Friday, 31 October 2008

The One That Wants Someone To Think Of The Pets. . .

A mini corruption scandal in Spain has resulted in a Brit being made Mayor of the town in which he lives.

Mark Lewis took up the reins in San Fulgencio after the mayor, the deputy and four top councillors were arrested over alleged real estate corruption.

Well, that's all very well, but this Brit abroad is Councillor for Animals, he's responsible for organising searches for lost pets. Who's going to do that?

Any chance of the entire parliamentary Labour party being nicked? All except for Bob Marshall-Andrews, he can run the show for the rest of the term, that'd be good.

Thursday, 30 October 2008

The One That Thinks It Should Be Left Where It Is. . .

Artist Sarah Maple is causing a bit of a stir with her exhibition being displayed at Rolling Stones' Ronnie Wood's gallery 'Scream'. The artist is of mixed religious heritage and apparently juxtaposes her Western Christian side with her Asian Muslim side. One of the images in her exhibition is a picture of her in traditional Muslim garb and cradling a piglet.

The professional theist-offendees are out in force.

Already, Mokhtar Badri, the vice-president of the Muslim Association of Britain, tells Mandrake that his organisation plans to visit the SaLon Gallery, in Notting Hill, west London, to demand that it remove Maple’s painting when it exhibits it next week.

Well, excuse me, who the hell are you to make such demands?

Oh it offends you does it?

Well, how about I pop around your Mosque (and I'm not singling you out due to your Islamic faith, I'll quite happily attend every Church and Synagogue in the area) and demand that you stop preaching your brand of intolerance, hatred, bigotry and misery spreading? Because I can assure you that I find it offensive in the extreme.

But you wouldn't stop spreading it, would you? No. Thought not.

What is it about these religious types that makes them think they must not be offended and they have carte-blanche to make demands and outrageous accusations whenever the mood takes them.

I find religious dogma and indoctrination offensive, therefore I stay away from venues that I know will expose me to this. If you find this artwork offensive, stay away. Don't make the argument that its very existence is offensive, as I could say the same about you. Rather than just making death threats, I'll ignore you for the irrelevance you are, try doing the same about this artist.

One thing I will add, if I were God and saw the hate and misery peddled by man in my name, I'd be going really old (testament) school and getting my smiting trousers on. . .

Wednesday, 29 October 2008

The One That Thinks It's Worth A Punt. . .

So Russell 'Oh Why Couldn't I Have Been Born Kenneth Williams' Brand has decided to quit the BBC over the Manuelgate answerphone spat.

The timeline for this makes interesting reading, ten days after the event, and after the BBC had pulled the I-Player recording, 4772 people had complained.

Today, 11 days after the bomb went off, in excess of 18,000 people have called the Beeb to complain.

Now please, explain to me how around 14,000 people have been so offended by something that hasn't been re-broadcast that they were moved to call, write, email or in some other medium lodge a complaint.

I don't particularly like Brand. Ross is OK in small doses. But fucking hell. One of the quotes attributed to Sachs' granddaughter is that the two should 'at least pay with their jobs.'

At least? Where else do you want to go? Whipped naked in Trafalgar Square? Beheaded at The Tower, head on a spike over Tower Bridge and body quartered with sections sent to Dover, Penzance, Barrow and Newcastle?

Let's not get too precious shall we?

As always, the Daily Mash do a great take off of the whole situation here and here.

Now, does anyone have any tapes of Cabinet members making prank phonecalls? It seems to be the way to go. . .

Update.

Having reflected on the story, and the number of complaints it has attracted, I can't help but wonder if these complaints are in large part a protest at the amount of cash Wossy gets handed for doing his thing. Let us not forget that the licence fee is an effective tax on the ownership of televisions, and those employed by the BBC are effectively civil servants.

I suppose that if I heard a story about someone from DEFRA calling somebody up and leaving insulting and personal remarks on their answerphone, I'd be first in the queue calling for their heads.

Perhaps this goes to underline the fact that the BBC are little more than robber barons, or highwaymen, it is unfortunate that the old line about quality of programming just doesn't hold much water anymore. A serious investigation into the funding of the BBC needs to be made, not in light of this incident, but it certainly does draw attention to the organisation.

