The greatest living human being, Nelson PartyBoy Mandela will shortly celebrate his ninety-third birthday and slags, drug addicts, whores, pimps, gangsters, elderly pop stars and even former footballer and moron, David Nutjob
and his wife Mrs Victoria Nutjob will be there to have their 'photo taken with the silly old git. We'll be taking the baby, Half-past Seven, in the 'ope that Mr Mandela will give her his blessing, simpered David in his falsetto Cockney whine. We don't want her turning black or nuffink like that but she is a celebrity an' you can't never start too young, 'avin yer photo taken, an everyfink. Victoria, formerly Posh Slag, of the Slag Girls pop ensemble said she'd fucking kill that black cow Naomi Campbell if she tried to give David a blowjob, we have people on the staff for that, and would be presenting Mr Mandela with a sample of her new range of cosmetics, created for her by top New York parfumier, Giovanni Fag. The perfume costs five hundred pounds an ounce but if you want quality like what everything I'm associated with has, pouted the silly bitch, you just have to pay for it. There is no troof, added David Nutjob, in the rumour that Becks is pregnant again already, no troof wotsoevah. we can find lots of uvver ways to get in the papers wivout 'avin' ridiculously-named sprogs every five minutes. Although you wouldn't know it,. Becks being the most famous muvva on the planet, since my mate Prince Wills's Mum was bumped off by his Dad.
Mr and Mrs Lady Sir Elton John and their newly purchased baby, Leaveitout John-Furnish, will be there, too. We hope that Nelson will give the baby his blessing, he doesn't have to hold him or kiss him or anything., Well, it's all very well, but these black people do have terrible diseases. And I did pay good money for the lottle fellow.
We do so love being young parents, simpered Lady Sir Elton and we do spend some quality time with little Wotsisname but our squadron of nannies and helpers are an absolute treasure, gushed the revolting, screeching, bad-tempered, over-rated piano player. But what with my music and David's independent film-making career, well, what can I say, one is so busy. I am, of course, for the great occasion, working on a rewrite of my major opus, called Kaffir In The Wind and dedicating it to Nelson, who has a great sense of humour. For a darkie.
America's leading crime families will be represented by President Spunky Bill and his pretend wife, President Hillary Trousers, hoping that they will hoover-up some money for the Clinton Foundation - ie themselves.
I did not have sexual relations with that woman,
well, aw shucks ,mebbe just the once.
Britain's prime minister is unable to attend due to being at home trying to stay out of jail but he sent President Mandela his best wishes and invited hin to apply for the post of Mayor of |London which would shortly be vacant. Can't be any worse than that coke-snorting albino git, added an aide to the PM.
This is all your fault, you cunt.
You can't speak to me like that, I'm the prime minister.
We'll see about that, won't we.
We do so love being young parents, simpered Lady Sir Elton and we do spend some quality time with little Wotsisname but our squadron of nannies and helpers are an absolute treasure, gushed the revolting, screeching, bad-tempered, over-rated piano player. But what with my music and David's independent film-making career, well, what can I say, one is so busy. I am, of course, for the great occasion, working on a rewrite of my major opus, called Kaffir In The Wind and dedicating it to Nelson, who has a great sense of humour. For a darkie.
America's leading crime families will be represented by President Spunky Bill and his pretend wife, President Hillary Trousers, hoping that they will hoover-up some money for the Clinton Foundation - ie themselves.
I did not have sexual relations with that woman,
well, aw shucks ,mebbe just the once.
Britain's prime minister is unable to attend due to being at home trying to stay out of jail but he sent President Mandela his best wishes and invited hin to apply for the post of Mayor of |London which would shortly be vacant. Can't be any worse than that coke-snorting albino git, added an aide to the PM.
You can't speak to me like that, I'm the prime minister.
We'll see about that, won't we.
18 comments:
Wot! No Kate'n'Gerry running the creche?
The whole bloody world has turned into a giant freakshow.
Isn't anything serious anymore?
I'm thinking of emigrating to Vanuatu.
NOTW whistleblower appears on Panorama at 8.30pm.
News of his dead body being found breaks at 10.30pm. (Unexplained, not suspicious, quoth the thick blue line. Well, he was a drunk drug-taking hack you know. And he lived in Watford.)
Welcome to life outside the Matrix, oh sleeping people of Britain.
