Sunday, 26 July 2015



Child of fifteen tried in the Old Bailey and convicted for inciting terror (talking to another child.)

Grown-ups inciting mega-uber-apocalyptical terror  let off Scot-free.
I simply say, that if you don't believe a wanky  old porno-drunk and psycho bullyboy like my friend, Alastair Dipso, well, history will judge you very harshly.

Hear-hear! hear-hear!
All  those in favour,  say: Kill the Wogs.
The Kill the Wogsers have it;
the Kill the Wogsers have it. 
Toldya, Tony, everybody loves a war.
As long as they're not the ones fighting.

The Crown Prosecution Service, which brought the charges when he was fourteen, said it did not know if the child had been raped by MPs or Peers but it didn't matter, he would still be prosecuted and they wouldn't.
  Noble beast not to be prosecuted.
Oh, alright then,
but just a little bit.

Mr Michael Spit, MP,  

the Obedience Seckatry,

 who is keen, on behalf of the MurdochPornoPress,  to restore hanging, said the boy was lucky to have received a trial at all, Justice is simply far too precious and expensive a commodity to be available to those who cannot afford it,  which is why I am turning the Courts into Free Courts, of course the judges and the police and the prosecutors will still be paid, especially if they are Tory MPs,  moonlighting, it's just that as we, quite propery, in my view, phase-out legal aid, the defence solicitors will be required to work for free; free schools for Toby Young's mutant children, and free courts for poor people to defend themselves. In my judgement  these are  vital reforms and will play very well among the people who are, quite frankly, in my judgement, fed up with paying for unnecessary things like courts.  seems eminently clear to me that if a population is properly obedient to its govament there should be no need for courts

If during the course of the parliament, my good friend, the prime minister, who sacked me but only for election purposes,   requires me to serve as Health Seckatry, I will dedicate myself to creating a Free NHS, one in which staff, apart from higher management, are expected to work more or less for free, or certainly pay-rise free and I say this as a punctilious grammarian, who should know that  the proper, adverbial coinage is freely, not for free, but doesn't. 

Ten per cent pay rise for myself? Oh, I think you'll find that is very quickly eaten-up in daily costs. No, I don't pay for food or housing or transport or energy or correspondence or clothing but a hundred and fifty thousand pounds a year is, for someone of my stature, more of a beggars' pittance than an appropriate emolument. Sometimes, you know,  I feel as though  I am working for free. 
If my wife, Sarah Scumsucker, 


wasn't working so hard for the Daily Redneck, licking shit from Lord Rothermere's noble anus, I don't quite know how we'd manage. But, no, this child, just because he's underage doesn't mean we should treat him like a child, does it?

 I mean, all are equal before the law, aren't they? Apart from those grown rich of course, on someone else's labour, whom it is my sacred  duty to protect.

Obama's elderly houseboy, 

Dr Bob Zimmerman,
 once reflected in an extended, demotic satire that: 
 if my thought dreams could be seen,
 they'd prob'ly put my head in ay guillotine .....

You and me, both, Bob, and all of us: who among us has not fantasised Wickedness, Mayhem and Murder; life, like M. Guaguin said, being what it is, one dreams of Vengeance and  to use the eavesdropped fantasies of a fourteen-year old to put him up at the Old Bailey, and probably in prison, seems to me the mark of a paranoid and  punitve society. It seems to me, further, that the more unwholesome  our elites, the more we become the thing we hate, Bob Dylan, for instance, is now become Satan's Jokerman and in our case,  we flee from human rights and the presumption of Gentleness nto the harsh arms of Sharia law.

But there is more to this black farce than meets the eye, for only since Whisky Maggie's time have politicians become  such  unanimous, unquestioning supporters of child cruelty,
in the Treasury, 

The bukkake chancellor's Big Box Of Child Poverty

at Chequers,

Two Yorkshire jokers.

  in Dolphin Square,

 in the Welsh Office or in the Old Bailey.

This kid, last week, he  needed a good talking-to and the setting of a good example; to put him in the dock,  is Satan's work. 
But then, that IS  what they do.

If the kid is jailed, Sarah Gove will screech for her readers that it is not for long enough and  FatboyPaul Staines will want him hanged. The news caravan will shit and move on, while another child rots in our jails. 