Tuesday, 28 October 2008

The One That Thinks There Might Be Something In This Climate Change Lark. . .

Northampton Town's Sixfields Stadium earlier this evening.


It must be climate change, there is no other possible explanation. I mean when was the last time you saw a league match being postponed in bloody October?

We must take positive action, Comrades. The Arctic ice-shelf is on the rampage, the townsfolk of Northampton losing football fixtures to the weather, kids in the Midlands building bloody snowmen! In pissing October! Won't somebody think of the children? What sort of world will they grow up in? Are they expected to build igloos in their summer holidays?

Join me, join me in turning the heating up full blast and opening all the windows, drive everywhere, even if it is to put a bag in the bin, as fast as you can, in first gear, sit in your armchair drinking a cup of tea in one hand and have an orbital sander whirring around in the other. We must stop the climate from changing!

Monday, 27 October 2008

The One That Is Putting The Bunting Away . . .

Oh dear. The Brown Gorgon has had to make a minion announce that plans for a 'Britshness Day' are being quietly dropped.

I'm actually quite sad about it. I like the idea of a Bastille Day or a 4th of July, it could be fun. Of course in our Brave New World there'd be none of the Joie de Vivre the French have in their annual tear-up or the 'Yeah! We're Best!' exclamations of the Americans. No, we'd be stuck with a day 'celebrating' British diversity, multi-culturalism, tolerance, our ratification of ECHR, I'm losing the will to live here, people, our adoption of sustainable ecological wossname and it would all be celebrated with a glass of tap water, a rich tea-biscuit for the great and good. There would be no singing, no dancing, no waving of flags, no fun and no bloody point.

We would have to celebrate a politically acceptable ideal of what the Righteous think Britain should be.

Well, I don't want that. I want Roast Beef and Real Ale, Haggis and Malt Whisky, I want Chicken Tandoori and bloody great big vodka Lassis, I want the music of Elgar, Handel, Novello, Lennon and McCartney (ooh, an immigrant, see what I'm doing there?), I want the works of Shakespeare, Chaucer, Burns and Marlowe, the art of Constable, Lowry and Banksy. I want tables on the street with kids wearing Union Flag, St. George Cross, St. Andrew saltaire and Welsh dragon plastic hats gorging themselves on sausage rolls, cake and fizzy drinks. I want the best fucking soldiers in the world dressed in their finery on parade in every barracks town, the Royal Navy putting on a show in Pompey and Devonport and the RAF demonstrating their skills in the skies.

And you know what Righteous? That's all fine, because it isn't about white skinned protestants. I am just as British as the Sikh Indian, Muslim Bangladeshi or Pentecostal Tobagan that now live here. We have always, always, accepted and absorbed new people, new languages, new religions and new ideas. You will not divide us. You are the racists, sowing dissent and mistrust, ghettoising people whilst pretending you are looking out for their interests.

You disgust me, you arrogant, mealy mouthed, joyless little cretins.

Right, let's get me diary out. How about the following dates:

Waterloo Day (June 18th)
Armada Day (August 8th)
Trafalgar Day (October 21st)

All a bit militaristic for you? OK. . .

May 25th? - The day we got rid of the last lot of bastards who patronised, smothered and generally made everybody miserable. Yes, that was the day we got rid of Tumbledown Dick.

Does that offend your Republican leanings?

Hell, I'll even meet you half way, let's go for August 24th, the birthday of William Wilberforce, you know, the guy who pushed through the legislation banning the slave trade? Surely that's a date we'll all be able to agree on.

And that's the difference between you and me, I'll happily come to a consensus, rather than whining and bitching and stifiling any debate with accusations of impropriety. That's why I'm better than you. That's why I want to stand on a chair in August with a belly full of Biddenden Cider singing Land of Hope Glory at the top of my lungs with tears running down my face, because I know what this country could be and should be if you lot stopped tutting and making disapproving faces. Because all the above belongs to everybody in Britain, regardless of skin colour, religious belief or anything, and there's nothing you can do about it.

The One That Is Shaking His Head. . .

