More from Danny

Ed Lines by Danny Lockwood



Simon Reevell is a nice enough chap; if ever you’re woken early in the morning by the Jimmy Savile cop squad, he might just be the bloke you want to use your one phone call on. Not because he would raise an objection in Parliament about this police  fascination for solving ancient crimes, real or imagined, by a dead bloke who unfortunately cannot be punished – heaven forbid!
No, because despite trousering a full-time Parliamentary salary, Simon Reevell, (pictured right) spends more time in court than Rumpole of the Bailey.
If the MP had explained to the voters of Dewsbury and Mirfield that he would be a part-timer before voting day in 2010, I would like to think he’d have been rejected.
What, I would have wanted Shahid Malik to win? I should cocoa – but on sheer principle, Simon Reevell did not, and does not, deserve to be an MP.
What’s more, he is increasing his external earnings; up from £65,000 to more than £87,000 in his latest declaration. It is a scandal.
I wonder, during the selection process did he confide in the constituency Conservative group that he saw Westminster as a kind of executive version of a few shifts behind the bar at the Dog and Duck?
My own suspicions when it first emerged that Reevell was continuing full-on as a barrister and legal consultant, was that he would be a one-term MP.
You must remember that he got the nomination just before the backside was ripped out of the Parliamentary expenses con, due in no small part to the excesses of people like his predecessor, Shahid Malik.
For someone clearly very money-oriented, that must have been a crushing disappointment.
If the local Tories had anything about them, they would deselect Simon Reevell for 2015, nice guy or not – that or at least make clear that it’s Parliament or the law; not both.
Word circulating locally is that he could switch to a safe Tory seat nearer home, but I’m not quite sure I buy that, either. Wishful thinking, more like.
Either way I expect his time is running out in this Parliamentary seat, which will endure for at least one more parliament because of the Lib Dems scuppering the Boundary Commission
recommendations.
If he is insistent on trying to have his cake and eat it,  it will have to be somewhere else,  because I’d bet the mortgage that Dewsbury and Mirfield will return a Labour Muslim again next time.
Our old nemesis Malik? Well, I hear he’s sniffing round Jack Straw’s Blackburn seat now, with – unfortunately for us – Kirklees leader Mehboob Khan fancying a tilt at Savile Town, with Batley West councillor Shabir Pandor repeatedly keen also.
No, I don’t know what we’ve done to deserve it either.

ON the plus side for the part-time MP, at least it’s likely that he’s not one of the major culprits in the latest Westminster scandal (but only because he’s not there enough).
If you ever wondered what they actually DO in the House of Commons, consider this little nugget – in the space of seven months the adult website Out Of Town Affairs was visited 52,000 times by MPs, members of the House of Lords, and their staff.
Westminster officials have declared that there is no need to launch an investigation – they’ve blocked the site now – or even raise an eyebrow at the number using gambling, gaming and assorted other recreational sites.
A music downloading site had over 70,000 visits.
And Facebook? You might want to sit down, or hold onto something – 28 MILLION hits in a year.
A handy website if you want to check up on MPs’ activity in the House is called www.theyworkfor you.com.

I DON’T want you to think I’m crying the poor tale, here. I consider myself an incredibly lucky bloke, my own boss, two beautiful kids, a beautiful and talented wife (okay, she’s a pain in the neck half the time, but they are, aren’t they? Don’t worry, she never reads this. It upsets her).
But we’ve had one week’s family holiday the last two years, and though I squeezed in two brief golf breaks of a couple of days each, it hasn’t felt like I’ve had a proper rest for yonks.
Among my new year resolutions was trying to create some more R&R in 2013 – so at the end of January I took over running Yorkshire Golfer as well as The Press and my rugby paper, League Weekly – like you do. Don’t ask – suffice to say we can all sleep when we’re dead.
I’m writing this from a hotel lobby in Tunisia. You’ll be chuffed to hear it’s raining cats and dogs but, more importantly, Mrs L will be glad to hear I’ve nailed down some very worthwhile business – no longer can the occasional golf sortie be scorned as a boys’ jolliday!
(Do you think my business decision to take the mag on might have been somewhat swayed by that...?)
You may recall that the leader of the Tunisian opposition was shot dead last week, sparking protests and riots. I was in two minds whether to pack a three-wood or an AK47.
In a country of 10 million and where the Arab Spring started two years ago, 1.25m people came to the funeral, according to one of our hosts, Moncef. You’d like Moncef, he’s a hoot.
“Tunisia is not violent!” he explained. Unless Islamist mutters fill you full of bullets, I suggested.
“Ah, but not towards tourists! We like foreign people in Tunisia, we are very friendly. Most friendly Muslim country there is.”
And I have to say, he isn’t wrong. I golfed today with Faïçal, who doesn’t drink – but doesn’t go to the mosque much either. He thinks the Muslim face veil is stupid, but then I haven’t seen a single one. In his town of 70,000 he says there are only two mosques. I told him about Savile Town – it almost put him off his golf swing.
“I believe that if I am a good man, and do good things for people, Allah will understand that,” was his logic. “And maybe when I am dying I might start going to mosque again, just in case.”
Amen to that, I said.
However an hour later I thought I was on my way to meet my maker. Our driver Mohammed was tearing down the road in the rain, when he suddenly put his radio on full blast and started singing at the top of his voice.
He was chanting away look a good ‘un, then picked up a scarf which he started waving in the air – and then took both hands off the wheel to wave his arms about.
“Bloody hell, I sneak off with my golf clubs and the jihadis find me anyway!” I thought.
And it wasn’t just the once – he was at it all the way home. He drove straight through a police road block and they all peed themselves laughing. I nearly filled me kecks!
For what I thought might be my last act I videod the performance and we’ll see if we can get it up on our website or something.
Mohammed thought it was hilarious, clearly the Tunisian version of YMCA by some bloke who smokes 60 a day and is tone deaf. Me, I’m off for a beer.
The weather forecast is better tomorrow...
They might want to think of a new name for that site.