Monday, 11 April 2011


It really is intolerable  that - for the third time -  the nonsensical position of Deputy Prime Minister has been created to satisfy the ego of some snivelling,  traitorous, hysterical  nincompoop - first the screeching arrriviste, Heseltine,  then the bloated ignoramus, Prescott, the gibbering pig, and now the ghastly, toilet-dwelling, dogshooter, Clegg, good for fuck all, never done a day's work in his worthless life, now granted bogus status, office, salary, pension  and title, in order merely that the unelected tosser, Flashman, can front his way into a role which he was unable to win conventionally,  a role he could not legitimately secure without creating capos and stooges who would buttress his bluff -  that, somehow, mystically, in an  unconscious, collective, nation-wide act,  people had voted for a poisonous dogs' breakfast of spivs and shiteaters,  had freely, consciously transmuted  their own will,  the  will of the people,  into the breathtaking effrontery of impudent, incompetent wankers  like Danny Alexander.

Let us remind ourselves, daily, that Cameron was unable, even with the blind, slavish assistance of most of skymadeupnewsandfilth, to conclusively defeat a fatally tarnished party led by the most unpopular, most reviled, hated and ridiculed  politician in living memory and that now, as he robs us of out futures and trashes our pasts, giving our assets to SpivCorp, slandering millions who have worked their lives away, honourably, for a pension of sixty pounds a week, now, as he  steals our money and gives it to the  robber barons nouvelle of MoneyCorp,  the financial terrorists who brought us here, now, as his smirking, frothy public school insouciance remains untouched by the successive shit-morphing of his flagship policies, reversed, abandoned or paused for thought, now, as, triumphantly, inflation and unemployment leap to their traditional Tory bidding, as standards in schools and hospitals decline  even further, as the wheelchairs are confiscated and the libraries closed, now, he owes it all to the overpromoted officeboy,  Clegg,  the man who seriously told us that the nation's poor old bastards survived on, Oh, about thirty pounds a week, isn't it.  Now, the man who had not the faintest idea of what pensions were, helps lead the chorus calling for their forfeiture. Edgar Allan Poe couldn't write macabre shit like this.

Even though he in no sense whatsoever deputises for Cameron  - not even gormless Dave would trust Clegg as far as he can ejaculate - the self-styled Deputy Prime Minister  is free to meddle noisesomely  with our rights and entitlements, to falsely represent us abroad and from his bully-pulpit to seek to ensure a constitutional abortion which will secure lucrative, eternal office for he and his ilk. And as if that was not enough he reveals to us, via the Totty-Journo, Jemima Khan-Goldsmith, sister of poor little rich boy,  Zac, Cameron A-list Tory MP and utter fucking bastard, and  daughter of the bullying shitbag,  Sir Jams Fishpaste,  that his children ask him, Why,  Papa, does everyone call you a cunt and that - as though it tempers his pushy, vaunting,  moron ineptitude -  he cries when he hears Coldplay or  James Blunt or whatever shit he listens to, whist maintaining his work-life balance,  the fucking repulsive hypocrite.

Not content with an influence billions of light years beyond his miniscule, can just about dress himself without help capabilities,  this gabshite, dunderhead, patently stupid, shallow, tongue-tied, unimaginative, cliche-bound, over-privileged nitwit cravenly invites us to sympathise with his archly absurd, contrived common humanity; even if I am a cunt, he infers, surely we can all unite around David Bowie and forget our differences, share a quick , secret fag and get on with dragging Britain back to the 'thirties? You know, I'm just a normal millionaire bloke, who inherited his money and was eased into jobs by his father's friends.  Just like most people.  Now, open wide,  while I shit in your mouth.  I promise to cry, afterwards.


Mike said...

I suspect its genetic. I went to a posh public school, and you could tell at age 12 which slimey tossers would grease their way through life, irrespective, or despite lack, of ability. When I look the wankers up in Who's Who, its surprising how correct those observations were at age 12. Cleggs just one of those. Its probably a sub-type of hominid with a defective ego. But what is odd is they get away with it?

PT Barnum said...

I wish this was his obituary in The Times. And on his tombstone that 'mis-speak' about the 30 quid pension.

