Sunday, 19 July 2009


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But the bottles are done, we've killed each one And the table's full and overflowed....

Well, save for there being some wog children still alive and unmaimed in Gaza, Guido von Fawkes's life's mission is all but accomplished, anti-politics is triumphant, all the expenses dirt is right out there, for all to see, some members criminal, some, dancing on a razor's edge, nit-picking their guilt; a lot of them - as the IT paedophiles knowingly smirk - barely legal; all vile and venal, but we showed them. What a binge it's been, lads, who was the one with the duck pond, the oak beams, the gardener, hasn't it all been great? Such scalps have we taken .......... a shame that, like Mr Hain's, they have all grown back.

And just see the kicking we gave them, they won't get over that in a hurry.
Except that they will. They are already over it. Hasn't the prime minister, stuttering Uncle Snot, put in place.....sol-you-shuns....trans-pair-ency.......hasn't the revolting Bullingdon Boy stage-managed the retirement of a few old codgers and look, fuck me, the shadow cabinet are giving up their main jobs, working for the vile bugger Murdoch. But not 'til Christmas, when ministerial salaries and bribes are in sight. No-nonsense Dave. Just the kind of Old Etonian gangmaster we want running the country. Lets all row together. Some of us have even promised to think about paying back the money which we claimed, as a very genuine mistake, if only for a dismissive moment or two.

And look, Question Time and Any Questions and Newsnight and Today are a-swarm with ordinary, decent people, hardly a politician to be seen, such a clear-out there has been.

And those bankers, look how we sorted them. Not standing any of their nonsense. Gave them all the money there is, and even some that there isn't. And we managed to allow ourselves a couple of generations in which to pay ourselves back. It was essential, all are agreed, from the depths of their financial and economics wisdom, that the system had to be protected. Oh, fuck me, old chap, couldn't have the banks fail, I mean, if the rich lose their position we're all fucked aren't we. You know, Guido's right, trickle-up, that's the thing, the taxes of the poor simply have to flow upwards to the rich, who, of course shouldn't pay any taxes, or else we simply wouldn't attract the right sort of organised global criminal to London.

Some will lose their seats and be forced, poor lambs, to exploit, like Blind Boy Blunkett, the horrible bastard, contacts made whilst in our pay, not all will be former health secretaries and like the ghastly Hewitt and the gobby thug, Milburn, appointed immediately, post-sacking, by PharmaCorp to help it more efficiently milk the NHS but none will know the chill family-rending finality of a shut steel works or carplant, their lives and dignity, once bouyed-up by phony assurances from a stuttering, closet pansy nutter, now buggered by some smarmy shit in a suit, their plight grist only to Mandy's EuroMill; such are the triumphs of the bloggers' revolution of 2009, the poor being told Open Wide, We Are Just Going To Shit In Your Mouths. Again. The Wogs told We Must Napalm Your Playgrounds For Your Own Good; the Army told We Honour Your Sacrifice, Look, We Read Your Names Out, before Moving-on to Important Shit With The Tossers Opposite.

Some, painlessly despatched by bloggers and Brogans, will be further punished by being forced to accept severance payments in six figures, unlike their former constituents who, lives ruined by Westminster-friendly spiv-bankers, will know now, afresh and not as folk memory, the dignity of belt-tightening, of fuel poverty as the Knights and Lords of privatised EnergyCorp fuck their arses ragged; of unemployment and repossession --- Ah, it's good for the soul, built this great labour movement of ours, the movement which elevated the vile, cock-waving, pie-gulping, stupid illiterate thug-bastard Prescott to riches and nobility, I were only a steward but look at me, now; the movement which thrust on the nation the unspeakable windbagging famille Kinnock; but few, if any, will go to jail, where they belong, braying, arrogant Tory spivs; furtive, shifty Who-Me never done a days work in their lives, Labour apparatchiks, lawyers, lecturers, layabouts and ree-surchers. The worst that will happen to them is, well, nothing. Nothing will happen to them.

