Thursday 20 May 2010

THE OBITUARY PAGE: A POX ON HIM.


 Gordon the Ruiner, Field Marshal Snot has gone, punished only mildly, hardly at all, by rejection,  and was last seen hectoring his mindless constituents with leaden self-deprecation, I should study communication, hohoho, I should have studied management, gurgle-gurgle, the horrible fucking bastard, implying that his unpopularity was due to his lack of superficiality, that he was too good, too noble, too serious to be popular with the tawdry, ordinary, bigoted people; a hot-housed freak-pupil, a son of the fucking manse, as though either should endear him to normal people, his human decency corroded by family ambition, personal conceit, villainous dishonesty and staggering incompetence.

He was   a thoroughly nasty bully; Scotland, best part of England,  is, unfortunately, full of them, I-Know-Best Elders, yes, Elders of the Church of fucking Scotland, brooding malevolently over Humanity's shameful Earthly pleasures, plotting their restriction; Brown a sour,  judgemental hypocrite,  an unforgiving, two-faced, Godless heathen bastard Presbyterian  arsehole, entirely without vaah-lewes, save self-advantage, a moral compass pointing only to shitty soundbites, Brown, like some graveside clergyperson, quick and eager to capitalise on  the tragedy of others and to glean from it personal status, to shake hands, for the cameras, with Life's mourners, rubber-stamping Sorrow for electoral advantage;  I have to write those Commander-In-Chief letters, he gurned, to those bereaved by Labour's Wars4Bush;   unctious and hypocritical, like a Belfast undertaker.

He was a worthless coward, hiding in the toilet, biting his nails and picking his nose, whilst others made the wrong decisions;  like Straw the Torturer, Ainsworth the Useless Prat and other NewLabour filth; Brown was never to be seen when brave counsel was required,  instead, imagining himself some Christian Democrat Alexander the Great, waiting in the wings;  the Middle East is ablaze due to his hiding away, his  being in hock to Israeli-British funders - did he ever repay that dodgy Abrahams' money -   his was a  failure to speak out, his was a wish only to subsequently posture as the bold, Thatcheresque, Rejoicing war leader, the stuttering, snot-eating poltroon.

That he was incompetent as chancellor and premier and that he will be  judged more liable for Labour's Reign of Ruin than will the grotesque, grinning slags, Tony and Imelda Blair, is entirely unjust but entirely fitting and serves him right;  Brown, always happy to blame someone else, blamed, himself, for the vain, greedy sins of others.

From the moment of his entry to parliament he was a bombastic bully, fevered, paranoid and ruthless. Those ghastly metropolitans who now say he is charming and good company would  doubtless, had they been in his circle, have said the same thing about Hitler - it was the Berlin middle class, wasn't it, attuned to the string quartet in the salon, which ignored, in the street, the broken glass and  birthing cries of the Holocaust and ushered-in global mayhem. Fuck them and their Nice Guy Really, Once You Get To Know Him shit. He was a bully, first, last and always; a coward, a snitch, a blackmailer surrounded by blackmailers,  a thief, a fraudster and a money-launderer.

Ah, but look how happy, how normal he is, with his children, urge skymadeupnewsandfilth, nothing became him so much....blabber the commentariat, paid to say something, anything, happy-ever-after-ing, praise-singing the collective folly of business-as-usual  as we usher out one bullying, shit-eating, untrustworty, shameless, lying, ruinous bastard,  and replace him with two more. The parliament of the long ay - ay new politics, ay new govament, ay new approach, ay fuckwit gabshitery, ay nation moralised at by Nick Clegg,  ay leader who thought the OA pension was thirty quid a week, Jesus fucking wept. I'm ay little teapot, short and fucking stout, nursery rhyme politics.

For this is Brown's most stunning and apocalyptic  failure - that a large part of the nation now optimistically hosannahs the disgusting ignoramus,  Clegg and the airhead wannabee, Cameron, is prepared to listen to their reformist doggerel - ears plugged, simultaneously, to the sound of knives and hatchets and chainsaws being sharpened - and is willing this coalition of the  privileged to succeed in destroying our standards of living, out terms and conditions, delights at the prospect of  the abandoned elderly and at the persecution of the impotent poor and relishes the years ahead of penury, want and anxiety, as though they were an invigorating dose of salts;  this, a nation revolted, biting itself, this, far beyond his fellating the Red Braces, his burning all the money, this, this  stampede towards Ruin, privatised, slashed and burned and freshly platitudinised,  this  is Brown's awful, abiding legacy. A pox on him, he's due one.

9 comments:

Yarhoodle said...

Furthermore he was not a nice person.

PT Barnum said...

I'd missed that £30 pension misconception. Why do all these yahoos not know the price of anything NOR the value of anything (mixing my authors badly)?

Elby the Beserk said...

Only ONE pox? No, let many rain down on him.

Dick the Prick said...

So it's alright if I pop you down as a maybe, then?

Verge said...

There was a good one much feared by GI's in the Vietnam War (though I can't say which novel/memoir/history planted this memory-seed)called the Black Rose - a bit like the black death only specifically genital. Not at all pleasant and no more than the fucker deserves.

call me ishmael said...

As you know, mr verge, I was a gentle, bookish soul, before NewLabour stole the country and gave it to gangsters, an occasional spot of plumbing, a walk to the beach with the blogdog, Buster; a little gardening, such were my diversions; now my mind is an incessant, vivid, punitive Sodom and Gomorrah; a triptych of Hell on Earth, a panoply of longed-for punishments, flayings and roastings and disembowelments, a fantasy world of merciless cruelty, all of it richly deserved; Bob Ainsworth, Geoff Hoon, Tony McNutter, let alone the front rank of Snotty and Straw and Mandy and Tony and Imelda, nothing is bad enough, painful enough for them. The galloping knobrot, though, sounds like a good start.


ps sounds like Michael Herr's Despatches, to me.

Verge said...

Despatches sounds about right.

Strange that where Vietnam has dozens of excellent books (Dog Soldiers, Going After Cacciato, The Things They Carried, Meditations in Green, Chickenhawk, Tree of Smoke, the Bao Ninh memoir, etc etc) Iraq has little more than Jarhead. A tiny, irrelevant point, of course, and plenty of time yet...well, maybe not plenty.

call me ishmael said...

It is interesting. Maybe something to do with the press being "embedded" or, worse, being like the unspeakable Kemp in Afghanistan, fluffing for the forces, the press being far more cowardly and malleable these days than at the time of Vietnam. Maybe it's just that the whole prolonged rottenness of Haliburton's Shock and Awe, of Rumsfeld's Fallujah, of Guantanamo, of the boy, Millipede, doing as he's bid by President Hillary Trousers, the gangraping, the atrocities, the whole disgusting, stinking mess that is Iraq, maybe anybody close up to it is just too pissed to be able to write about it.

I dunno whether in priciple Iraq is worse US foreign/terror policy than Vietnam was but given that it was conceived and executed by our generation I find it far more troubling. In any event, mr verge, a trawl through the internet swamp will reveal images far more compelling than any book of words. There was a horror clip here a while back, dunno if you saw it; mr mongoose later summed it up well, something like "Cowboys in Apaches shooting pedestrians with Playstation abandon."

All the news that's fit to suppress, that's the way of it.

Verge said...

The internet, yes of course, the elephant in the room on this one.

Your comparison with today's and 70's journalists reminds me that Robert Stone was freelancing for the Guardian when he scooped up the background that fed into Dog Soldiers. Now we get, as you say, Ross "Mein" Kemp polishing helmets.