#price rises

[eaglesnick]

“Leverage is the reason some people become rich and others do not become rich” - Robert T Kiyosaki

The privatised water companies have been demanding price rises of between 24% and 91% over the next five years according to the Consumer Council for Water. The mainly foreign owned "English" water companies want to invest £96bn in water and sewage restructuring between now and 2030. New reservoirs, the first for over 30 years, will be built, leaks will be reduced and less sewage will be pumped into our waterways and seas.

Amen to that! But wait…

“English water firms have handed £57 billion to shareholders in the 30 years after privatisation.” (The London Economic: 28/10/21)

We, the consumer, having generously contributed to foreign share dividends for three decades to the tune of £2 billion per year, are now expected to part with even more money to pay for 30 years of private water company neglect. Meanwhile, the CEO’s of these private companies gave themselves a 20% pay rise for the year 2021-22, pocketing £24.8 million.

None of these facts are particularly new but what really irked me yesterday morning was an interview on BBC’s “Today" programme with David Henderson, CEO of Water UK, the organisation that represents all of the privately owned water companies.

Stressing the country’s need for “economic growth", Henderson said this would not be possible unless the water companies were allowed to drastically raise the price of water to cover the cost of investment needed to upgrade our water infrastructure. Talking of the need to increase water supply he stated:

“We have not built a reservoir in 30 years, even though our population has risen by 20% in that time. And that’s because we have been blocked by regulators and by planning officials around the country.”

The cheek!

According to New Civil Engineer magazine (01/09/22)

“There is a seemingly direct link between the 1989 privatisation of water companies in the UK and the ceasing of new reservoirs being built. While there have been a number of flood alleviation reservoirs built by the Environment Agency in this time, the water companies have not invested in potable drinking reservoirs.”

While I have no doubt that some applications for new reservoirs have been refused by planning authorities the main reason for inadequate reservoir capacity is the reluctance of the privately owned water companies to spend money on investment. Despite what David Henderson said on the Today programme this is a headline from the Express:

“Water firms ‘sold off reservoirs that could have eased drought' - Profit ahead of supply" (10/08.22)

In defending the private water companies Henderson was merely doing his job - after all that is what he is paid to do - but unfortunately their behaviour is indefensible. The reason that our waterway infrastructure is near collapse is not because investment plans have been blocked by “regulators and planning officials" but because of greed.

When Margaret Thatcher privatised the previously publicly owned water companies she sold this national asset for a grand total of £7.6bn. In addition she gave the newly created privately owned water companies a “green dowry" of £1.5bn. At time of purchase the water companies were totally debt free.

Fast-forward and what do we find?

“Water firms’ debts since privatisation hit £54bn as Ofwat refuses to impose limits.” Guardian: 01/12.22)

The water companies have spent the last few decades borrowing money, not to improve the water supply and sewage disposal infrastructure, but to pay dividends to shareholders. According to Ofwat’s own figures the water companies have been running ratios of debt to capital value as high as 80%. Water company share holders (70% owned by foreign investors) have received £65.9bn in dividends and it is calculated that 20% of household water bills go towards paying for the debt that rewards these shareholders.

Rachel Reeves much heralded national wealth fund is supposed to be a central plank of the Labour governments “Green Prosperity Plan” but Labour’s earlier promise to nationalise the dysfunctional private water companies has now been abandoned.

David Henderson has issued what in effect is a blackmail ultimatum to the new Labour Government that without massive price rises in consumer water bills, the Labour Party can kiss their dreams of economic growth goodbye.

Today Ofwat, the water regulator, sanctioned an average increase in water bills of 21%, some companies charging as much as 44% more over a five year period. This is a third less than what the water companies demanded, but even a 21% rise over five years is an increase of 4% a year, twice the inflation rate target of the Bank of England.

An interesting case study will be that of Thames Water which has dire financial problems due to building up a debt of £14bn (while still paying out tens of millions in dividends to its shareholders). It remains to be seen if Thames Water will be allowed to go bust or whether the new Labour Government will step in and bail it out but maybe this headline gives us a clue:

“Labour abstain on bid to criminalize water companies for sewage pollution” (Canary: 17/05/24)

[tamilethnicity]

Ofcom bans sneaky price rises in major win for consumers

The rules come into force on Friday, 17 January, and ban phone, broadband and pay TV providers from linking price rises to future rates of inflation, which often include an extra percentage increase on top. Regulator Ofcom said this made it near impossible for consumers to accurately estimate what they would pay and prevented Brits from shopping around and comparing deals from different…

[yeyinde]

trying to seduce or rile up Price only for it utterly backfire on you has got to be one of my favourite things ever. especially if it's framed like a reluctant aggressor situation that flips on its head. because while he might not have wanted to do this at first, once he starts, there's absolutely no stopping him until he's satisfied.

