Ok. So. Salisbury.
Salisbury is a city in the county of Wiltshire famous for its stunning medieval cathedral, being the one time home of former Prime Minister Ted Heath and for being in close proximity to Stonehenge. However, more recently, it's become the centre of a weird espionage/counter-espionage shit-show.
For anyone who has either missed all the news (or been in coma), a former Russian spy was poisoned, along with his 33 year old daughter, with a nerve agent in the centre of the city. 66 year old Sergei Skripal was found on a bench in the Maltings shopping centre on Sunday 4th March, along with his daughter, Yulia. Further investigations suggest that they were infected with some kind of nerve agent and continue to be in a critical condition in hospital as a result of this.
So, why am I writing a blog post about this?
Because, frankly, it's all getting a bit ridiculous, isn't it?
I was born in Salisbury in the early mid-90s and I've spent a lot of my life in that area. I have a lot of family in and around Salisbury, in fact, many of my family could claim a solid connection to the Salisbury area. (Truthfully, with the exception of my aunts and uncle, we haven't really moved that far away from the city). And it's because of this connection that I can't help but laugh. I'm not laughing at the fact two people, not including the first responding police officer, are in a critical condition in hospital, I'm laughing because it's Salisbury. Nothing happens in Salisbury. Nothing of any note.
This kind of high-level international spy shit doesn't happen in Salisbury. It happens on the mean streets of London, or New York, or Paris. Not Salisbury.
The height of excitement in Salisbury is the opening of a new coffee shop. Or, more realistically, the opening of a second Nandos. Salisbury is a city which has may charming aspects but is, quintessentially, English.
English in the sense that it has a medieval history and many of the residents didn't make the great leaps out of the dark ages. Credit where credit is due, it's beautiful. But it has some characters.
Allow me to give a couple of examples. One is an example of shitty behaviour, but the other is an example of how Salisbury is brilliant.
A couple of years ago, my great aunt died. She was in her 90s and died in Salisbury Hospital. My mother and I were helping my mum's cousin (my great aunts daughter) and her son clear my great aunt's house. Part of this were a series of boxes containing books. Given how old the books were, it was decided we would take them to a charity shop in the city centre. We felt this was the way forward.
So, we took it to said charity's bookshop. I won't mention the charity by name to spare any criticism, but let's just say that said charity may or may not have recently been in the news for buying prostitutes and committing sexual crimes against people in impoverished areas. We pulled up outside the shop and proceeded to take the boxes in. After the depositing of the first box, we went out to get a second when, all of a sudden, the manager of the shop returned to our car with the box.
"We can't take these", the man said.
Upon our asking as to why, we were horrified when we were told they were 'crap' and that we were only giving the books to them because we were being 'lazy' and we 'couldn't be bothered to take them to the tip'.
Now, when you're dealing with a highly emotional situation, like clearing the possessions of a family member, this is not the way someone should approach things. Especially when this man appears to have some kind of weird breakdown and starts telling us "well I used to work at the City of London and have a pension worth more than you'll ever earn in your lives!"
Now, all being well, my mum's cousin's son would've punched this guy and we'd have left it at that. Frankly, we nearly let him. But we had to understand that he doesn't represent that charity (I mean, we thought that was an awful thing to do in the name of that charity. Who knew that this guy would eventually look like one of the better assholes of that charity), nor did he represent the people of Salisbury.
Second example.
About 6 weeks ago, Salisbury had a bomb threat in their post office. It was tense few hours. The city centre was cordoned off and the bomb squad was brought in to work out whether this was an offending package in the post office, or if it was just a...package?
Here's a round-up of what happened.
- A journalist at the Salisbury Journal live-posted every little movement that the bomb squad were doing outside of the offending post office.
- There was a square cordon around the main market square.
- The people of Salisbury were less concerned about a bomb in the post office, and more annoyed that the cordon blocked off access to McDonalds.
- The police couldn't actually work out where the bomb was in the first place. Whether it was in the Post Office, or across the road in the Cross Keys Shopping Centre.
- A man, blissfully unaware of what was going on, walked his dog through the cordon and had to be stopped by police.
- News of the bomb scare reached some parts of the United States, who started to ask about the name of the dog.
- Salisbury Journal revealed the name of the dog, per public pressure.
Frankly, I felt proud to be born in Salisbury that night. There was a scary event and we became obsessed about a dog and the fact we could'n't get a Big Mac fix for a night. God forbid the world ends anytime soon.
"Darling, it's all gone. The shops, the cathedral, the green fields, it's all gone!"
"...what about Maccy Ds?"
(McFallout?)
So, Salisbury, we salute you. A spy is fighting for his life and, frankly, you're doing really well. Even though shit might be about to go down.
Just remember, you can always sort the nerve agent out with baby wipes. (Official advise from Public Health England - not making this up).
Good luck, Salisbury. Good luck Mr and Miss Skripal, good luck anyone who has come into contact with the nerve agent. Though, as someone with some local knowledge, Zizzi's is over-rated and the Spoons across the road from the Mill is just as good.
