Wednesday, 22 July 2015


One doesn't really understand all the fuss surrounding one's subject, Citizen Corbyn. All of us -  those set above you, by God,  for your guidance, betterment and discipline - make friends with whomsoever serves our purpose,

One understands that for a living you apply Black and Decker technology to young people's knees?
Aye, that's right, so it is.
An' baseball bats, too.
How very interesting.

 or, sometimes,  in one's own case, those who give one money and jewels and horses and properties. 
And with the women, in your kingdom, you bury them up to their necks and throw rocks at them?
Yes, Majesty, and whip them to death.
It is the only language the bitches understand.

 One doesn't want them for one's own sake, of course, the expensive gifts and taxes and levies and what have you, but for one's family, who might otherewise have to work for a living.  Which would never do.
One's family are rather adept at this, they'll chat to any old filth, only not during their eight months of holidays.

I killed your uncle, so I did,
and all them children.
How jolly interesting.

And actually, since one's subject,  Mr Corbyn, and oneself do share some acquaintances,  one is bound to ask, 

if it's OK for one and one's husband and family to associate with Mr Kneecaps and Mr Incest-Nonce, then why the fuck shouldn't Citizen Corbyn, eh?    

Oh, one does so agree with Her Majesty, on this occasion, anyway.
Great people, such as myself, and I suppose  Her Majesty, have little choice about those from  whom one takes bribes.

And then, Senora Maggie, eef you break-a their-a feengers they-a talk-a quite-a freely.
Really?  How utterly fascinating.
Now, about that donation.

General Pinochet, for one, was a great personal friend and donor to my Foundation and I, as prime minister4life, had no choice but to overlook his record of monstrous torture, kidnap and murder, which he denied in any case and I believed his word of honour as a dictator and the noble Lord  and thief, Jack Straw,  was quite right to thwart his prosecution and let him off. I mean, where would we be if heads of state could be prosecuted?  In the fucking slammer, that's where we'd be. And don't start me on the kiddy-fiddlers, some of my very best friends and right honourable colleagues were beasts; are you seriously saying I should not have associated with my dear friends,  people like Sir Leon Boys  and Sir James Monster, 

not knighted him, not had him over for Christmas? 

The noble Lord and jailbird, Conrad Blackmail, 
was kind enough to appoint me to his board of directors and it would have been entirely graceless of me to scrutinise his cooked accounts, that's not what directors are for, especially prime ministers4life, and anyway, as a little woman,  one had simply no head for business. Oh, just a few tens of thousands of pounds, but I didn't have to do anything for it.

And his parties were perfectly thrown, one felt so at ease.

Lord Conrad and Lady Fanny, unlike most criminals,  were not in the least  vulgar. 

World statesmen rush to condemn Corbyn.

I simply say, Jeremy Corbyn is a disgrace,
doing deals with terrorists.

OK if I feel her tits, Marty?
Aye, that'll be grand, so it will, Spunky Bill.
I'll send the nigger to fetch her,
those boys just love me.

I don't do men, buster.
Especially not S&M guys, like you.

Lessbeclearaboutthis. If Labour elect Jeremy Corbyn it will be a victory for the IRA.

After me, my comrade, Maerty Kneecaps, is the greatest living human being.
That Jeremy Corbyn,  though, I don't think he is a proper party animal, like all my other friends, David Beckham and Naomi Campbell and Mr Bono, of course.

Look, I simply say to the Labour party, if they elect Jeremy, firstly, he will make a complete bacon sandwich of things and secondly it will be a victory for the IRA.

Anyvun who support terrorism iss an enemy of ze peepul.
Never mind ze bacon samvitch, Comrade Corbyn should watch for ze polonium umbrella. About vich I know nussink, sveet fuck allski.

It's like living in Alice in Wonderland, round here, sometimes; Corbyn the only man in the world to be damned for talking to  Kneecaps, every other fucker hailed as a statesman.


Caratacus said...

I am not, as you know Mr.I., a violent man but I would have given a fair bit to see Charlie boy (in that photo with Adams) snap forward with a beaut of a head-butt. No warning, just straight across the bridge of the nose, lots of claret and snot and leaving the bastard with a voice like a three day old cold for a while afterwards. I didn't particularly like Mountbattenburgcake and I'm not sure about the heir apparent either, but there are times when a simple message is the only way forward. In order to maintain standards and so forth ...

lilith said...