which just ends up with you on your knees, barely able to keep yourself up as he folds himself over you, furry chest glued to your spine, forearm shoved under your neck, fingers gripping your shoulder to keep you locked in place as he sets out to make you regret ever trying to tempt him by viciously pounding his pent up aggression into your poor, abused pussy. gives you his full weight as a punishment, too; not stopping until all the air is squeezed out of your sore, burning lungs.

and all the while he rubs his bearded jaw over your sweat-slicked, tear stained cheek, and growls into your ear about how spoiled, needy little things don't get to cry now. not when he's just giving you exactly what you asked for.

so say thank you, sir and stop whining about it already 🙄

[classy-thief]

🌻 Leo but with a single katana...

[bluegiragi]

hoard. (full comic on patreon)

[on-a-lucky-tide]

You know Price's sass gets him into trouble in the circles he walks. Armed forces are brimming with toxic masculinity, homophobia, misogyny. The works.

Some cunt: "Don't hit on me, ya bendah."

Nik, sighing as he overhears from his spot at the bar, knocks back the last of his drink and sheds his jacket.

Price, puffs the last of his cigar and flicks it away: "Y'olrigh', mate. 'm only into masculine men. Yer safe."

Cue the punch up as insecure toxic masculinity attempts to assert itself in the presence of actual masculinity. It fails.

[explodingstarlight]

saved leo from the prison dimension just in time for the holidays

[cece693]

May I pretty please request Hannigram with an SO that really likes biting things? Like they’ll just nibble on anything available, including themself or Hanni/Will

male reader if possible :)

Bite Me, Darling

pairing: hannibal lecter and will graham x male reader tags: self soothing mechanism, male reader bites things, Alana bashing, jack Crawford bashing, just everyone in general is against this relationship, innocent male reader, hannibal and will want to keep him this way

It was strange, how everything about him was normal on the surface but wildly unique beneath. The way he moved through life, unaware of the way people stared, was something that only a few people truly understood. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, for all their intelligence and their capacity for manipulation, had each found something in him—something pure and raw—that spoke to them in ways they couldn’t articulate.

You were innocent in the most innocent way. You didn’t know how to read people’s intentions, how to navigate the murky waters of deceit and pain that others swam in. You were a creature of quiet habits: chewing on pens, biting the corner of your sleeves, even nibbling your fingers. It wasn’t that you was anxious, but rather that this was your way of processing the world. You didn’t speak much, but when you did, it was with a tenderness that could disarm even the most hardened individuals.

For some, this made you seem almost too innocent for the likes of Will and Hannibal. They were two men who dealt with darkness constantly, who played in shadows. Hannibal, the brilliant psychiatrist with an appetite for blood, had found himself intrigued long before anything happened between them. How did such a pure soul even come to be? How was it that someone as complex as Hannibal could be pulled into a world where biting things wasn’t just a habit—it was part of who you were?

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Hannibal was nothing if not a man who craved complexity, and you, with your simple yet peculiar habit of biting, had an allure that he could never fully comprehend. He wasn’t sure when the lines had blurred, when you had shifted from being someone he wanted to understand to someone he wanted to possess.

Will, on the other hand, was less of a mystery. He found your unspoken understanding of him soothing. Will was not a man who found comfort easily. He’d had too many years of running from his own mind, of balancing between the need for human connection and the heavy weight of his empathic gifts. But you were different. You never demanded anything from him. There was no need to over explain; no fear of rejection. You were there, and that was enough.

The three of them had fallen into a relationship that no one, especially not Alana Bloom or Jack Crawford, could understand. Jack, upset that you had a greater control over his 'asset' perceived you as a problem that needed to be extinguished immediately. While he couldn't force Will to break up with you, he began to use manipulative language more frequently, hinting that his absence was endangering the lives of people. But after a while, his words began to lose power.

"Will, you can’t just leave because he told you to," Jack would say, his voice thick with frustration. "We need you to solve this case. You're part of this team." But Will, unmoved, always told him he was tired and needed a break—as if killers would respect that and stop murdering until he felt better. Jack would then begin to retort how soft Will was becoming, as if that ever mattered when others perceived him as a madman.

Alana, on the other hand, was driven by something more personal. Jealousy. She had been drawn to both Hannibal and Will. Her feelings for them had never been simple or easy, but she had always harbored a belief that somehow, one day, they would choose her. Instead, they had chosen you. The idea of you, with your gentle biting habit, managing to capture the attention of both men—of all people—was enough to make her skin crawl with resentment. How could someone so abnormal and clearly dealing with childhood trauma have the audacity to step into their world and steal both her love interests?

She couldn’t help but feel that you didn’t deserve them. You weren't like her—you didn’t understand the complexities of their lives nor seemed to be able to handle the hurdles that came with it. And so, she set to work.

