Sunday, 4 January 2015


This is the news that Buckingham Palace has issued a statement categorically denying that the Pope is or ever was a catholic,  unequivocally rejecting the idea that bears defecate in the woods and rejecting comprehensively the outrageous and unfounded  allegation that the Earth is round.

 These suggestions, said Queen Brenda's spindoctor pursuivant,  Sir Reginald Llewellyn-Dingleberry, are utterly outrageous, entirely without foundation and  have long been rejected by right-thinking people as being little more than money-making schemes dreamed-up by common little tarts who are rarely featured in Tatler magazine.

We would not normally comment upon them, especially the one which says that his Highness, Prince RandyAndy was once  fucking a vulnerable teenager gifted to him by a distinguished and deliciously wealthy Yank nonce.  Her Majesty would like it to be known, however,  that her children are quite royally perfect and would categorically never do anything wrong. And nor would her grandchildren

HRH Prince Flasher

HRH Prince Nazi.

Which is why heir to the throne, 
Price Brian,

 is desperatley trying to stifle the PBC documentary about his own spindoctor, 

Mr Mark Bendover-FitzTightly, formerly of Mr Murdoch's News of the Screws, who was hired, at public expernse, to persuade said post morte de diana public that instead of Brian being a nasty, depraved, rude,  idle, thieving, tax-evading, repugnant bully, thief, liar and spouse-abuser he and his horse-faced, Nazi slapperbaggagetrollop, Duchess Camilla 

Poor people. Poor people, Charles.
 Fucking do something. 
Have them shot.

are actually lovable, generous, down-to-Earth, yet serious and sincere monarchs-in-waiting and not the vile, parasitic filth whom  all perceived them to be;  it has, of course, worked. 
Until now.

Lawyers funded by you and I are presently trying to block the broadcasting of the programme by the PBC, just as other lawyers funded by you and I are trying to prevent the Guardian publishing letters which Brian has written to ministers attempting to influence policy, probably, knowing him, over matters relating to his business interests.  I mean ours, Highgrove and Cornwall and such.

My first day at grammar school, in the 'sixties, is memorable not for its welcome from staff and older boys, for there was nonesuch but for a long rebuke, alternately hissing and thundering, during Assembly, from the Headmaster, a fatuous prick called Cholmondeley.  Cholmondeley was an over-dressed, over confident caning freak who promoted fellow travellers. Dennis Marsden, my French teacher, was a loathsome, over-dressed, over-cologned, overweight bullyboy;  Jack Watson, (Oxon,) physics and maths, was a skeletal, SS-alike Christian sadist who crafted cats-of-several-tails from Bunsenburner tubing and who would, today, be arrested on sight and  spend his sentence falling down stairs and having shaving accidents;  Shifty Watson took rugger and physics and was a groper of arses and scrota, all good clean dirty fun;  Dave Buttress was my form teacher, an uptight hysteric who, in an instant would lose it and fling a blackboard ruler at a twelve-year old, wonder he didn't blind anyone;  he needed profound and lasting psychiatric care, Dave;    they were fucking awful people, most of them, and even the decent ones, then as now, conspired by their silence in the humiliation and brutalising of pupils. Dave Hill taught me English and together  with Miss Boulter and Mr Coe at primary school, inspired me for life, I hear their voices, the latter two,  every time I sit down here - you may not start a sentence with and or but or so, you may not follow and with a comma and so on; people who lived and learned and taught in a time, before Blair,  when hopefully was still an adverb.  Dave Hill, though, turned a blind eye to much which should have enraged him, as guilty as the perpetrators themselves.

Maybe it was their service and suffering in the war but my primary school teachers - one of them was a VC, another wounded in North Africa, another widowed - had all been, without exception, kindly, nurturing and inspiring;  these guys, my grammar school teachers, were, by comparison,  filth.

Chumley, anyway, during our first-ever Assembly, hissed and fumed at us about how, collectively, we had driven a poor music teacher,  that previous Summer, to throw himself in the Stratford-Upon-Avon canal and there drown. 

