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UK Government: Ukrainians Not Wanted!

I never thought when I left the UK for America in 2002, that I would ever be ashamed of my country. I was proud to be British, proud of my EU passport.

Not any more. I am deeply ashamed of what my country has become. As if the Brexit vote, engineered through brainwashing and outright lies by men like Johnson, Gove, Fox, and Farage, wasn’t bad enough, the government is now led by Johnson who has surrounded himself with ass-lickers, useless at the jobs they’ve been assigned, but chosen for the sole purpose of keeping Johnson in power.

No-one is more useless at her job as Home Secretary than the unfortunately named Priti Patel. Unfortunate, not because of her harsh, cold, features, but for the harsh, cold, heart that dwells within them. She should be dumped on an uninhabited island in the South Atlantic, as once she suggested should happen to refugees seeking asylum in the UK.

Now the hell-bitch it bent on making it as difficult as possible for Ukrainians to enter the UK. Many have arrived at Calais, only to be told to access a  ridiculously long internet link.

“Oh, darn, in the rush to leave Ukraine as the bombs were falling around me I forgot to bring my laptop. I’ll just nip back and get it!”

Poland has taken 800,000 Ukrainian refugees. The UK to date: 300.

Who are these wankers, who have no idea of the suffering people go through. Above, is a notice pinned up at Calais by the British government stipulating these poor, overwhelmed, shattered, people must now trek hundreds more kilometres to Paris (182 miles/293 kms) or Brussels (122 miles/196 kms) in the hope they may be allowed into the UK. Even if they are granted a visa, they’ll probably need to travel back to Calais for a fucking ferry to cross the Channel.

Isn’t it time Brits started to get rid of all the thick, stupid, heartless bastards that have been running their country for too long. All the strutters, the peacocks in their fancy suits, with their fancy titles, “The Right Honorable,” “Lord Fucking So-and-So,” “The Home Secretary” (sooner she’s shut in a home the better!), and all the other gawks not worth a light, and certainly not the fancy salaries they pay themselves. They’re brainwashed in Oxford before being sent out to keep the peasants poor and feather their own fancy nests. There’s hardly a brain cell between the lot of them. Daddy’s money got them where they are, more often than not, or an education system they’ve tailored to suit themselves, and to hell with ordinary folk.

Brits are a laughing stock throughout the world and an embarrassment to English folk living abroad. I try to avoid telling French people where I come from, not because of fear of violence, the French are too polite for that, but for the look of sympathy that crosses their features as soon as the word, “English” is mentioned.

I used to be proud of my country of birth. Now, it feels like a millstone around the neck.


Another Madman, Another World War?

Polina, who was nine or 10 years old, was shot dead alongside her parents by Russian Military

Alive one minute, dead the next. Can there ever be a valid reason or excuse for this barbarity? Why should Putin be allowed to be alive when because of his greed for power, this little girl is dead?

It’s not countries that start wars, it’s individuals.

It was March 16th 1935 when Adolf Hitler informed the world he was re-arming Germany in direct breach of the Treaty of Versailles . A modern air force, an army of half a million men, emerged from that declaration and Britain, France, and the League of Nations did nothing to stop it.

The world was too busy partying, enjoying peace after the war to end all wars was won in 1918. Twenty million dead and another twenty-one million wounded was truly something to party about. Meanwhile, Germany steamed ahead with its military buildup, while the West depleted its military, in the sure knowledge it was unlikely to be needed again.

But is was needed again, and the sloth-replicating governments of the rest of Europe and the United States were caught off-guard when Hitler made a fool of the then Prime Minister of Britain, Neville Chamberlain, and with Russian support, invaded Poland and massacred between 150,000 and 200,000 Polish civilians.

When Vladimir Putin came to power in Russia in 2012 the West was busy partying yet again. This time the Cold War was over. The West had won yet again when Reagan and Gorbachev shook hands after signing the INF treaty in late 1987.  The USSR was being demolished and Russia was no longer a threat to the rest of the world. Germany was re-united, the wall had come down. Perestroika and Glasnost were the two words on everyone’s lips in the 1980s and early nineties.