It started subtly. A conversation here, a comment there.

“Don’t you ever feel like you’re a little strange?” she would ask, voice light, as if it were a passing thought. “I mean, the biting…it's something you can't help, but don't you ever want to stop it? Be seen as normal for once in your life?"

At first, you had laughed it off, thinking nothing of it. But over time, the seeds of doubt were planted. You began to wonder. Was your habit of biting things wrong? Your lovers had never raised concerns, but it would be something they'll definitely keep private, perhaps a secret only shared between Hannibal and Will. You never thought that Alana's words were connived to break your relationship apart, your naivety something the woman had taken into account and used to her advantage.

So, you tried to stop.

You started small: you tucked your hands into your sleeves when your instincts told you to gnaw at the fabric, and you opted for straws instead of biting the rim of a glass cup. You made an effort—any effort—to keep your teeth away from Will and Hannibal’s skin, no matter how comforting that gentle pressure felt against them. At first, neither man noticed; after all, it was easy to dismiss as a passing mood or an unremarkable change in routine.

But after a couple of days, small signs alerted both of them to the shift. Will began to see you catch yourself mid-motion, your hand halfway to your mouth before you stopped and pressed it flat against your chest instead. Hannibal noticed the anxious flicker in your eyes whenever you realized you were about to bite down on your sleeve—or worse, on him—and yanked yourself away.

It was Will who first chose to address it. One evening, you were curled up in his living room, dogs scattered around you like living blankets. The space was quiet, the only sound the gentle snoring of a dog and the low hum of the overhead light. You were running your thumb over your bottom lip—an almost-bite—when Will finally spoke.

“Hey,” he said softly, “what’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, forcing a small smile. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

He studied you with those empathetic eyes of his. You knew he was reading more into your silence, but Will was nothing if not patient. “You’ve been distant,” he finally ventured, words slow and careful. “I don’t mind if you need space, but if something’s bothering you, I want to help.”

The sincerity in his voice tore at your heart. You wanted to confide in him, to say Alana made me feel wrong, and I don’t want to be wrong for you, but the fear of seeming weak or needy held you back. You simply shook your head and offered a reassuring pat to one of the dogs resting on your lap. “I’m fine,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t push. “Just tired.”

Hannibal discovered your change in behavior under more intimate circumstances. The two of you were alone in his kitchen, the scent of simmering stock filling the air. He had taken your hand to guide you closer to the cutting board, demonstrating a particular technique for slicing vegetables. Normally, a casual closeness like this was an invitation for you to lean in, maybe press your teeth gently against the back of his hand or the curve of his arm—just enough to ground yourself in his presence. This time, you didn't lean in nor brought his hand to your lips.

Hannibal stilled, eyebrows lifting in polite surprise. “Darling,” he asked softly, “what’s wrong?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. You swallowed hard. “Just didn’t want to hurt you,” you offered lamely, though you both knew you had never caused him pain before. His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but he released your hand without comment. You wondered if your face betrayed the unease you felt, because Hannibal’s expression shifted into something gentler, concerned. But he chose not to press you then and there. Instead, he simply carried on, instructing you gently with the knife work and occasionally brushing a reassuring hand across your back.

Though both men tried to give you space, their combined worry spilled over as time went on. Neither was used to seeing you so guarded, especially around them. On a chilly afternoon, the three of you gathered in Hannibal’s study—a routine that had become something of a tradition. Will sipped his whiskey quietly while Hannibal and you browsed through his impressive collection of classical music. There was a soothing air of comfort, and for a brief moment, your doubts dimmed.

But of course, it was Will who noticed your jaw moving—saw the slight shift as your teeth worked the soft flesh inside your cheek. He placed his whiskey glass down on the table with a muted clink before pushing himself out of the chair.

“Stop,” he murmured, crossing the room with purpose. His voice was gentle but firm as he stepped close to you. Without hesitating, he brought his hand to your chin, his touch warm yet insistent. “Open your mouth.”

You stiffened, instinctively pulling away. You shook your head, trying to avert your gaze from Will’s intense blue eyes. You didn’t want to show him. You didn’t want him to see the damage you’d done to keep from biting them instead.

But then, Hannibal appeared at Will’s side, his presence commanding. He didn’t say a word, but the look he gave you—equal parts concern and disappointment—made your shoulders slump in silent surrender. Unable to deny the weight of their worry, you parted your lips, letting Will tilt your chin just enough so both he and Hannibal could peer inside.

A faint gasp escaped Will as he saw the small puncture in your cheek, the fresh bead of crimson welling against your lower molars. Hannibal’s lips flattened into a thin line, and a flicker of displeasure darkened his gaze. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small wound, but it spoke volumes to them—volumes about how you had been coping alone.