A couple of minor stories from the last few days have stuck in my head. Both, for different reasons, are indicators of what a bizarre and generally unpleasant society we live in.

The first comes from Catania in Sicily, one of the poorest parts of Italy. Some lucky (and I use the word fairly loosely) individual has won €100m (US$125m, GB£80.5m) on the lottery. Now on the face of it 80 million quid sounds quite nice, although consideration of the sheer logistics of managing such an amount is mind boggling and means that it could be a poisoned chalice.

The phrase regarding this lottery win which stuck with me came from the local mayor, he said:

'. . . whoever won will feel a moral duty to do something for the local community. . .'
Well, now hang on a minute. This isn't your money. It is up to the winner(s) what they do with it, and in my experience the last people who should be doling out advice on what to do with large sums of money is the local political class. I wonder if the council of the Commune di Catania had interests in Icelandic banks?

Speaking personally, I quite often daydream whilst walking the dog and will think about what my actions would be if I were to win a huge amount like this. What surprises me is that it doesn't involve sports cars, yachts, rambling mansions and the like. Well, perhaps one sports car then. I always hit on the same formula, to preserve my anonymity I'd engage a decent firm of local solicitors to arrange the payment of funds to ensure that some organisations and buildings that are important to me would never have to worry again. I was fortunate to grow up in a lovely Kentish village with a village green overlooked by church, windmill and pubs. On a sunny Sunday cricket afternoon, it is perhaps the lovliest place on Earth. Accordingly huge amounts of money would be spent on the village cricket and football clubs, scout hall, village hall, church, windmill, village museum and village school. No-one would ever know it was me. I don't particularly care about the church as an organisation, but care deeply about the church in the village as a beautiful and quite rare example of religious architecture. I don't particularly care about the Scouting organisation, but appreciate the important role it plays in the life of the village youngsters. The school should be looked after by the taxpayer, but the building is a wonderful Victorian structure and I was blissfully, deliriously happy there in my primary schooling. Every last one of them would receive lavish amounts of cash.

I obviously would contribute something to the local community, but that is my choice, if I also chose to gold plate all my fruit and veg, then that's my look out as well. Another telling line from the report is from a local consumer group who wanted the jackpot to be seized and redistributed.

Hmmm. Indeed. How long before the righteous (TM Leg-Iron) start calling for a cap on lotto payouts in this country on the basis that it isn't good for people and redistribute the winnings on a basis that met their definition of being 'worthy'?

The second story relates to a chap called Chris Read, one of my fellow county-men, who had the temerity to leave negative feedback on some guy's e-bay site for sending him a damaged mobile phone that wasn't the item he'd ordered and paid for. As a result the vendor, Joel Jones, refunded Read's money. Read did not remove his negative feedback and received a letter from the vendor's solicitors threatening legal action as:

'The negative feedback you left on October 3 regarding Samsung F700 was unfair and is damaging to my business's reputation and ability to trade.'
Well, no it isn't unfair. It's entirely fair. He went on to say that:

'He had no right to post negative feedback which will show up on my profile and put off other customers.'
Call me a bluff old traditionalist, but I think he had every right to post that feedback, and if you make a habit of sending people wrong and substandard goods, you deserve every bit of bad feedback you get.

Good old Chris Read is standing his ground. What sort of country do we live in where someone who provides a poor service thinks they can drag someone to the courts for pointing this out? I hope he does take him to court and I hope the judge hits him with as big a penalty as possible for wasting everyone's time and being a general arse-clown.

Tuesday, 21 October 2008

The One That Thinks He's Peaked Too Early. . .

Blimey, they're not even in power and the Tories seem to be on the make already.

Patrick Vessey puts it very nicely over on the LPUK blog.

I really do marvel at the arrogance of these twits, how many Labour types have been caught out when securing funding from iffy sources? Did they really think no-one would notice? Did they think we'd be so stupid as not to care. Or, as I think most likely, did they just think that we'd mind our own bloody business and wouldn't dare take an interest in what they were up to.

A good example of why, no matter how bad Labour are and will get, I will not be lending my vote to the Conservatives. My old mucker Mac The Knife put it best when we had a chat the other day (BTW, where are you Mac? You've been very quiet recently), I put forward the theory that nothing, nothing could be as bad as the current shower sitting on the government benches. His world weary reply? 'That's what they said about the Weimar Republic.'

