Lest we forget.
RUIN'S FOUL TRIUMVIRATE.
At the going down of the Sun and in the Morning, we will remember them.
RUIN'S FOUL TRIUMVIRATE.
At the going down of the Sun and in the Morning, we will remember them.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
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
Followers
Blog Archive
-
▼
2010
(539)
-
▼
February
(55)
- SATURDAY CLUB, NORAH JONES, A BIG GIRL NOW
- GOOD FOR FUCK ALL.
- DUMB ANIMAL
- DEAD MAN WALKING.
- THESE WE HAVE LOVED, BLIND BOY BLUNKETT. AND HIS L...
- EVENSONG, FRANK ZAPPA, WATERMELON ON EASTERHAY, BA...
- PRESCOTT, A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS, ON BULLYING.
- NO RETREAT, BABY, NO SURRENDER
- THE THINGS THEY SAY.
- THE SUNDAY ESSAY. METAPHOR AND REALITY
- BLOGGING A DEAD HORSE
- THE NEWS WITH ANNA FORD, MARTIN TEETH IS A RIGHT CUNT
- EVENSONG, LOUIE LOUIE,THE KINGSMEN
- BROWN GETS A GOOD CHILCOTTING, WHAT THE PAPERS SA...
- THE RIGHT SORT OF PEOPLE.
- WOTSONTELLY, FILTH AND CRUELTY, AS USUAL.
- EVENSONG, MONGOOSE ROCK
- requiem, kate mcgarrigle
- SCOTLAND, BEST PART OF ENGLAND
- ROOM AT THE TOP.
- FRY-UP, A HETEROPHOBE'S REVENGE
- EVENSONG, PENTANGLE, LORD FRANKLIN.
- BNP GOES MAINSTREAM
- I READ THE NEWS TODAY, OH BOY.
- I READ THE NEWS TODAY, OH BOY.
- I READ THE NEWS TODAY, OH BOY.
- WHAT THE PAPERS SAY, THE FILTH-O-GRAPH - RUIN.
- EVENSONG, CHOPIN NOCTURNE, OPUS 9, NUMBER 2
- SPUNKY BILL NEEDS SURGERY, I FEEL MY PAIN, QUIPS F...
- BABYTALK
- THE DEAD KIDS ELECTION, 2010
- ANOTHER CELEBRITY HABERDASHER DIES
- WHAT THE PAPERS SAY, THE FILTH-O-TIMES,
- ESTHER, FORCES SWEETHEART
- THE DAILY DUNCAN
- Matins with mr mongoose. Bob Dylan IS The Wicked M...
- evensong, fotheringay, sandy denny, prompted by mr...
- ACAB
- COME OUT, CAMPBELL.
- ALL OUR YESTERDAYS, BROWN OVER AMERICA
- EVENSONG, WILD WEEKEND, c. 1963 play it loud (ly)
- OH, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING.
- HOLIDAY OF A LIFETIME, TEN YEARS AFTER
- STOP PRESS, WHAT THE PAPERS SAY, THE DAILY FILTH-O...
- BARREL SCRAPINGS, DAVID MELLOR'S TURDS OF WISDOM O...
- NEW WORLD ORDER STUDIES. H/T MR FORTHURST. Break t...
- ALL RISE, HERE COME DE JUDGE
- GRANNYGATE NEWS: MORE FROM THE SWISH FAMILY ROBINS...
- THE LONG AND THE SHORT OF IT.
- HARE KRISHNA, WE ARE THE WORLD. DON'T IT MAKE YOU ...
- THE TORTURERS' WALTZ.
- BLESS ME, FATHER, FOR I HAVE SPINNED, AND SPINNED ...
- THIS IS NO ORDINARY SALARY PACKAGE
- THE TRUE HEROES OF RUIN
- NEW BALLS, PLEASE; FROM THE EPONYMOUS TENNIS BLOG
-
▼
February
(55)
21 comments:
If it is to be a triumverate, I would replace Prescott (an end-of-the-pier thug promoted beyond the level of his incompetence for the sake of 'Old Labour') with Blunkett, a genuinely frightening figure who would, if he could, make the whole world blind.
