The Sunday Ishmael 25/03/2021

 

Not a Good look for the Labour Party.

Do you suppose Angela Rayner has a tongue piercing? 

Wiki tells us that Angela Rayner (née Bowen; born 28 March 1980) is a British politician serving as Shadow First Secretary of State and Deputy Leader of the Opposition since 2020. A member of the Labour Party, she serves as its deputy leader, chair and national campaign coordinator. She has been Member of Parliament (MP) for Ashton-under-Lyne since 2015. She ideologically identifies as a socialist and as being part of Labour's soft left. Rayner was born in Stockport, where she attended the state secondary Avondale School. She left school aged 16 whilst pregnant and without any qualifications. She later trained in social care, eventually becoming a trade union representative within Unison, during which time she joined the Labour Party. Selected to contest Ashton-under-Lyne in 2014, Rayner was elected for the seat at the 2015 general election.

Admirable. A self-made woman. The very antithesis of white, privileged, public school, Oxbridge educated men with large pratfolios and an abiding interest in decorating. But also gobby (not the same as articulate), conversationally aggressive and downright irritating, as Andrew Marr will attest, having been talked over by Angela this morning.  

Now, although it looks like the sort of punishment that a mediaeval husband might inflict on an unloved wife who talks too much or eats too much, like a scold's bridle,

 

 

the tongue piercing is experiencing a resurgence in popularity. Although there is loose talk about self-empowerment, overcoming anxiety (what? really?) and personal adornment, many people claim that it enhances oral sex. Apparently, many varieties of tongue rings are available with attachments intended for sexual purposes. It is, overwhelmingly, a female piercing. To voluntarily fetch up at a tattoo and piercing parlour, allow your tongue to be clamped in a surgical pincer and have one or more holes drilled through your tongue, for fuck's sake - and we know how richly provided one's tongue is with pain-transmitting nerves - remember how it brings tears to your eyes when you inadvertently bite your tongue - AND pay for the privilege, strikes me as the action of someone who needs to be restrained under a section of the Mental Health Act. And certainly not be appointed to the posts of Shadow First Secretary of State and Deputy Leader of the Opposition.

 

 I suppose it could be seen as a selfless act - to give enhanced pleasure whilst tonguing one's partner's bits. Or an act of oppression - choose me, choose me, the pierced tongue declares - look at what this can do for you. Given the continuing state of Patriarchy  and predominantly male-controlled wealth, it is likely that the sexual bits in question will be of the male variety, and the pierced tongue will belong to a woman. Indeed, Wiki informs me that having a tongue piercing is unpopular amongst men. Presumably, heterosexual men.

 So, how does one detect that someone has had their tongue pierced, if they don't stick their tongue out at you, either in a spirit of insult or enticement? Simple. They don't talk proper. They can't talk proper. They slur. They sound a little bit pissed. If they wish to disguise the piercing, say at a job interview, or during an appearance on the Andrew Marr show, they keep the lips closed, like someone trying to hide bad teeth. Then there's the halitosis and the permanently coated tongue.

Really, not a good look for the Labour Party. Here's another one, courtesy of mr verge:

Dawn Petula Butler (born 3 November 1969) is a British Labour Party politician who has been the Member of Parliament (MP) for Brent Central since 2015. What happened to gravitas? How come this clown got elected? Don’t you just adore the beardie in the rentboy suit hovering at her side, desperate for her to shut up and get on with the ruddy presentation? She wasn’t giving ground easily though. So addicted to the limelight, she goes into her act every time she opens the fridge door and the light goes on. Whilst I was appalled by the antics of the Shadow Secretary of State for Women and Equalities, mr verge was horrified by the man/woman, Pips Bunce. mr ishmael used to have a similar visceral reaction. He told me it stemmed from an occasion when he was walking along a corridor, and up ahead was a very attractive woman, long waving hair, beautifully dressed, high heels, perfect, gleaming stockings with a seam up the back, and that hip sway that has all sorts of sexual promise. mr ishmael felt a certain positive response within him and speeded up to overtake this vision, with the intention of engaging the lovely in conversation of a coffee variety. He very rapidly realised it was a man, tricked out in all the usual signifiers of femininity, and was enraged at being so easily fooled by the shallow mockery of womanhood, but, significantly, that his heterosexual self had been assaulted by being attracted to a man. His response was to rip off the made-up and bewigged head of his erstwhile lust object and insert it into the, doubtless, capacious rectum of his fellow male. He didn't actually do that, of course, but a couple of false nails and false eyelashes may have come to grief. Simone de Beauvoir told us that “one is not born, but rather becomes a woman". That becoming is a concept or process rather more complex than having long hair and wearing make up.  Cultural appropriation?