 I had never even met the deceased, never been taught by him, wasn't even at that school when it happened but no matter, we were all to blame, we children, hissed Chumley  from the stage, gowned, mortar-boarded and double-breasted up to fuck, the horrible fucking bastard; we had all made dreadful, unfounded  allegations against poor, young Mr Wotsisname, unfounded, without a shred of evidence and had ruined a promising career with our nastiness.  We had all just jolly well mind our step and not make any such categorically unfounded allegations against any other members of staff or Chumley would come down on us like a ton of bricks. Now, let us pray.  Heavenly Father, thou seeest all and knoweth all.........

All dead, now, all these noncing fucking brutes.  And the worst of it is that those groomed by them, academically and carnally,  would not hear a word said against them. Never did me any harm, mr ishmael, you musta been a softy or a poof.

I was reminded of Spanker Chumley when I heard the Palace Reptile House defending Brenda's boy, Andy, reminded of that deep, brown voice, that  dodgy over-confidence, that insistence that we and not you know best, that despite all the evidence of your own senses you are wrong;  how could this person possibly have behaved like that? He is better than you.   Just believe as I tell you to believe.  If you know what's good for you.

The facts are that Andy did hang-out for years with a man clearly besotted by underage flesh, 
that Andy was photographed with his hands upon a clearly vulnerable teenager,  
that his former wife, the wretched Fergie,
begged fifteen grand from the nonce, 

 that even after the nonce had been released from jail,  Andy  continued to hang-out with him in his various knocking shops. 

I have mentioned previously that I have always left the room - and the woman - rather than stay and watch a Woody Allen film; the dimunitive freak, adored by luvvie showbiz, as is Roman Polanski,  has always had the same effect upon me as did Jimmy Savile and just the body language in this photograph - with his step-child bride and Andy's best friend,  Epstein the nonce - ought to see Allen arrested, Epstein arrested and all his mates, especially the Queen's son,  hauled in for enhanced interrogation. 

What are they doing with that lead?
Why are they heating that lead up?

Hey, that funnel, why are they putting that funnel in that guy's arse?
No.  Wait a minute.
They're not putting that hot lead in that funnel in the guy's arse, are they?
Oh, shit.
Whaddayawanna know? 
Yawannaknow secrets?
 I'll tellya secrets.
Shit, I'll fucking make-up secrets.
Just don't pour that hot lead up my arse.

Befriending an industrial-scale, billionaire beast is one thing, staying in his homes, which, festooned with pictures of naked teenagers,  are clearly shrines to beasting and remaining loyal to him after his conduct had been revealed are entirely different and it really falls to Andrew and not to publicly-funded courtier-ponces to explain his conduct, if he can. 
This is Andrew Battenberg and his beasting chums,
hunting our animals,
on our land. 
Categorically and unequivocally doing nothing wrong.

 I never learned any more about the music teacher, save that he was being investigated by the police and killed himself;  Chumley, therefore, logician, linguist, classicist and ponce, was wrong to claim the allegations were unfounded
when what they were - as with those against Sir Jimmy Savile, seen here with a fan -  was unproven.  Chastising the victims, as did Chumley, is what they do, these people, may their arses fall out and they trip over their intestines.

And that is as much as can be said about  Brenda's favourite son, the allegations against him are unproven. It remains to be seen whether or not they are unfounded.

How old are you, then? 
Old enough to give old Dukey a massage, 
I should think. 

Hard-working families, eh?
Doing their bit  for the country.
He's off doing a bit of ski-ing at the moment, Andy, 

What is not unproven, however, is that this wretched, pampered oaf, Airmiles Andy,  misused his sinecure as trade ambassador to fly around the world in order to play golf with his family's friend's

Very well, then, 
one can never have too many stolen jewels in one's collection,
 can one?
Brenda Battenberg, thieving old fucking crow. 

- head-chopping, wimmen-stoning, coke-snorting Arab child molesters.
Never quite show us proper respect, our subjects.
Then chop their fucking heads off, Majesty.
If only, brother prince, if only.

That whilst in their company he complained that the British press, notably the Guardian, was not - unlike he, presumably - acting in the nation's interest and generally maligned those who pay taxes to keep the idle fucking slag in luxury, him and his gang of benefits  cheats and scroungers. 

 aka Tatler people.