The caravan has moved on, the horde is Broganed-out, weary of Will Hutton simpering drunkenly his Guardianista apocalypse, useless, pissed-up prick, ranting, breathlessly, like some despairing itinerant bard of doom, some Ancient Mariner nouveau, too late for the Wedding Feast; the audience is nailed to the fucking wall with boredom by the fox-trotting nitwit, Cable, another who never actually told-us-so. A thousand voices clamour at order-order dotcom to some insect purpose known, presumably, to themselves; each, in his own mind, a one-liner-smart-ass, a Bagehot, an absurdist stanislavian; many Mussolini Incarnate; many, their finer ape instincts liberated and orchestrated by Totty Watch, truly sorry-assed women-haters, waiting to pounce on any split-arse who dares to hold an opinion; many, whining illiterately of Hard Times In Old England, really just junior members of KKK-lite; women-hating and wog-bashing, the authentic Voice of Freedom, Guido-style. The toilet wall of the Internet.

Those who thought formerly that right-wing Libertarian blogger was a long-winded way of saying Nazi can stand themselves down, for catspaw and stoolie are actually closer to the mark, as the cyberstooges jostle to be on the BBC, on Adam Boulton's skymadeupnewsandfilth's blogroll, as the outsider craves insiderness - as the revolting old fag Hattersley joined the House of Lords Free-dinners club only so's to abolish it , so the blogger dips his toes in TeeVee.....

The endless chorus of fucks and bastards resounding round the Cyberhalls of Resentment sings now not of the Smith Institute, nor of the Jewboy fixer Levy, who, we should not forget, was to be meat for Guido's grandiose private prosecution service, nor of the imminent departure of almost everyone in public life, none of whom would survive a month, once under Guido's bibulous scrutiny, and who all, remarkably, have; no, the tumult of fucks and bastards is now retargeted at Helicopters, service personnel for the use of and their lack.

A Virtual Dad's Army assembles, now, belatedly; now, after millions dead, made refugee; after the slaughter of Palestine's infants, the sustained, institutionalised torture of hapless, harmless youth, shackled, battered, sparked-up, raped to death by Uncle Sam's finest, prompted, offstage, by MI5; after the fragmentation-bombing of old people's homes, the Guernica-style deployment of British personnel and munitions, as Shock and Awe blitzed the cradle of civilisation in an orgy of BushBlair greed and bloody hypocrisy.......after all this shit-in-our-names a pantomime paper-clip counter's morality engulfs us, there are not enough helicopters, service personnel for the use of. Oh yes there are, oh no there aren't.

Helicopters, the new outrage; once it was slush funds, misuse of charitable status, misuse of secretaries bodies, misuse of seats in the Lords, misuse of expenses and Visas for the Fleet Street bicycle-slapper's nanny; once, where an unfocused cyber-rage engulfed all in oublic sector employment, the back-breaking six quid an hour arsewipers happily, stupidly, ignorantly conflated, by tub-thumping expatriates, with the thieving-bastard hundred grand a year chief executive of Merthy Tydfil Council and a thousand other mini-Ruritanias, satraps to Westminster. Now the beady eye of the professional, egotisitcal, name-checking, blog-rolling cyberwhiner fixes on this or that red-tabbed brasshat, mandarin or mouthy, indolent don; the insufferable General Jackson or the mythically, fabulously, catastrophically incompetent Bob the cunt Ainsworth, each and all the others, trumpeting their own special brand of I-Know-Bestism. If only Guido Fawkes was in charge of the Army, eh. We'd cuss them Talimen to death; shout at them from a thousand miles away, that's what we'd do, anonymously of course.