Salisbury is a city in the county of Wiltshire famous for its stunning medieval cathedral, being the one time home of former Prime Minister Ted Heath and for being in close proximity to Stonehenge. However, more recently, it's become the centre of a weird espionage/counter-espionage shit-show.
For anyone who has either missed all the news (or been in coma), a former Russian spy was poisoned, along with his 33 year old daughter, with a nerve agent in the centre of the city. 66 year old Sergei Skripal was found on a bench in the Maltings shopping centre on Sunday 4th March, along with his daughter, Yulia. Further investigations suggest that they were infected with some kind of nerve agent and continue to be in a critical condition in hospital as a result of this.
So, why am I writing a blog post about this?
Because, frankly, it's all getting a bit ridiculous, isn't it?
I was born in Salisbury in the early mid-90s and I've spent a lot of my life in that area. I have a lot of family in and around Salisbury, in fact, many of my family could claim a solid connection to the Salisbury area. (Truthfully, with the exception of my aunts and uncle, we haven't really moved that far away from the city). And it's because of this connection that I can't help but laugh. I'm not laughing at the fact two people, not including the first responding police officer, are in a critical condition in hospital, I'm laughing because it's Salisbury. Nothing happens in Salisbury. Nothing of any note.
This kind of high-level international spy shit doesn't happen in Salisbury. It happens on the mean streets of London, or New York, or Paris. Not Salisbury.
The height of excitement in Salisbury is the opening of a new coffee shop. Or, more realistically, the opening of a second Nandos. Salisbury is a city which has may charming aspects but is, quintessentially, English.
English in the sense that it has a medieval history and many of the residents didn't make the great leaps out of the dark ages. Credit where credit is due, it's beautiful. But it has some characters.
Allow me to give a couple of examples. One is an example of shitty behaviour, but the other is an example of how Salisbury is brilliant.
A couple of years ago, my great aunt died. She was in her 90s and died in Salisbury Hospital. My mother and I were helping my mum's cousin (my great aunts daughter) and her son clear my great aunt's house. Part of this were a series of boxes containing books. Given how old the books were, it was decided we would take them to a charity shop in the city centre. We felt this was the way forward.
So, we took it to said charity's bookshop. I won't mention the charity by name to spare any criticism, but let's just say that said charity may or may not have recently been in the news for buying prostitutes and committing sexual crimes against people in impoverished areas. We pulled up outside the shop and proceeded to take the boxes in. After the depositing of the first box, we went out to get a second when, all of a sudden, the manager of the shop returned to our car with the box.
"We can't take these", the man said.
Upon our asking as to why, we were horrified when we were told they were 'crap' and that we were only giving the books to them because we were being 'lazy' and we 'couldn't be bothered to take them to the tip'.
Now, when you're dealing with a highly emotional situation, like clearing the possessions of a family member, this is not the way someone should approach things. Especially when this man appears to have some kind of weird breakdown and starts telling us "well I used to work at the City of London and have a pension worth more than you'll ever earn in your lives!"
Now, all being well, my mum's cousin's son would've punched this guy and we'd have left it at that. Frankly, we nearly let him. But we had to understand that he doesn't represent that charity (I mean, we thought that was an awful thing to do in the name of that charity. Who knew that this guy would eventually look like one of the better assholes of that charity), nor did he represent the people of Salisbury.
Second example.
About 6 weeks ago, Salisbury had a bomb threat in their post office. It was tense few hours. The city centre was cordoned off and the bomb squad was brought in to work out whether this was an offending package in the post office, or if it was just a...package?
Here's a round-up of what happened.
- A journalist at the Salisbury Journal live-posted every little movement that the bomb squad were doing outside of the offending post office.
- There was a square cordon around the main market square.
- The people of Salisbury were less concerned about a bomb in the post office, and more annoyed that the cordon blocked off access to McDonalds.
- The police couldn't actually work out where the bomb was in the first place. Whether it was in the Post Office, or across the road in the Cross Keys Shopping Centre.
- A man, blissfully unaware of what was going on, walked his dog through the cordon and had to be stopped by police.
- News of the bomb scare reached some parts of the United States, who started to ask about the name of the dog.
- Salisbury Journal revealed the name of the dog, per public pressure.
Frankly, I felt proud to be born in Salisbury that night. There was a scary event and we became obsessed about a dog and the fact we could'n't get a Big Mac fix for a night. God forbid the world ends anytime soon.
"Darling, it's all gone. The shops, the cathedral, the green fields, it's all gone!"
"...what about Maccy Ds?"
(McFallout?)
So, Salisbury, we salute you. A spy is fighting for his life and, frankly, you're doing really well. Even though shit might be about to go down.
Just remember, you can always sort the nerve agent out with baby wipes. (Official advise from Public Health England - not making this up).
Good luck, Salisbury. Good luck Mr and Miss Skripal, good luck anyone who has come into contact with the nerve agent. Though, as someone with some local knowledge, Zizzi's is over-rated and the Spoons across the road from the Mill is just as good.
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