2015, if people hold their nerve, will be the Year of the Beast;  the cops are at last investigating the doings in Dolphin Close and elsewhere, alarm bells are ringing in the royal palaces and in the houses of parliament and in masonic lodges up and down the land   and no matter how much the ghastly old dame, Butler-Schloss,  bitches about it, victim dog will have his day, be sure of it;  the times are askew, if  a  drunken chancer like Sid Farage can come within an inch of parliament,  then a regiment of angry nonce victims will out their tormentors. 

A peer in a spiv suit.

The entire weight -  political, judicial, ecclesiastical  and financial - of Power will attempt to crush this insurrection; we are theirs, after all, are we not, to fuck as they please, by  some secretive, Masonic, corporate droit de seigneur and the slithering,  hissing Tebbits and the bristling Brittans, the bent cops, the noncing peers, the beasting judges, they will all  move Heaven and Earth to silence Truth and Decency.  They always have and they always will.  And right at the top of the beastpile, keeping it going nicely, pulling the deadly strings, is this gang, 

with its nods and winks, knowing whispers,  secret handshakes and categorical denials.

Hanging, it's too good for them.



Alphons said...

But isn't this what Power is all about?

yardarm said...

Happy New Year Mr Ishmael, hope you are well in your Orcadian fastness and glad to see you greeting `14 firing broadsides.

They truly are fucking terrible, the Battenbergs, the biggest bunch of bums out, scroungers, slags; Harry Hewitt, Margaret the Bike, Duke of Kent senior, a tranny wasn`t he ? Edward VIII a walking compendium of fuck ups.

Even if Andrew isn`t a nonce didn't he have the fucking wit not to associate with this dosh juggling kid fiddler Epstein ? Evidently fucking not. No one in the Battenbergs is going to give Stephen Hawking a run for his money but even so the lardy parasite has displayed the intelligence of a rabbit dropping. Unless of course the fat fuck is a nonce.

I`d like to think the noncing scandals will bring the whole fucking lot right down. Theresa May is risking future leadership of the TopHatters by fucking up this enquiry, Hague, inheritor of Brittan`s old seat is legging it early: they are riven with terror. But then I am on record here as saying the Great Tits Up of `08, MPs exxie fiddling and Lockerbie revelations after Thatcher reported to Satan in `13 would do the same thing.

Teachers have changed a lot. The new Mrs Yardarm teaches 7 yr olds and some of their handwriting is better than mine. TV gardener Carol Klein in a previous incarnation attempted to teach me art, or rather got me to paint a still life of some wine bottles, hinting at what sort of artist I would become. Funny, I`m a good gardener although you wouldn't hire me to paint a shit house door.

call me ishmael said...

Yes, mr alphons, that is what it is all about, power; we have, however, managed to wrest some of it from -successively - slavery, feudalism, rotten borough parliamentarians and now this shower of filth, too late to stop now.

call me ishmael said...

Thank you and It may be a case, mr yardarm, of there being an eventual last straw, which not even MSM can dislodge and deflect; it may be that the Kippermass, despite its stupidity may cause things to unravel or there could be a war, a terrorist emergency, a GNU or another tits-up ar any other combination of incomoetence and catastrophe. Whichever, your assessment of the FIrm is more widely shared than skymadeupnewsandfilth would dare admit and should it fall they all fall.

mongoose said...

It is not often that we have had to have one of the Gang actually denying stuff in the papers though, is it? That must mean that there is much nastiness to be discovered yet. A line in the sand is being prepared beyond which we may not enquire. And although the politicians at the sharp end are currently only the dead ones, it seems likely to me that we will see some action on that too, Mr I.

Woody Allen? OK, the Jewish sardonic thing. I get that already. But year after feeble year of it? And surely to Somebody, marrying your daughter - be it step-, adopted, not-quite-adopted- Well, it must be against just about every rule in every book everywhere. How did he get away with that? Horrible freak show is America.

Anonymous said...

Well said, and winter's best to you & yours.

Elizabeth Windsor is an anagram of "Lizard's white bone", which sounds like an out-take from the witches' recipe in Macbeth.

btw, the phrase "under-age minors" in the Palace Denial was either stupid as shit or cynical as hell...