I liked the photograsph, Mr PTB, but Blunkett, there's what we call a can of worms opened and spilled all over the sandwiches. Blind Boy Blunkett is a vile and deranged bully who gives disability a bad name, as though all the bitter, complaining oiano tuners in the business had been distilled into one vial of nasty, brutish grievance but I think that Prescott's compliant positioning as a link between "old" and "new" Labour, particularly his championing of Blair's abandonment of Clause Four - Labour's raison d'etre - is the bigger betrayal - of the Union movement, of workers and academics, of all who had sought to restrain the excesses of capitalism or what we now call GlobaCorp. Blair came from, was, is just a greedy Tory; Brown is a demented, controlling Presbyterian, I-Know-Best bullying fuckpig, trapped in a self-contradictory sexual misidentity, an obvious slave to raging neuroses, an immature personality failed by family and by a health service which should have given him the psychatric care which, thanks to 1945 Labour is his right; crawling in his own skin, unaware of his ineptitudes, as I think you nearly put it, if we were shot of the mad bastard we might pity him and his wretched family of misfits; Prescott, however, is a class traitor, he and the hapless, bouffanted Pauline bragging of their material success, too stupid to realise that such is a betrayal of the idea of public service which both so clunkingly, so hypocritally extol.
Prescott's willing presence as an early stooge, his lionising of Tony and Imelda and the Third Way - the Bankers' Project -made possible what might otherwise have been too difficult for the other shitbags to accomplish. Much as I loathe the revolting, cock-waving bully boy, Blunkett, Prescott would be one step ahead of him on the gallows.
Do others have an alternative third member?
Your case for Prescott is well made, Mr Ishmael, and I withdraw my nomination. Prescott was and is a traitor, distinct from those of old Labour who tried, pointlessly, to fight from within (Short, Mowlem, Cook, Mahon), who became more or less compromised by their involvement. I resigned from the Labour Party the day after that Clause 4 vote, derided those doorstep canvassers in 1997 who assured me that once Blair was elected old Labour values would reassert themselves. And yes, Prescott was the tool employed to ensure that illusion would serve to keep the party workers and members on board. And there he is in your photo, sandwiched between Beelzebub and the Pit, too flattered to realise he is their puppet, their creature, king for a day in a world turned upside down which has yet to turn right side up again.
They are all the fucking same, Ishmael. Swines, vile, grasping, lying, tediously self-satisfied and assured of their sanctity. Bollocks to a triumvirate; add Straw, Blunkett, and Mandelswine and hang the blasted lot of them.
And Balls, the horrible little shite. And Kinnock. All of the Kinnocks. Anyone called Kinnock. Leave none alive. For penalty and repentence. And Osbourne. I hate the bastard already. Smarmy little twat.
Ah, mr mongoose, tears of rage; you who usually can be relied upon to philosophize disgrace are here scattergunning Ruin's agents, indiscriminately upping the motherfuckers against the wall.
It is, of course, true,mr mongoose, all that you say, and many times more but the the moral of the song was that each of us has his own special gift, each of us a reason peculiar to ourselves, a crushed sentiment; a fragment of the national shame; a short-changing of some imagined, hallowed principle; a weasly revision of a right into a wrong; a frightened glimpse of an overwhelming behemoth of injustice, an acrid hint in the nostrils of Greed's flamethrowers scorching equality; of feeling, almost resignedly, the hot breath of the Jihad on our cheek; each of us has our own signposts to Ruin; I merely invited, as a chronicler, the peculiar, unique insights of others as to the relative wretchedness of the individuals so impudently shitting in our faces; who, among them, would try to outguess you?
I was never in the party, mr PTB, but if I hadda been, like you, I would've left at that point and it remains a mystery to me how any remained.
