The PR Blog

I Love Books. I truly do. So when I learn that children today are attending libraries to be indoctrinated by transgender, transsexual or cross dressing “ entertainers “ I somehow feel that kids are victims of theft.

When I learn that books are being promoted in libraries that encourage sexual fantasy and deviancy in young children, I feel outraged. 

This precious and irreplaceable learning experience, this wonder of books and the magic of the written word, the joy of imagination – it is being stolen and stifled by those who want to sexualise, politicise and poison young minds to such an extent that they will never have the love of a library like so many of us older folk do. 

When I was a child, my parents took me to the library once a fortnight. It was one of the most exciting and wonderful days of my calendar and those visits began my lifelong love of the written word, the world of endless magic and the treasure trove that lay within its walls.

Today, children are taken to the library and sat down by their parents to be taught what to think, not how to think. Please! Let them explore their own imaginations!

I am a Christian Brothers College (CBC) old boy and attended a few of the colleges as a boarder. The brothers were dedicated, good and holy men, albeit harsh at times, but I received a good education, learned how to be tough and survive, and have no complaints. 

There was never any suggestion of sexual impropriety, and anyone caught indulging in, or even discussing such conduct, would have had their heads knocked off. When we had Saturday night pictures, a brother would stand by the projector and place his hand over the camera during any sexually suggestive or kissing scenes.

To have been sexually abused by a brother would have been unthinkable. Those were the Christian brothers.

Between the mid-19th and early 20th centuries, more than a hundred thousand British children were sent overseas to countries like Canada, Australia, and other parts of the British Empire as part of what became known as the Home Children programme. This controversial migration scheme, which aimed to provide "better opportunities" for children in poverty, left a lasting imprint on the lives of those involved.

The Home Children programme began in the 1860s as a social experiment aimed at alleviating poverty in the crowded industrial cities of Britain. Many of these children, some as young as three, were either orphans or had been surrendered by impoverished families who could no longer care for them. The programme was supported by philanthropic organisations such as Dr. Thomas Barnardo's Homes and the Church of England Waifs and Strays Society, and was endorsed by the British government.

Other children were told that their parents had died when in fact that was not the case. As they were compulsorily shipped out of Britain, many of the children were deceived into believing their parents were dead, and that a more abundant life awaited them. Some were exploited as cheap agricultural labour, or denied proper shelter and education. It was common for Home Children to run away, sometimes finding a caring family or better working conditions.

Picture the scene. It is the ACME desert, Somewhere in the MIDDLE of nowhere.......... somewhere EAST of here ........

In a bizarre turn of events that left one desert dwelling mammal questioning his life choices, the notorious Roadrunner recently made a trip to the legendary Acme Shed with a shopping list that reads like something out of a mad scientist's handbook. On the menu: explosives. The target? Telephones, toilets, and televisions. Oh and a few pagers on the side. 

The beep-beep bandit strutted into Acme’s one-stop explosives shop, clacked his beak, and casually ordered “three bundles of TNT, two sticks of dynamite, and a side of nitroglycerin—hold the fuse.”

The Acme clerk, probably used to bizarre requests from desert-dwelling predators, didn’t even blink as the order was processed. Roadrunner grabbed his volatile goodies and zoomed out, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and a confusing sales receipt.

As young folk, didn't some of us feel like rebels without a cause? 

I am coming up 70. In my era, some of us chose to follow Greenpeace. Others chose anti Vietnam war. Still others embraced the feminist ideology and some the allure of socialism and communism. For myself, I never really embraced a cause. I was too busy enjoying life. But I was always a bit of a black sheep. 

Terribly stubborn. Opinionated and very determined in my views on what was black or white or right from wrong. Poor Redhead still tries to rein me in but alas, she hasn't been successful thus far. At 92, you would think she would give up trying, but she tells me " I am still your mother. " 

Bugger. She is right of course but in all fairness, I do attribute good parenting to the fact that she now has three geriatric offspring who tend to be a pain in her arse because we won't do as we are told. Let me explain.