The Dark Web

We have seen in the news of late the man who had become radicalised by right wing extremists. This is quite frightening, as it apparently happened over the course of three weeks.

I work with lots of men who live in isolation: lots of them are quite vulnerable, and the thought of them coming into contact with these puppet-masters is quite frightening. But this is not an isolated incident, of course; it happens in all communities, targeting the vulnerable, the disenfranchised and the lonely. Give them something to rally around such as nationalism, or religion and make them feel wanted, part of something, needed.

I have heard in the past about something called the dark web. This, I have been told, is where anything is available and anything goes. I thought that was just the web? I'm starting to loathe the internet, even though it is a fantastic tool.

The use of cookies by fraudsters leaves certain members of our community open to all sorts of exploitation. My wife likes to look up clothing items on the net and the amount of emails she receives telling her of the next best deal and exclusive offer is frightening. I, too, have recently received a couple of emails which were not only pathetic but also quite scary. I received emails from some dubious dating agency, which looked more like an exploitation agency I found it quite difficult to get these emails stopped. How they got my details is annoying to say the least, but I have a website and a blog, so I suppose it's not that difficult.

But what if someone had received these emails and had contacted them. I'm sure they are just some sort of scam, but a lonely person might think it was a way to find love. I'm sure they would soon find their bank balance disappear.

It has now become a bit of a minefield when it comes to booking a holiday, as the fraudsters have also moved in there too. There have been a string of sites set up, looking like the real McCoy, only to be offering non-existent deals. These sites are very difficult to spot, as you do receive confirmation emails and vouchers from them when you book with them, only finding out the fraud when you arrive at your destination!

My granddaughter likes to watch certain programmes on Youtube when she sleeps over at our house. One of then is quite good in one sense as it openly encourages play. Except for the grating American accents it is quite a good idea, until you realise that they are promoting the latest toys of one of the major corporations. She also watches channels where young girls try out products that they have been given for free and promote them to the poor unsuspecting children. I have great problems with these things but my wife claims they are just harmless. I disagree.

My Granddaughter is only five years old and these videos are often made by the fathers of these children and again, it all smacks again of exploitation. I know that there is lots of money to be made in this industry and some of these children have become stars in their own right, with millions of children following them.

So whatever the dark web is, it must be where people think they can't be caught, because I think you could already buy whatever you wanted on the internet. We are now so dependent on this monster that I don't think the world could work without it at this moment. Now that really is frightening!

Viewing

A short while ago a gentleman called to the sheds where I work to have a look around and for a chat. I must point out that this is not unusual, as we are a charity designed for men living in isolation.

This gentleman was, in fact, married, and just wanted to see what we did. He was in his mid-seventies and was a very witty raconteur, and while we sat in my office chatting away, he told me many very humorous stories about his life and travels. Then he added that he had been booked on a very expensive cruise around the West Indies and that the evening meal required you to dress with black tie. This sounds a lot less like a holiday and more like torture to me!

He went on to explain that he didn't own any evening dress as, like me, he was more a shorts and tee shirt guy, so he turned to our friend Mr Google to help him buy some evening attire for his much anticipated trip. Now, this is where it became interesting to me. He typed in 'men, evening dress' without any connectives. He then just clicked on anything that came up, not really being a regular user of the internet. He said he was shocked at the things he clicked into. He then went on to describe some of them - mostly they were men in dresses doing things to other men in dresses. He then said “God knows what would have come up if I had typed women evening dress!" This sounded like a challenge to me.

I am, at the moment, in the middle of setting up a charity which helps men living in isolation for whatever reason. It is usually because of mental health or addiction problems, but not exclusively. If you have ever tried to set up a charity in Britain, or anywhere for that matter, you will be aware of the work involved. It's very tedious, but necessary. So after hours of funding and buildings insurance and lease holds, I needed a break, I usually play a frog game at times like this, as it requires no thought. But one night I decided to put this man's theory to the test and decided to look up "women evening dress". Because I didn't want to be hauled away by the police for anything to risky I typed in mature women. I decided only to click on things without checking on the first page only. Over the next month or so I did the same thing when I had moments of boredom. My new friend was quite right: your innocent (sort of) search for clothing quickly leads you to the world of older women with implements!