I've said it before, and I'll say it again;


PLEASE DO NOT VOTE FOR ANY OF THESE FUCKERS. Forget ZNL, the Cons and the Limp-Dems, they are all the same, the change is negligible. Putting the Tories in is the equivalent of opening the cage door and managing to get rid of the very hungry tiger that is eyeing you up, only for a pack of rabid dogs to run in.

Obviously I'll say pick the UK Libertarian Party, but fuck it, pick anybody, anybody but those three collections of corrupt, deceitful, avaricious, self-serving fucktards.

They must be pissing themselves laughing. I can only imagine George calling over to Dave at Millbank. 'Hey Dave, even after this, the retards are still saying they'll vote for us. Bugger me, these bastards are so stupid. Imagine what we can do once we get in!'

Monday, 20 October 2008

The One That Is Going Down To The Post Office. . .

We used to have a lovely post office in a large brick building on the high street.

It was always busy, indeed so busy was it that it was sometimes a pain in the arse to use. Of course it has moved to WHSmith now, where they have less than half the desks in not even a quarter of the space.

It is of course much, much worse.

But that isn't the real subject of this post. I post, without apology, this entry from the LPUK blog in its entirety:

They Are Not Listening - Time for Action

This book cost less than a fiver; are you prepared to spend the price of a couple of pints for your freedom?

On November 5th 1605 Guido Fawkes, 'the only man to enter Parliament with honest intent', sought to end the repressive rule of a King from Scotland who brought repression to the Country. The rule of the Stuarts ended on the battlefield of Naseby, with Absolutism subordinate to the rule of Law and Parliament.


The United Kingdom has now become riven with Cameras, unaccountable Local Authorities losing millions in Iceland. Who are speaking up for the people of this Country, as we are plundered as taxpayers to prop up the Banks, not the MPs that's for sure.

We want to send a message to Parliament, we want 646 copies of '1984', one to be sent to each member of Parliament - make your pledge at 1984@lpuk.org to send a copy to arrive on November 5th.


The Libertarian Party with the support of other organisations will ensure that each member of the Cabinet will get a copy, with an appropriate message.


If you cannot be bothered to Act stop whining and continue to be 'taxed unto your meat and drink'


I am one of those who do not believe that a national debt is a national blessing, but rather a curse to a republic; inasmuch as it is calculated to raise around the administration a moneyed aristocracy dangerous to the liberties of the country.

-- Andrew Jackson


I'll be sending a copy, which by lucky hap I have just finished, to my MP in the morning. Hence the trek down to WHSmith. I shall not buy anything in the store on principal.

The One That Is Saying 'Thank You very much'. . .

Three cheers for Sir Ken MacDonald QC, the outgoing Director of Public Prosecutions who has warned against 'the paraphernalia of paranoia' and 'medieval delusions' that dominate the current mania for surveillance and logging every facet of our existence.

He said:

'We need to take very great care not to fall into a way of life in which freedom's back is broken by the relentless pressure of a security state'

Well, amen to that.

'We need to understand that it is in the nature of state power that decisions taken in the next few months and years about how the state may use these powers, and to what extent, are likely to be irreversible. They will be with us forever. And they will in turn will be built upon.'

So in other words, watch out, it might be the naaaaaaaaaasty eeeeeeeeeevil brown people at the moment, but watch out, because you'll find that you're a lot higher on the list than you anticipated.

'So we should take very great care to imagine the world we are creating before we build it. We might end up living with something we can't bear.'

Like 1984 for example.*

The allusion to medieval delusions is an interesting one. It kind of puts me in mind of Henry III and how similar he is to the Brown Gorgon. A few minor disagreements breeds a huge amount of suspicion, a civil war and a humiliating final chapter.

Of course, he's missing the point, it isn't about security, terrorism or even rights, it is about the desire to control us, because with these tools you can root out and silence those who haven't fell for it.

