#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)

[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 🙄

[bluegiragi]

hoard. (full comic on patreon)

[explodingstarlight]

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

[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.

[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

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Dr. Anton Phibes -

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

[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?”

[sneakysnowmannightshade07]

Is it just me or do people tend to dislike characters that they actually are similar to/relate to, and then end up loving them much later?

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

Let’s make this really simple for everyone who doesn’t pay attention.

[cece693]

mano mažylė (Father! Hannibal Lecter)

Felt like writing something angsty and then combined with my obsession of the Hannibal tv show, I questioned what it would be like for a child to be raised by Hannibal. A tiny snot covered child who is scared of the dark but as they grow up realize their father is a cannibalistic serial killer....or maybe not?

Summary: How would things turn out if Hannibal raised a child on his own? Not that good.

tags: Hannibal is a father, he's a flawed person, mistakes are made, running away, Abigail is still hated by me so she'll be an antagonist, maybe a part 2 is on it's way

The world believed you were God’s favorite, born into privilege as the only child of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. But you knew better. You loathed him. Loathed the man who shared half your DNA while the other half remained a shadow, an enigma lost to time.

It hadn’t always been this way. As a child, you adored him. You wanted his approval, his praise, his love—simple things every child should receive without question. But Hannibal Lecter had never been a good father. Not in the way that mattered.

He excelled at maintaining appearances. Your clothes were immaculate, your education rigorous, your home a work of art. Yet, for all his brilliance and sophistication, Hannibal seemed incapable of the simplest acts of fatherly affection. He never hugged you, not once in your memory. He never showed kindness that didn’t come with calculated precision, and he certainly never sought to enjoy the small, fleeting moments between a father and child.

The small drawings you'd create for him—depictions of the two of you together, your childish hand scrawling smiles and hearts—would be shoved into his desk drawer without a second glance, never hung on the walls or displayed on the fridge like other parents might. When you cried after a particularly bad nightmare, he would send you back to your room with a simple wave of his hand, his attention already elsewhere. No comfort, no embrace, no whispered assurances that it was only a dream.

Nothing you did ever produced an ounce of affection from him. But his place in Baltimore's social circle? That was another matter entirely. He prioritized his social image over the bond you craved. Dinners with influential guests, exquisite banquets, and whispered conversations about art and philosophy filled the house while he'd dismissed you to your room. The door would shut with a firm finality, his deep voice ringing with calm authority: “Go upstairs.”

Even as a child, you felt the sting of that rejection. The lavish dinners he painstakingly prepared were not for you. The carefully cultivated relationships he cherished were more valuable to him than the one he should have been building with you. You were an accessory in his meticulously curated life, a piece of his narrative rather than a person to be loved.

The resentment you buried for years began to boil over when Hannibal brought Abigail Hobbs into your home. For reasons you couldn’t understand, he treated her differently. He gave her his time, his attention—things you had long since stopped hoping for. Hannibal had even invited her into his sacred space—the kitchen. You watched from the doorway, unseen but seething, as he guided her hands on a knife, showing her how to properly julienne vegetables, his voice soft and patient. It was a thing you had only observed from afar, never experienced.

And then came the final blow—the moment that shattered the thin thread holding your heart together. You watched as Hannibal embraced Abigail, his arms wrapping securely around her small frame. One hand cradled the back of her head, his touch tender and protective, as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

Where was this Hannibal when you needed him? Where had this version of him been when you were the child longing for his love?

You couldn’t stay. Not in that house. Not with the reminder of what he was capable of giving but had chosen not to give to you. So, you ran. You left without looking back, vowing to never forgive him for the years of cold detachment, for the love he had withheld, for the way he made you feel like an afterthought in your own life.

For Hannibal, destruction was all he knew. It was an art, a purpose, a calling. But the day he first gazed upon you—his child, swaddled in soft blankets, your tiny hand grasping his shirt—something unfamiliar stirred within him. Adoration. Pride. Perhaps even love, though he would never admit it, not even to himself.

He had never envisioned himself as a father. For all his meticulous planning, the idea of parenthood had been an abstraction, an unthinkable detour from the life he had carefully constructed. Yet, when the mother of his child informed him of your existence, a quiet certainty settled over him: you were his.

He killed her shortly after. It was nothing personal—just necessity. Hannibal Lecter did not share. He would not allow anyone else to claim you, to influence you, to take you from him. You were his blood, his creation, and that meant you belonged to him entirely.