Mike said...

What makes the Andy thing interesting is thats its before a Yank court - normally I despise the yanks, but on this occaision I'm hoping their lack of deference and yearning for publicity/political gain/money will do the trick.

So long as they don't get at the bint, one way or another, we may see something worth watching on American TeeVee for once.

call me ishmael said...

Not only denying, mr mongoose, but the accused interrupting his ski-ing holiday to return home and commence getting arsey, lovely, is what it is. Disappointing, though, not to have heard from his close friend, comedy king, BIlly Connolly. Maybe Big Gob is leaf-taking from Sir Bob Geldof's Book of Andrew Mitchell Worship and shutting the fuck up; first time for. everything, isn't there? They used to dine together, the Yorks and the Billies, in that hideous ranchhouse which we bought Andy and the Slapper as a wedding present. Peerless social climber, Connolly, used to say of his fawning on royal filth, that he accepted friendship wherever he found it, only not among welders, obviously, fuck, no. Wonder if he and Pammy were ever Epstein houseguests.

The radical priest, Berrigan, used to opine that America Is Hard To Find; I hope it's not alive under Woody Allen's foreskin. Oh, no, my mistake,he doesn't have one, does he, it's a hygiene thing.

call me ishmael said...

She has a good lawyer, mr mike, Cassell is his name and he seems keen to nail the then Florida State prosecutors and the gabshite lawyer-negotiator-mediatart and Epsteinist, Alan Dershowitz. It is worth googling the US press coverage. His Princeness is just an added bonus, a simple twist of fate, which may assist us all; at worst it will have twitched the sphincters of Brenda and her gang, maybe propelled them more swiftly gravewards.

call me ishmael said...

That fucker, Macbeth, he gets everywhere, mr verge. I often drive past Birnam Wood, stop in it, occasionally; quite picturesque, it is, most unslaughterly. Happy New Year.

call me ishmael said...

The Hot Lead Enema, by the way, was a Lenny Bruce rap on the absurdity of the idea that a True Patriot would resist any torture; Would You Sell-Out-Your-Country? it was called, God bless him.

Doug Shoulders said...

You have the rub right there Mr Ish:- that despite all the evidence of your own senses you are wrong. If he looks like a wrong-un and acts like a wrong-un the chances are….
I don’t have an all seeing eye or all-knowing bonce, but I smelled fish years ago.
I’d be surprised if anything comes out of the PBC investigation into the Andrew Windsor batten-burg gotha saxon duke of slob – or whatever he’s knowns as - goings-on or the Dolphin Close thing. They haven’t even shed the light on savile despite that one having been in their pay, and being dead.
Unfounded as may be, but hanging around with those that have been fingered for fingering isn’t too smart. I reckon study of the difference between right and wrong is not compulsory where he was schooled. Good breeding I think it’s called.
The shitstorm that ‘merica has brewed up about this?..Interesting…Don’t they play by the same rules? Aren’t our betters, their betters too?

Anonymous said...

Mr Verge noticed the strange phrase "underaged minors". It describes something that doesn't exist, if you think about it. In a similar way, a "decapitated head" doesn't exist.
So the statement from the Palace says that no interaction occurred between HRH and a being which doesn't exist, which is perfectly true.
On the other hand the lady who has made these allegations - unproven - was allegedly 17 at the time. So she was not a minor but was under the age of consent. Therefore she was not an underaged "minor" - again, the statement of denial is true whether or not HRH did the deed.
- richard

Alphons said...

" Blogger call me ishmael said...

Yes, mr alphons, that is what it is all about, power; we have, however, managed to wrest some of it from -successively - slavery, feudalism, rotten borough parliamentarians and now this shower of filth, too late to stop now."
has been about for a few years and has quite a few good ideas.

Mike said...

The sight of Fergie make me think gay is an option.

In the 80s, in the City, her nickmane was "golden bush", amongst her more intimate friends.

call me ishmael said...

Golden bush, eh; did that refer to her hourly rate?