The irony is that they're ten years too late. There's no way in the world that the Tories will let this opportunity pass. The legislation will be put on the statute book, and then those that have done the donkey work will bray the loudest as they see their vile, divisive and repugnant machinery used against them in a campaign of terror against the Labour fold.

* There is a UK Libertarian Party campaign to send a copy of 1984 to all members of the house. Just to act as a warning, read about it here.

Wednesday, 15 October 2008

The One That Will Shortly Be Lacing Up His Walking Boots. . .


On November 5th, the excellent Old Holborn has organised a little walk.

This is not a demonstration. This is not a political rally. This is not anti-social behaviour. This is not an act of, or an act in preperation for, terrorism.

Walking down the street without permission in this country is still perfectly legal. In celebration of this, a group of people who are happy to live in a country where we can walk down the road will be doing just that, from Trafalgar Square, down Whitehall to Parliament. I always enjoy walking this route and the old Palace is a very fine peice of architecture, indeed I think it is the most impressive seat of government in the world.

Anyhow, should you find yourself at a loose end on Nov 5th, or in town with a little time to kill, why not join us in Traffy Square for a prom? We are constantly being told that we need to take a little light excercise every day, where better than the centre of the greatest city in the world?

Monday, 13 October 2008

The One That Would Have Used It . . .

This story which crossed my line of sight at the always entertaining Magistrate's Blog.

A judge has ordered the Crown Prosecution Service to make a public apology to a gardener who was arrsted and taken to court for carrying a scythe which he said he needed for his work.

Oh for crying out loud. What is wrong with these people? Look, it is perfectly acceptable to bang on about the politicos interfering in the police and the introduction of targets and blah, blah, blah. But some prick in a uniform has (very arguably) considered the situation and felt this guy's collar.

COME ON! PLEASE, USE YOUR BLOODY BRAIN, WON'T YOU? He's a bloody gardener, of course he's got a scythe, and probably a sickle, pruning shears, a saw and all sorts. What next? Raids on butcher's shops because they've got cleavers? Why not nick the local armed response unit? They're driving around with bloody guns in the car.

The CPS should be forcibly marched from 'zance to Truro, naked, and then whipped in front of the cathederal for being such, stupid, unthinking, inhuman, thick as bottled shit idiots.

To get to court, this case must have passed through the PC, the custody Sarge, an Inspector, a caseworker, a huge number of CPS officers and no-one, not one bloody one of them, had the sense to say to themselves 'hey, let's just stop for a moment and consider this situation.' Every person that encountered this case should have the costs of this ridiculous episode deducted from their wages plus some compo for the poor old sod.

Give me strength. . .

The One That Wonders If They've Looked Behind The Fridge. . .

If you lose something, it's nearly always behind the fridge, or down the back of the sofa.


ID Cards anyone?

Dear Proles,

Rest assured that your personal data will be perfectly safe, in secure contracted storage provided for and by the government by reputable companies with an unequalled track record in the area of data storage.

Everyone's DNA, financial, social security, criminal and medical data will be stored on a number of CD's which will be kept at a high security unit to which access is restricted to the most essential users. These users are highly trained professionals who will safeguard this most personal of information, right up until they want to see which specialist German porn sites you visited in 2007 and then leave the CD on top of the fridge in the kitchen area, on a first class seat on the 0815 from Sevenoaks to Charing Cross, or inadvertently give away with the Mail on Sunday.

Then you'll be fucked.

However, rest assured that lessons will be learned and pauses will be taken for reflection before we predictably hand out another fucking huge contract for these incompetent bastards to overspend, go over deadline and generally make an arse up of things.

Love,

A Senior Civil Servant.

Yes folks, EDS have provided the latest entry in the log marked 'We'd manage to lose an Elephant in a modern two bed terrace.'

Armed Forces Minister Bob Ainsworth told MPs the information, which went missing at an EDS site in Hampshire, was "unlikely" to have been encrypted.

Oh good.

HOW MANY MORE TIMES?

It really does beggar belief. This is the situation that the word 'incredible' was invented for, as it really does lack any degree of credibility that this situation could be repeated ad infinitum.

Lessons learned? Must be on the new A-Level syllabus then.

F-, see teacher.