Yet again, the West rested on its laurels, contenting itself with the relatively minor squabbles of Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, Libya, to hone it’s ever-depleting militaries.

Putin entrenched his power as a Russian dictator over the years. No-one recognised the burning hatred and frustration in his cold heart at the loss of an empire that could have been his to control. Inflaming that hatred was the knowledge gnawing at his innards, that the United States had broken it’s promises to Gorbachev, and no sooner was he out of power than first Reagan, and later George W Bush, moved missile bases into what were once satellite Russian nations on that country’s border.

If Western governments were aware of the Russian military build-up ordered by Putin, they certainly seemed unconcerned. There couldn’t possibly be a war between two nuclear powers. It would end in mutual destruction. Wasn’t that the whole point of a nuclear deterrent?

The lessons of the 1930s had not been learned. Hitler invaded Poland in 1939 on the pretext of claiming back territory once German.  Putin has now invaded Ukraine on the exact same pretext. Meanwhile, the rest of the world stands by and does nothing but make speeches of condemnation against the aggressor.

In 1939, Britain and France had a treaty of protection with Poland. When Germany, and two weeks later Russia, invaded Poland neither Britain, nor France, made much effort to assist the Poles.

There is no such treaty with Ukraine. It has asked repeatedly to join NATO and been refused on each occasion, no doubt in an effort to appease Putin, rather than for any genuine grievance. Poland, Romania, Lithuania, Latvia, are all NATO members. Only Belarus, under the harsh dictator and Putin supporter, Lukashenko, and Ukraine, a democratic nation, are not NATO members verging onto the Russian border.

Putin is now threatening nuclear war against the West, if so much as one Western soldier sets foot in Ukraine. The West sits impotent. Will yet another civilian massacre take place in Ukraine as it did in Poland in 1939?

And when Putin conquers Ukraine and turns his military against Latvia, or Lithuania, or Romania, or maybe for a second time in recent history, against Poland, where will the West be then? It cannot sit on its hands then. According to the NATO pact, “An attack on one is an attack on all.”

When power turned a man into a madman, we saw the effects in a major world war lasting six devastating years. The next one may be over much more quickly.

At least the little nine or ten year old Ukrainian girl, Polina, along with many of her schoolmates, won’t be around to suffer it.




Dating The Scammers: Mingle2 And The PCS Card

It’s been a long time since a post was written on Sparrow Chat. On April 11th 2021 I wrote an article entitled, “When The Tears Have Dried,”  following the loss of my wife to cancer. I did try to keep the blog going, but when grief is paramount everything I would normally consider writing about seemed somehow trivial and not worthy of effort.

I really wanted to write about the loss of my wife, but it was impossible. To try was to induce a flood of tears, and even now I cannot find the stamina to keep them at bay long enough to write even these two short paragraphs.

So, a change of subject is required, and I found it in today’s Guardian newspaper. It appears that Mastercard has been fined £31.5 million for price fixing with other companies involved in running and distributing pre-paid debit  cards.

I’d not had much to do with pre-paid plastic cards, but after twelve months on my own in a foreign country with no friends and only one neighbour who speaks an unintelligible amalgam of Breton French, I was in desperate need of some company, preferably of the female variety. As I live in the wilds of Brittany and the only females around, apart from cows, are farmer’s wives I turned somewhat reluctantly to the internet chat and dating sites.

My late wife and I met on a dating site. She was in America and I was in Wales in the UK, and the site was Yahoo’s “Find a Friend.”  Totally free, with no adverts, and even a box to tick for “Pen Pals Only,” it bore no relation to the highly commercialized, advert-ridden, glossy, expensive, caricatures pervading this genre today.

I rapidly learned that ‘Free’ meant you didn’t pay an exorbitant fee to become a member. That came later, after going to much trouble to input a ton of information on yourself that took a good hour or more. The relief of completion and the exhilaration of expecting at any moment a bevy of suitable ladies to be paraded before one’s eyes, rapidly dwindled when the resulting next page was a price list of what was available for a considerable sum of money.