They still share a house, the Porkers, maybe he pimps her out to his arab chums; I know that they prefer young boys and girls but maybe there's some cachet in degrading a raddled old duchess and you know what Tatler people are like, pimp their wives and daughters to any old nignog, what? She already has form, Fergie, for fucking playboys, not in Diana's league but certainly an international whore. Her endorsement of the YorkieDuke as the greatest man in the world will do his public standing no end of good.

Shame she couldn't be Governess General of Australia, you lot like her kind, down there, the whole continent shitting itself, recently, for a glimpse of HRH Baby George, or so we are told.

call me ishmael said...

Yes, I have read Angel Fire, mr alphons, it is good stuff, although someone should refresh the font and format, if that is doable. make it easier for tired eyes, like mine.

Mike said...

Baby George? You've been reading too much Daily Mail Mr I. Its cricket season down under.

call me ishmael said...

Sadly no, mr mike, saturation coverage, here, of Oz adoration of the heir's heir's heir; you would all willingly die rather than permit a hair on his royal head to be harmed.

SG said...,d.d24

call me ishmael said...

Apple won't let me copy that into search from blogger, mr sg, if you just tell me what it is I'll find it. I am the anti-Christ, after all.

SG said...

Apologies Mr I - I have the same problems with all this cutting and pasting business. It was merely the Sex Pistols' fine rendition of 'God Save The Queen'.

call me ishmael said...

I can manage it in Windows but I am on the ouijaPad at the moment. I think it was thelast time I was excited by British pop music, Never Mind The Bollocks, loved it, Anarchy In The UK, No Feelings, fabulous. But I wouldn't piss on that Weller cunt if he was burning in my courtyard, mind.

jgm2 said...

Mr I, MR SG,

Sorry if this is teaching granny to suck eggs but.. there is a website called tinyurl where you take your unfeasibly long weblink (Ctrl C) and they turn it int a much shorter one:

This might make things easier for i-crap. I don't know. Everybody in the house has i-crap except me.

call me ishmael said...

Thanks, mr jgm2, I am, however, in one of my Luddite phases at the moment.

Every time the wind blows the power fails. A lightning strike took out the phone on the 16th December and BT - in Bombay - say they cannot come to repair it until the end of January; my business email, with Tesco, has been down for weeks and I can retrieve nothing; the new, Zagg keyboard for the ouijaPad has failed, the floor-cleaning robots are complaining; the battery is jammed in my brand new plunge saw; I can't get an appointment with the man who screwed this titanium into my neck and with the phone being out I can do nothing about any of these matters, not unless I want to run around the grounds holding a portable telephone up to the sky, like a fucking savage, trying to get a signal.

The electrical storms and a wee bit of cold have upset the combi-boiler and no matter what my entreaties are the plumber will not come and live in one of the flats on the top floor. The electric goes off, the heat goes off, the broadband goes off and the fucking phone, even if the line worked, needs electricity, too. I expect that if I tried a new programme the fucking house would fall down, catch fire and be swept into the fucking ocean.

jgm2 said...

Mr I,

Not that I would recommend it for the quality of writing - quite the opposite - but there is a book by Ayn Rand who, like Enid Blyton turns out to be a woman (who knew?), called 'Atlas Shrugged'. Almost unreadable but better by an order of magnitude than her book 'The Fountainhead'.

The essential premise is that the capable folk in society, the innovaters, the competent, the do-ers, have downed tools and the idiocracy are idioting around making laws trying to will, in the absence of any competency whatsoever, what they were used to work to actually work. Like it used to. Before so many entitled but incompetent fuckwits started demanding their 'fair' slice of the pie. And before so many imbecile politicians declared that they could deliver such largesse with a stroke of their legislative pen. The dissembling cunts.

Which is where we find ourselves. Planes falling out of the sky, the nation over-run by proto-suicide-bombers, regular (month long) telephone outages here in West Sussex just as much as in the arsehole of Fucking Scotland. Getting on for 15 years since our government balanced a budget. Don't know about you, Mr I, but I don't think the banks or mortgage holders would put up with me running a loss-making business for 15 years.

Waste of time changing 'provider' since all roads lead back to 'Openreach' aka BT. The useless cunts. All of them at 'Openreach' on a bonus for the most faults they can fix. Which, as any fule kno is a green light to create 'faults'. Which would explain why while you might have a phone line and internet your neighbour doesn't. And the next day, when your line is fucked up he has no problem. More call-outs=more revenue=more cross-charging.