The photograph captures Blair`s insolent insouciance perfectly. He`s saying ' I know you`ve rumbled me and there`s nothing anyone can do to touch me. Now fuck off out of the way of my motorcade '. He doesn`t need armed security: his smugness emanates in waves that would flatten and halt a bullet in mid air a foot from his expensively tailored carcass.
We must hope, mr yardarm, that just for one moment, as Blair pimps his way between Wall Street and Jerusalem, you are wrong about that.
Got all them buckets coming out of my ears, Sir. With their bodyguards and silver canes and every hair in place, they took whatever they wanted to and they laid it all to waste.
It is the way we live now, Mr Ishmael. Rage is OK every now and again, surely? Have we not had enough of this misshappen pantomime? Can we be not spared?
It makes no difference. One more time. As loud as you like.
It wasn't a rebuke, mr mongoose; I'll let ya be in my dream if I can be in yours.
If that is the Band, I listen to it often, why else do you think I'm this way? I will check it in a few minutes. Busy just now with the Jack of Hearts.
I have mentioned before I am no fan of the Liebor party but I do know or as most of them have gone now knew the people who made the Labour party. Some of these men joined the International brigade to fight Franco when the UK governmnent made it illegal to leave the country to do so. One chap lost one of his legs there fighting along with Eric Blair (no not that one) Hemmingway and many more. When they returned to the UK they set up the broad left, workers education councils in Manchester causing great difficulty to themselves and their families being blacklisted by firms so they couldn't get work. They are the ones who put Hugh Scanlon (Lord Scanlon of fucking Davyhulme if you don't mind)in charge of the AEUW gutless bastard but still they had balls, conviction unlike the fuckers in the photograph. They struggled for a cause not for personal wealth. As for that fat fucker Prescott him of the politically motivated men nominated by Wilson when he was a shop stupid on a liner look at the turncoat now, fucking lawn games in the afternoon pre legover with the staff.The real pisser with all of these scum is that when they get booted out, resign or whatever nothing happens to them except a sinecure with a bank. No old bill knocking on their doors with a warrant nothing.
Thanks, mr anonymous, you are not alone in this sad complaint, the hijacking of the labour movement and it's absorption into the filthy business of politics per se requires a better analysis than I can offer, a task for one of our scholars, Mr TDG or Mr PTB have the skills and the language for such; I traffic merely spleen and bile and irreverence, perhaps they will oblige. How can the sons of the International Brigade and the Jarrow Marchers fetch-up behind a massive security presence at Brighton or Blackpool or the G8, stamping-out the mildest dissidence, before it can draw breath ?
Be gentle, Mr Ishmael, for you little know how many trials rise.
Sorry, Mr mongoose, wasn't knowingly being harsh.
Jack Straw aka Jack Torture aka Jack Smug would replace Prescott for me. Straw, like a bad fart, will not go away, and which ever way the Labour Party careers, well that way Jack careers as well.
I hope they all rot in hell. Slowly.
How can the sons of the International Brigade and the Jarrow Marchers fetch-up behind a massive security presence at Brighton or Blackpool or the G8, stamping-out the mildest dissidence, before it can draw breath ?
Aye, there's the rub. On which side in the Spanish civil war would Blair and Brown have been? And how would their governments have responded to the Jarrow marchers? Both likely answers are ugly and painful for those of us who look back with pride on the endeavours and achievements of the early labour movements and Labour Party.
My grandmother was born in a workhouse. My parents were both born in their respective homes without expensive doctoring. I was born in an NHS hospital. To live without fear of utter poverty and starvation, without humiliation and exploitation, in the knowledge that working hard would bring security and that misfortune would not rip everything away, are the achievements of the British labour movements.
How we got from there to here, with a system that Franco would have admired, seems the work of a cabal of PR-speaking messianic control freaks. Is that all it took?
