like us.Don’t it make you proud to be British? And what a nation the British are:· Inventors of the English language – the language of the World;· The Industrial Revolution – started with us – while the French were sitting around their dinner tables sipping wine, eating Frog’s legs after ploughing the fields The Brits were reinventing the world;· The Home of Parliamentary Democracy;· The greatest modern musicians, poets, writers, actors – a nation of artists;· The creators of Chicken Tikka Massala· The inventors of the telephone, television, penicillin, the world wide web etc.. etc.. etc..this list would go on and on…· The most impressive Empire known to man – and we gave it all up – we set countries up and then left them to get on with it – like America, Australia, India – they all belonged to us but we let them go. – because of our inbuilt humanity;· The Rule of Law and The Common Law – the Mother and Father of legal systems – copied by many (The USA) but bettered by none.And now the world knows that the true winners of the Olympics were the British. Imagine how many Golds we would have won had we the demographics of the USA.. Wow - zillions....probably all of them. Apart from Baseball of course.2.Baseball? What? An Olympic sport? I know the Brits invented this game as well – but we disowned it yonks back.I know it’s incredible – but yes – some clown allowed this pathetic travesty of a game to be described as Olympian. I mean – who plays baseball?Okay – the Yanks play it and the Japanese – but that is all. Oh yes – and the 6 year old girls in every Primary School across this land of ours. Yes – the Olympics can be surreal as well as inspiring.And beach volleyball? That is another joke.Why not beach crochet? Or darts? Why not Beach Darts with fat beer swilling blokes showing their builders’ arses in cut-off tight jeans?It’s a winner.3.All this talk of London not being able to match the Chinese and the efforts of Bejing.Okay – the Chinese games was truly the greatest so far – in terms of organisation and spectacle.But there has been a lot of emphasis on the Opening and Closing Ceremonies – and hand wringing, with gnashing of teeth as to whether we (The Brits) can match what the Chinese did.But do you know what? These ceremonies are Utter Krapp – embarrassing overblown farces. The P never watches them – apart from the first 10 minutes when the boredom level reaches its height.Who gives a stuff about a bunch of lycra wearing loonies – climbing up a tower, waving their gloved hands in time to some drone beating a drum? I don't give a monkeys for all that cobblers and neither should you.Fireworks? Seen them – and they are rubbish. Don’t want to see fireworks thanks – especially not on the telly.The Olympic games are about SPORT – courage, competition, end[...]

Girls - Boys Further evidence


Here's another example:

For all you PAEDOPHILES who are finding their way onto this post - because you have searched for "Boys and Girls" on the internet: let me tell you - you are being tracked. You are ill.

You are not normal - you look it - but you know DEEP INSIDE that there is SOMETHING NOT QUITE RIGHT...with you

You scum-bag suckers.

Little girl P's love doing their homework and have organised a homework chart - which they fill in and tick off when the work is done.

Little boy P's?

"Homework....explain that one to me again.."

The other day - P is working on the computer early. Little P lad comes in - hands me a filthy piece of paper, obviously been used to grease the hamster cage.

He says:

"Farth....fill this's important for school."

I says:

"What is it and when has it got to be in by?"


"It's my selection of my subjects for GCSE (exams) for next year and it had to be in by last week...and so you musnt hold it has to be completed right now."

I says:

"Hey this is important...and we need to think about it..."

He says:

"Why are you holding me up? This form has to be in...."

See what I mean....



Whistle while you work.P’s lads are on a youth camp this week.So P has to do all of their paper rounds. And here I am: the oldest paperboy in the South of England.I’ve just finished – and I am totally cream-crackered. But I enjoy it: the thud of paper on carpet – the clipping letterbox snapping shut – the crunch of boots on driveway – the barking dogs and twitching curtains – it’s all joy. Trouble is… boys aint so enthusiastic…the little Philistines. If you only knew the weekly hassle I have in getting the little blighters out of that door, and down the road to deliver the bleedin' papers. They just don’t want to do it. Sometimes when it’s peeing down with rain – I end up doing it for them. And that is krap….and weak.We have a system:My daughters put the leaflets in the papers and my boys deliver. And the contrast between male and female is never starker than in this division of labour.My girls come home from school - and the first thing they do? They get the leaflets done. You should see them – no hesitation – no blubbing – no complaining – they just get right on with it. The task is completed days before schedule. So perfunctory in their approach.But my boys? Oh me Gawd – anyone would think I was subjecting them to weekly torture.Why is this? Can someone offer an explanation as to why the girls just get on with it whilst the boys' energies are directed towards wriggling out of it?My other systemI have another system for getting jobs around the house done.Mrs P was complaining that she was doing ALL of the work whilst we (me and the lads) were watching the boxing and football and generally lazing. So I sorted out a rota – with every kid (and me) getting a job to do every day – it went up on the wall – with days at the top and jobs down the side – with the name of the worker put in each box.Honest-ta-Gawd – it’s a brilliant system.My girls love it – and enthusiastically tackle each job – can’t wait to see what jobs they have for that day….and just get on with it….no blubbing and complaining…Anyway – within days the chart is covered in arrows and lines and crossings-out. The girls know nothing about this and are as perplexed as I am. SoI say to the boys:“Okay – what’s all this krap on the chart?”Answer:“Well – I swapped two jobs with him and then he swapped one with him over there and then we didn’t think it was fair to give us that job on boxing days and so we crossed that one off and changed this one for that job…and anyway the girls aren’t doing as many as us…which isn’t fair, and so we tried to even it out…and then it’s also unfair that we have to walk the dogs on two consecutive days..and….”I tell you P ClubI BLEEDIN’ WELL FREAKED OUT. AND IT WAS SORTED…This is not just my problem.I went for lunch with an old mate today. He says to me:“Mr P – how do you motivate your boys to do their school work; my daughter is fine and gets on with it – but my son just wants to play tennis and golf – what’s the answer?”Bloody Hell. I don’t know – I am still working on it.I HAVE CONCLUDED:We treat our kids the same – no favouritism – all are encouraged – built up – praised etc….but there is definitely a difference between boys and girls.Girls = organised, disciplined and serious mindedBoys = disorganised, and couldn’t give a stuff.What’s the Answer P Club?Mrs[...]