Just like you, if I was close to a mobile phone mast and didn't need to rely on BT I'd chainsaw their fucking telegraph pole and use it for firewood.

Time to get that shotgun certificate. And PLENTY of ammunition. Less of a problem for you but I'm within a day's march of London. Seven or eight million people demanding their 'fair' share (look, we've had a show of hands, it's democratic innit) of my food. The stupid, talentless, three meals from fucking famine, cunts.

Mike said...

Mr jgm2, Mr I: I know I risk sounding like a cracked record repeating itself, but why the fuck would sane people put up with such a mess, rapidly getting worse?

Time to vote - with your feet. Sometimes things can't be fixed, and they have to be thrown away however much you liked them when they worked.

tdg said...

It is a national idiosyncrasy, institutionalised S&M: enjoying "superiors" piss in one's face. The royal family is just madam to that little vice, so deeply etched in the English constitution.

call me ishmael said...

Not only demanding your food, mr jgm2, but your wife and children, too, as well as some redress for your historical and current racism, whiteness and infidelism. And even if that doesn't happen there is still every possibility of GNU comandeering your goods and chattels and properties in the national interest, only not troubling the Arab and Russian and Chink whaddatheycallems, oligarchs, isn't it, thieving fucking bastards, for they are the owner-employers of BoJo and the rest.

Atlas Shrugged was often a topic at order-order, before it went UKIP, and I read chunks of it online, back then, and it did seem to prefigure the private-jet, armoured-limo, gated community, armed guards lifestyle of so many financial-political-showbiz filthsters. I do believe, however, that even could I join that grisly crew, arseholes like Blair and Beckham and Bono and the Bilderbergers, I wouldn't; better to die at Decency's barricades.

My own flight to the Wilderness was partially based upon the knowledge that I was then just a half-a-day's march from Sparkbrook and Washwood Heath, as well as being next-door to my next-door idiot neighbours.

It is growing rapidly worse, mr mike, no conceivable health and care system can cope with what is approaching; it is financially and logistically impossible to provide intensive, round the clock care to millions of mentally and physically fragile old people, even if they are treated in their own, cold homes by poorly paid Polish amazons. And any politician who tells you otherwise is lying his arse off.

Here will have t to do for I expect that French or Australian governmenters would be every bit as reactionary and incompetent as is this one. Tinned food, shotguns, sharpened sticks, bows and arrows and Molotov cocktails; that should be our shopping list, yours, too.

inmate said...

Mr I

It has been said, no doubt a million times, 'a picture paints a thousand words' but, your last comment painted a picture of such wonderful clarity, of a modern-day high-tech savage. Running around the grounds, thumping up at the sky, praying and genuflecting, in the vain hope that the god of portables would allow you a signal. Priceless.
Oh for the resurrection of General Ludd.
BTW, have taken your advice and started A Canticle for Liebowitz 'tis the treasure you promised. Thanks.

jgm2 said...

Aye, as you say, not just my food. They'll proclaim themselves entitled to everything. It's God's will. Or democracy. Or something. Everybody's got an excuse as to why they're entitled to my/your stuff.

And, as you say, the apocalypse of millions of suddenly hungry zombies roaming the lands stealing and killing with impunity. Well, because it's only fair, innit, is just as likely to come in the shape of a government (most likely Labour) who will simply steal everybody's savings and pensions in order to buy another term in office. Well, because it's democratic innit. Look, 35% of the 70% who voted ie 24.5% of the adult population elected us. We've got a fucking 'mandate'. That's exactly what they will claim. The cheeky cunts. Closer to a dictatorship than a democracy and the cheeky cunts will still claim a fucking mandate.

75% of the adults didn't vote for them but they'll claim a fucking 'mandate' to make the tough choice to steal your money and give it to the 25% who did vote for them.

And they'll do it too. You know they will. There just isn't enough money in the world to make good all the promises they've made to their 25% but that won't stop them stealing all the money off the other 75% in an effort to stave off the inevitable.