The interesting thing is that when you type in certain garments, you get just that, such as coats, I avoided the word knickers as that would be just to obvious. But what was interesting was tights. That is, all I got was sites selling tights. But when I changed it to 'panty hose', we were back in the world of triple x!

When you click into these sites you can see that they are set up for young men and are devoid of any emotion or feeling. Most are quite funny. There seems to be a lot of American 'mummies' telling their sons how naughty they have been. The man behind the camera who is supposed to be the wayward son is obviously a middle-aged man with a big beer belly,  and the belly is not the only thing that is big, by the way! But as you quickly click through these things your amusement  turns to sadness when you see these Russian sites where you get the feeling that mummy might really be mummy! I find these things quite distressing and sickening, so I stopped my little experiment: this is a world I don't want to venture into.

I have to admit though I knew what would come up on the screen when I typed in 'mature women, sausage' - and it didn't disappoint.

But it does raise the question about how we control the internet or even if we should control the internet? There are so many fraudsters and gangsters out there who use the net as their showroom and it's so easy to fall prey to these sites. I proved that just by typing in innocent words you can be taken to all sorts of sites. If you are very young or very vulnerable then you are going to be a prime target for these people, but do we want a world of total censorship? I don't! But then I'm not very comfortable with things such as these sites where people who are living in total poverty are being used for some sordid cheap thrill.

I also feel sorry for legitimate companies which are trying to sell their wares only to be looped into these other sites which makes you realise that you now have to be careful what you call your company. Speaking of which our charity is called Platform 1 because that is our address we are set up along side Huddersfield Train Station. We are growing very fast and will soon have a hundred men using our charity, where we not only help them develop personal and practical skills, but also have an education strand which helps them to find work and move back into society. But we need funding, so if anyone out there wants to donate or thinks they would like to volunteer please get in touch with me through this blog.

Finally when you think of the sites that are on the web please spare a thought for the problems that the Cockermouth tourist board must encounter!

Alvin Stardust's Glove?

I remember once in my late teens being at my parents' house one Saturday night. This may not seem anything out of the ordinary, but for me this was very odd. I can't remember why I was there but my parents came back after visiting the local working men's club. The title,'working men's to me always suggests that women don't work. Surely it should be 'the local workers club'? But I digress.

Anyway, when my parents arrived home they had with them a woman who I had never seen before or since. Not a clue who she was, or why she came home with them. Those of you with dirty minds can forget it - my parents were strait -laced Catholics. None of that threesome stuff, it was six hail Marys and a hair shirt for even thinking about masturbation for them.

This lady looked younger than my parents, which wasn't that difficult, as even my grandparents looked younger than my parents. The lady took over the whole conversation and announced that she was indeed, Alvin Stardust's dresser. I think she put clothes on him. She wasn't, as far as I could see, a piece of wooden furniture. Now if you don't know who Alvin is, he is famous for a song called, 'My Coo Ca Choo' in the seventies. Other songs of his were, 'My Coo Ca Choo' and of course who could forget, 'My Coo Ca Choo'. What a career! I'm just guessing here but I don't think he was christened Alvin Stardust, I think he was also known as Shane Fenton at one time but I'm guessing he wasn't christened under that name either. I could look up his real name but, if you have read any of my previous blogs, you will now know that I can't be arsed.

If you do know who the said Mr Stardust is or if you have looked up old photos of him in the seventies you will now be aware that if this lady that claimed to be his dresser she should have been sacked after her first day! Even by seventies standards his dress sense was appalling. Black leather or checked flares were his usual dress, but also long before Michael Jackson was white and wore the one glove Alvin just wore one glove on stage as he did two hours of 'My Coo Ca Choo'. And this lady from her humungous handbag produced a small black leather glove and in hushed and reverent tones announced, “this is Alvin's glove.” Then she added, as she offered it forward to me, “ would you like to wear it?”

