Thursday, 1 May 2014


 Ken Livingstone  could not be contacted today, following the arrest of his fellow freedom fighter, Mr Gerry Adams, in connection with the brutal murder of a young mother.  

Thoughtful murderer puffs thoughtfully on his pipe.

Adams, who said that  he went vawlntairily to the polis has dismissed the enquiries into his life's work beasting  as being unfounded and m'lishyus, so th'are.

Some of Jean McConville's childen, shortly after her kidnapping by some of Adams's so-called hard men.  The mark of a hard man, I suppose, is his willingness to torture to death a defenceless woman.  For the cause, you understand.

This was always the worst of the Freedom through Kneecappings movement,  this Jean McConville atrocity - to drag a widowed mother of ten from her family, torture, kill and hide her body,  this was Nazi stuff.

That Brenda von Windsor would uncomplainingly sit down with Marty Kneecaps is a mark of how truly corrupt are she and her  vile, vile family  of louts, spongers, benefits cheats and criminals. 

One is only in it for the money.

 Oh, but she has no choice, people will bleat, she is only a constitutional monarch, got no real power.  Rotten old witch is concerned only with her family's endless exploitation of the rest of us.  Her and McGuinness, eh, a crooked conclave. 

The wretched old crow might've said, what, shake hands with this git, who has killed so many of one's soldiers and one's subjects?  One should fucking co-co. This fucker killed one's fucking uncle, didn't he, Louis Wotsisname?  But she wouldn't, of course, wouldn't upset Exploitation's apple cart.

Someone said here recently, mr yardarm, I think,  that Adams and McGuinness are probably owned body and soul by British Intelligence;  if so, someone has dropped the baton, here, upsetting Gerry like this, maybe, when he's freed for lack of evidence, he'll have to torture and maim a few more of his countrymen and women, just to let the heir to Blair know who's boss.

Altogether now, after three, My name is De-e-eath........


the three terrorists said...

"none shall sleep"

Mike said...

Mr Kneecaps gave us a clue then he said "the dark side of the police were responsible" - ie some copper who has finally had enough of their protected status. Nothing will come of it; expect retirements in the NI police force.

jgm2 said...

Mr I , as I, will recall 30 or 40 years ago reading through the Obits in the Birmingham Evening Mail when it was not at all unusual to come across 'Mr Patrick Murphy, beloved wife of Bridie, father to A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L and Liam.'

I think the record we counted chez jgm2 was 16 (sixteen). 'P' for 'Patrick'. The 16th letter of the alphabet.

While Gerry Adams and his consiglieri, McGuiness, are almost certainly implicated in any number of murders we do have to remember that the price of 'peace' has been to eat shit and buy these fuckers off. Which is essentially where we've been for the past 15 years.

Without seeking to excuse McGuinness or Adams or their ilk for their past history you do have to ask yourself 'Why now?'.

It's not as if it was a big fucking secret who these guys were.

callmeishmael said...

Why now? Well maybe the Downey Letter of Comfort just finally annoyed the bollocks off some fuming Orange coppers. It has certainly got the reptiles in MediaMinster spitting. I watched a few hours of the NI Select Committe, last night and those letters really, really get up peoples noses and as I watched the Attorney General's permanent senior lawyer, who approved and fixed them all - one Kevin McGinty, would you believe - as I watched him squirming and finessing, I could see why.

As I said, I wouldn't expect much to come from it, either and even Tory tellyspiv, Portillo, agrees. Can't have Peace AND Justice, he slobbered, sagely. Which, of course, means you can't have either. As Cardinal Blair would tell you.

dobby said...

The matter arises now because some preening arseholes in America who consider themselves O'Irish fucked up the job by recording "for posterity" the stories of the guilty - aka the noble sagas of the struggles of the oppressed. There was one of the monsters on the radio yesterday, O'Donnelly (?), spitting his poison out about how he "never would have if". It's too late now, laddie, and if there is any justice there'll be a knee-capping in it for you too - strapped to a gurney first maybe, American style.

Adams will be out for the weekend, if he is not already.

yardarm said...

Maybe if they cant get him for murder then Operation Yewtree could have a go, runs in the bastards family, doesn`t it ?

dobby said...

There would be justice of a kind in that, mr yardarm. He could share a cell with Clifford and Briscoe - a poster of Savile on the wall looking down on their so richly-deserved disasters.

callmeishmael said...