The 30-second attention span of the media spin cycle allows them this tawdry illusion of a mandate. God help us all if AV becomes a reality - the worst of all voting worlds, with safe seats for life maintaining nepotistic habits and a multiple choice popularity contest in the rest.

call me ishmael said...

It can't be genetic, mr mike, else the species would have died out, wouldn't it, its destiny moulded by pointless, backward, good for fuck all Cleggites, although I know what you mean about that type emerging at school, it happened at King Edwards, too, worthless creeping bastards emerging as prefects, Christ help us and headboys.

You're right, mr ptb, a frustrated obituarist, I, my daily vengeful excoriations swept away, made pointless, made desert by skymadeupnewsandfilth's unstoppable, shitty, lying caravanserai; gipsies, tramps and thieves, making-up history as they go along; a rank, lingering pox on them all, a horse's dick up their arses, as we say in Poland.

mongoose said...

The failure to slaughter the Luvvies still has to rankle with the Tories. How can it be, they must be asking, that a thirteen-year pageant of lies, waste and hypocrisy did not usher in a new paradise? Foolishly, they fell for the combined campaign of the McBlather twins and that old bastard Mandelson. "The same old Tories", "the nasty Tory party"... They are a eunuch Tory party now.

Here we sit as broke as a broken country can be. We are truly tits up for a generation. Or maybe two. And the "cuts" - hands up anyone who thinks that there have been any "cuts"? (ie That public expenditure now is lower than it has been at some time in the past.) Well, there haven't been any. Public spending is just rising less fast than it was planned to rise. Not that cuts aren't coming, children. Just wait ye for 2012 and you will understand what cuts are.

The Cameron twat fell for Political Strategy Number One: make the other lot not do what they are good at. So just as the Labour party is for taxing the succcessful and spending the proceeds like Viv whatshername after a pools win - redistribution of wealth, we call it - so the Tories are for cutting the crap and making stuff work as cost-effectively as public shit can. These are the roles these parties are supposed to fulfil. We don't have to like either or agree with either. The fuckwits at the Telegraph and the Guardian, the blinkered morons at Eton and in the Gorbals, the fools at Labourlist and Cranmer's gaff - these people will never argue and vote for anyone but for whom they have always argued and voted. It's in their DNA. Who gives a hoot what they think? But apparently Cameron does. Idiot. If we get AV he will have killed the Tories forever. But we won't.

Dick the Prick said...

He was blubbing on a bit back that at his family Chrimbo do over at his in-laws the extended family were asking him 'how have you become such a cunt?' Hee hee - perhaps the BBC should dispense with Eastenders and commission Northbenders or something, for all of life exists there. 'i'll skweem and skweem and skweem until i'm sick'.

call me ishmael said...

Wasn't it Viv Nicholson, won the pools and quite properly pissed it up the wall and spent it on men, bless her peroxide head.

Call it what you will, mr m, there is an ongoing, orchestrated attack on public service in which all are targets,workers and service users - who, naturally enough, are often one and the same; it is an attack on the principles and the practice of what you have described as civilisation, the result of which will be a severe cutting back of Decency and an alienation souyr enough to warm the faltering heart of Whiskey Maggie.

That your assessment of political ignorance is correct, however, is underscored for me by my recently having learned that the brother of a friend who visited from London, last year, said to her over the weekend, I like that Ishmael, he's a bit of a lefty, but he's alright; others of course, in the past, have claimed my young friend stanislav, the plumber, for their very own right-winger. It is as you say, that for most one must be one or the other, the concept of being simultaneously both politically aware and apolitical as complex as quantum physics - I spoke ill of Cameron and must therefore be left-wing, stanislav spoke ill of Mr Snot and must therefore be right-wing.