I started to laugh as she made it sound as if she was holding the holy grail, I asked why on earth I would want to put the glove on, “because Alvin has worn it” she replied. Now at the time I was a long haired hippy-ish type that listened to Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. To me, Alvin Stardust was about as exciting as a bible class!

“No thanks I'll give it a miss if you don't mind” I replied though I couldn't help but notice just how small the offending glove was.

This lady looked at me totally perplexed. She couldn't believe that I would turn down such an offer, then became really angry when I asked her if she knew anyone famous!

The reason that I'm telling you this is because today I found myself talking to a lady of a certain age who, for all intents and purposes seemed quite normal. She then without warning said to me, “I hear that you write for a living?” “Sometimes” I replied.

Then she said something so odd I had to ask her to repeat it, “I have Tom Jones's sweat in my fridge.” She laughed when I asked her to repeat what she had just said, “Don't worry, it's not in a bottle, I'm not some sort of weirdo, it's on my handkerchief”

I tend to put handkerchiefs in the washer when they have been used. I usually use the fridge for dairy products. I really don't care who wore what, where or when, let them keep them. If Alvin had been given the handkerchief, he could have sung, 'Aah Coo Choo!' See what I did?

Mr & Mr

I have never understood the desire some people have to be seen as normal, because normality doesn't exist! We all have unique individual lives, and we all have different preferences and desires, so what exactly is normal? The people who I have met throughout my life that do everything they can to be seen as 'normal' are odd just for wanting to be something they are not.

I love the fact that we are all different, but some are a little more different than others, though. I'm recently back from yet another jaunt to warmer climes. This is becoming a habit that I don't want to stop. While touring we tend to pick hotels that don't really cater for the British as I can't be bothered to listen to the incessant moaning about the very things that I go on holiday to find. Different culture, food and people. But while we were on holiday I did come across some characters that would not be out of place in my 'Twisted Minds' series of books.

I had noticed a family one evening while in a restaurant. There was a young boy and a daddy and an extremely attractive mummy. She wore a short skirt and had a perfect figure and was very good looking. But because of my work I have counselled many people from many different walks of life and with many different problems, and I could tell that Mummy would have, at one time, been Daddy!

Once you have worked with transgender people you learn to recognise certain traits that they have, and Mummy had all these traits, even though she was stunning to look at. But the Daddy of the group was straight out of a seventies British comedy show. They were a German family and the daddy dressed in a pseudo-sailor's outfit complete with hat and wore a monocle. He did strike me as the type of man that may attach electrodes to your nipples as you slept! But they seemed quite happy as a group so what the hell? I did tell my wife that they lady may not be all that she seemed but my wife just laughed and said, not for the first time in our marriage, that I didn't know what I was talking about. I was so sure that I said, “make a bet with me and name your prize”. We often do this and the prizes are not really the sort of thing that should be written up in a blog. Well my prizes aren't!

We came across this family quite a few times while we were out and about and we always had the same "she is/she's not" discussion afterwards. We named them "Mr & Mr" mainly because of our lack of imagination. I constantly teased my wife about her forfeit when I proved her wrong to which she always answered, “get your wallet ready for some serious shopping.”

It wasn't until the night before we were due to fly back home that the bet was settled. We were entering a bar that was up a flight of very steep steps. My wife had got halfway up the stairs when this lady came walking down. I can't stress enough just how attractive this lady was she was always well dressed and had a stunning figure. My wife stood to one side and gestured to the lady to pass to which she turned to my wife and in a deep husky voice said, “Danke” to which my wife replied, “Oh shit!” The woman looked at my wife perplexed at her remark, but I couldn't help but laugh.

Later my wife said that she couldn't believe that that woman was a man to which I replied, “She's not, she's a woman, admittedly with a deep voice, but a woman none the less.”

