LEAD STORY: Bare Knuckle Fight Settles Differences Between Stobart Directors Both accused of dirty tactics as Ferguson knocks out Tinkler. The gloves were off as the two big heavyweights in Stobart Group came up to scratch in a fight to the finish. Current Stobart Group chairman Iain Ferguson delivered a crushing blow to end the long-running contest and will remain as champion. In victory the champ ensured that Andrew Tinkler was removed from the ‘number one contender’ status by condemning the loser to purgatory. Speaking through a bloody mouth, Ferguson declared: "This is an important day for corporate governance in the UK and for ensuring that the interests of all shareholders are fairly represented and protected.” Tinkler is rumoured to have said: “It’s not over until the fat lady sings.” In other news… Man Buys Truck A haulier specialising in freight has bought a lorry to move cargo. Dai Myhare, the boss of the eponymously named haulage company, said the decision to buy a lorry is vital for the haulage company. ‘Buying a lorry is vital for the company,’ he said, ‘because we’ll be able to use it to collect and deliver freight.’ TECHNICAL NEWS Steam To rule Britain’s Roads Jacob Rees-Mogg MP demands ejaculation of steam rather than particulates from diesel as a future fuel for British road transport. Issuing a decree from Kenysham High Street, next to Greggs, the Viper of Victorian Vernacular claimed that steam and the production of steam-powered commercial vehicles will lead the British fight back post Brexit. “By the beginning of the 1930s, the landscape was becoming difficult for steam wagon production,” he explained at a hastily arranged press event at a chimney-sweep convention in Bristol. “Numerous creators of steam driven vehicles have gone out of business, with the housed-ignition engine favoured because of Rudolf Diesel’s European hegemony of technology, and that was a mistake that put paid to thousands of skilled British workers in the steam-driven industry.” He continued: “The only major manufacturer left by 1933 was Sentinel, who launched their ‘S’ type wagon. Fast, capable and dependable, it was a valiant attempt to maintain the steam wagon market. Despite this, in 1938, production ceased, except for 100 wagons produced in the early 1950s for the Argentine government. An opportunity to secure the industry and vital exports was lost, but they can be redeemed.” SPECIAL REPORT A virtual haulier plans to use 3D printers to send goods. By Rob Berry While current technology is likely to make road transport a driverless and jobless industry in the not too distant future, technology could also make roads as well as transport redundant. Professors and experts from the Trent River University suggest 3D printing could be the new way to ship goods. Professor Hurtz van Rentl has been trialling the project by sending vehicle parts from the Netherlands to England. “We had an order from a truck dealership who needed a leaf-spring. So we made the exact size and density on our computer and sent the additive manufacturing file format (AMF) to our customer. They ran it through their 3D printer and it was successfully fitted to the customer’s vehicle within the hour,” he said. The plan is now to open it up for all forms of dry goods. “The scope for this is remarkable. It can, at a stroke, remove 90% of freight from the roads, improve air quality by 92% and reduce the cost for transport by up to 100%,” he added. Already the Road Haulage Association has voiced its concerns. A spokesperson said: “At the end of the day, when all is said and done, it’s important to remember, that road haulage is a vital cog in the wheel of industry, and to suggest that it could be replaced, the cog that is, not the wheel, is fanciful thinking, not least, therefore, for industry.”
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My only meeting with the school’s career advisor was short and sweet; I could sign on or join the army. Given a chance to offer advice to yourself as a school leaver, what would you say? I knowingly met my first working lorry driver at a small community hospital. He was strapped to a bed in traction. At the time I didn’t see the irony but then I was 10.