This writer, as a young polish plumber, spent some time, hung-out at order-order and - until the great Pizza kiddy-massacres and the smell of blood - had some admiration for Guido, for the site and for many, many of its participants, some, but too few of whom foregather here, or track my dear stanislav elsewhere. But the pornography of war is revolting, inexcuseable and Guido's fatuous, infamous, inebriate celebration of the vile cast a jaundicing light over his whole ouevre and by extension that of all those who applaud and ape his belligerent stupidity; being an Internet Expenses Monitor whilst we are allied to torturers, governed by war criminals, seems to waste a platform built, in part, on others' support, others' writing. But more important than mere ill manners is that one simply cannot even pretend to an understanding of recent, tumultuous political history without including the events of September 11th and the invasion and occupation of Iraq - Guido says in what he must take to be a withering manner that he doesn't do Nine Eleven "troofers" and that he "doesn't do" Iraq; MPs expenses, yes; World War Three, no.

I used to argue that if you let 'em away with illegal wars and torture and shit like that in the first place, then, of course, they will rob the petty cash and the war, lacking a moral impetus, will be under-resourced. Too crafty a synopsis and undermining, probably, of the daily force-feeding of new scraps of outrage, down there in Lilliput.

Questions of taste and ethics, as they must, in Guido's case be, set aside, perhaps for adjudication in future by his own children, there remains a judgement to be made as to the impact on the body politic of the blogger and his insect horde; is this, this twenty-four-seven twittering-noire is it, in short, a non-political political movement, an impeller of reform?

Mr Daisy says he writes here because here is a minority place and yet it is his helicopter writing here, genuine and cogent, which is picked-up and Hosannahed by the the Great Gabshites, elsewhere. It is difficult to believe that his flowery voice would be heard among the cyber mainstream tabloid which is order-order dotcom, let alone valued. The political blogger in the main has the values of Kelvin McKenzie, the only thing which matters is circulation and whilst he is enslaved to that dictum he is enslaved also to the sytem which he claims to expose and decry, quad erat demosntrandum, as they don't say at Guido's; the wonderful blogosphere brought us, it is claimed, Obama, and may bring us, yet, Cameron, how so cool and reforming is that ?

Things are organised by Power so that those who do it's bidding are all but immune from meaningful censure or sanction; it couldn't work otherwise, organised crime. If cyber ranters could change owt, they would be shut down in an instant. The cyber arena, such as it is, in Anchorage, Turkey, Malaya and Barbados is incapable of combining, marching and overthrowing. Some, Mr Old Holborn, for instance, his hands clean of kiddyblood, bless him, organises a march or two, as if to put flesh to noisy ghostbones, but as many - more - would turn up to an Inverness Presbyterian tea dance. Diffuse, dissipated and diluted by date-line, language and race the Internet's very universality renders it impotent as an engine of political change, it's useage by those who, scandal-mongering, simply trumpet their own bigotry, ignorance and inebriation increases the sense of a potentially wondrous gift, vandalised.

None of this means that we should not try, that we should resign ourselves to some fatalistic, misanhtropic pessimism. Nor should we think that the Guidos of cyberworld short-circuit all genuine dissent, acting, as they must know they do, as Power's lightning conductor, running all to earth. Hark, hark, the dogs do bark, sang the post-plague, Black Death street urchins, some in rags and some in jags, and one in a velvet gown. we must watch that those who plead libertarianism, carry not, in their pockets and laptops, a further, leprous concoction than that which they so publicly, grandstandingly claim to despise, reveal and eschew.

But we must also steal back for ourselves the thunder of righteous indignation, the voice that is, as Saint Augustine said, of God.

Mr Swiss Bob, at The Daily Politics, has taken to chronicling the war, if such it is, as it unfolds in far Afghanistan. Using dates and timelines and statistics and maps it is one of those worthy assemblies of facts and figures which lesser, more hysterical journo-types forget or are incapable of preparing, so much easier to bluster, Queenly, in the third person, than to actually shut the fuck up and do some research, some study. Let us hear more from those who know and less from the gabshite polemicist.

