Wednesday, 27 July 2011


Hello, Norway und Heil Hitler. Seckatry Kissinger here,

butcher of Laos und Cambodia und Vietnam 

und Father Confessor to asshole president, TrickyDicky Nixon und all-around sex god.

I just vant to say sank you all vunce again for giving me ze Nobel Peace Prize und a million dollars of cash.  

Giving zat award to a person like me goes to show zat ze committee truly has its hand on the pulse of global whatchamacallit und it also spelled the end of satire in Amerka because all ze funny men said zat zis was so shit zat it was beyond satire, zat zey couldn't make up shit like this. Und I vood say to ze Norwegian peoples zat a good way to purge zis unhappiness is to take a few ragheads up in ze helicopter and throw zem to fuck out.  It wuz srategy like zis vot helped me secure my historic victory in SouthEast Asia.  Zat vill be twenty sousand dollars, bitte. Oh, und don't forget zat I brought peace in the Middle East,too, und so can I have anudder prize?

The Mayor of London, seeking to milk the Norway business for all it's worth, has offered the entire Metropolitan Police Service to Oslo, at a knockdown price.

They're jolly good chaps, what, blustered the albino charlatan, and if the Norwegians want stuff covered-up, want evidence ignored and if they want an investigative team which will spend it's time on freebie piss-ups with international criminals then there is no better body of professional, dedicated law enforcement officers anywhere in the world. Any faults they may have are of course due to my good friend the unelected prime minister and not to me; you know me, good old Boris, never one to take things too seriously, especially when they're codswallop. Not, of course that an island full of dead sardineheads is codswallop, or even sardineswallop,  but as we say in showbusiness, there's no such thing as bad publicity and anything which diverts attention from my accomplishments in policing has to be simply spiffing,,So come on you Olympics-hungry Londoners, let's all stand together with the Oslovians in forgetting all about Sir Paul Gob and that other cove, wotsisname; see, I've forgotten him already. And so should you. And so, if he knows what's good for him, should  Assistant Commissioner Yates.

My fellow Nordic motherfuckers. I join with you tonight, in sorrow, and Michelle and I, and our two robokids, sit here in the White House, eating sardines on toast, out of a sense of solidarity, yes and kinship. It's not widely known but my great grandfather, Sven Obamasensen, sailed those icy Northern waters all the way across the Atlantic and founded Amerka, the greatest and most indebted nation on Earth. So, your loss is my loss and if you want some of Amerka's peace-loving, democracy-loving, crewcut, psychobastard, mommasboy, gangraping troubleshooters to come over there, wherever the fuck it is, and kick some ass then all you need to do is ask and we'll come and set up some secret bases and secret prisons and surveillance systems and make you pay for them.  Just like we do with our British subjects, I mean friends. No, I don't, I mean subjects. Those Brits, they can be subjects of Europe and Amerka, why the fuck not?

And let me thank you, once again, motherfuckers, for my Nobel Peace Prize, which you sensitive, caring Norwegians so kindly gave me for stopping the wars and shutting down Camp Freedom, or Camp Guantanamo, as it has been known.  I will be doing these things, of course, just not now, because   in the meantime we have some other wars to start, regimes to change and suspects to torture.  Never forget that the price of Freedom and Peace is a police state and permanent,  total warfare. Thank you and God bless Amerka.


Aye, that's right, so it is. And as First Minister of Northern Ireland I know that I speak for  my fellow Mick, Father Blair and my good friend Mr Gerry Nonce, when I say that we deplore acts of violence against civilians, anywhere and anytime;  they are totally unjustified, so they are.  Unless it's us who's doing them, But in this case it wasn't, so it wasn't, and so I say to the people of Norway:  If this slaughter leads to the release from prison of hundreds of murdering scum,   like me,  then it's a price worth paying in what we call conflict resolution terms, so we do.  And by the way, we took a dim view, me and Gerry, so we did, of youse pofaced Presbyterians giving the Nobel Peace Prize to that Davy Trimble and not us, so we did. And youse better remember that I haven't put my Black and Decker beyond reach, so I haven't.  Next time youse're giving out a Peace Prize, bear that in mind.


Agatha said...

I've been reading Scandinavian fiction lately - sooooo fashionable, and I can say that they don't seem to eat sardines. They eat dreadful other stuff - not as bad as the French, of course, who eat the tiny little legs of amphibians, and snails and testicles; but nothing we'd want to eat in the nation of rosbifs. Herrings and ryebread in the form of an open sandwich to be dipped in coffee(Girl with the Dragon Tattoo)- how do you do that? Doesn't the herring fall in the coffee? Or handfuls of shrimps (The Preacher - Lackberg)actually scooped up in the hand, and aquavit, which doesn't sound nearly as good as Chardonnay. Wallender never eats sardines.So, Mr. Ish, my researches inform me that you can't call then sardine heads. They are HerringHeads.

call me ishmael said...

HerringHeads they are, then. Wollander,I believe, survives his life of unrequited love on a diet of pizza and fags, bless, like a proper detective.

lilith said...

Loving Wallander. I particularly appreciate that the "trainees" are not only beautiful, but are also crack shots and are always involved in the trickier parts of apprehending the bad guys. They never seem to get traumatised however often they are pistol whipped or kidnapped.

Calfy moved to Sweden last week. I hear they have a special Herring dish that, once opened in the house, fragrances your dwelling forever.

call me ishmael said...

I like the way he keeps changing his appearance and how one day he can speak perfect English and other days he can only say "shopping" and "weekend" and everything else is in that vomiting language they use over there.

lilith said...

Yes, sometimes he looks like an overrated British luvvie I am told. He is currently displaying wonderful communication skills with everyone except the Prosecutor, whose green light he is steadfastly missing. Swedish is mostly just English in a funny accent.

mongoose said...

Is it the Icelanders who eat rotten shark? Perhaps it is all they can now afford?