There are lots of different views about transgender - whether it is a real trick of nature or whether it is a form of mental illness. The brains of transgender people that have left their bodies to science do show some differences but there hasn't been enough study to confirm that there is a real difference. Also there are studies that show up to sixty five percent of people that undergo corrective surgery regret ever doing this, lots wanting to reverse the changes.

I think that if people feel they need to change and it's the only way they can feel complete then it should be an option that they have. It's a very difficult decision for a person to make even though they themselves may not think so. But for me, you only get one shot at life so you should try to make it as happy as possible and if changing your gender enables you to achieve this, then I don't see why not after lots of counselling.

Well as for my prize after winning the bet, I'm yet to receive it. If you knew what it was, you may understand why. It is very strange, but I didn't say that I was normal did I?

For Goodness' Sake!

I have confessed many times to being one of life's cynics: I can't help it, I can smell bullshit a mile away!

Lots of people do lots of seemingly good things, and we all have our reasons to do something good. But are they good deeds if they are done because you are scared of a God or because you want a God to give you a better afterlife? Or are these deeds just a blind duty to a supernatural being?

I work within the charity sector and I hold my hands up straight away and say that if my peppercorn wage wasn't available to me I would go elsewhere. Not because I don't care about the people that I work with, I do, but I know that if I don't have a reason to go somewhere, I usually don't go. The charity sector relies heavily on volunteers. These people are usually caring and dedicated individuals -  of that there is no doubt - but they have their reasons to volunteer. Do they just do it because of a wish to change a life? I know lots of people will be very angry about this statement, but think about it. People volunteer because they are bored, lonely or just to occupy their minds. The fact that they volunteer is to be admired because while most people donate some money to alleviate their conscience, these people actually do something. But there are usually other reasons to volunteer.

I am in no way condemning the voluntary sector. Without these people most charities would fold. I'm just saying that there are usually other reasons why people do charity work.

But I have to take off my cynic's hat for a short while, to write about the story of a young boy who touched the hearts of millions, including mine.

Bradley Lowery was born six short years ago in County Durham. He was just another healthy bouncing little bundle of joy for his parents. By the time Bradley was eighteen months old he had contracted a rare form of cancer called, 'Neuroblastoma'. This horrible condition was to not only change the lives of Bradley and his family but also the whole of a town, Sunderland.

Bradley made people aware of his cancer, as it was scarcely known about by the public. He raised money for the charity and also £700,000 was raised to get him antibody treatment. People from all over the world sent him cards  - 250,000 in all. But his love was the game of football and his team was Sunderland.

His favourite player was the striker, Jermain Defoe, who became good friends with the young boy. This was no staged PR stunt by an overpaid footballer, this was a real friendship. Jermain would often call in on Bradley after he had been training, with no cameras to be seen, Bradley claimed that Jermain was his best friend and Jermain replied that Bradley was his best friend too. When Defoe signed for Bournemouth he drove back north to county Durham to see little Bradley, who always wore his football shirt with Defoe on his back and the striker's number. He even acted as a mascot for England and scored a goal before the game. We all hear about the negative aspects about feckless footballers and their ostentatious life styles, but how refreshing to hear about a wonderful guy who just gave his time and love to a young child that had such a difficult time.

It was announced that Bradley was getting weaker at the beginning of June this year and Jermain again turned up to little Bradley's bedside and laid and cuddled the little boy who in turn snuggled up to his hero. On the 7^th July little Bradley lost his fight against this insidious decease and died. The whole of the town of Sunderland mourned this brave little boy who had such a zest for life. The whole football team turned out for his funeral, along with past and present managers.