The news caravan does move on, that's why News is called News, tomorrow or the day after, however much News it was, it no longer matters. Thus, if anyone might reasonably suggest that since Billy Bum, here, is out of office, isn't it time to move on, I would reply, Yep, that's what they rely on, the News becomes old and forgotten. But it shouldn't, rather, we shouldn't let it. If we remembered Margarte Thatcher's crimes, and Tony Blair's, even a fraction as much as we remember Belsen, how much better the world would be..


Having fought off a  typ[ically cowardly, underhanded  pre-election coup attempt by Lord William PrettyBoys  Miscarriages

Aye, thumbs up, 'e bangs like a shithouse door in a gale, does young Chris;  although we only share a bed t'save money, like. Give a right good after dinner speech I do, round Chris's ringpiece; nowt s'queer as folk, 'appen yer right, 'appen yer right, lad.

and Michael Spit, 

failed grammarian and now Obedience Seckatry

Mr Tiny Speaker is now under attack by some gang of impudent, redneck, Fawkesians. 
Fans of Paul Drunken Fatso Staines,
 of the Daily Rupert, 

Get my daughters' tits our for Page Three? 
Phwoar, that's proper news. 
A libertarian and his facial hair. 

a bunch of pushy totties and snorting spivs  claims to represent all of us.

It is all an obscene waste of taxpayers' money, 
whatever it is.

Somebody from Trade Descriptions  should smack this cunt in the gob, repeatedly, whilst advising him: 

In order to "give taxpayers more of a voice in the corridors of power,"
what they need is more of me on the telly, annoying people, with my stuttering, airhead stupidity.

The TPA actually speaks for a whole forty thousand or so people out of a taxpayer base of, well, every grown-up in the land and lots of them abroad, say forty million, conservatively;  that is a vanishingly small fraction of one per cent of taxpayers, some alliance, eh?  One could even say that it doesn't speak for anyone, save JCB Plant Manufacturers, some shadowy tax dodgers and an elderly, dwindling  cohort of angry, red-faced,  right-wing, Nazi  masturbators from order-order and the Filth-O-Graph,  the sort of people that even Poundland would eject from its rallies.  Nevertheless, one of these cunts starts babbling and MediaMinster is there like a whipped dog.

Andy Mutant of the TPA in one of those nice Farage PimpCoats, being all serious, the prat.
 Taxes? No, course there shouldn't be any.  Just a rip-off, that's all they are. And I speak for a tiny, tiny handful of people who dohwannapayany.

The latest cri de couer patriotique from NaziLand is that Mr Tiny Speaker is taking us all for a ride.

Well, it's all very well, even a shade picquant - is picquant a word, Andrew? - having sex with a dwarf on an orange box but it palls after a while, having to lift him up and down all the time. His cousin's only a foot shorter than me, so he manages by sort of hopping-up on one leg.
Knee-trembler anyone?  
Applicants must be six foot six.

The Speaker's Lecture:
Tits'n'Ass in British political history.

It seems that the depths of extravagance are now plumbed by Mr Tiny Speaker going places by car.  In his role as the Speaker of the United Kingdom's House of fucking Commons,  Mr Gob from the so-called TPA insists that John Bercow, MP,  should travel by mini-cab, driven,  probably, by an angry UKIPPER or a non-English-speaking Pakistani, like they have in Redditch, where, if you get in the cab while the driver is praying, as he does all the time he's parked-up, you can be in BigShit.
Mr Tiny Speaker is probably the only MP whose time is filled with official business engagements, representing the parliament at a host of functions and - maybe for egotistical reasons -  the Miniature One has vastly expanded the workload of his office with speaking engagements and lectures, 
Open all hours. 

some of which are studies in UpMyArseism, featuring the likes of the vile  Nonce Protector General Lord David Steel of Cyril Smithland, praise-singing himself,  some of which may have firmer purpose among younger students of these things;  however bumptious he may seem, the Wee Man  at least takes his role far more seriously and works much harder than did his predecessors, luminaries such as Thieving Gorbals Mick, 

Betty Dancing Girl Boothroyd

 and Viscount TonyNonce. 
suspected of,  in proper parliamentary fashion,  
raping a nine-year old. Nine year old boy, of course, nothing perverted, like raping a nine-year old girl.