Just as an aside, I have a large collection of CD's, they are kept unencrypted, in their cases, in the cupboard at the top of my stairs. I'll have to do a quick audit, but you'd be surprised at the number of CD's I've spectacularly failed to lose over the years.

Saturday, 11 October 2008

The One That Is Scared. . .


Very, very scared indeed.

I'm not so naive, I'm perfectly well aware that 'anti-terror' legislation won't always be used against those suspected of terrorism, we've seen it a few times where these powers have been used against individuals in ridiculous situations because their dog has shat in the park, or they've left their bin lid open or they've taken a picture of a police car.

Now Gordon has gone a step further by using anti-terror legislation against a whole country?

Bloody hell, prison overcrowding is bad enough as it is, but is there really room in Belmarsh for the whole of Iceland?

Of course we were no doubt told that this legislation would only be used in extreme circumstances and against, y'know, really bad people. OK we had a bit of a barney about cod, but let's face facts, that has to be the lamest 'war' in history. Iceland is hardly guilty of terrorism, a few bankers are guilty of being really stupid, but a number of British 'financial experts' are just of guilty of not ignoring the warning signs and getting our cash out, so why use this legislation to seize and/or freeze their assets?

Make no mistake, if ZNL have no hesitation in going after a whole country, they'll have no problem in going after you, for whatever reason they feel like.

It is often said that a government should be scared of its electorate, not the other way around, but I am very quietly shitting myself.

Friday, 10 October 2008

The One That Wonders Why It Was There In The First Place. . .


I normally consider myself quite lucky to live in Kent. It is a very pleasant place with some lovely countryside, excellent produce, nice (and some not so nice) towns, and it is only a short hop out of this mess of a country. Admittedly France is your main option, but beggars can't be choosers.

How interesting to learn that Kent County Council are on the verge of waving goodbye to £50m that was invested in an Icelandic bank. Indeed there's a double whammy here, Canterbury City Council, the body responsible for running my city could also come out light, to the tune of £1m.

Let us set aside the fact that indicators have not been good regarding the Icelandic banks for a little while now. Let us set aside the fact that having lost millions of pounds of taxpayers' money that the local authorities are now crying to the government about this and want the same protection afforded to individual savers. Actually, no, let us not set that aside. You've lost £50m and then go and ask the government for more taxpayers' cash to cover the shortfall? Are you crazy?

I mean, really, you must be stark raving, batshit, howling at the moon, madder than a bag of cut snakes, mental. I'm a civil servant, although central rather than local government, if I were to cash up my wages and then chuck them in the back of a passing rubbish truck, would I expect the government to cough up again? No, of course not, because I'd been rather stupid and should had known better.

But anyhow, £50m, that's fifty fucking million quid, gone, more than likely. Gordie thinks that Iceland have acted illegally (I'm inclined to agree with him, but that's more to do with awful bloody adverts, THAT woman and awful rubbery frozen prawns) I'm not sure of the details. But even if they have, what are we going to do? Sue them? They're bloody broke, that's the whole point.

Hang on a second. . .

What the bloody hell was all that cash doing in saving accounts and investments anyway? I don't pay my taxes to have it hoarded away. I don't pay my taxes at all, I have large amounts of cash regularly and forcibly removed from me, in some cases it is intercepted before it even reaches my bank account. I resent having this money taken from me and spent on equality, diversity, climate change and 5-a-day advisors (£42,000 pa + car + pension, 37.5 hours per week) but at least it isn't taken off me and put in a bloody savings account.

Oh wait, it is!

So you're stealing my money for investment purposes? That isn't governance, its being a mugger with red braces and a really nasty, shiny suit.

You utter, utter, utter bastards. I hope all your children have small penises. . . especially the girls.

Wednesday, 8 October 2008

The One That Thinks This Song Is Most Appropriate. . .

I was struck by the lyrics of Stiff Little Fingers' 'Suspect Device' this morning. I understand it to be a song about political practice in Ireland at the time, but isn't it funny how the same lyrics can be applied to Westminster, thirty years after the song was written? Just remind me, who are the terrorists?

Inflammable material is planted in my head
It's a suspect device that's left 2000 dead
Their solutions are our problems
They put up the wall
On each side time and prime us
And make sure we get fuck all
They play their games of power
They mark and cut the pack
They deal us to the bottom
But what do they put back?

