Evening All

As the seasons change and winter breathes its last gasp; almost unnoticed on Kirkgate (Ripon's shambles) appear those brightly coloured harbingers of spring: the police van. Litter swirls in their wake and settles back onto the deserted street. It is early Friday evening. No-one is about to witness their arrival save a few hardened drinkers in the Royal Oak, the odd Hopperesque diner and Harbinger, wobbling back to the rank from an evening of prayer and contemplation.

The local Plod heave themselves out of their stripy cocoons and swarm down urine scented alleyways, then all is quiet; what could they be searching for at this time of the evening and who is so dangerous that he requires three vans to bring him in; is it a drugs raid, or are they searching for the elusive crooner and Ripon Mare Andrew (Andy) Williams?  Williams, as you will know by now has been arrested, allegedly in connection with the disappearance of public funds (nicking dosh) and yet he's still holding on to his shiny chain.

 You'd think, wouldn't you, that given the furore surrounding his arrest he would have immediately handed over the chains of office and stepped down from all public engagements but no! You can't get rid of (Andy) that easily. As the plod waddle up the wrong alley, Teflon (Andy) is no doubt cowering in the bushes awaiting the moment to slither back into the council chamber wearing an oleaginous smirk and the contents of his 'Mare's Dressing Up Box'. Imagine for a moment if you will, that (Andy) is innocent of the charge; that he is as pure in thought and deed as a new-born lamb gambolling in a Spring meadow: would it still not be the right thing to do to protect the office of Ripon Mare he professes to hold in such high esteem? As it is, he has not only tarnished the position by association with the charge, but also made it an object of derision. STEP DOWN NOW (Andy) limit the damage and do us all a favour.

Yoof (addendum)

Hawke and I'Anson the 'brains'
behind Matrix under 18s night Ripon’s sticky floored Matrix was once again the venue for an under 18s club night last night. The ‘brainchild’ of Mayor Sid Hawke and ‘fully supported’ by night club owner Chris I’Anson (well it would be wouldn’t it?) these evenings have been hailed by the pair as ‘a great success’..…Really! And exactly what criteria are they using to gauge this success?
Once again last night the police control unit was parked in the market square and by 7.30pm there was a disproportionately large police presence outside the club including a police car, a police van, eight or ten police officers and judging by the hysterical shrieking of 'you can fuck off, You can FUCK OFF' a young lady was about to be taken into Her Majesty's care for the remainder of the evening. Who knows what had brought her to this emotional state but it may be, of course that someone was cheating during the 'Pass the Parcel'.
We see no reason why the already stretched tax payer should have to foot the bill in order to boost the profits at Mr I’Anson’s tacky establishment, nor do we see why children as young as 13 years of age should be exposed to the appalling language and behaviour that takes place with depressing regularity both inside and outside the club.

And here's the scene at 7.30pm: