Thursday, 25 February 2010



These fuckers should be hung up from a lamp post and spat at,

instead they are stuffing their faces and shitting in ours. Alan Milburn, former layabout, amazingly became health secretary, resigned to patch up his common-law marriage, cops a hundred grand a year for "advising" firms trying to privatise many aspects of the NHS. Also drawing a full-time salary as a part-time MP.

NewLabour's Health Secretaries have turned the NHS auxiliaries into paupers, the greedy bastard doctors into idle, dirty tyrants, abandoning their patients to shell-shocked, European locums, the managers into millionaires and the hospitals into full-steam ahead extermination camps for the vulnerable.

Frank Dobson, old Labour stooge, willingly pissed about and shafted by Blair, resigned as Health Secretary to contest London Mayoral election with Ken Livingstone. As if.

Blair had, by appealing to his beardy vanity, removed him from cabinet, leaving room for shits like Milburn. Chump. Not fit to run a St John's Ambulance Tent.

Alan Postman, when health secretary, presided over massive spread of hospital acquired infections, see stanislav, Alan Johnson's Disease. I mean, just look at him.

Glasgow John Reid, thug, drunk, bully, liar, sexual predator - see Reid, Dawn Primarolo - Trotskyist, describes himself as one of Labour's Big Men, Aye, right; horrible little shit, pothead; claimed, when Defence Secretary, that Tommy wouldn't face a shot fired in anger in Afghanistan. Was never anywhere long enough to cop any flak, a sort of a peripatetic minister for bruising. Now full-time Chairperson of Glasgow Celtic Sectarian Football Club, a paid consultant to Securicor and drawing full-time salary as part-time MP. Cunt. Utter cunt, One of the worst of a very bad bunch.

Patsy Leatherface Hewitt, former Kinnock Babe, married to a judge, son's a junky; gobby, patronising, useless career shitbag, jointly responsible with the Postman for national epidemic of HAIs, deaths of hundreds, thousands. Couldn't even see to it that the hospitals were as clean as the local chippy. Wouldn't wanna eat round her gaff. Now working full-time for Boots the Chemists, honest, not invent, and drawing full-time salary as part-time MP.

Not very handy Andy Bubbles, incumbent health secretary, good at saying this is unacceptable and accepting it, Oxbridge, Oxbridge and useless, one of Incapability Brown's bunker barrel scrapings, currently working on strategy for personal care for the elderly - other, we presume than killing them off in NHS hospitals staffed by babbling, hatchet-faced, money-grubbing, pinstripe Rotarians. Lord, have mercy, that our twilights be crafted by such as these. Up against the wall, motherfuckers.

But the worst, the very worst of it, what is unspeakable and unthinkable and intolerable is that people, relatively unsophisticated, came back from Europe and the Pacific and wandered around their bombed-out homes and communities and for themselves and for the dead voted for something different; emaciated POWs, miraculaously surviving the Nasty Nips' work camps, frightened and traumatised, their mates beheaded and starved, voted for something different. And they built houses and they built factories and they suffered rationing and delay and privation but they banished rickets and for a time, unemployment and hunger. And the schools worked. And there were to be pensions, at sixty and sixty five. And health care, from cradle to grave. The people bootstrapped themselves, from shattered, ruined communities, they built homes and hospitals and futures, when lesser people might have merged into, gone along with an uber-Europe, as had the French and the Dutch and the Danes and the Poles and the rest, these people, scorned by Uncle Sam, drip-fed a little aid , a little materiel, a few rusty ships, these people kept the world free and now they and their children enter hospitals built with their taxes and are murdered; their leaders, standing on the shoulders, but shitting in the faces of the post-war reformers, too busy fellating Russian gangsters in Strasbourg, oil billionaires in Kabul, treat them with contempt, No, they shriek, we must have more, the Kinnocks, the Blairs, we must have more, how else will you attract people of our calibre, unless we have more and more and more.They have now betrayed everything for which people fought and died and went without; all must work harder, for longer and for less, the state must see your papers, embed your papers in your skin, the electronic tattoo of the untermenschen; the state must control your children, your diet, your leisure, your habits, your drink, your drugs; the state can now arrest you for an infinite number of crimes against it, even against other states which you have never visited; can photograph you, though you may not photograph it; can enter your home, though you may not know where it lives or how much you pay for its residences. We live in a Nazi state, our SS shoot us at will, whip our women with batons, corral and batter our children as they fight for their Earth, protect with phalanxes of sharpshooters, behind walls of steel the smirking Earthcriminals, visiting Airstrip One and its ingratiating, stuttering, degenerate, fuckwit leadership; the slow or the feeble are beaten to the ground for their tardiness, their killers promoted, bemedalled. Split-second decision, protecting us from Alky Aida, or AQ, owe them a great debt for their magnificent professionalism in whipping and electrocuting and shooting innocent civilians, Iron Cross First Class, at the very least.

The news of the HospitalCrime should give us all pause. Lots, I know, think that the shouty reaches of cyberspace deal in hyperbole, entertaining but essentially just rhetoric, no business like show business. They are wrong.

That old people go into hospital, die through avoidable neglect, indifference and cruelty and that those paid to ensure the opposite happens receive golden handshakes, peerages and yet more positions of responsibility, this is not hyperbole, this is organised crime, this is not a government at its fag-end, part of the merry-go-round of party politics preached by shitbags like the self-fellating Mr Nick Robinson, this is much worse; sharpen your sticks, fill your cupboards, buy some seeds and get tough, this is Ruin.


