WHISPERING SMITH: Whatever happened to real money?

I cannot say that I was displeased by the announcement that Roy Scrivener was standing down as a town councillor – his rather jaundiced view of allotment holders and their worth did not endear him to a good many folk.

However, with his resignation, what does displease me is the fact that it will cost £6,000 to replace him in a by-election.
Six grand for a local town council election? That seems an awful lot of money to me. However, thinking about it, I wonder, is this real money, hard cash that will find its way into the local economy, after all, money spent has to go somewhere?
Or is it virtual currency? Like Monopoly money, or pretend internet cash that has no real existence other than as a footnote in a town hall accountant’s leather-bound ledger, probably written in red ink and copperplate lettering?
If it is real spondulicks, dosh, real coin of the realm, where does it go? Who gets it? What is it for? And, the biggest question of all – is it necessary?
Beats me, and I know it beats a lot of the good folk of LA who are being threatened, seemingly weekly, with real, not virtual, cuts left, right and Tamarisk centre!

Ah, the wonders of modern-day communication, “social media”, I believe they call it.

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THE NAME GAME Spotted a surname same as mine on Twitter, so tweeted the lady and asked if we were kin?
Seems we are and so are a whole lot of others, nice folk all. Later I received an invite to Uncle John’s 90th birthday party – didn’t even know he lived local and that he was so delightfully perky – my direct family were dreadful communicators.
The party was at a pub in Barnham and, thanks to Twitter, I met a whole pub full of kinfolk. And charming were they all! It seems I will never walk alone!

BARBERSHOP SEXTET I see yet another male hairdressing business recently opened in town. I believe that makes six. With that many, one wonders if there are enough heads to go around in LA…

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