The chronicles of Ruin, continued.
Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do.
Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here.
10 September 2009 22:59
The Wintertonism from that interview, which got lost in his firstclassitis and the umbrage caused and taken, came in the context of him being the Chair of the Commons All Party Committee on the Falklands. He referred repeatedly to "The Argentine", not a person, but the country. As far as I can discover this fell out of common usage in the 1950s. Such patrician disregard, even contempt, of a country's own preferred nomenclature in the mouth of someone with a degree of responsibility for a potential international flashpoint. We have been so well-served by our indigenous political class.
I remember, now you mnetion it. He's not even patrician, though, is he, public school and being a thieving, racist bigot don't entirely do it, although I know what you mean. He is though, him and the Mrs, the reason that we should not, ruined by Brown, be tempted to vote Conservative - if he hadn't been rumbled over his expenses and the wife over her nig-nog sense of humour they would both have remained extremely valued senior members of the party, or some such.But we mustn't just think it's the Tories, I travelled in the First Class Dining Car on the Highland Chieftan from Edinburgh to Inverness. It was Thursday, so the MSPs had knocked-off for the week, bless, and were carrying home empty briefcases, to prove their industry.Although the train would arrive in Inverness in plenty of time for them to dine at home, even if they lived an hour from Inverness Station, well into the Highlands, each of the three SNP Tribesmen MSPs stuffed his face with the most expensive three courses on the menu, with wines and brandies to reflect their station in life; I don't know, maybe fifty pounds a head, for a snack on the way home, courtesy of the taxpayers, a different kind of traveller.indeed.
Here in Thailand we are 7 hours ahead of GMT so I would thank you not to put photographs of that overpaid, slimy, gurning dwarf hislop and his mother on the internet without warning. Almost spoilt my breakfast.
He IS a piece of work, Hislop, as they say in America, and maybe Thailand,too.I didn't think it was his mother, I thought it was radical undergorund comedian, Mr Paul Merton, after one of his wivea, unamused by his endless nonsense, left him or killed herself, delete as appropriate either will do. Genius, eh, hard to live with.
I had that Steph Booth come sit next to me the other day - honest, not invent - step mother of Imelda and PPC for Oop North. Geez, my mother must have done something wrong as all the way through the 2 hour floor show she was venal, harridan like, deluded, offensive and disgusting and at the end of it - at the bloody end of it - I said, 'well, all the best then.' Maybe I got my words mixed up - up against the wall motherfucker! The dreadful thing is - what the fuck is the difference coefficient between one set of cunts and another? Slightly rhetorical as to beat this set of cunts would require some serious work but for fucks sake. As Henry said 'I was not angry until I came to France' but with me it's 'I was not angry until you talked to me you fucking vain glorious cunt of a fake philosopher bullshit politician'. Hmm...not sure i'm gonna get a promotion with that application form. Draft 2!
Too many years ago to bear thinking about, I was working during the week in London (living in Oxford). Still had compartments in trains then, and I picked an empty one in Second (now "standard", of course, in New Labour shitbollockspeak, and settled down with my paper.Just before we pull out of the station, in come two peers of the realm, both carrying red briefcases - and bellies - to this effect.They then happily discussed and insulted a certain "Roy Hattersbum", utterly unconcerned by the presence of a proletarian in the carriage, bless them. They made for a hugely entertaining trip, and I for one will mourn the passing of hereditary peers from the Lords, as it seems to have been this past 12 years, the Lords who have tried their damnedest to keep this pile of shit-eating rats from totally destroying our green and pleasant land.
No, no, Mr Ishmael, "None of the above" is the only decent action this time around.Hislop is a self-satisfied halfling. Half-sized, half-funny, half-bright, worthy of half your attention for half a minute. Half forgotten him already.
Yes, none of the above or any independent who can manage to stand, something which skymadeupnewsandfilth refuses to consider in its "election coverage," apart maybe from Esther DogBite.Hislop's continuance at the Eye - when he should have been dumped years ago - led to my cancelling the sub and switching it to Viz magazine, effortlessly more satirical than the Eye, even though such is not its purpose.
Poor Mr Raft got trapped in a carriage with Ed Balls and his hareem of ladettes; there are too many of them to fit in posh class. Unable to fling himself out of the suicide-proof windows he had to endure hours - really, hours - of the gurrrls simpering and telling Ed how great he was. At least bloody Winterton has the decency not to travel in cattle class just to show off the size of his bollocks and spray up the back of the seats.
Every report on him is usually prefaced with the tag "Grandee".Is it any wonder he feels entitled to preferential treatment?
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