Like my father, he’d slipped a disc. I thought traction was the means of hauling something by a third party in a knackered Leyland Beaver and being paid handsomely, turns out it was designed to take pressure off compressed discs, straighten the spine and improve the body’s chances to heal itself. My wish to become a lorry driver must have been driven by a craving to eat beans from a tin, sleep in a chair and forego hygiene. It certainly wasn’t hereditary. Nearest anyone in my family had had any contact with a lorry was when one slid across the road and stopped in front of my dad’s car with inches to spare. That was when I first heard an Anglo-Saxon phrase used for such occasions – ‘bloody hell’. My mother used my lofty ambition to make me continue with French at school so that I could use French to talk to French people in French when I was in France driving my lorry. Turns out knowing French wasn’t beneficial at all. The beer and tabs emporium in Calais was called EastEnders and run by Brits, signposts for the ferry port used the universally accepted shapes of a boat and an arrow, and the only person interested in my passport were the Brits when I returned to Dover. The only conversation I ever had with anyone French was done with sign language. Lying on his bed next to my dad, this so-called lorry driver spotted me via a sidelong glance and delivered the crucial piece of advice that my future depended on. “I won’t get up,” he said before coughing wildly. “Your dad says you want to be a lorry driver.” I nodded. “Well, let me tell you son, don’t fucking bother.” That was it. He turned his head back to stare at the ceiling. My response wasn’t required. I could now go forth and use his wisdom anyway I saw fit. I did. The following Monday at school I used the second Anglo-Saxon word I had learned to point out that I hadn’t bothered to try the algebra homework. Now I am in that position. No, not in traction or setting homework, but faced with giving career advice. Why I am offering counsel is difficult to explain, so I won’t fucking bother, but being in a situation to volunteer guidance is unnerving. I have to be honest, both to my occasional students but also with yourself. So I have to ask; “What advice would you give to yourself as a teenager?” Don’t grow a moustache, tank tops look stupid and when someone offers you outside go prepared. Ignoring the patient at the community hospital, my mother and the school career’s advisor, I paid for my own test at 21 and sped through France as quick as I could down the corridor into Belgium. The truth is that you are going to do what you want to do most of the time and within reason. According to the National Careers Service a lorry driver can earn between £18,500 and £35,000 a year and expect to work up to 42 hours per week. One training and recruitment company claim that the main benefits of being a lorry driver are that you will ‘have flexibility of working hours, need never be without a job, and there are many opportunities for self-employment’. Most lorry drivers treat it as a job. They get paid. That’s it. For others it’s a way of life, a calling, they live and breathe it polishing chrome to within an inch of its life. Heralding the importance of a trucker because it’s the truck that brings the essentials of life to your door while seeking the freedom of the open road and revealing in the satisfaction of a job well done is a falsehood. We need honesty. Driving a lorry is heavily policed, has punitive fines outweighing the crimes, long hours and mediocre money at best. Sleeping rough is overrated, roads are packed with amateurs and in the end, even with so few lorry drivers available to fill the void, you are expendable. Besides you’ll soon be replaced by a robot or some piece of technology. Right now, it’s a question of high demand met with low supply, that’s right, transport is not delivering the goods. And Brexit hasn’t even begun. Transport is not alone; the teaching profession is a classic example. Dwindling numbers in the 1990s led to the biggest recruitment campaign the UK had ever seen. You’ll remember the marketing campaign: ‘Those who can, teach.’ A play on George Bernard Shaw’s quote, “Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.” It worked. Suddenly everyone was retraining and getting highly paid teaching jobs. Once supply exceeds demand wages decline and jobs become scarce. Ask a qualified primary school teacher to find another job as a primary school teacher. It’s difficult, many work nine-month contracts, many are given severance packages because their wages are too high, many are disillusioned. Now those same people are quitting teaching to retrain as a trucker. It’s all very cul-de-sac. My advice is this; never do something you don’t want to do because you’ll regret it and it’ll build a simmering resentment that’ll cause long-term damage you’ll spend too long trying to repair and regretting every moment. Drive a truck because you want to. That is what I would tell me. |
AuthorAging proletariat with face, teeth and body to prove it. Archives
August 2021
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