Isn't the point about Corbyn that he seems to (like Ken Livingston and Blair) really ENJOY hanging out with thoroughly nasty types? The Queen kinda had to do the Marty Kneecaps thing to sorta signify a new dawn of peaceful cooperation the past is behind us look to building a future stuff. As van Morrison would say "it's a fokkin job". What's Nobody Corbyn's excuse?

Bungalow Bill said...

Corbyn threatened to revive proper socialism and struck a chord and many nerves in doing so. But we want someone like him in power and that needs care on his part without compromising principle. You're right, of course, about power consorting with terrorism in a closed circle until no-one knows which is which, but I think Jeremy was on to something and he should have seen the traps. Let us hope he may yet be preferred to the other horrors.

call me ishmael said...

No, I never liked it, either, ms lilith, people schmoozing with the Deathbringers, put me right off Jeremy Hardy, too. Possible, I think, to be Republican without kneecapping children. Brenda, I feel, is too easily neutered by this fanciful notion of constitutional monarchy, she is not the servant of govament and I believe that the whole wide world would have cheered if she or Brian, as mr caratacus suggests, had headbutted the monstrous little bastard.

Mike said...

I can understand the Corbyn thing, although (from afar) I had thought Trots like him were long extinct. Three days in Sheffield (and counting) has caused me to seriously rethink. Its a such out-of-body experience here in Sheffield that the like of Corbyn seem quite normal. Moving through a once proud city that was the backbone of the Empire, I see a derelict edifice of third world proportions. Decaying and rotting infrastucture, a population looking seriously ill and infirm, and quite abnormal to what I'm used to, and was used to 25 years ago when I left. In fact, to be honest, quite fucking wierd.

Against such a background, Corbyn seems normal.

I've been (briefly) watching TV, including Parliament online. I read your posts, Mr I, and only now can appreciate the honesty; the bullshit theatricality of news, Parliament, indeed all forms of TV, has become an art form of its own making.

I truly despair for my country of birth, even though I have only a week to go before I escape. Can't fucking wait to do a reverse-Pope, and kiss the ground on the way out. Never again.

mongoose said...

It is, I fear, a sure sign that Jeremy is little better than any of the other fuckers. "I am a revolutionary socialist; he says that he is a revolutionary socialist too, so he does, and he is therefore my friend." That he has had to spill a bit of innocent blood in the cause is neither here nor there, I suppose. Eggs and omelettes, the Greater Good, Dib dib dib, and up the workers. Well, fuck that for a game of pretend Islington soldiers. They are vermin, the lot of them. Even St Jeremy the Last.

So what is the use of Comrade Corbyn and can we spill his career's lifeblood in a useful cause? Well, as you note, Mr I, if he pulls down the temple of the Labour Party about his ears, he will perhaps have been of some service. Even if someone else has to build something else in its place.

Caratacus said...

Mike - may I make the tentative suggestion that what you are leaving is not the country of your birth? The London where I was born (early 50s) has long gone and now exists only in my memories and those of others of a similar vintage. All things pass and all that sort of thing.

An ageing retired nightclub bouncer, I saw many a deep and meaningless relationship develop in the swamp-like recesses of a nightclub. A youth and a maiden would meet, exchange glances (and a fair quantity of saliva, it must be said), reciprocate civilities, go home and dream of one another. Having little to divert attention or diversify thought, they find themselves uneasy when they are apart, and therefore conclude that they shall be happy together. They marry, and discover what nothing but voluntary blindness before had concealed; they wear out life in altercations, and charge Nature with cruelty. I am misquoting Johnson here, but you catch my drift. So many of the things we care about are constructs which we make for ourselves in order to make sense of the world around us. And don't we get pissed off when the reality refuses to coincide with what we have conjured up.

The truth is, we can leave nothing behind. Life has a way of thrusting lessons under our noses just when we thought we'd left them behind ... ;-)

But hey! what the fuck do I know? I am stricken in years, have just finished the third evening sharpener (fourth due any second now), and am as prey to Fate's spiteful jab in the arse with a compass needle as the next chap.

call me ishmael said...

