Tuesday, 12 July 2011



Former unelected prime minister, Snot, broke cover last night to moan about not being prime minister. If only my son hadn't been born sickly and my daughter not died I would still be prime minister, it's not fair on a young parent like me to be singled-out like this, gurned the useless, horrible fucking bastard.

Brown, who decided on dodgy-old-sperm parenthood in his fifties as a means to normalise his weirdness when   approaching the culmination of his ambition, has remained silent since leaving Downing Street, drawing his MP's salary without ever appearing in the house of reptiles, preferring, instead,  to rummage through  old socks and bri-nylon shirts in the Kircaldie Oxfam shop, surreptitiously sniffing at them and rubbing them against his genitals when the old ladies weren't looking; putting something back, he calls it, for charity.  Brown has remained entirely silent, praying that he would get the job given, instead, to Madame Christine LaVacheQuiRit, whereat he hoped to serve Mammon even more faithfully than he did as Chancellor and PM, fucking up the lives of countless more millions of ordinary people and enriching further the one per cent of the world's population  who constitute the International Financial Terrorist Movement.

Given, however, the temporary difficulties being suffered by skymadeupnewsandfilth as HM Govament scramble to make amends to Mr Murdoch for his troubles, Snotty has joined the chorus of whining famous people.  Silent when in ofice, for fear of becoming even more unpopular than he was, the great, bloated, cowardly oaf has bared his Domestos teeth and is sticking up two savagely  nail-bitten fingers at his former tormentor, bleating, in his best presbyterianisme-hypocriticale that targeting children is wrong.

Brown, of course, it was, who shamelessly and relentlessly used his children for political ends, even, as he left Downing Street, cowed, beaten by a pair of utter chancers and  a ragbag of spivs and  toiletcreepers, dragging the wee buggers out, as if to sanitise posterity's view of his disastrous premiership - a man so vile, so angry, such a bully, such a rotten gabshite that he allowed the triumph of the even more useless Mr Spiv. But Ah, bless, look, happy cynical  families.

Targetting children was a NewLabour Speciality Of The House, as Blair and Brown and Hoon and Straw and Browne and Ainsworth ably assisted by Brigadier General Rupert Golightly-Jockstrap, poured fragmentation bombs into Iraq schoolyards, at Uncle Sam's lucrative behest. May they all rot   in Hell. Although a spot in jail, beforehand, might improve their souls.

Gordon Snot was always a shallow and worthless advertisement for family life and God help the wee mites, growing-up with an ageing madman as father,  but their yolk is easy, their burden is light, compared with their Daddy's child victims, all over the Middle East and South Asia. Fuck him, the man's a monster.

Gordon Snot, coward, bully and hypocrite, 
always doing the right thing for the country.


Jesus fucking wept, he's just been on the Eddie Mair Show, motormouthing, inimitably, in PresbyterianJudgementalSpeak, about criminals, criminals with criminal records, some of them for violence, criminals, with criminal records, exploiting people at their most vulnerable; criminals, criminals, criminals.

A rogues gallery. The Snotty Cabinet.
Theft, fraud, money laundering, deception, blackmail, treason and mass murder.


Oldrightie said...

Nicely put but a little too polite where Snotty's concerned.

mongoose said...

There is considerable circumstantial evidence, is there not, that McDoom authorised the CF "leak"?

I watched the Keith Vaz Show earlier - eviscerating coppers in a way so pompous you would think that he is not, in fact, a thieving old windbag, a sack of shit so up himself that he is inside out. Do they think that we are fools? This is just payback for expensesgate and for Murdoch dumping the luvvies.

It would be fun though watching next week's installment with Rupeekahkah. Oh, please, can we, please? Alas, there is no God.

call me ishmael said...

Gordon Rotten Spunk, leaking his own gossip? I wouldn't be surprised; he's used his kids as cynically as did Imelda Blair.

Amen to your Vazbashing - see CMI passim, man's an utter cunt, bent as can be and pompous as an eighteenth century squire; he used to call himself, without irony, the most important Asian in Britain; if Andy Hayman wasn't such a rotten, cuntish moron he could have reminded Vaz of his own history of dishonesty whilst Blair's minister for Europe; I have never understood why he remains chair of home affairs, of all things. Or anything, for that matter. Anybody know?

mongoose said...

I have to say that Hayman was an utter, utter fucking waste of oxygen. Christ alive, my stupidest cat is cleverer than that and he's been in the ground nearly ten years. And how, may we ask, does an epsilon-minus like him get to have anything to say that would be worthy of printing in The Times? So it is merely a swinish stipend for a "conduit", a "sewer-pipe" more like, for bile and filth to flow more easily from bent copper to principled campaigning journalist.

call me ishmael said...

