For our readers on Continents other than Europe, and for those who haven't been paying much attention, (and, as usual, who can blame you) Europe is in the grip of a war involving all the European nations. There were preliminary skirmishes, which eliminated the lesser countries, leaving the giants to battle it out. For some reason lost in the mists of history, Britain is allowed to pretend it is four countries. All the other countries are required to be just the one country, but not Britain.
It would have been better for Scotland if it had thrown in its lot with England - but no, ancient enmity, spite, Braveheart, independence and the kilt, would never allow such an outcome. So Scotland, which most of the time resembles a tiny male spider, riding on the back of its English spider wife, looking for an opportunity to inseminate her without being eaten as a nutritious snack, shrugged off its utter financial, economic, political, defensive, health and social care dependence on England, to swagger into the fray with its own Army. They flooded into Munich last week, two hundred thousand of them, brash, drunken and incomprehensible, singing strange battle songs and swinging their skirts. Even little Orkney sent its small battalion to join the Tartan Army.
The local newspaper was full of it: "For an entire generation, this will be the first time Scots have witnessed their country taking part in a major tournament" . There's a reason for that. ed. "So the anticipation and excitement has reached fever-pitch this week, as Orkney's Tartan Army head out in force to support the country." One supporter was quoted as saying: "I haven't booked a flight home yet! I'm intending on staying until Scotland is out of the tournament."
Aww, bless.
The thing is, Scotland is not very good at playing football. Even I can see that, and I have no interest, experience or knowledge of what they laughingly call the beautiful game. On Friday evening, the German team, sleek and nimble in white costumes, ran rings around the lumpen, black-clad, cheating Scots. The German passing was balletic - always in the right place at the right time, with the Scots puffing along, getting it wrong, getting in each other's way, tripping up their opponents, illegally tackling them, scoring an own goal, getting sent off in disgrace and ultimately losing 5:1. Talk about embarrassing. Mind you, that Florian Wirtz is a dirty little bastard. Did you see him spitting all over the place? When I was a child, there were notices up on the buses, saying "Spitting is forbidden". When I entrained across Europe, there were signs all over the train: "Spucken ist verboten", "E' vietato sputare", "interdiction de cracher" and "e pericoloso sporgersi," which latter means don't lean out, but I always thought it meant don't spit. Spitting was associated with TB, dirty old men and chewing tobacco. Now it seems all the footballers spit because they seem to have some strange throat malformation that prevents them from swallowing their own saliva. I daresay the football pitch is spongy with spit, then they go and roll in it, do triumphant victory knee slides (although not the Scots, for obvious reasons), and lie down in it behind their team mates, forming a wall to frustrate free kicks (and that didn't work, either. Just got covered in spit.)
Useful German phrases for next time you are in Munich:
Deine Mutter geht in der Stadt huren – Your mother goes whoring in the cityDeine Mutter schwitzt beim Kacken – Your mother sweats when she shits
Deine Oma masturbiert im stehen! – Your grandma masturbates standing up!
Klugscheißer – bogmouth/know-all/smart aleck
Ich ficke Katzen – I fuck cats
Here's a photo of a silly old man:
Yep, yep yep, John Swinney, cosplaying, backed the wrong side again.
Politicians have always pretended to like football, hoping to increase their populist appeal. Tony Blair was renowned for it. He was mocked over the years about his apparent claim in a BBC interview that he watched Jackie Milburn play at St. James Park in the late 1950s, despite being only 4 years old and living in Australia. He was also reported as saying that he had sat in the Gallowgate End of the club's stadium, even though there were no seats in that part of the ground at that time. Fortunately, Blair was able to clear up the misapprehension: he said that "People asked two completely separate questions. One, when I used to go and watch Newcastle. Then someone asked me who was the greatest ever footballer so I said Jackie Milburn."
That's alright, then. This is probably not true, either. mr. ishmael writing in 2015. Huw Welshman is also sadly not with us, being disgraced and resigned over his strange proclivities.