[Chorus:]
Don't believe them
Don't believe them
Don't be bitten twice
You gotta suss, suss, suss, suss, suss out
Suss suspect device

They take away our freedom
In the name of liberty
Why don't they all just clear off
Why won't they let us be
They make us feel indebted
For saving us from hell
And then they put us through it
It's time the bastards fell

[Chorus]

Don't believe them
Don't believe them
Question everything you're told
Just take a look around you
At the bitterness and spite
Why can't we take over and try to put it right

[Chorus]

We're a suspect device if we do what we're told
But a suspect device can score an own goal
I'm a suspect device the Army can't defuse
You're a suspect device they know they can't refuse
We're gonna blow up in their face
You can watch a performance here.

The One That Is Saying 'Enough Now, Stop It. Really. Stop It This Instant'. . .

Not content with coming after us who do smoke, now some bunch of self righteous arse-clowns are coming after those of us who don't smoke.

Now to declare my interest, I am a smoker. I think I'd quite like to give up, but to be honest I get so much joy out of pissing off bastards like ASH that I'm going to carry on. Cutting my nose off to spite my face? Maybe, but it's my nose and my face.

Anyhow, there's a company called The Electronic Cigarette Company that produces inhalator style thingies that vapourise nictoine electronically and let you 'smoke' without breaking the ban.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, say the righteous. That will never do. There could be anything in that leccy baccy, they could be dangerous. More dangerous than cigarettes? Do they contain tar? Do they produce carbon monoxide? What about benzine or the whole host of other thoroughly unpleasant ingredients? I would have thought not.

No, the real problem with these things is that they allow the users to thumb their nose at these bastards who will not stop at tobacco, these complete fucktards who want to control every aspect of your life, who will undoubtedly go on to ban alcohol (contains alcohol), crisps (fat), peanuts (salt), coffee (caffeine), tea (milk, you could be lactose intolerant), sandwiches (you could be wheat intolerant*), water (there's a shortage) and anything else that gives people even the merest sense of enjoyment, will not rest until every single facet our lives is documented, licenced, regulated or otherwise under control. Then we will be safe.

Well, not safe exactly, safe from ourselves. Because so many resources will be used on controlling us that bank robbers, corrupt politicians and muggers will be free to do as they please. But at least we'll be safe from ourselves. I mean it isn't as if we're capable of making a decision for ourselves, is it? So we can all sit safely in our houses, with our hands on the table in clear view of the telescreen on the wall, in the knowledge that nothing we are allowed to do will hurt us. Best not go out on to the street. Chris Rock jokes that in his neighbourhood you can get shot whilst getting shot. Well, soon, in your neighbourhood, you'll be able to get arrested by the fingermen for breaking curfew whilst getting shot by the feral chav for not showing him respect.

Choose a night in, choose Labour TV, choose conformity, choose surrendering your responsibilities, choose an approved dinner menu, choose safety, choose security, choose existence. But don't, whatever you do, choose life. Leave it all to those who know better than you.

* I love the idea of being lactose and/or wheat intolerant. Isn't that a hate crime? Do you see people in Sainsbury's shouting 'AAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGH! Get out of my store, bread, you grainy little bastard!' or people producing alternative league tables for the football, discounting goals scored by people who take milk in their coffee? White goals don't count!

Oh, you mean an allergy. Just fucking call it that then, won't you. Don't be such a bloody drama queen. Actually I know someone with a wheat allergy (sorry, Ben) I also know someone who is allergic to nuts, but I've never heard her talk about being 'kernel intolerant'.

Saturday, 4 October 2008

Friday, 3 October 2008

The One That Is Glad He's Back. . .

Of course he's a preening fool, accident prone and with all the integrity of a jelly sat over a vacuum cleaner nozzle, but having Peter Mandelson back is wonderful. It is akin to watching the really long fuse on a really big firework burning to the end, you know when the bang comes it is going to be very entertaining.

Life is too short not see Mandelson get booted out for a third time. Welcome back Peter.

Thursday, 2 October 2008

The One That Is Thinking Of The Chiiiiiiiildren. . .