Hannibal’s voice was low, edged with concern. “You’ve been hurting yourself to avoid biting us.” It wasn’t a question; it was a quiet statement of fact.

Will let go of your chin carefully. “Why?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

You swallowed thickly, your hand hovering near your mouth in a subconscious attempt to hide the injury you’d just revealed. “Alana said it’s weird. The biting,” you whispered, your voice unsteady. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

A stretch of silence followed your confession, Hannibal and Will exchanged a look—a silent conversation filled with understanding and mild anger toward Alana’s interference. Will’s gaze softened as he turned back to you. “We told you before,” he reminded you gently, “you don’t have to hide this from us. You’re not hurting us—”

“—nor inconveniencing us,” Hannibal interrupted, stepping closer again. The resolute calm in his eyes steadied you. “In fact, we’ve grown quite accustomed to it, and dare I say, fond of it. Your habit is part of who you are.”

You glanced down, feeling the sting of tears threatening in your eyes. “I just…I didn’t want you to get sick of me, or to think I was some sort of burden.”

Will’s hand found yours, his fingers threading through with a gentle squeeze. “That’s not possible,” he murmured. “We miss it…miss you being comfortable around us.”

Hannibal placed a hand against your cheek, being mindful of your tender injury. “You never need to hurt yourself on our behalf,” he said, voice quiet but unyielding. “Any pain you feel—physical or otherwise—we’d much rather help you carry it, not watch you bury it inside.”

At those words, a sharp wave of relief pulsed through you, along with an ache of regret for having doubted them. You inhaled shakily, letting yourself lean just a fraction closer to Hannibal’s touch, feeling the stability it offered. Will eased his other hand around your waist, tugging you gently in his direction. Sandwiched between them, you could almost believe nothing else mattered.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “I…I’ll try not to hide it anymore.”

Will’s lips quirked into a small, comforting smile. “No more chewing on your cheek,” he said, voice warm with affection. “You’ll let us help, right?”

With a hesitant nod, you felt Hannibal’s hand slide from your cheek to the back of your head, urging you closer until your forehead rested against his shoulder. He cast a glance at Will, who leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Despite the swirl of emotions, you felt a gentle calm in their presence—a sense of being anchored.

[rejectingrepublicans]

[eaglesnick]

“When morality comes up against profit, it is seldom that profit loses.” ― Shirley Chisholm

The headline below  tells you all you need to know about private investment and green policies designed to combat climate change.

“We won’t invest in green energy for the sake of it, says BP boss.”  (The  Telegraph: 01/07/23)

The boss of BP went on to say that his company would NOT be investing in green energy schemes “unless they are profitable enough”.

Having netted $27.7bn profit on the back of the conflict in Ukraine - something President Bidden described as “war profiteering” - the company will only invest in green energy if certain financial criteria are met. Who cares if the world average temperature rises a few degrees more? It will be the poor that suffer the most and they are not BP executives or shareholders!

 Maybe it is more than coincidental that the head of BP is a Mr Looney, for ignoring the catastrophic consequences of not following green policies is pure insanity.  There is no more doubt as to the effects of global warning and climate change. Wild fires, torrential rain and flooding are becoming commonplace. Parts of Europe are predicted to become desert, while if the Gulf Stream stops flowing the UK will become a frozen wasteland for months at a time.

So, although the UK may escape the burning hell that has engulfed many parts of Europe this year, a sizable drop in rainfall will accompany the creeping cold, reducing the UK’s arable land from 32% to a mere 7%. Food prices will soar, energy bills will become unaffordable and life for many will become unbearable.

When might this happen?

Gulf Stream could collapse as early as 2025, study suggests”  (Guardian:25/07/23)

The corporate world cares not. Mr Looney and other energy companies will not invest in green energy just ”for the sake of it.” There has to be monetary reward. Who cares how many countless millions will suffer because people like Mr Looney put profit before human misery, money before morality? You and I cannot do what is necessary to stop climate change, only governments and global corporates have the power to do that. But greed still rules the day so expect the worst. I’m not a religious person but I am reminded of this quotation from Mark 8:36

“What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?”

[magpie-sphinx]

new art dragon dropped

[ybkitten]

Guys I saw the new ancient and I can’t resist. I love them and they’re going in The Box.

Might make this a ych / adopt of some sort. Let me know if anyone would be interested! I’m going back to putting this guy in a box >:3

[toastingpencils37]

Just like the Merge took Arin's parents, it also took the Monastery dragon's wings

[ferberus-skull]

you WILL look at litebrite btw

[marisashorror]

Seeing a lot of "This Is Whats Happening" and very little "this is what we're going to do about it". Am I just missing those posts? Genuinely asking.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Dr. Anton Phibes -

Dr. Phibes Rises Again (1972) dir. Robert Fuest