PT Barnum said...

You articulate so beautifully what, in me, boils just beyond language and emerges only as howls and obscene gestures.

jgm2 said...

Yet again Stan - pure poetry.

Thank you.

Mr Ned said...


This is truth, searching and piercing through the lies and bullshit to expose the criminal negligence that drips from every pore of this malevolent maladministration.


Old Holborn said...

Mind if I repost this at my place Stan?

Sidsid said...

I remember talking to my father in the late 40s about the matter of how this new Health Wonderland would be financed.
He couldn't undestand either.

Dame Davina Pancake said...

Oh come on, try and form an opinion!

Seriously, fabulous article - couldn't agree more!

Davina x

Fidothedog said...

Going to repost this needs an airing.

Dick the Prick said...

Uncle - knee problem think had suffered or some other routine thing, plaster? Yup, that'll do. Was told need to hang round see consultant - not sure when, but hang on, round in a bit phoned up GP chum 'get fuck out of hospital now you stupid fucker, every second life in peril, run - ah, not possible, hop man, hop the fuck out of hospital, phone consultant after seeing me if needed, get the fuck out man'.

Sound advice.

As per Nips and generation abused beyond all fucking venality and evil had guy recounting tales of 'how the fuck I survived no fucking idea' on BBC Toady this morning. Wife died few years back, never said a fucking word to her - forgotten war he called it. Churchill called Singapore 'worse capitulation in fucking British history' so stigmatized tortured fuckers as cowards - no medals they, no fucking heroes welcome, shut the fuck up you.

Cheers Mr Ish. Have become so desensitized to fury in Ruin that sometimes forget stats not stats but chaps and chapesses, mums & dads, kids and grannies - sometimes forget to see. Think Ruin kills slowly.

yardarm said...

Very true, Mr. DTP; I feel that Ruin kills slowly too. It`s easy to become desenitised to the horrors visited on us by these smug useless fuckers inuagurating the reign of Ruin on Earth.

Like this morning, saw someone on the news saying 700 small and medium sized firms going squit each week; the firms that employ people and pay taxes while RBS, 84% owned by us and three and a half billion in debt is paying out a billion in bonuses. As our host would say, Jesus fucking wept.

Great post Mr Ish. One of Ruin`s properties seems to be it drugs one into regarding it as the norm.

Anonymous said...

Brilliant piece Ishmael....
now we have Burnham on toast

The Slogger

mongoose said...

Spot on, Mr DtP. Stay the fuck away from fucking hospitals. I've seen cleaner shit-holes. Did I not get taught at school that Florence Nightingale worked out all that clean the fucking hospital shit some time ago now? I am sure I remember that, don't I? Just clean the fucking hospitals, you bastards. How hard can it be?

Mr Mother-in-law is ancient and ailing, and had a funny turn while visiting my brother. He drove her to hospital and they sorted her out. She never stops talking about how wonderful it was, how clean it all was, how helpful they all were. The hospital was, of course, in fucking Thailand. And, no, not some special expat palace; just the local hospital.

The Great Simpleton said...


As someone else said, this needs a much wider airing.

Just one minor point - those who were serving in the far east and those in captivity didn't get to vote in the 945 election. My father was in the Fleet Air Arm out there and it really pissed him off when they heard that Churchill had been thrown out.

woman on a raft said...

Thank you Mr Ishmael. That's my tongue unstuck from the roof of my mouth.

DtP is right, too. Ruin kills slowly. Have written it on the palm of my hand.

Old Holborn said...

thanks Stan

Anonymous said...

From your far east correspondent a while ago I was lucky enough to return to the UK for a few weeks. A friend of mine was in Manchester Royal Infirmary his brother said if I want to visit him watch out as the place was filthy. the food (and I use that term in the loosest sense) was inedible and the staff couldn't speak English. I thought nah no way the place has had millions spent on it but when I got there the place was disgusting, stank to high heaven the food well the smell was bad enough and the staff couldn't speak English. I asked my mate if he fancied a pint at the pub across the road? I found a wheelchair and off we went no fucker asked me where we were going so in case of fire ( and what a good idea that would be)they wouldn't know where he was. As luck would have it he got out of that dump alive. Now fasr forward to a developing country Thailand, Chiang Mai to be precise. A while ago I was suffering from a bad back went to the hospital pills were no good so Friday afternoon saw a surgeon said I should have a CAT scan when? Saturday morning had the scan needed the femoral artery sorting out when? Monday went in private room bed for the better half couldn't move for cleaning staff, operation Tuesday monitored every 2 hours home on Friday surgeon phoned to see if I were OK, £3,000 but it beats being dead. Now all that money spent on hospitals in the UK get this "centres of excellence" would have been better spent on sending people here for treatment as there is plenty of health tourism here and every possibilty you come of hospital better than when you went in

Dick de Prick said...

Hope you & yers are well Monsieur de Ish. As always.

Dark Lochnagar said...

Well said, mate. An excellent post.

call me ishmael said...

Thanks but Sorry, Mr DL, I guess you won't like the next post; it's not the idea of nationalism which offends me, just the misuse by crass politicians; I see Brown, Salmond, Farage and Griffin as interchangeable.