Mr PTB and I and others here subscribe, yet, to a loose form of pre-Blair Christian/Co-operative Socialism, shading in and out from the reliquary housing the bleached bones of Clause Four; mr dtp and mr jgm2 and mr old rightie and others are robust free-marketeers, mr tdg and yourself stand largely above the fray, so what is it that so often unites us in full-on discord? My conjecture is that we are living at the end of Growth, and that happy will be the day when someone like George Spunkface stands in parliament or its equvalent and says, Good news, last year there was no growth and next year there will be even less, for that to happen, of course, the nineteenth century dinosaur political parties must be seen for what they are and rejected. We must break out of the Fools' Pardigm of enslavement to GlobaCorp - None of the Above, Up Against The Wall, Motherfuckers or A Horse's Dick Uo Your Arse, Mr Duncan fucking Smith.

mongoose said...

Viv Nicholson, Mr I, that was her, thanks.

Growth is good, Mr Ishmael. Growth is shoes on the feet of babes, books in libraries and wheelchairs for the lame. And wars too, and raped profits for the financial sector, and fucking Royal Weddings. And twats collecting bits of paper lest I unnoticed drive somebody else's lad to a cricket match. In convoy though we are, and just the fucking fifty people at most matches. But there we are, another chit must be suffered, another silent insult from the State of We Know Best and Yes You Fucking Well Will. Collected, stamped and filed in a file to the greater glory of some cunt in a nice warm office who really should be dangling from the eaves of the Town Hall with his wasted salary stuffed in his pockets.

So, growth is good, it's relatively more wealth per person. And is therefore a good thing, a tad more decency, a tad more comfort and a tad more civilisation. But a man should be able to lead a sane and sensible life without chasing growth's dragon if he so chooses. I am constantly amazed by the teachers I meet. Slaving away for a fraction of the money flooding this Godforsaken land still. Jeez, I spend a junior teacher's take-home on beer, I shouldn't wonder. And yet they live here too, pay the same scandalous prices, buy in the same insane property markets. Shackled, as you rightly say, by the slavery of debt, but knowingly and quietly teaching our kids for bugger all reward, and precious litle thanks.

It is just that so much of all this once-private wealth is consumed by publicly-funded cunthood, ruinous vile fucking regulating halfwits and ten-pound light bulbs. Pissing it all against the wall as if the rest of us didn't have to work to put those tax pennies in the kitty. And then bullying us, harrassing us, and generally being cunts as they spend what used to be our money. As if it is any business of any bastard at the Town Hall if I want to re-render the back wall. As if this is not now the second time, I have had to do it - it's feet in a river, water, cold, wet, dry, freeze - and the render falls off after a few years. It's been happening for a few hundred years now and we don't need another fucking chit. "Appropriate and natural materials", the bastards. It's a bit of fucking mortar, you twats.

yardarm said...

The Liberals are merely a reeking, stained jockstrap, bulked out with any old rubbish, protecting the shrunken, flaccid yet vulnerable organs of the Tory government.

Dick the Prick said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Dick the Prick said...

Mrs WoaR mentioned an international scale of pissed off: fairy snuffgh.

Mothers Ruin said...

WTF happened to Dylan! Tried to listen to Isis and Mozambique to find everything just about blocked by presumably his legal team. Had to resort to digging through the physical archive to find what i needed.
Why did he turn out to be yet another arsehole?

call me ishmael said...

I have mentioned it before, mr mothers ruin, a fucking outrage, fuck him, fuck him and fuck Sony, too. One too many mornings, and a thousand miles behind.

call me ishmael said...

Here come your Nineteenth century economics, mr mongoose, profit and loss in the nation state. Global solutions, that's the thing, the only thing. Otherwise we are all of us fucked; husbandry and equality of access to resources; how, in the global village, could or should it be otherwise, or are our little darlings more darlingy than those dying for want of a drink of water, a crust of bread, even though it costs more to store the food than it does to give it?

mongoose said...

Ah, Mr I, but those are nigger darlings and nobody gives a bugger about them. Let 'em drink piss, eh?

There is a wonderful site somewhere. Just a mo... No, can't remember it and can't find it. Anyway, there are apparently two types of water scarcity - there's scarcity because of people living where there isn't any drinking water - and there is "economic water scarcity". That's Africa to you and me. Nobody gives a shit about Africa because there is no money in it. "I do not understand your purpose, Mr President. Water? For African babies, you say. What the fuck is in it for us? There is no money and there is no oil. Fuck 'em."

mongoose said...

Found it again... here.