SPORTS NEWS. BLAIR TO HEAD THIEFA (2015)
This is Huw Welshman with the Six o Clock News from the PBC, where the top story is that former prime minister,
Tony and Imelda Blair,
is to step down from his role as Peacemaker to the World and assume the presidency of THIEFA, the governing body of the world's organised crime syndicate of bullies, crooks, knucklehead morons and gang rapists, other wise known as football. Here's what he had to say.
is to step down from his role as Peacemaker to the World and assume the presidency of THIEFA, the governing body of the world's organised crime syndicate of bullies, crooks, knucklehead morons and gang rapists, other wise known as football. Here's what he had to say.
Peepul of football. I simply say. My role as peacemaker is done. The world has never had. So much peace. Especially in Iraq. Where I have succeeded. Beyond my wildest. Expectations. Syria, too. Thanks to my efforts. Is now at peace. The Palestinian question. Is now resolved.
And where one Israeli is killed, then quite rightly five hundred Palestinian children forfeit their lives, under masonry or tank tracks, doesn't matter, it's their way of contributing to Peace and stability in the region. And who would deny them that?
As it says in the scriptures, five hundred eyes for an eye. Fair's fair. And I'm known as a fair man, Oi Vay.
And Have a Negilah Day.
My friend Benjamin Netanyahu. And my other friend. Wotsisname, the raghead bloke? They enjoy a warm and constructive peaceful war. Which sees their respective one and one-not nation states not co-operating like never before.
Thanks to my efforts with the late Mr Gadaffi, is it Gadaffi, Gaddafffi, fucked if I know, but you know who I mean. The gentleman who, as a result of my global statesmanship, had a scaffold pole rammed up his jacksie and his corpse violated by nig-nogs. Gosh, I hope that doesn't happen to anyone close to me. Like myself. Better double my security guard. 'Sokay, the British taxpayer foots that bill. Quite right, too.
And Have a Negilah Day.
My friend Benjamin Netanyahu. And my other friend. Wotsisname, the raghead bloke? They enjoy a warm and constructive peaceful war. Which sees their respective one and one-not nation states not co-operating like never before.
Thanks to my efforts with the late Mr Gadaffi, is it Gadaffi, Gaddafffi, fucked if I know, but you know who I mean. The gentleman who, as a result of my global statesmanship, had a scaffold pole rammed up his jacksie and his corpse violated by nig-nogs. Gosh, I hope that doesn't happen to anyone close to me. Like myself. Better double my security guard. 'Sokay, the British taxpayer foots that bill. Quite right, too.
Don't get much more peaceful transitions than that. Thanks to that, my initiative, things can only get better. My Gaddafi intervention. And I think it speaks for itself. People. Many thousands of people. Are leaving Libya daily. To seek a new life.
At the bottom of the Mediterranean.
In Iraq, where once there was brutality - as well as the very real threat of Weapons of Mass Destruction, made-up by my friend, Porno-Al
Alright, it was all made-up. So fucking what?
What's a few million roasted wogs?
What? Don't you dare call me racist.
And vote Labour. You stupid cunts.
- there is now a widening sense of peace and civilised democratic governance, as the Blair Peace Revolution sweeps over the Middle East. And Egypt, too, after the Arab Spring, is now firmly in the hands of an exceptionally peace-conscious brutal military dictatorship which executes its opponents by the hundreds.
Now is not the time for soundbites. But I feel I might pat myself on the back and say, the Middle East and North Africa, aflame, now, for decades.
JobDone.
I always said that I wanted to do more with my life than promote division, greed, war and torture and so now, as I retire as WarMaker-in-Chief, I look for further challenges, further opportunities to serve the common man.
And what, frankly, can be more common than football?
And what, frankly, can be more common than football?
Here's me, pretending to play it. With some wog children.
Yes, I know, they still have all their limbs but quite frankly, expecting me to maim all the world's wog children is a bit much.
Not as though I haven't done my best.