Some people would rather Gary Glitter look after their kids, than this bastard.

We have kids leaving school unable to read, write or do basic mathematics. We have kids in school who are subjected to violent attack on a daily basis (more on this later during the week) whilst the teachers stand there wringing their hands over the reputation to the school and the 'rights' of the kids perpetrating that violence. We have kids born into a life of state dependency where they grow up learning the lesson that there's no point in trying to get on, because the government will penalise you for trying to do so.

But all that pales into insignificance compared to the threat posed by Tony the Tiger.

Which? have branded Tony the Tiger, Snap, Crackle & Pop and others as villains for failing to promote healthy eating.

Well here's an entertaining perspective. It isn't the job of these companies to promote healthy eating. It is their job to promote their products. I'm not about to start criticising BA for failing to promote taking the Eurostar (and following my experiences with the World's Most Arrogant Airline, that's about the only thing I won't criticise them for). Here's another entertaining perspective; why don't we criticise the parents of these little porkers for putting this shite down their throats in the first place? We've removed junk food advertising from kiddies TV, we've pointed out that eating this shit has the result you'd expect, why do we need these people to do more?

The parents have more than enough information to make a choice, it is plastered all over the packaging. Don't give me the bullshit that it is 'confusing', this is the worst kind of patronising testiculating*. It is akin to ruffling people's hair and saying 'it's very complicated. Don't worry your pretty little head about it, I'll read it and tell you what to do. Go and have this little sugar free lollipop.'

Just in case there's any doubt: If you feed your children shit that is full of fat, sugar, salt and preservatives, they will grow fat, ugly, inattentive, stupid and suffer huge mood swings and behavioural problems. Clear enough?

Well, obviously not as the self-important arse-clown at Which? says that:

'If the industry fails to act, the government should step in.'


Give me strength, look just stick to telling me how much car X does to the gallon, if fridge Y is going to catch fire and if satelite system Z lets me pick up specialist German hardcore porn. Do not get involved in policy and lobbying. It is none of your fucking business. Just say that coco-mallow-sugar-flakes are shit, and shredded wheat is good. That is all that is required of you, thank you very much.

*testiculating - waving your arms around in the air, whilst talking bollocks.

Wednesday, 1 October 2008

The One That Figures If It Is Good Enough For The Goose . . .

You see, that's the problem in schools. When you have a large number of impressionable and malleable people, you have to be careful about what they are exposed to, what they consider to be the norm and acceptable.

No, of course I'm not talking about the imminent release of Crack Whore Pimp Blows Cars Up - Vilnius Edition. Nor am I talking about the latest reports of kids on school football pitches displaying the lack of respect to match officials which is so apparent in the Premier League. I'm not even talking about the rap genre perpetuating the promotion of women as items for nothing beyond sexual gratification.

I'm not even talking about the kids. I'm talking about the teachers.

Al-Beeb is reporting that staff from Edensor Technology College in Stoke are pissing off to Marbella for four days to 'discuss the school's new curriculum and plans to turn it into an academy.'

You what? You have to go to Spain to discuss this? Apparently the trip to Marbella was 'best value for money'. Really? How much an hour does it cost to hire out your own fucking hall then? I'm guessing it's a lot, I'd hate to think you were spending MY money on this jolly, so you must have raised the revenue somehow.

But then, why the hell should they not spank thousands of taxpayer's cash on this? Teachers see council officials, MPs, Civil Servants, MEPs and anyone who gets within half a mile of the public purse going to Can-bloody-cun to see how a municipal building looks with a wheelchair stairlift, so why can't they get a bit of the gravy?

I hope that parents remind them of the fact that they closed down the school for two days and nipped off for some early winter sun the next time they start bitching about how much work they have to do, and how little cash they get paid.

What a bunch of bastards, I hope all the kids accuse the teachers of touching them inappropriately.

The One That Is Laughing . . .

A superb effort from The Daily Mash today, these guys always make me smile, but this one had me chuckling.

Entitled 'British Guy Crosses Channel By Car Ferry' it is quite ironic as it seems to me at the moment that it isn't actually that easy for some reason. . .