I know standards have fallen in the Times, what with Loverboy Clarkson endlessly recycling his clunking metaphors about Birmingham, Dame Michael Portillo writing column after column of nothing at all, save, When I was a Cabinet minister and the intolerable Matthew Dreary simpering away like a mad, maiden aunt but even so...

I had never heard Hayman prior to today's Pee Em programme and has assumed that he must be, at least, one of those gobby, jargon-spouting high fliers whom we had sponsored in some meaningless degree in criminology or management studies but no, he was entirely as you say, like an extra in The Sweeney, a DC in a kipper tie, Stone me, guv, I wouldn't never do nuffink like that, straight up, I wouldn't.

If that useless wanker BoJo does nothing else he should ask why the Met is jerking itself off, right worshipfully, promoting dummies like Hayman to senior rank.

Writing thirty years ago in The Brotherhood, Steven Knight said that in The Edgbaston Masonic Temple the Chief Constable of the West Midlands Filth could find himself supplicant before a higher degree sergeant or constable; such a perversion of proper management and regukation is the only explanation for the pre-eminence in law enforcement of a jackal like Hayman.

a young anglo-irish catholic said...

Ah, yes, coppers. The one involved in Royal Security, who is about to be named in my divorce, was texting her no-longer-indoors like a mad man. Unless he has managed to get Vodafone to wipe the Mrs's phone records, he's bang to rights.

i took him on on the blower. Just the same. A right Londoner, accent right out of the Sweeney, The full gor blimey not me gov. I've never spoken to anyone not under 15 years of age who was less transparently bang to rights.

a young anglo-irish catholic said...

Incidentally, Mr I check out the picture of the fragrant Hilary Rodem'-from-behind attached to this Guardian story.


I suspect that she's going through the breathlessly liberal female interns at a rate of knots.

Mothers Ruin said...

Murdoch has allowed Brown to cast himself in the role of victim. Not bad mad or dangerous,but a conspired against simple man of the people, already milking the sympathy served up on a silver salver of public backlash.
Five years down the line expect to see him in the Jimmy Carter role of just an honest imbecile overwhelmed by the machinations of evil do-ers

call me ishmael said...

That's certainly Brown's intention, mr mothers ruin, but it's as though he had a huge, I dunno, the opposite of a fan club, a We-Hate-Brown club, millions of people who hate his guts, and we won't let that happen, will we? There's just something unforgiveable about him, his mewling and puking on the BBC today was so typical of him, phony, cheesy and suspect, it was just as though he'd never been away, never learned anything, still thinks he can horseshit people. I swear that if he ever realises how ghastly he is, he'll tnrow himself instantly out of an upstairs window.

Mothers Ruin said...

You, i and many of of those who gather here may think that, but there are just as many, if not more, who see him as just a humanitarian struggling against his disabilities and charisma bypass as an easy target for the forces of concerted attack by the dogs of the press pack eager to rip into his anability to sell star performances of celebrity act worthy of a sun kissed adonis like a Ronald Reagan or even a Tony Blair. Wasn't that his pitch for the leadership? No spin, just honest endeavour? Indeed even my own sister sees it this way.
As Mr Mongoose points out in a later post, the wholesale rush to re-elect the cabal of crooks, fraudsters and cretins of the last Parliament proves the almost futile attempt of swimming against the tide of decadance and apathy that sweeps us all down the gutter of filth with seemingly no hope of calling in at the treatment works for purification on the way. We now see the Dowler family drawn into the circus of media appearances, rather than reaching for the pick axe handle to deal with anybody offering them a voice in the ear of those who matter.
It is for the acidic truth that those of us who gather here thank you for standing up to be counted, but without Piers Morgan to highlight your human side, what hope is there for the voice of justice and moral integrity to be heard.
As you said recently, this, friends, is ruin.

call me ishmael said...

Bravo, mr mothers ruin. And yes, fuck me if I didn't want to punch the Dowlers in the gob, as they sat there, circled by cameramen, scrubbed up, with CallHimDave. For the Meeja.

You just know that if the Sun offered them a column, they'd break an ankle in the rush to sign-up. If they can write.

Caratacus said...

I thought it. You wrote it. Brilliantly, and much better than my scrambled bloody thoughts. Thank you....

call me ishmael said...

No,mr caratacus, no thanks, no applause, we are not showbiz, here, or royalty; my thanks to you, for reading......it's all just jotting down what my young friend, stanislav the plumber, called in the shitegeist, innit.