We have seen unfolded for some reason in the Heritage Press a chapter-and-verse explanation of by whom and how we are misgoverned and for all the horrors revealed Power and Money move into their lengthy Summer Recess untouched, reinforced.

The Party is over, we have had our fun, exposing their wicked wee foibles, but come Autumn's cool fingers in our pockets, we and not they, must pay the piper; whichever gang of criminals sits in the armoured limos, they will make us pay for all this. Ruin will scythe his way through our just expectations and not theirs, that we are ill-organised and so easily dragooned to Money's septic cause might be due to so many, instead of organising and resisting, pissing, instead, with the siren blogger and his groupies,
in the cyberwind.


Swiss Bob said...

Mr Smith, er, mostly guilty as charged.

With respect to Afghanistan my own ‘enthusiasm’ for the subject is far too tardy, forgotten behind Iraq and all the other bloody wars Labour has chosen for the British Army to fight. I hope to record what’s happening and try and make it relatively simple to understand and to see whether there’s any tactical progress, or not. I’ve tried to fathom the strategic objectives but in truth there are none in my opinion that have any real meaning. It’s a long term project but I don’t suppose anyone’s going home soon.

I think you've made a pretty fair summary of a section of the UK political blogosphere, but it's always changing, Fawkes's used to be an interesting place until he became popular, twitter is apparently replacing blogs, tomorrow there'll be something different.

spark up said...

the wonderful blogosphere brought us, it is claimed, Obama, and may bring us, yet, Cameron, how so cool and reforming is that ?

well, apparently, extremely cool - cameron has bravely vowed to clean up the pro-humanity demos in parliament square; davy "mopitt" cameron is keen for westminster to win the britain's tidiest village competition - in order to improve its shitty low-life dump image, i suppose. however, the only way cameron will accomplish his aim of re-taking the lawns of westminster square is to invite the 'enemy' inside the houses of parliament and give the demonstrators a nice comfortable office, unlimited expenses, cheap nosh etc...although i sincerely doubt whether they would ever accept - these protesters do not constitute the everyday westminster dirt which davy mopitt would normally have briskly swept under the old-etonian establishment carpet, they are an indelible scum-mark representing the exact height of folly, evil and barbarism reached by british and american politicians in the middle east. you see, what the guys camping out in parliament square are really pissed about is their fellow countrymen's ineligibility to even enter the tidiest village competition - on the grounds that their homesteads are too clean, would you believe it? in fact, wiped off the map entirely.

call me ishmael said...

Yes, Mr Spark-up, nicely put but these are only wog villages, populated by what that great egalitarian, Lord John Prescott, would, indeed has described, bless his socialist principles, as the Underclass.

But soft, is that the sound,that creaking, of work camp gates swinging-open? The first duty of the government is, after all, to protect itself from its people.

wog polishing up his village war-memorial (in readiness for unavoidable relocation up cameron's arse) said...


what seems to elude the likes of cameron, prescott etc is that it woz wogs wot built this country.

The Dyer's Garden said...

At what point are these people ruined, I wonder? I suspect it is late school and early university, one now in the hands of Ball,the other, Mandelson. It is easy to forget how much is set in motion so far before anyone has noticed any of the consequences.

I may be wrong, of course, but it is instructive to look at performance in professional exams, where the level and subject matter do not change much, but the quality of the people tested may do. In some professions there was a catastrophic fall about 97-98, just about the right time for the introduction of GCSEs.

Anonymous said...

Again, Mr Ishmael, I think you do yourself a disservice. Certainly there was a party here, and it was a good one. (For its entertainment value, I will remember this parliament as the Popcorn Parliament.) But the party is over, and probably never again will the elected tyrants feel so threatened by the online community. Even the most disdainful of them must have wondered whether this was the end of the world as they would like us to believe they knew it. But, it wasn't; and you are right to point out the bloggers' hubris that consists of nothing more than wisps of excitement at what was imagined but never could have been.

It is in so expertly making your point that you contradict yourself. I don't know how many elbows you have but more power to all of them.

caesars wife said...

