AND HOW MAD ARE YOU, SONNY, SAY,
ON A SCALE OF ONE TO TEN?
MAYBE TWO HUNDRED, OR A THOUSAND.
OI! BUG-EYES! IT'S HATTERS, THE ANSWER,
MAD AS FUCKING HATTERS.
THE FOX-TROTTING NITWIT?
.
Wednesday 23 September 2009
THE MOULD-BREAKERS, NOT BREAKING ANY MOULDS
AND HOW MAD ARE YOU, SONNY, SAY,
ON A SCALE OF ONE TO TEN?
MAYBE TWO HUNDRED, OR A THOUSAND.
OI! BUG-EYES! IT'S HATTERS, THE ANSWER,
MAD AS FUCKING HATTERS.
THE FOX-TROTTING NITWIT?
.
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28 comments:
Chris Hoon, Cleggie, Ming, Vince 'Rubberlegs' Cable, that ferret-faced one who looks like a dodgy vicar, a lot of earnest preachy women and a requirement to wear custard yellow as often as possible. Nope, still can't understand why they aren't in government.
Do the Scots have a national wood, I wonder? Oh! Of course, Scots Pine, the very dab. Coarse-grained and a strong tendency to knotting: not good for large scale architectural frameworks, but adequate for such projects as tumbrils, scaffolds, and the like.
PS: for Health and Safety reasons, do not be tempted to burn your traitors on a fire of Scots Pine. The resin can spit from the blaze and may cause injury.
We came,we saw,we went home.
LOL lib dem year book !
mmm beter not mention hunes pharma euro connections !!
top pic of Andrew Neil is clearly a tea room moment.
Only thing for it is to get a metal detector nip up to lichfield and hope dying saxon 1500 yrs ago split the booty into two lots just to stop the european raiders getting there hands on it .
the comparisons to todays situation are all too scary , i wonder if i can bury the "investment" that the ruin has left me.
Tune into this week Quentin letts bit is fantastic , rest is Andrew Neil bruising session
This Weak it should be called - some nitwitted rapper mumbling something about They should apologaase to young peeple, innit, Uri Geller for some reason known only to God, and Diane Abbott rolling her eyes like a loony and completely speechless when asked to comment on her bezzie mate the AG's little problem with her cleaner.
dear mr ishmael-don't-own-a-mobile-let-alone-know-how-to-bug-one, do you reckon that messagespace is a department of m15 and that these conservative chappies are secretly running the uk's intelligence agencies?
dear tail pipe wagging the dog , when treacle spills onto the kitchen worktop , you have two choices
1 decide to bake a ginger cake
2 call it a the labour party and sell conference tickets .
the spy on you, council regs was so that labour structure could bug political opponents , for erm investigations ! what they heard incidental to there bin watch is purely good fortune .
you just have to be angry enough at the corruption to not care if they bug you or not which for most people is a big jump , but beggining to appear . it isnt so much about being enemy of the state its about being the enemy of the lies and corruptions , which the labour fear stasi output doesnt want you to enquire about .
Chortle chortle.
It's Charlie Drake at the top, isn't it Ishmael?
Know what you mean, mr elby, can see Neil hobbiting his way around Stringpenis's joint saying 'Allo my darlins, to any passing eighteen-year olds, horrible old git.
mr ishmael, you are obviously too busy pretending not to be crawling up paul staines' arsehole* to attend to this blog - not to mention doing favours for messagespace communerds jag singh and alex hilton on labourhome, and helping out guido faux friends on old holborn - but i trust your activities are motivated purely by monetary concerns and not driven by any form of political principle. why you expected me to travel to meet you subsequent to your ridiculous telephone call, i cannot imagine? the way you insisted on referring to the last occasion on which i assisted you (making as if it was some other unnamed individual who drove the van) leads me to understand that you do not wish to recognize our relationship publicly. you may not be surprised to learn that i am deeply insulted. you have been far too occupied, over the last few years to answer my telephone calls, meet, or acknowledge my existence in any meaningful fashion, so i am hardly disposed to making any effort in your direction - let alone visit your house. if you sincerely wish to indulge in some sort of reunion, you are welcome to drop round to my place (i am not someone to hold a grudge), and, in this event, since you have bugged my mobile telephone and have, at any given point in time, precise knowledge of my whereabouts and activities, i would be happy to leave you to arrange a rendez-vous which would be convenient to both of us - instead of delegating this dirty duty to your weirdo secretary in order to avoid embarrassing yourself. should the above not be the case, please piss off you prick and stop spamming me with meaningless e-mails.
