Saturday, 26 November 2011


Mr Chris Who, family man,  they're all family men, the LibDems.
  Even Mr Oaten, the shit eater; Mr Kennedy, the dispso; Mr Straight Simon Hughes, the famous gay  homophobe, Mr Jeremy Thorpe,  the gay dog-shooter and Field Marshal Lord Paddy Pantsdown

"Yes,  these are tough times for all of us. But we are all in it together. We all took a cut of five per cent when we came into govament as ministers."  Question Time, BBC1, 24th November 2011

Trans: Voters are a just a mass of  stupid cunts for whom I have nothing but contempt.

We pay Chris Huhne's public sector salary of  £145, 492, per annum and his untaxed benefits will include first class travel and a car and driver  at his constant call, should he be sacked for misconduct we will pay him £17, 000 in compensation. Claiming that a five per cent cut in over a hundred and fifty grand plus expenses represents  a sharing of the hardship felt by the sick, the old, the cold and the lowpaid is contemptible, somebody should give him a punch in the gob. On a daily basis, Or eighteen months in jail.

Huhne, a millionaire, in 2006 claimed £15,000 in expenses.  This was for items which most of us have to pay for ourselves,  including groceries, yes, groceries,  travel to work, a £120 trouser press, so that he might look smart for work - shame they don't do a mouth press - fourteen pence for stationery and five and a half grand for painting work in his garden.

As well as being in an illegitimate mandateless govament of buffoons, chancers and redneck fuckwits, Huhne is also under pressure on two fronts;  his haggard wife,

Ms. Vicky Two-Places-At-Once Price,
a faster driver than Lewis Hamilton if Huhne is to be believed,

claims she accepted penalty points for speeding when he was, in fact, at the wheel, and she was at the LSE in front of hundreds of people,  and his  haggard bisexual totty,

I give great access. 

  lobbyist, Mr or Ms Carmina Burana Trimingham,

is deemed to have overstepped the bounds of what is acceptable in parliamentary lobbying.  The cops  and CPS are taking forever to investigate the former - probably trying to wrest some advantage in exchange for a No Further Action  and some toothless cover-up committee will be examining the latter. Nick the Gimp detests him. Normal people detest him, too.

David Dimbleby, though, lets him shit in our faces.


Verge said...

The bint on the phone (scarily looky-liking Magenta de Vile's scaggy Doppelgangbanger) cries out for a leading role in a caption contest.

"Oh, all right then. Since it's Sunday. Just as long as you promise not to have the asparagus starter."

the noblest prospect said...

Fucking 5 o'clock shadow...

call me ishmael said...

What fresh perversion is this, mr verge, that would be impaired by eating asparagus? Is this copraphagian haute cuisine, shit-eating for millionaires? Christ almighty. Do tell.
And is that five o'clock shadow on Mr Who or on the gargoyle in the shades, mr tnp?

I don't mean to be lookist about things but Mr Who certainly does have a glass eye for the ladies,two more mangy looking old dogs I have seldom seen. Woof-woof, woof-eoof.

Verge said...

Not fresh at all, I'm afraid. Harking back to the other day's blague de boue about our betters pissing in each other's arseholes and then sucking it back out - assumption being you'd have to be a bit fucked up in the taste department to go for something like that if your other half had been nibbling asparagus tips beforehand.

Reminds me of a great line of dialogue somewhere (I think) in one of James Crumley's novels where an admiring eye eulogises a fine piece of ass by affirming he'd eat a mile of her shit for the chance of a look at where it came from. (Variation on a theme, possibly more Crumley wisecracking; "so fine I'd like to suck on her ass til her head cave in." No doubt this would resonate with our Libdem amigos, for all kinds of reasons.)

call me ishmael said...

You never disappoint, me verge, an epicurean of filth and depravity, always makes me want to reach to the top shelf for 120 Days of Sodom, although de Sade is tame in comparison.

have you read Mad Man, Samuel R Delaney?

Verge said...

Mad Man is one of Delaney's New York Scat books, right? Don't know that one, but I can imagine it only too well, after getting through Hogg. Anyone who doesn't know this and has an interest in transgressive literature would do well to check it out. Not so much a low-tide mark as a skid-mark in the annals of obscenity, it's a tough read, but serious stuff. I think what he did was work through - to a ghastly logical conclusion - the implications of Pornworld; what do the golems of the anima mundi's strokebook storylines get up to when we're not looking? It ain't pretty, as you might expect.

call me ishmael said...

Yes, tanks, that's the one, fiercely and elegantly written, piss rather than poo, I couldn't finish it, even though I knew I shouldn't, I felt soiled, guilty reading it, not because I thought it would corrupt and deprave me - a possibility I gratefully understand from reading Last Exit To Brooklyn, a work I would, and do, certainly keep from my wife and servants - but because I felt I was participating in, contributing to his own despair. Heavy shit, or whatever.

the noblest prospect said...

I was sure the old whore had her Remington Fuzz-Away out.

Was introduced to Delaney some years ago by an ex-merchantman mate of mine. Too much time on his hands up and down the Molucca-Java straits.