Still, Hannibal recognized his own darkness. He knew the shadows that lingered in his mind, the hunger that defined him, were no place for an innocent child. For all his pride, a part of him hoped you would never become like him. He wanted to preserve your purity, your light, even if it meant keeping a careful distance. So, when he saw you gaining independence—first as an inquisitive toddler, then as a fiercely determined child—he began to step back. Slowly, deliberately.

He ensured you were safe and had everything you needed to prosper. The finest tutors, the best schools, the most luxurious comforts. Yet, he withheld what you truly craved: love, warmth, and connection. He refused to give you what might make you look deeper, what might tempt you to uncover the cracks in his mask. He feared that if you saw the real him, you would recoil in terror. And Hannibal, for all his control and detachment, could not bear the thought of you fearing him.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t fond of you. Quite the opposite. Hannibal cherished you in his own way, quietly and from a distance. All the small drawings you made for him as a child—brightly colored stick figures of the two of you, accompanied by phrases like “Me and Daddy!” or “Best Dad in the World!”—he carefully kept. He never displayed them, of course. That would have disrupted the pristine aesthetic of his home. Instead, he tucked them into a leather folder, hidden away in his bedroom.

When you were away at school, he would pull them out. Alone in the quiet of his space, he would trace the lines of your messy handwriting, pausing over the parts where you had clearly erased and rewritten to make it perfect. Those small, clumsy marks filled him with something unnameable—an ache that he would not call regret but might have been close to longing.

It was those words—Best Dad in the World—that kept him firm in his decision. He would not let the innocence in you fade. He would shield you from the world’s horrors and, more importantly, from his own.

But then he brought Abigail Hobbs into their house, and everything crumbled.

Hannibal had known it would stir some jealousy. Abigail was, after all, an interloper in your space, stealing his attention. He imagined it would be a passing irritation, something that could be soothed with time. What he failed to anticipate was how deeply her presence would cut. Abigail was not like you. She wasn’t innocent. Her father’s sins had already tainted her, and that darkness—the one she carried so naturally—was something Hannibal understood, even appreciated.

He allowed himself to envision a future: Abigail as your sister, a young woman who could carry the weight of his world without breaking. He imagined the two of you sitting together at his table, becoming a family that would include his dearest Will Graham. It was a beautiful picture, one he painted with great care in his mind. But Hannibal, so enraptured by this fantasy, failed to detect the resentment growing within you.

Your heart, already heavy with years of neglect, bloomed with fresh anger and hatred. Abigail had taken what little space you had in his world and filled it with her presence, her pain, her dark reflections of the fatherly affection you had longed for.

The breaking point came one evening when dinner was ready, and you failed to appear. Hannibal ascended the stairs, his movements deliberate but heavy with irritation. He thought to find you sulking in your room, perhaps brooding over a perceived slight. But when he opened the door, the truth struck him like a blade.

The dresser drawers were open, several items missing. The window was slightly ajar, letting in a cool breeze that made the curtains flutter softly. Your phone rested on the bedside table, an unspoken declaration that you did not want to be found.

And then he saw it—the note scrawled across your mirror in bold, angry letters.

I hate you.

The black marker lines were thick and uneven, etched with trembling, furious hands. For a moment, Hannibal stood frozen, the words searing into him like fire. It wasn’t just the note. It was the empty space, the absence of your presence, the finality of the choice you had made.

He stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the remnants of you. The room still smelled faintly of your presence, but it was hollow now, like a shell. A part of him wanted to reach out and erase the words, to undo the weight they carried, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, the perfect stillness of his body betraying the storm within.

Hannibal Lecter rarely felt regret. But as he gazed at the angry scrawl on the mirror, the open window, and the phone you had so carefully left behind, he felt something dangerously close to it.

He had wanted to protect you. To shield you. To preserve the light he saw in you. But instead, he had driven you away. And now, the silence of the house felt unbearable. For all his careful planning, for all his control, Hannibal Lecter had made a mistake and there was no correcting it.

[threefeline]

Got another AH pick for sale :3c Obs/Obs/Moon

700k for this one!

AAAAND SOLD!!! THANK YOU <333 Hope you enjoy your new tundra dusthide!

[arthursfuckinghat]

It's so nice to see people supporting the red dead actors through streamily and cameos, even if it's just to have autographs or questions answered, it's really good to see the cast get support through these means