*given that it is well and comfortably established in the public domain, i identify this arsehole by its proper name - for, unlike you, i have no reason to pay it any deference.
Please continue Mr Ishmael, your clarity is much missed.
Dear mr spark-up.
I am more than happy to recognise our relationship publicly, it consists to the very best of my knowledge of my posting here and you commenting, sometimes with relevance to the post and sometimes not, this seems to be the nature of blogging, unlike, for instance, the call-and-response of the slave nigger field hand, later adapted in forms generally misogynistic or at best licentious by marching GIs, wherein the response bears some resemblance, some similarity of topic to the original or primary remark or remarks unlike your responses which often -as with this one - have no relevance whatsoever to the original post or, indeed, anything else.
Sometimes, it must be said, your comments have a stand-alone versimilitude,at other times a knowing quirkiness; truth or idiosyncracy, however, are undetectable in your above remarks and I am sorry to say, not for the first time, that I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about.
I plead guilty to having been travelling recently and more or less without access to the web; as for the rest, well, I have not been in a van for over ten years, I have never received, much less ignored a telephone call from you; I do not own or properly know how to operate a mobile telephone much less bug one and I do not know who, or where you are. I do not employ a secretary and if I did she or he would not know your email address -unless they knew it prior to their employment with me and took up the position with the express purpose of spamming you whilst in my emply and to do so for purposes known only to themselves. The last person I employed was a gardener and he was shit, it may be that he has purloined parts of my identity, although truth be told, he seemed indifferent, even as a larcenist, I cannot see him finding any purpose in masquerading not as a gardener,as he surely was but as a secretary and tormenting someone whom he, like I, had never met and in any event, his depradations in my grounds long predate my presence here.
Finally, my disquiet at the jolly infanticide so relished at the PIzzaHouseOfBlood is repeated often enough in these commentaries as to leave the most myopic reader in no doubt that I have no affection, much less would do service-in-arms for the PizzaMeister and Expenses Monitor.
In short, I do not know you nor conspire against you; I do not associate, virtually or otherwise with any of the people you mention and my only reward from blogging is the attention of those who read and write here - it is for this reason that I have, for the second and perforce last time, tried to correct your errors.
Well, having just read Mister Spark Up's blog, I can honestly say that, there goes 2 minutes of my life that I could have better employed elsewhere
A safe and speedy journey to you,Mr Ishmael. We await your homecoming.
Has Buster mastered the Satnav?
i just can't believe it, i found a lump of shit about the size and shape of a cadbury's creme egg sitting on the toilet seat today (shared accommodation). what is the world coming to?
other news:
6-metre tsunamis wash away 90% of homes on tongan islands and all justification for international immigration controls.
01:19
i can't believe i haven't resigned yet.
22:24
i also resent the hyphenation of my name.
23:05
well at least i've got one. yours appears to be somewhat under-developed.
22:24
i've got bigger tits than you
i spent last evening with some nigerian friends:
quote 1:
today we celebrate the 49th birthday of nigerian independence, sadly we are still changing its nappies.
quote 2:
dollar for dollar, home-produced food in lagos is more expensive than equivalent groceries purchased in london.
quote 3:
obama is only interested in war.
quote 4:
get your hands off my arse! oyibo! na wah!
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my feelings? it's an appallingly bad case of child-abuse to keep permanently locked in the nursery a culture which is thousands of years old.
02:19
it's an appallingly bad case of child-abuse to keep permanently locked in the nursery a culture which is thousands of years old.
wait till i've really screwed down the protectionist fence 'round the united states food market, and then hear these guys wail with hunger, just begging for me to ride in an' save 'em on my white food-aid charger! africans? i love 'em! when do i get to bomb the dancin' little motherfuckers?! hilary?
02:56
don't worry sir! we've got 50 zillion megatonnes of our intercontinental ballistic arsenal co-ordinated and ready to nuke 'em in case they build an offensive afro-centrifuge, sir!
You should all go to bed, now.
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Hello. And Bye.
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