I see your point stanislav in that the potential revolution has been lost only to favour the newly morphed candidate .

The fire gone out then ?

well guido may have lived his youth again and mrs fawkes confiscated his laptop whilst in the spare room ,so he can interact properly with his family and suspected swine flu. Whilst he has been recovering from near death alcoholic experience , troll wars have broken out , tag names copied , inane rubbish posted , political truths immediately buried by troll subversives posteing gibberish .

do nothing and labour farce would have continued on national extraordinary rendering into dumb animals project for communist rule .

I dont think we have reached the point of the politics taking over from the cyber combatants , they just hope it becomes boring so people drift off back to labour induced narcolepsy .

I am of the wait and see what new lot does , where as you are of the seen it and know what the next lot does which in the end is very different from the last lot .

Atlas typed , shrugged and got bored ??

Still have to get this lot out of office , if next lot are no good then them too , such is the way of democracy glasshopper

Caractacus said...

One small point, Mr Ishmael, is that I've found the online community builds confidence. Before such a community existed, I thought I was alone in the world. Now I know that there are others that think like I do. Yes, the party's over but many of us are now surely strengthened by the collective belief that through these blogs rational dissent has a voice.

PT Barnum said...

I arrived late at the party, where much had been imbibed and the in vino veritas truism meant everyone was shouting very loudly while forgetting that someone might remember what they said the next morning.

That said, Caractacus precisely captures my feelings on discovering so many others who shared my rage and despair at this government, this parliament, even if we shared very little else in the whys and the hows and the imagined solutions.

So I came here from a link on order-order, ever curious, and find myself reading some of the most splenetically elegant prose I have ever seen. And in the midst of that prose are references to things that happened before I found that blog, such as the pizzakids. I can deduce what might have said, and if my deduction is correct I can only feel ashamed at having been inadvertantly co-opted to such beliefs.

totalitarian (taxi driver) said...

One small point, Mr Ishmael, is that I've found the online community builds confidence. Before such a community existed, I thought I was alone in the world. Now I know that there are others that think like I do.

this thought scares the fucking shit outta me.

lilith said...

It is looking bleak. Guido's comment section is as depressing as it used to be funny and informative. The Camaroons are as authoritarian and "post democratic" as any of the current lot.
I nearly crashed on the M5 yesterday as I accidentally listened to some of this yesterday and quickly switched over to Test Match Special.

lilith said...

TMS is great stuff even if you know nothing about hear phrases like "Strauss is bowling onions from the nursery end"..which makes much more sense than most of what Radio 4 come up with.

Anonymous said...

Funny, isn't it, that the establishment of strong and efficient armed forces of their own in Iraq and Afghanistan is presented as the sine qua non for our withdrawal and the creation of a fledging democracy, just as our own armed forces are reduced to a level that would prevent them from even being able to satisfy their prime responsibility, namely the defence of our own borders.

mongoose said...

Mr Ishmael,

The Fawkes comments used to be quite good fun. Some swore, some shouted, some spouted tedious, repetitive drivel of the worst kind but it was fun sometimes to read a thread or two. One could drop in a provocative word or two and comeback later to see if anyone had bitten. Puerile, I know, but it's fun to wind up the dickheads.

Now, he has reorganised the comments in his tree structure and the volume of traffic has risen, I find that I cannot be arsed to go trawling about looking for stuff. Thusly has his organ withered even as it has grown. I scan his posts quickly to see if he has a scoop and then away we go to stickcricket.

woman on a raft said...

Dear Mr Ishmael

Your third eye sometimes chooses the pictures without telling the other two what it has foreseen. That bottle has got "15" on it, not "12".

Does this mean we've got another three years of this government? I wouldn't put it past them. We have a flu season coming up and it would be easy - the plans exist - for declaring a state of emergency, which might then stay in place. Gordoom is just itching to do it as it makes him feel important and sweeps away the last shreds of the rule of law. "I'm arresting you on supsicion of sneezing".