No wonder they took the precaution of disarming the population.

jgm2 said...

it is financially and logistically impossible to provide intensive, round the clock care to millions of mentally and physically fragile old people

Except, of course, that 90% of these frail old folk could/should be taken care of in the homes of their own adult children. But just like the French, who have abandoned their elderly in care homes because, well, I've paid my stamp, only to find that 2,000 or so of them died overnight in a heatwave a few years ago, so it is in the UK. Look after your own parents? Oh fuck, no. I paid 20% VAT on that pack of maltesers. That should cover 40K annual care home bills.

That Labour cunt in Fucking Scotland promising a thousand new nurses for Fucking Scotland paid for by a 'mansion tax' on folk in London. Aye, well, he'll have no trouble persuading the grasping entitleistas of Fucking Scotland about the economic good sense of that one. Steal money off that guy to pay for more free stuff for me? I'll vote for that. Maybe he can split the SNP vote in Fucking Glasgow after all. A city of Fucking Morlocks. All in a race to the cemetery, all funded by free handouts.

And the Fat pig Abbott whining about how unfair that would be. When the only difference between her and Murphy is that she wants to steal Londoner's money to give to her constituents. Ie no fucking difference at all.

And on top of all that a couple of million breeding savages, parasites and locusts imported from Shitistan to rape our kids and cut our throats if we suggest, for one moment, that they're a bunch of savage, thieving parasites. Although they won't need to cut your throat because some bedwetter with a law degree will take umbrage on their behalf and have your job and a good chunk of your life if you dare speak the truth.

It's becoming fucking intolerable.

call me ishmael said...

That's touching, mr inmate, the Liebowitz thing; heavy going,mind, good luck.

The portables are just the vehicle of further enslavement, this apps business, isn't an application just a complicated way of doing something we can already do - cook, navigate, discern, search for and process information, all the skills which have got us here, from the sea, now repackaged and sold back to us? zhowmany generations -how few - will it take until we are all hi-tech savages, baying at the wireless mast?

Mike said...

I believe it is even worse than you say, Mr I. As well as becoming morons incapable of analysis because everything is spoonfed from apps, the actual data and messages being relayed are increasingly tainted by propaganda. And of course your every thought, action and movement is being monitored.

call me ishmael said...

And that's why, mr mike, we called the song Chronicles of Ruin; our bright, post-war,NHS, cheap energy, grammar school morning all gone to shit.

SG said...

Mr I - Regarding your BT Bombay Call Centre problems - I found this self help master race class to be of therapeutic if not practical value:

Thanks to Mr JMG2 for the TinyURL tip - I don't think it was needed this time but shall keep to hand for future efforts.

SG said...

Yes Mr Mike, "the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought... In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it.”

Doug Shoulders said...

Speaking of a narrow range of thought…PBC propaganda in action this morning with some crud about the biggest container ship entering Felixstowe with a shitload of shit. 90% of the stuff we consume is on board the presenter crooned.
Teevees, DVD players and all the consumerist shite that we can’t do without. God help us if Putin starts to sell us cheap crap to put in our homes. Course the Chinese…we don’t war with them they fucking own us now.
Fuck me…we used to produce all this for the rest of the world. We even produced stuff that people needed.
Our elected have sent all that industry down the swanny for the last four generations.

call me ishmael said...

Tush, mr doug shoulders, at a time like this your fawtsanprares should be wif the Frogs, who lost a whole twelve people yesterday, one of the the very worst things ever. Not as bad as wot Hermann the German did for six years but old Hermann, for all his faults, at least he wasn't a nignog, eh?

Mike said...

Mr I: I know this will be unliked (to use the popular venacular) but I must say I have some regard for those French wog killers.

First and foremost, it take balls to fight for your convictions, however misguided, which most of us can't do.

Second, I can understand when the yanks, aided by the Brits, French, et al are drone bombing innocents - well this gets you wanting a little payback.

Third, I have to say they did their stuff professionally. The grouping of the shots on the French cops windscreen was impressive.

You reap what you sow.

call me ishmael said...

It is hard to disagree with you, mr mike, although I would approach it from a different angle - the vacuous media coverage endangers us all in that its practitioners are too stupid to countenance much less ask the question which your comment frames - why is this happening?