Thousands of people from Sunderland lined the streets as his little coffin was driven past and they both clapped and wept openly. Sunderland is usually known for negative aspects such as unemployment or the fact that they overwhelmingly voted for Brexit. Sunderland is usually held up as a town where obesity is rife, but now for me this is a town that can hold its head high. Men in football shirts stood with tears in their eyes proudly sending off one of their own, for no other reason than love, love for a little boy that they hardly knew. Bradley loved his super heroes such as Spiderman and the ninja turtles and Captain America. As his coffin slowly rolled through the streets, there, standing upright to attention in full costume were his heroes  - Spiderman and Captain America and even a ninja turtle all stood straight and proud, saluting his coffin.

And there, walking at the side at the side of the car carrying the coffin, was the little boy's best friend Jermain Defoe, who had flown back from training in Spain to be at the funeral. He walked with tears in his eyes and he wore an England shirt with the words Bradley Lowery and the number 6 on the back.

Sometimes we all do things because we love and care about others. I cannot imagine the pain the family of Bradley must be going through at this time but they must be proud of such a wonderful little boy. I know that they will be helped and loved by a whole community that cares. To Jermain Defoe I give my utmost respect. No doubt you will, like all of us, make mistakes, but when you were needed you stepped up to the mark and even walked over it.

Sunderland, I salute you!  

The Violent Pacifist!

I believe that we are all a contradiction of terms, though most people don't agree with me on this subject. But I bet that their public persona is completely different from their private persona. Just look at how many moralistic devil-dodgers get caught in brothels. How many times have you seen people flashing the cash in an obscene show of decadence only to find out later that they were completely broke? What about the poor old ladies that have to exist on handouts, only for it to be revealed that they were millionaires when they die.

The last one of those scenarios happened to me in the late eighties. I was working as a self-employed joiner at the time and I was called to a house owned by a lovely fragile little old lady who had unfortunately been burgled. Her door was broken and she needed a new lock. I managed to fix the door as she told me that she had no money. My brother in-law had a locksmiths shop and I explained to him the situation and he kindly gave me a five lever lock to fit for this charming old lady. When the work was finished she looked at me with her big puppy eyes that looked as if they were about to burst into tears when I told her how much I was going to charge her for my days work. But her worry turned to a huge smile when I told her to make me a cup of tea and we would call it quits. I even had to go to the shops for her because she had run out of milk! 

For many months afterwards I would receive a call from Mrs Johnstone asking if I would be kind enough to fix a fence or put a catch on a garden gate. The jobs were never that big and I usually did them on my way home from a day's work. She always paid me the same way, she made me a cup of tea. My wife even said at the time that she thought this old lady might be mugging me, but I told her that she didn't have any money at all and someone had to help her. When she died in 1989 she left a bank account that totalled £750,000. I wasn't mentioned in the will!

The above title is something that my older brother, John, always claims about me. I suppose in a way he is quite right. I detest violence when its directed at innocent people. I hate violence when it's directed at anyone really, it doesn't solve anything. I detest bullies, and I cannot understand why any politician would want to send young people off to war. Any fool knows that wars only serve to perpetuate hatred and fear, and diplomacy is the only way to solve differences. Having said all this I love to fight. In the ring that is -  I would walk away from anyone who verbally attacks me in the street, but not if they physically touch me. I would also become very aggressive if anyone was to harm those that I love. So you see, my brother is correct. I don't like violence, yet I use violence of sorts for my sport. I have to say though that all the fighters that I mix with are very similar to me; lots are doctors or care professionals. They, too, live their lives to help others but they love to fight for sport.

The other claim my brother makes about me is that I'm a 'gregarious hermit'? This is partially true as well. Let me start by saying that I'm not a hermit in the true sense of the word. I live in a neighbourhood with lots of people. Having said this, I don't mix with any of them or talk to any of them. I don't like parties and I don't want to strike up conversations with anyone when I go on holiday or when I go out for a meal or a drink. I have friends whose company I enjoy and that is more than enough for me. But in my professional life I have to chat to everyone. I have to make conversation and engage with others. It very important that people feel that they can talk to me and trust me, I'm there to help them. Also as a performer I have to engage with others and make them feel that we are friends. So you see both my id and ego are are constantly at odds with themselves.