Back when we were probation officers together, my old chum Fred worked with rapists, murderers, child molesters and wife-beaters. Well, we both did, but because I'm female, I also got allocated some female offenders, so got to see the impact of the beatings in terms of missing teeth, missing clumps of hair, black eyes, swollen jaws, cracked ribs, burnings, scaldings and broken limbs. One day, Fred told me that the frightening ubiquity, prevalence and inexorable escalation of male violence had made him heartily sickened and ashamed of his gender. He didn't want to transition - he just wanted to raise the game of most men (not all, hasten to add) so that they could begin to approximate to the status of human beings as opposed to fear-aggressive, testosterone crazed Beasts. 

Now that we have all these female role-models in positions of power, politicians and influencers (again, what the fuck sort of job is that? Answer - a lucrative one), I'm beginning to understand Fred's disillusionment, as I'm experiencing it in terms of my own gender. Acchh - awa' ladies, and pierce your tongues.

Which brings us to the scary Mrs. Fish. Our Andrew did his best, with facts and statistics, but Mrs Fish had no time for that. 

What about the requirement to police borders yet you assert that there will be an open border?

 

Wisht now, I'll sort it all out.

Each time Andrew lobbed in another fact-bomb, she just got redder in the face and shouted louder.

 Scotland's deficit will be 25% he edged in, desperate, but sure of his position. And all new applicants to the EU are formally required to work towards membership of the Euro and to reduce budget deficits to 3 per cent or less. How will you address that gap? 

 

That's just made-up figures.

 

Under an independent Scotland, average incomes will be reduced by between 3.5% and 8%.

Scotland is one of the wealthiest countries in the world, she yelled and you are quoting from a report that isn't even published yet.

She kept on yelling even after Marr informed her that they had run out of time and the titles were coming up. One must hope that she has done herself irreparable harm. Trouble is, shouty emotionalism is just the thing to appeal to the Scottish voter, especially when seeing wee Nicola under persistent questioning by a Cantabrigian toff, albeit one born in Glasgy.

The Desperate Importance of Interior Design

Apparently, Boris doesn't like the John Lewis look. Who would have thought he gave a shitcake for such things? Is this going to be Decorating Gate? Dominic Goings' revenge?

.......................................

 Here's a small essay from mr ishmael on those who form our opinions, the Broadcasting Corporation 

 

COME, YE MASTERS OF WAR. 7 March 2014

 

It's the Warathon to end all Warathons and the Paedophile Broadcasting Corporation is having a ball, preaching, eulogising and teaching us our history as only the PBC can. Christ, if only they could dig-up the grotesque Richard Dimbleby and have him read us pompous, ill-informed, arselicking homilies in his pompous, dreary, arselicking voice;  how so trending would that be.

 

 ESTABLISHMENT COCKSUCKER. 
RICHARD DIMBLEBY.

 Yes, Her Majesty is crowned and safe abed, the Bank of England is secure, the Fleet guards the oceans, the wogs are subdued and all is well in our sceptred isle, the rich man, bless his wealth,  in his Cotswold manor house, the poor man, shivering but doughty,  in his hovel.   All as it should be in the best of all possible worlds. Goodnight suckers.

 Yes, a dynasty in waiting but not until its members have  endured the time-honoured rigours of a private education, Oxbridge and  membership  of the noble Bullingdon Club.

 And, you may ask, you noble race of Britons, shall we exalt them above all other broadcasters and maintain them in a life of excess, infidelity and hypocrisy.  Yes, I respond, it is your sacred duty. Rule Britannia.

Christ Almighty, there is no tongue, no rant, no epic of rancid-bitter disillusionment can tell my loathing of people like the Dimblebys.  Heads on spikes, innards fed to dogs, limbs dispatched to the ends of the Earth.  It doesn't come near.

 It's what the PBC has always done, though, this, create a laboured symbiosis with Empire and itself,  the World Service cast as Freedom's beacon in a darkening globe: it was BBC coded broadcasts won the war, you know, nudge-nudge, no names no pack-drill. All the freedom movements in the world funnel themselves through the BBC.