I traffic merely spleen and bile and irreverence
And you must know you do yourself a grave disservice in this characterisation!
Sticking, like shit to a blanket is right, Mr elby. I used to do some iterminable rants about this bastard, his nattiness and his simpering correctness, his phony Solomonesque wisdom, pouting and nit-picking while dessed in underwear made from the skin sripped from Iraqi babies, a horrible career Nazi, his humanity shrivelled by strategic atrocity at home and abroad; now it's just the odd picture, like the one further on up the road which I posted, perhaps intuitively, before reading your comment, you are right, he does seem to be untouchable and will certainly be so at his next Chilcotting.
It is tragedy, is it not, Mr PTB, that people, the majority, I guess, now, with no understanding of modern history will see the labour movement as one continuum of wickedness stretching back from the Blairs, Brown, Mandelstein and Co and consisting only ever of greedy, champagne socialists, degenerates and warmongers?
with no understanding of modern history will see the labour movement as one continuum of wickedness" Again I agree with you but to gain an understanding they could always read you know, what do you call them oh yeah books in between watching on the plasma thats not paid for Christ knows what. You never know they might learn something.
They might even learn about fractional reserve lending and how the price of gold (fine gold not the shit 9ct stuff worn by women with more rings than fingers) is manipulated,how diamonds are that are so plentiful De Beers ( Wot us but aluvial blood diamonds from Angola?)that a while ago before they got every country in the world to join their cartel so they can keep the price up were going to dump loads of diamonds in the sea.
You have to hand it to Thatcher, Kinnock, Bliar et al. They have got the populace right where they want them, scared shitless their jobs might be "outsourced" can't strike as they are up to their eyeballs in debt, they could always take the advice of the millionairess Carol (trust me I'm a tv presenter) Vordeman to finish them off and be made homeless by consolidating their debts or send their last bit of 9ct gold off in an envelope never to be seen again.
In my opinion the greatest con trick pulled by all of these fuckers was to give poor people the idea that they counted in the great scheme of things. Look at the tv, holidays from hell and who can I sue? Consumer programmes, only had this leather 3 piece suite 10 years now look at it!
Single mothers taking out loans to buy the "wee ones" shite Chrismas presents and its not my fault I can't repay the loan.
As your Mr Barnum once said 1 born every miute and 2 to take them and never give a sucker an even break.
There was an i-Thing launched last week, wasn't there, mr anonymous, I saw people applauding its inanimate majesty, rather like the poor morons in the Top Gear hangar applaud cars.
Seems that you can flick the bottom right hand corner of the i-screen and an image of a page will appear to flip itself over, just like turning the page of a book.
The people who buy this will be the same caste as claim that their reading Harry Potter books is just a matter of encouraging their children to read - they will insist that their extravagant purchase of an i-Thing which can pretend to be a book is really a good thing for, fuck me, global literacy, that, actually, it's better than a book.
What can you do? To these people IT is the new rock'n'roll, the new Keeping Up With The Joneses, as though the medium IS the message.
There is an evident contrariness here in that these commentaries are written, read and responded to through a technology entirely alien to Gutenberg's laborious moveable type, although we would insist that the silicone is complementary and does not supercede whatever mad alchemy operates when people lose themselves in a book, re-appearing, subtly - or dramatically - changed, not only by the information but by the process, the tactile, the immersion.
The mongoose boy wants an iPad - though he has no idea why. I suspect it is so that he can go to school and say he has an iPad. They get them young these days.
There is a curiously similar device in use in some american schools, though I guess a much less sophisticated thing. They use them instead of text- and exercise books. Not a scrap of paper in sight. Payment discretionary except if you don't pay you get last year's broken down shit and they laugh at the poor kid. All is a grim, cold, steely efficiency.
And it is going that way here too. Homework by email, never even printed, 12-years-old and handwriting like an orang utan scratching in the dirt with a stick. Just teach them to read, write and do numbers, you fuckers!
Post a Comment