It was actually some time ago, mr dobby, that we learned about the Boston Tapes, I watched a documentary, I dunno, a year or two back, presumably the cops knew about it before then. I do think the freeing of Downey under abuse of process rules has stirred the pot a bit - the saintly former RUC chief constable , Ronnie Flanagan, looking, in the commons, like a complete fucking idiot will have enraged many in the PSNI. Also revealed in that Committee, was the naked venom of, among others, Ian Paisley junior, MP, his contempt for the Peace Proh-cess and for whom he called the Shinners.

Last time I was in Belfast, about five years ago, I was struck by the menace in the air, sure there were lots of new buildings but clustered around them were groups of evil looking horrible fucking bastards just looking for someone to bully, Hard Men they would have called themselves, patriots or loyalists, cunts, all of them.

mongoose said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
jgm2 said...

Cunts. Aye. As a Celtic fan by birth albeit in Birmingham I was fucking well horrified a few years ago when the good ol' IRA (or their successors in indiscriminate murder) killed a couple of 18 year olds collecting a pizza at an army barracks in NI.

My parents left Ireland for any number of reasons but one of them was because - it's shit.

Bearing in mind the Good Friday Agreement (GFA) allows all inmates of Northern Ireland a guaranteed green card to fuck off to America. That's regardless of Prod or Catholic. Anybody with any ambition can fuck off to the Uk merely by being born in NI. In addition they can, at any point, fuck off to the relative anonymity of the UK. Or the whole of Europe for that matter.

Outside of Fucking Scotland nobody in the UK asks you if you're Protestant or Catholic. Nobody gives a shit. Yet still they choose to sit there in splendid fucking idiocy hating each other as a lifestyle choice.

And so it was on the occasion o0f the pizza killing. BBC showed up with a camera and interviewed some semi coherent fuckwit as to his opinion on the whole episode.

Turns out that, according to him, the 'British occupation' entirely merited killing a chap ordering a pizza. The barely coherent arsehole must have been about 12 months old when the GFA was signed. Yet still his hatred had been kept 'pure' no doubt by an equally fuckwitted, unemployable fucking Mick parent.

Yet why should anybody be surprised. Fucking Scotland signed up to a United Kingdom 300 years ago and yet, by a carefully nurtured system of father-to-son hatred they've managed to bottle up 800 years of resentment to the point where they're only four months away from 'independence'.

Cunts all.

call me ishmael said...

I keep trying to tell people, mr jgm2, that nobody, absolutely nobody in the nearly thirty nations which must unanimously approve Scotland's entry to the EU will or has ever given a flying fuck about Culloden, has never heard of it, that they will not start jigging and reeling at the prospect of Auld Lang Syne becoming the new Euro anthem and that enough of them - ie one - will simply veto Scotland's entry. Much as I would like to be rid of Mediaminster entirely, the idea of these equally rotten and stupider arseholes in Holyrood running my life makes my blood run cold. 'Slooking, in my judgement, like a slender Yes vote, the noo, d'ye ken.

A little, tiny bit of research recenty revealed that my family was seventeenth-century Ayrshire, sen to colonise Down and Antrim and presumably persecute your Taig ancestors; I hope you don't hold it against me.

There is another angle, which I heard mooted by a youngish NI commentator which is that in the Republic many young Sinn Fein voters have until now had little or no knowledge of Uncle Gerry's bloody past. They do now.

jgm2 said...

It is one of life's ironies that my dad, who left Ireland in 1936, sent back letters railing against the anti-British indoctrination he'd received when all he'd found was welcome and kindness, a job and a roof over his head. Something the Republic couldn't offer him 20 years after their fucking 'revolution'.

He'd tell us he was fucking well 'hired out' ie practically sold as a slave in Ireland, by his own family, just so they didn't have to feed him. Following a plough by day and sleeping in a barn on a bed of ferns. And he wasn't romanticising it.

And all this less than 80 years ago.

Just as with Zimbabwe, apart from a few killers who became the new Irish political class, the rest of them lived like dogs since independence. Apart from a brief period of utter financial idiocy in the late 1990s, early 2000s when they actually believed, the fucking idiots, that they'd got 'clever' overnight.

There can be no doubt that, on balance, Ireland would have been better off as part of the UK for the past 100 years but just as with Fucking Scotland, there is no end of shit-stirrers and politicians on the make who don't give a fuck as long as they're the ones riding around in black BMWs.

Fucking Scotland's problem is that they have oil so, like any lazy arab country they'll all stick their hands out and wait for their handouts. Let the Poles and Latvians do the work. I'm too good for that shit. I'm Scottish, create me an office job. Ideally 'working' for the government.

There'll be an arms race to offer more and more free stuff. And then the oil will run out and they'll be standing there with their hands out like a bunch of fucking Ethiopians. A giant cargo-cult nation.