  Funny, how when Russia Today fires the odd counterblast at GlobaCorp's tethered media fellatrice it is howled down as propagandist lies; it may well be editorially pro-Russian, it may well, and it does,  further engorge the bank balance of socialist manque, 

WHAT A PRAT.

TOSSER GEORGE.
A PERSONALITY CULT FOR THE UNWARY.
With Tearful Tommy Sheridan, Galloway and his vanity have destroyed the Left in this country, probably for ever. Shame on him, shame  on his voters, Tom, Dick and Ahmed.

 George Galloway, surely the most successful of parliamentary filthsters but RT also screens bold, dramatic, independently produced documentaries of enquiry, record and accusation which, mirroring the tremendous, non-satirical content of Private Eye, would never, ever be screened by our own national broadcaster, fuck no.

There is an at-tipping-point yin and yang see-sawing  between  the PBC and it's funders, the audience.  People want to believe the best of it, for - somehow - it still claims to represent both them and a sunny, virtuous pastureland of British values which, if it ever existed, was ploughed-up, poisoned and concreted-over by my gobby generation. People want to  believe the best of the PBC yet the daily-growing mountain of evidence is that it represents only vice, degeneracy and greed, is a rogues' gallery of squalid, filthy self-interest.

 

 A nest of thieves - you only have to look at them, 

don't you ?

PBC 4, for instance, started out so young and strong, only to surrender, currently showing repeats of Top of the Pops, surely the most dire of trashy showbiz rubbish, it was shit when it was first shown, it's ghastly presenters, one-by-one being thrown, now,  into Indecency's broom cupboard;  Savile, Travis, who's next? All of them, if I had my way, every last one of them, grinning, mutton-headed jackanapeses. Where has all the PBC4 money gone?  Look above, at Thompson and It-wasn't me-guv Fatboy Patten,  that's where the money's gone.  Repeats of Top of the fucking Pops, on the nation's culture, science and arts channel.  Yeah, why not? Its kind of ironic in a post-ironic, retro sort of way,  they gush to themselves. And besides, who gives a fuck about the viewers?  Since when do they matter?

This thieving, mangy old crow is still there, what did we used to call her, the BBC's grunting, hunchback transexual, still wetting herself in self adoration on the artsreview sofa, still freebieing her way around theatres and galleries and cinemas and concert halls;  still flogging her own, self-produced,  dodgy OU-style  programmes to the PBC, still squawking imperiously  on Newsnight, like she gave a fuck about anything, She's worse, Wark, than Melvin Barg, his Lordship at least ponced some of his fortune from  the private sector luvvies.

How to get on at the PBC:

If you do as you are told, they will look after you, don't rock the boat, lad, now you're on it. For Evil to prosper, good men need only think to their careers.

 ........................................................

Both anthologies of the work  of mr ishmael and his young Polish friend, Stanislav, Plumb Cheap for You:  Honest Not Invent and Vent Stack - are available to purchase for mere money at Lulu or Amazon. It is cheaper to buy from Lulu. Here's how to buy your own copies: 

Please register an account with them first. This will save you a couple of quid, as going straight into the link provided below seems to make paypal think it's ok to charge in dollars, and apply their own conversion rate, which will put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow our link; a pop-up box asks for age confirmation - simply set the date to (say) 1 January 1960, and proceed. (If you type the title, the anthology will not appear as a search result until the "show explicit content" box - found at the bottom left by scrolling down - has been checked.  You may also see the age verification box, as above, at this point.) 

 The full title is "Vent Stack love from stanislav" by ishmael smith, and the cover you'll see is red with white titles and a picture of Buster the Previous Blog Dog having a green thought in a green shade.  

Link for the paperback:

 https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/ishmael-smith/vent-stack/paperback/product-q8jzk2.html?page=1&pageSize=4

Or...

shorter link, which might make it easier if you wish to paste it into an email and tell a friend:

 https://tinyurl.com/naajavmu

 Honest, Not Invent is available in paperback or hardback.

Link for Hard Back : 

https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/ishmael-smith/honest-not-invent/hardcover/product-njr7vg.html

Link for Paper Back : 

https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/ishmael-smith/honest-not-invent/paperback/product-wq2kpg.html

At checkout, try WELCOME15 or TREAT15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage.  If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.  

With the 15% voucher, the book (including delivery to a UK address) should cost £10.89