Among this crew, Mr Tiny Speaker is a model of propriety, industry and balance and at least,  unlike Prince Andy, the Bastard's Bastard, Mr Tiny Speaker doesn't fly to golf matches in my helicopters.
Look lively, there, got a teenager to grope.
 Yes, keep the engine running.

 It  seems entirely right to me that Bercow travels in relative comfort and security, mindful of other demands on his time and in the scheme of things these sums are trifling. I do not know how the TPA clowns  think the Speaker should travel, maybe he should thumb a lift, when he's representing the United Kingdom parliament; it might be fiitting, considering the state of penury to which the Bukkake Chancellor has brought us.

 Of course it is all made-up nonsense, nothing to see here, pomp and ceremony and the doings of the legislature have their costs. And if it is the entitlementistas who irk Andy Silvester and Ms Chakratotty they may want to re-focus, if they  want to pronounce on an obscene waste of money, maybe thet could start where the rest of us proper taxpayers  start.


Bungalow Bill said...

"If we remembered Margaret Thatcher's crimes...". That's the heart of it: that this deranged woman and her even more deranged successor, Blair (passing over the absurd cipher Major) should be hailed as giants, albeit flawed, by commentators even now. No, they were repellent criminals and the full extent of Thatcher's moral wickedness, in particular, is only now becoming clear. Here was a woman so bereft of moral intelligence that she was prepared to ignore the vile predations of Morrison, Britten, Hayman and so on because they were her foot servants. What a vicious hag she was and may she rot. Blair needs no further comment.

As for the lickspittle, Gove, he is currently presiding over the dismantling of civil justice for the poor, begun by his predecessor and engineered by the power zombie, Gideon. Little Bercow will be hunted down and destroyed, we may be sure, after his impertinence last week.

SG said...

Yes Mr I. You are quite right to put Mr Tiny Speaker's plight into the proper perspective. Also, I see that the Deputy Speaker of the House of Lords has been subject to cruel villification for doing no more than make an entirely valid contribution to the growth of our Gross Domestic Product (sorry, I've been at the cynicism pills again...)!

call me ishmael said...

Just watching Grocer Night, on BBC Parliament, and Heath, compared to those mentioned above, seems like an utterly reasonable human being. Apart from being insane, of course, madder'n a buncoh of frogs. Evem so, he faced, in interview, three proper journalists, including Robin Day. Can't see Dave doing that.

I watch the Lords quite a lot, and they are such a bunch of snooty bastards, butter wouldn't melt in their poxy mouths.

SG said...

Mr I - it's a fucking madhouse! Here I am,  washed up on your shore (ragged trousers, but lacking the means to be a philanthropist...). Blair and Bush - how the fuck did that happen? "Bomb'n back into the Stone Age". Labour and the Neo-Cons united by the power of prayer (as poor Mr Morrison, who is sadly no longer with us, observed 'you cannot petition the Lord with prayer...'). 

It's like I've landed on Planet of The Apes and the only person making any sense is Dr. Zaius: 

"You are right, I have always known about man. From the evidence, I believe his wisdom must walk hand and hand with his idiocy. His emotions must rule his brain. He must be a warlike creature who gives battle to everything around him, even himself".

call me ishmael said...

I think Tressel's philanthropists, the inhabitants of MugsTown, were made charitable, in advance, by their masters helping themselves from their wage packets before they got them, so if you work you probably are one, mr sg. Try to see that Oborne rant on last Friday's Newsnight, Labour ARE neo-cons.

call me ishmael said...

Morrison, Brittain, Hayman and Hague, mr bungalow bill, he authored the cover-up.

SG said...

I shall look those cunts up (Mr BB exempted - of course...) Mr I. Morrison - I was thinking of Jim - not the supermarket man... And of course I work & pay my damn taxes...

call me ishmael said...

Well then, mr sg, what with the Ruritanians and the impoverished bankers requiring our charity, we are all ragged trousered philanthropists.

SG said...

So we are Mr I. So we are.

Caratacus said...

Lost in admiration of your technique when explaining the facts of life to the chap from the "Taxpayers Alliance". It is a method I have daydreamed of using on several public figures. I am not entirely clear, however, whether you are using a gloved fist or a length of lead piping ... my own preference is that of a firm grasp to the back of the head and the repeated introduction of the nose to the desk, but I will concede to whichever method you prefer as the most likely to produce results.

call me ishmael said...