Yes, I know, they still have all their limbs but quite frankly, expecting me to maim all the world's wog children is a bit much.
Not as though I haven't done my best.
Mr Blatter has done a fine job, these past years, in promoting the timeless values of bribery and corruption but if I might say so, I am sure that I can do better. The decision to award the World Cup to some stinking little Hellhole does urgently need to be revisited. In my judgement, I feel that the raghead princes paid nowhere near enough to Mr Blatter and his colleagues but you can be sure that if they want to keep the fixture they will have to reimburse me rather more generously. I mean, world statesmen don't come cheap, do they? I think I can show the world's football lovers how the sport can be run for the benefit of everyone. But mainly me. And Lady Imelda of course. And I look forward to being of service.
The British General Election? Well, it was a bit of a disappointment but at least we got a majority, yes, I know, only thirteen but better than nothing.
Scotland? Yes, it looks as though I am vindicated there, too; I always knew that Devolution would break-up the Union. And now it is. My principals in Europe will be delighted.
Chilcott Enquiry? What's that?
That'll be twenty-five thousands pounds, please, Huw.
Yes, cheque to Imelda, as usual.
Yes, cheque to Imelda, as usual.
................................................................
No, despite all this football excitement, I haven't forgotten that we have entered the season of competitive promising.
Here's some candidates for election:
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If you would like to read some original ishmael or stanislav, then the four-volume Call Me Ishmael oeuvre, collected and curated by editor mr verge, is available on Lulu and Amazon.
Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.IIshmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps
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11 comments:
It is always sad when Mrs Ishmael puts in so much effort to entertain us and the comments meter gets stuck resolutely on zero. Allow me then to construct some statements that might provoke some responses maybe even some jollity in these desperate times.
What on earth is jovial John Swinney doing with a pint of warm piss in his hands when the world needs politicians of gravitas? While the unelected Kiev strip club doorman is traversing Europe and is feted at every stop, even by such eminences as Rod Stewart (sometimes tartanist, perennial Scotland fan-less politely, a loser). F*ck Joe Biden at every event now unable to present himself as sentient. The camoron threatening Russia with what exactly-a blokade? The British Army? Two aircraft carriers built by the finest Scottish shipyards tied up with no estimate when (if ever) they might be seaworthy. canaduh's finest-turdeau shouting nazi slogans at a piss conference. Moldova, Estonia, Lithuania, Sweden, Finland all mouthing off believing NATO article 5 is their sword and shield, have they not studied Stoltenberg and his complete inability to achieve anything?
Swinney should be barging into these meetings and reminding the minnows his country has a nuclear submarine base (snigger) a NATO early response airfield and a fine natural anchorage at Scapa where the allies could assemble to provide Russia with target practice for their hypersonic missiles. (Sorry Mrs Ishmael, but you know for a fact that NATO is stupid enough to do such a thing.
John Swinney should be able to present himself as a mental giant at such gatherings.
Mr cascadian. Don't confuse the zero meter with lack of interest on the part of Ismaelians. Its just that many of us are thinking deeply about the implications of all this, which are profound and awful, and we cannot find any remedies.
I pride myself as being an outlier. I deserted my home country for pastures new (Australia) - and whilst I can quibble about things Aussie, I've never reneged on my prediction (from the early 90s) that the UK is fucked. Not something, in being proven correct, I take any pleasure in, BTW.
Amongst other matters, I'm also a proud supporter of Russia in its endeavors. It will prevail not just against the annoyance that is Ukraine, but also the decadent West that has prospered over recent centuries in imperial rape and pillage of its colonies. Those days are over, as we can see now. Russia and China, and Iran, are recovering their historically important positions as civilisations. And about time too.
Its also time to question whether capitalism, as we understand it, has not been a big mistake
There is no shortage of food for thought.