Having just expended all that energy setting up my ‘profile’ I muttered a few well chosen expletives at what I perceived to be the gang of crooks who ran the site, then did what I imagine most fellows did at this point, begrudgingly coughed up the minimum sum required.

Finally, the ladies began to show themselves. It wasn’t long before I was selecting likely females and offering myself as the answer to these maiden’s prayers.  After a goodly selection, I settled back and waited for the responses to come flooding in. Needless to say, there weren’t any. Not one of my selected ladies bothered to show any response, least of all swooning at my photos or pledging undying love.

Meanwhile, my ‘profile’ had gone live, and messages began to appear in my site ‘Inbox’. Oh dear, now I’m no spring chicken, but it was obvious these were ladies of very advanced years. It saddened me that loneliness drove them to expose themselves in this way, but they were not for me.

Eventually, I cancelled my subscription and a friend suggested I try a site called Mingle2. In hindsight I’m not sure I should call him a friend.

“Oh, yes,” he enthused, “there’s great girls on Mingle2!

Yes, there are great girls on Mingle2. It also houses probably the greatest collection of scammers, fraudsters, and general criminals of any dating site online.

At first glance, many of the photos could have come straight from Vogue. I’m sure many of them did. I was inundated with offers of lifelong love from ladies young enough to not just be my daughter, but my grand-daughter. Their persistence, assurances that “age means nothing in love,” and even offers to move in with me right away, were at first an effective boost to my ego, until I learned a new phrase that rapidly took some of that shine away.

“I need a recharge.”

The first time I heard it, from a young woman in her thirties, left me scratching my head. Was this some new sexual proposition I’d not heard before? It certainly conjured up a myriad of possibilities in my fertile imagination. I asked, as delicately as I could manage, for clarification.

“A recharge,” was the response, “I need a recharge on my PCS card. Are you going to help me out?”

Okay, I was now beginning to comprehend that this wasn’t some new method of engaging in any romantic activity. Further investigation revealed that the lady in question held a pre-paid debit card issued by Mastercard. In order to use it, she – or more likely, me – would go to a website online that sold ‘codes’, colloquially known as ‘coupons’, and for a fee it was possible to buy one of these codes, with a value ranging from 50€ to 250€, present the code to the lady who would then upload it to her PCS card, which she could then use to purchase anything that could be purchased using a credit card such as Mastercard.

After explaining that I never gave money to someone I hadn’t met, and was not going to make an exception for her, I rapidly found myself no longer chatting with the lady. Oh well, better luck next time.

No, there was no better luck, although some women would happily keep up a conversation for weeks before raising the subject. It was lulling the unfortunate male into a false sense of security.

I soon came to realize that Mingle2 was awash with women whose only reason for being there was to make a dishonest living. If they had no joy with one man, they simply moved on to another.

It was prostitution without sex. I’m quite sure some of these ‘girls’ were actually men who downloaded photos of beautiful women and used them to entrap their victims. One I encountered, used images of an America porn star. Google ‘Lens’ brought that to light, though it’s not such a good tool since Google has discovered they make a lot of money from it by using it to sell stuff.

There are some genuine ladies on Mingle2, but they’re hard to find. Usually, like me, they’ve been directed there by an ill-informed friend.

Mastercard’s large £31.5 million fine, as reported in the Guardian today, was not specifically about PCS cards, but there is no doubt much of the business they make from such cards is through their use for fraudulent scamming on the internet. I’m sure Mingle2  isn’t the only site where it’s prevalent.  From my experience, it’s obvious that there’s a whole host of women, mainly French on Mingle2, making a good living by offering their love and affection to men in return for a ‘coupon’.  Once the man has made the mistake of coughing up the money, they find their loved-one either disappears, or stays until that particular well runs dry, before moving on to their next victim.

As for Mastercard, they’ll always make a profit. A fine of £31.5 million is a drop in the ocean to them.

Meanwhile their product is a great tool for the anonymous scammers and fraudsters who prey on lonely men.