I suppose we should be circumspect, lest we face charges of inciting terror, by speaking ill of our betters. Having said that, as you know, I am no connoisseur of violence but I do feel that my suggestion to the Trades Description Authorities merits consideration; they may have their own experts but my modest suggestion would be that the culprit did not lose consciousness before the completion of his instruction, otherwise there would be little point in his correction and on awakening he would again be wandering the studios of MediaMinster, claiming to speak for the nation, when, in fact, he is doing the exact opposite. They could just kill the bastard and if that was their choice then I am sure that a fusilade, say about a hundred, of young stanislav's Housebricks of Wrath would deliver a salutary extinguishing of his miserable, worthless life.

Perhaps the election of Premier Corbyn will enable us to reclaim ownership of the public space and drive vermin like the TPA and their owners back into the sewer.

SG said...

Saw the TPA woman over on John Sox's 'Left Wing News' the other day 'debating' with a woman in comfortable shoes about why it costs Housing Associations £150k to build a three bed semi whereas the private sector can throw the same thing up for £90k. Comfortable Shoes ventured that this had something to do with Housing Associations facing higher land prices (note we are talking about 'build' costs here). No challenge from the Chakra woman. Arse - Elbow, Elbow - Arse - which is fucking which? One things for sure - they don't know.

yardarm said...

This Taxpayers they kick up when Gideon signs these rip off PFI deals ? Don`t remember them kicking up a fuss when Darling and Gideon were bailing out the banksters. Always thought it odd when Hague, who`s done fuck all except politics all his life (and that ineptly) should jettison his meal ticket at this particular time.......

Anonymous said...

Yes, the tobacco kiosks are sealed up in case your 15 year old goes in for a packet of biscuits and is brainwashed by Big Tobacco's shiny packaging and gets 20 Benson instead. If he needs protected from a crafty smoke he can't be responsible for his own actions. So why is he in court? Why would an adult (his alleged co-conspiritor) listen to the ravings of a 15 year old kid?
There's something funny about this. He allegedly sent "thousands" of e-mails, a book's worth of text. It stinks of Problem-Reaction-Solution, like the one unfortunate girl who dies after eating pills she bought on the internet. No mention of the thousands of grannies who perish of cold every winter, or the NHS death-toll. No, the necessity is to regulate the internet, obviously, because one bad boy and one dead dieter makes it so.

call me ishmael said...

Very good, mr richard, not old enough to buy fags but old enough to be tried like an adult, that's what you call a moveable feast. It was just the lack of compassion which bugged me but as you say, this is more sinister even than that.

They might all be side-stepped by CorbynGate, mr yardarm, as happened here in Scotland with the SNP. and where Jeremy is getting a warm response from those who have fled Labour but don't want Gnasher's one-party state. The Top Hatters only snuck-in on Apathy's coat tails and with Labour's support for their policies, the cynicism about the Harmanites snd the GNU, which Corbyn highlights, could spread to those who limply chose Dave and BukkakeBoy as the least worst. A discussion about rail nationalisation might make folks actually question all of this privatisation shit. He must guard, though, against spontaneous human combustion or a David Kelly event. This is NewLabour we're talking about, the most murderous and corrupt political gang since the Borgias.

I will be away for a coupla days, in a cyber-free zone, should be back Thursday.

mongoose said...

That the fuckers waste tens - no, hundreds - of millions of pounds every year is despicable. Strikingly, because if the money is not wasted, and therefore had not to have previously been factored into the taxation-take equation, and then confiscated - much of it from poor people - that money might still be buying children's shoes or philanthropists' libraries. it is important to jab the entitled fuckers every time. Good God, man, they are still cheating on their expenses as if we are not here and it did not happen. A thief is unfit for public office and a serial wastrel is little better.

Mr Speaker, surely a card carrying cunt, is a man sorely in need of a good kick in the bollocks. Nasty, jumped up and still jumping smirking oik. Put not your faith in Princelings, Mr I, however convenient. None of these people are our friends. It is a panto.

Anonymous said...

The expression "to give someone a bollocking" originated from the use of a type of dagger, carried in years gone by, by most gentlemen. It was called a bollock dagger owing to it's amusingly-carved hilt.
It's no wonder that the right to carry such a decisive means of dealing with arseholes has been removed, and by whom.