But all these little foibles that I have pale into insignificance when you see the duplicity of the powers that be. How many times have we encountered terrible tragedies, only to be told by a second rate politician that their thoughts and prayers are with the families? what use is that! Firstly, thoughts and prayers are as much use as a cotton condom, but just how condescending is this phrase?

After the terrible fire at the Grenfell tower block we heard lots of politicians saying how sad they were. I'm not saying that anyone would be happy about the situation, but we heard lots of platitudes and no action! Behind the scenes I felt there was a very busy buck that had been passed around quite a lot. These people were more interested in not being seen to be at blame than stepping in to help lots of people who needed their help the most. But then I often feel that our politicians are the unelectable elected!

They Don't Do Proper Bacon... and other insignificant prejudices

I have been off on my travels yet again, to more warmer climes than the north of England. I have written many times about how I think that travel is important to improve yourself and your outlook on life.

When you travel, you quickly find that people are just people the world over. Yes you meet seedy low-lifes in other countries, but no more or less than you meet them in your own town or city. You will find that most people are friendly and just want to get through life without any fuss. They will probably have the same hopes and dreams that you have, with slight variations. I once met a man in Portugal who dreamed of owning a large herd of cows, whereas I opted for a new car.

While staying at the hotel in Rhodes this week I heard the familiar wail of Brits abroad, “They don't do proper bacon!” I have tried to explain to these people that it depends which side of the fence you stand on, what is 'proper' bacon. If you are not from Britain, you will not know what all the fuss is about, but bacon is ambrosia to us Brits!

There is only one other country that does bacon the same as us Brits and that's the Danes. I would hazard a guess that our love of bacon comes from them, when we had 'Danelaw' back in the day! When old Canute wasn't messing about at the seaside he, no doubt, liked nothing more than tucking in to a bacon butty with brown sauce! Even vegetarians here in Britain eat pretend bacon and vegans eat bacon flavoured crunchy snacks! We are just obsessed with bacon. The moaning pig munchers are quite right in saying that bacon in other parts of the world don't resemble what we call bacon, but if you want British bacon. STAY IN BRITAIN! I'm bored to the back teeth of halfwits whinging about their breakfasts. When I suggest to them that they may want to try something different, like say, something from the country they are in, they look at me as if I have just sold national secrets!

The other cry I hear time and time again is about Germans leaving the towels on the sun beds to save them! This of course is true but so do the Brits and lots of Eastern Europeans in fact everyone does. I have to say that I don't like staying in hotels and when I do I tend to spend as much time as possible out of them and seeing the sights of the country that I have paid lots of money to visit! Why don't these people hire a car and go off the beaten track? Try to talk with the locals - a cheap phrase book will help you out. Why not buy a local a drink in a little bar away from the tourist tat? A bar that has heard a million stories of life, trials and tribulations. Why don't they swim in the sea edged by a deserted white sand beach that burns the soles of your feet for daring to tread upon its beauty? Why don't they stand holding the hand of the one they love while watching the sun go down then drink and make love under a warm golden moon? Instead of sitting in a hotel bar with people they don't like while getting pissed on cheap plonk!

The other thing that Brits whinge about when they visit a warm country is, “Its too hot!” No shit, Sherlock! You mean the country that you sat and looked at in a brochure, the country that you chose because of its endless sunshine is... hot?

Now, I have singled the Brits out for all these silly little prejudices: that's because I'm British, so my fellow countrymen moan to me, but I know that other countries have these people as well. I also have an Italian background so I'm quite used to a lot of the Mediterranean food (See my new book Cooking With Babbo And Nonna). I also speak Italian and a little Spanish so I'm happy to try different languages, though locals often fall about laughing at my malapropisms as I mangle their mother tongue, but this is usually followed by a slap on the back and a drink plonked down in front of me. It's a brilliant way of finding out what it's like to live in the country you are visiting.