I feel like that, too, mr mike, about what was my country, when, rarely, I revisit, sometimes wishing I had not deserted Decency's barricade.

call me ishmael said...

It is an enticing prospect, mr bungalow bill, anyway it pans out. The front bench has made itself risible; if Corbyn should win the rest must resign; a likely and logical move if he wins is a tactical merge with the Tribesmen and the Shiteaters and a few by elections could see Corbyn prime minister with Salmond as Deputy - the Coalition Revisited. We need to be sceptical about most media news and hope that Decency finally raises her head.

call me ishmael said...

I think, mr mongoose, that even if he isn't, which is likely, different that is, he looks and sounds different enough to do that thing, mould breaking, isn't it, they used to call it, and create a path towards the eventual change you hope for. On balance, Corbyn is the gest show in town.

Mike said...

Mr Caractacus: thanks for your perspective. I too am on a third sharpener, so please forgive if I have mis-read. I don't believe I am making constructs for myself, though I'm happy to accept I'm wrong. But: this is not the country I remember when I left. I accept this is open to fierce critcism, and its a generalisation - but one I feel is not totally mis-placed. As I said, the housing and infra-structure is rotting; the people look unhealthy - overly fat, and tatoo'ed. The shops sell cheap tat and crap food only suitable for the untermenchen.

This is Sheffield, which once was a cut above the rest.

In such an environment, Corbyn is entirely sensible.

call me ishmael said...

That's poetry, king caratacus, although I do believe that something fiercely radical happened to the national character during the Thatcher years, that Greed and Spivvery became visibly mainstream and it is their cumulative corrosion which mr mike now observes, rather than just the normal passage of time. mr tdg was writing recently of the decline and dusappearance of old nations; he meant Greece, these chronicles of Ruin, here, however, relate to our own islands.

SG said...

Notwithstanding my earlier comments (which are surely endorsements in themselves), I think Comrade Corbyn is highly qualified to be 'Real' Labour leader. Not the least of these qualifications is his victory in the Parliamentary 'Beard of the Year' competition on no less than five occasions (I suspect that this accounts for Mr Blunkett's antipathy towards the good comrade rather than any ideological differences). Indeed, I feel that his campaign has already reached a critical mass - has not the Great Satan, via the expressions of 'disapproval' released this very morning at the 'Progress' fuck-up, press briefing thing, effectively endorsed him? Regarding Mr-Comrade-Corbyn's renewal of his 'friendships' over coffee with Messrs Adams and McGuiness there is, surely, an entirely innocent explanation for this? Most likely a consultation regarding a long-standing knee problem... Why wait two months for the NHS or pay £450 to a private consultant for a couple of X-Rays and a 10 minute consultation when a couple of highly experienced 'volunteers' are on hand to advise FoC (to Mr Corbyn that is - presumably these gents were on a mission to claim their 'expenses' from the likes of all of us and in doing so generating another claim for travel, accommodation etc.).

call me ishmael said...

Time to leave-off those pills, mr sg, the cynicism-enhancing ones.As for Tony'n'Imelda, where IS Sir John Chilcott, when the Labour Party needs him?

inmate said...

Wasn't sunday past World Nelson Mandella day? Another terrorist made good. Mr Corbyn may have promised Marty and Gerry O'Murderer a day of their own when he becomes Prime Monster.

call me ishmael said...

I think mr bungalow bill captures it, mr inmate, soend enough time in the sty and all the pigs look the same

call me ishmael said...

I have that perspective, mr mike - junk, tattoos, loan shops, bookies, lapdance joints, public drunkennes, dogging, fighting, and foreigners, it's like HogarthWorld. And that's just Inverness. It is why I live where I do. And curse Ruin's authors, largely MediaMinster spivs, slags, pimps, shiteaters and nonces. Y'know, Maggie Thatcher's gang and their successors, plus Murdoch. I hear the Baron Mandelstein has removed a Rothschild's cock from his mouth to lecture us about Corbyn, probably still have two up his arse, mind

Anonymous said...

Marty hired a "victims and survivors commissioner" today, for fuck sake.

call me ishmael said...

It's only right, mr richard, he and Gerry Incest are the world's authority on Cawnflict Resolution, so th'are, rather like Tony'n'Imelda bring peace everywhere they go. And human rights. But only for rich folks, obviously.