Alternatively, if your third eye has forseen the other five winning lottery numbers, then you should get down the sweetshop and put a pound on it.

call me ishmael said...

Thanks Mrs WOAR

I am not one to fuss about such things but that fifteen year old Dalwhinnie is distilled in Heaven, by angels on morphine.

I think Mr Bubbles, one of your own creations, is already on the Plague case, a couple of posts forward.

Thanks to everyone else who has read and commented on After the Ball; I agree with everything said by those gracious enough, angry enough, to comment, save for the extravagant praise; this is just Zeitgeist stuff or, as a stanislavian remarked a while back, shitegeist, and it would not happen if nobody read it, Oui, d'accord.

Daisy said...

Forgive my inattention, Mr Ishmael, I've just had a very unpleasant couple of days struck down with what I assume is this fucking swine flu. If that is what it is, trust me, you don't want it. Things were so bad that I even got close to consulting the local fuckwit who masquerades, in his spare time, bless him, as our GP.

Dalwhinnie. A very accessible malt and a beautiful location. In my former, quite disgraceful, days of pursuing matters of an oological persuasion I visited the locale on many occasions. Did you know that the eyries of three separate pairs of Aquila chrysaetos are all within sight of the distillery?

Anyway, I think I have said before that you have a talent for saying precisely what many feel, but are unable to put into words so aptly or with such literary brilliance. This was a dark post, but spot on.

I echo the sentiments of Messrs Caractacus, Barnum and Taranis.

rupert the blogger said...


Now, he has reorganised the comments in his tree structure

ripe-time to cut the cunt down and pulp it into newsprint for an upmarket publication like the sun.

call me ishmael said...

Do you know, Mr Daisy, that the person most likely to kill you, out of the whole sixty-odd million, is your GP? Either through his malprescription, over- or under-prescription, insanitary practice, neglect, incompetence, stupidity, alcohol or other drug addiction or just because he doesn't like you GP will do his best to kill you, your GP is the person you should fear most; you made the right decision

Brahan Seer said...

Dear Mr Ish - I like most of what you say. As Mr Daisy points out you have a way with words, both in English and in Mr Stanislav's speak, that captures the sentiments which many of us find difficult to articulate effectively. You point out the limitations of blogging as an effective platform for change, so where do we go from here? You have a remarkable talent in seeing things 'as they are' and through your words force readers to ask questions of themselves and of the system.
There must be a way of harnessing the growing sense of anger, of frustration and outrage generated by the greed and hypocrisy prevalent in our collapsing society. Its not enough to think the thoughts and share them with your loopy followers, there has to be a way of converting the clarity of your observations into a vehicle for change. Seldom has there been such an appetite for a rethink of values and for radical change in our fucked up Goldman Sachs society.

Caractacus said...

It's an interesting question you pose, Mr. Brahan Seer, and one I've asked myself countless times. Whether or not Mr. Ishmael gives his considered opinion remains to be seen.

I did read a passage from Orwell where he says, 'If you hate violence and don't believe in politics, the only major remedy remaining is education'. I'm hoping that some of our brighter young graduates will pick up on 'this growing sense of anger ..... frustration and outrage' that you mention and act accordingly. They, after all, have the energy, and perhaps the intelligence, to make a stand.

Paul Atreides said...

"It's not enough to think the thoughts and share them with your loopy followers, there has to be a way of converting the clarity of your observations into a vehicle for change." Brahan Seer.
Oops, sounds like revolutionary talk, Mr. Seer. You just stick to predicting the number of bridges over the Ness it takes to destroy the mighty city of Inverness, and stop trying to goad Mr.Ish into leading the destruction of civilisation as we know it. He is the gadfly, biting the powerful pompous on the bum and letting us see the same old, same old, with new eyes.

RSPB said...


"pursuing matters of an oological persuasion"

I had to google this. Does it mean what I think it means?