It'll take a decade or two to get to that stage. But it's inevitable.

Save yourself.

call me ishmael said...

Good advice, I know, mr jgm2; I am hoping to - if possible- move to SW France, there are, though, a few hurdes in the way.

Your father's is a godd tale. I remember the big, sad, lonely, culchie, bog-trotting Paddies waiting, early in the morning, by the Mermaid 'pub on the Stratford Road, hoping for a day's work, getting picked up by the lorry of a compatriot builder who had made it to emigre paradise in Hall Green by exploiting his fellow Paddies. The intinerant canal-digging Navvies of our time, just with even less in the way of rights and protections than their eighteenth and nineteenth century forebears.

My old man used to sing, in recognition of Paddy's gullible slave state, those lines from The Mountains of Mourne. Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight, for the people are working by day and by night; they don't plant potatoes nor barley, nor beets, but there's gangs of them digging, for gold in the streets. At least, when I asked them that's what I was told, so I just took a hand at this diggin' for gold, but for all that I found, sure I might as well be, where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.

Paddy's lot, digging for gold in the streets but even so, better that what he had left behind, in the catholic bogs.

I though about the anti-British indoctrination while watching the Adams so-called press conference last night, clapping and cheering a pair of noncing, beasting Nazi monsters, they were, the crowd; friends of anti-Brit Fenians on the US East Coast, now chastened a little by Mr bin Laden; friends of Mr Gadaffi, friends before that of Mr Hitler and before that of Mr CrippleKaiser Wilhelm 11. Perhaps now, at last, Messrs Sinn Fein, torturers, bombers and arsonists by Royal Appointment will be nice to others. But I doubt it.

jgm2 said...

My dad used to get picked up on the Bristol Road. Unless he happened to be the van driver which used to happen occasionally.
Me and my brothers spent our weekends and holidays labouring on our dad and rampaging around building sites, returning empty lemonade bottles for 3p apiece and spending the money on Airfix models.

My middle brother was in casualty twice for standing on a nail in an upturned piece of shuttering. The fucking eejit.

Wandering around London now with 'No boots, no hardhat, no job' signs all over the place is another fucking world. If they added 'No English' the place would be shut down.

We were labouring at 7. Carrying bricks. Carrying mortar. Operating the mixer. My younger brother was operating a fucking JCB at 7.

No. Seriously. A big fuck-off JCB. On a fucking building site. Because he could. He even got a proper fucking pay-packet for doing it. Not from my dad either but from the boss of the company. You want to talk about cheap European Labour undercutting wages? I think he got £1 for the day. And he was born here.

This is only 40 years ago. In mainland UK.

The pakis have/had their kids working in the corner stores and we were labouring on building sites and driving around loose or sitting on a plank perched on the wheel arches of a Ford Transit.

Which is why I have little time for the unemployed of the great Northern Labour bloc votes. My dad moved, what, 100 miles across the Irish sea for a better life. Hundreds of thousands walk across the Sahara and strap themselves to an inner tube for a better life and yet there are literally millions of indigenous cunts who sit on their fucking arses all fucking day expecting a better life to come to them.

And because they will not do the job and because Ireland could no longer supply a sufficient number of cheap grunts to keep the natives in the manner to which they have become accustomed the door was thrown open to every Tom, Iqbal and Ahmed to make up the numbers.

And while Paddy and Paddy's kids were, after a generation assimilated and invisible. Iqbal and his tribe are still wandering around in dishdashes, throwing their rubbish in the street and, like the indolent natives, expecting free fucking handouts.

I suppose in one respect they've 'integrated'.

call me ishmael said...

Yes, my first paypacket job was painting the ironwork at the Tessal Spot garage on the Bristol Road, up ladders which would nowadays - and rightly - cause an Elfansafety war, I was a boy seaman in the merchant navy just before the stike of, I think, '67 and those conditions, too, were such that no tongue can tell.

I take your point about indolence and idleness and entitlementistas but these traits are all across the nation, from the Crown, through the legislature, the usury industry, the church, the national broadcaster - these fuckers are as bad as any number of biog fat gipsy wedding congregations.

We have discussed this before and I still think that focusing on both the sturdy beggar and the impotent poor is looking down the wrong end of Ruin's telescope. Bootstrapping is all very well but not everybody can do it andf most of those at the trough haven't had to. I also think that our attendance at a grammar school - for good or ill, and I am never sure which it is - only happened as a result of forces - mainly from what used to be called the Left - which many now decry, in terms of pulling up the ladderism.

Good to see you on good form, anyway, always a pleasure. Vivat!