It is breath-taking, is it not, Mr PTB? And just the day before a whole skip-load of shite was about to be challenged on oath. Oh, I know, I know. It's a coincidence. 'Course. Move along now.
Then again... Are they on oath at Commons Committees? Do we know? Or is lying to such some other offence?
Once we let them away with nine-eleven, you see, then we had to let them away with Shock and Awe, and then with the thievery of MPs and then we had to let them away with the banks stealing all our money, and an illegitimate coalition and now, as, for a moment, we draw back the veil we know, wearliy, that it will likely come to nought.
Don't mean to be greedy but only 1 death seems a bit small beer. A few hundred sackings, resignations and murders would make me buy papers - they just haven't thought this through.
They do not take oaths to tell the truth to mendacious MPs, so lying to a Parliamentary committee is merely bad form, not illegal.
Today will be a constant mantra of 'No comment' and 'I don't remember'. But that's all right, it's all a form of modern theatre innit? 'No real people will be hurt in the making of this programme.' Yeah, as if.
Surely Cok'Ed won't miss the photo op?
Sorry, the "Cok" is meant to be a "double entendre" of course.
"Welcome to life outside the Matrix, oh sleeping people of Britain."
That's right, Mr. Barnum. It is very scary. Nothing is as it seems. There is a conspiracy of lies. Our job is to behave ourselves,keep on spending and paying the tax. In all probability, given the evidence around us, we are constructs in a market research programme or a weather-projection study. During my six-and-a-bit decades nothing has changed in essence: black babies continue to die in Africa, however much charitable funding is raised; armies wage war in order to support a national interest in the goods & wealth of the "enemy"; police and politicians are corrupt, bribe-taking parasites; the economy is manipulated by the shadowy, powerful aliens from Planet Zog...where do you stop? Oh, yes, the frilly, inconsequential bits have improved - our bread and circuses are the electronic toys,sex-without-babies, celebrities, cookery programmes, reality TV, cheap booze'n'drugs, duvets and a whole industry of designer duvet covers and coordinated bedrooms - all to keep us quiet, content with our lot, conformist... and a scandal from time to time to keep our thoughts away from what is really happening outside the Matrix...
Hello, Serious Agatha, you have returned! Myself, I have never been gone, although often forgotten. I, too, have railed against the supremacy of the duvet. What happened? There we all were, sleeping neatly tucked in beneath our sheets, blankets and eiderdowns, and then, suddenly in the sixties, we had to throw them all away and substitute for them an enormous marshmallow thing of no substance but great heat, requiring covering in a giant fabric envelope designed to baffle and frustrate the most industrious of bed-makers, bestowing many a slipped disc as the proud householder struggled to fit the enormous marshmallow into the cover. I recall Christine somebody of Borsetshire was injured in precisely that fashion when sulky George, her husband from the wrong side of the tracks, or stables, did not enter whole-heartedly into the operation. How is one supposed to wash the thing? It certainly does not fit into my washing machine. And I simply cannot go to the laundrette. You just do not know what other laundrette users have been washing in there. No, I throw mine away and buy a new one rather than tackle the cleaning conundrum posed by that invention of the foreign devil:the duvet. If there is any power in the Samizdat of the blogosphere, let us unite in throwing off this oppression. Now, there is a cause for which assembling the barricades is justified.
Watching Rupe now, is it him or has someone wheeled in the dessicated mummy of Rameses III and working it like a ventriloquists dummy ? I get the feeling he`s going to pull an Ernest Saunders before too long.
And if that is what he looks like, what does his picture in the attic look like?
Planet Zog, eh? Worth looking back this, Agatha.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2005/jan/10/mondaymediasection.politicsandthemedia
Duvets? What about Celebrity Gardeners??
Thanks, Mr PTB, I did not know the form, nor that there were two different sets of jobsworths. Sadly, I had to go to work and missed all of the coppers and most of it after that too. However it does seem that the Murdochs carried the day and that even Brooks escaped with her life. What a useless load of wastrels the committee idiots were.
And not one of them had the skill to penetrate past the first wall of defence. Dumb buggers. You trip the blighters not by pompously asking "Yes or No?" "Sorry, it's not like that...." Ask nice open questions - lots of them in a row, get them talking, get them into expansive mode. The fuckers will hang themselves if given enough rope. Still, are we surprised? We are not.
I checked Mr. Anonymous' link re Planet Zog, and can only say it is either deeply prophetic or, yup, I was right, nothing changes.
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