Thanks, chaps. mr ishmael used to call it blogging a dead horse when his posts attracted no comments, and he'd go off in a sulk. He frequently said that it was his conversations with ishmaelites, through the Comments, that provided his motivation for writing. He liked to come here to find out what he thought. It was his birthday yesterday - one of those days coloured red and gold on the sunny calendar of the emotional year (Judy Collins: Priests). When he was dying, his thoughts were of ishmaelia - he wanted the cyber corner where ishmaelites hang out to continue - and I've done my best with my own poor efforts, publishing his draft work and pertinent extracts from his published work. As with this Sunday's piece - written 9 years ago, it describes the Blair Peace Revolution and the Middle Eastern "warm and constructive peaceful war". Netanyahu has just disbanded his war cabinet, so we'll see what consequence that will bring.
Football, of course, is our take on Bread and Circuses to distract the people from what is really going on. Did you know that the Romans had a sort of slingshot cannon that fired free bread and snacks into the crowds at the gladiatorial contests? The modern innovation is that the humbled Tartan Army provide their beer and snacks at their own expense and fund their own travel.
We had a warship parked up in Scapa Flow last month, without attracting much comment at all - as with the instances of communications cables being sliced; and our local MP, Alistair Carmichael's efforts to have a North Sea Fleet based in the Flow, as a strategic base for the upcoming war, have fallen on deaf ears.
We all appreciate your efforts, Mrs I.
Of the wannabe footballers, Maggie is the only one I would trust with a football, and near all those small children (who look remarkably slim)
Starving, they were, mr mike, with their poor knobbly knees sticking out instead of being deeply embedded in dimpled flesh, having to pass time by running around instead of sitting down with snacks and a screen.
I hadn't spotted it, mr mike - but you are quite right - how the nation has changed in forty years. No wonder nearly 11 million people in Britain in 2023 were economically inactive - sick, caring for sick family members or unemployable.
Footie is a tax on the daft. The best player in the world is currently one M Mbappe (sp?). The lad is undoubtedly a god footballer - even my untutred eye can see that - but he is also a horrible little shite who is srely in need of a good kicking, and then a quick popping down a mineshaft. Come the revolution, I will fill all those old coalmines with footballers, fact-checkers and net-zero zealots. 90% of the world's problems will be sorted in a single morning.
It appears tat the Tory meltdown not nly continues but accelerates. Here in Bandit Country, we hve the mighty prospect of both Reform splitting the blue vte more or less in half. This leavse the tantalising prospect a Labour winner. The Colonels and their matrons will explode. You'll hear the detonation all the way up there in the sky, mrs i.
Natural patience, wu wei for the Taoists, is one of the main things we have lost, just waiting and not feeling that we and our endless fucking tampering are crucial. We have no rhythm. The responses to your posts build at their own pace and we need to do the same societally and politically. We won't, of course, which is why we are fucked, for the foreseeable.
Slow down, shut up and attend to what is in front of us.
Taken to textese, mr mongoose?
I've never had the slightest interest in the footie, considering it both nasty and boring, but a combination of a friend who is into it and the Scottish fuss about it had me watching the first half of the Scotland v. Germany game. I didn't bother with last night's game - Scotland v. Switzerland - that's enough football for me. Radio Scotland is beside itself with joy over the 1:1 draw - but it turns out that Scotland is still not very good at playing football - the goal credited to them was an own goal by the Swiss goal keeper. The function that football has in our cultural life, however, is fascinating - tribal and gladiatorial. Some, but not me, say it is cathartic, as the teams and their supporters play out their proxy wars. Some believe the behaviour of the fans is an art form in itself. When I was a Probation Officer, long ago and far away, my probationers recounted with pride their participation in extreme football violence - one chap told me how he would prepare his aerial weapons - potatoes with Stanley-knife blades embedded in them for hurling into the opposition crowd. I think it brings out the worst in testosterone-addicted men, and far from being cathartic, it fosters and promotes violence and unpredictable crowd behaviour. Throw alcohol into the mix and the pseudo-freedom from customary restraints experienced by men in a foreign country, coupled with jingoism - and it all becomes very dangerous.
And all this is aided and abetted by the media and the political classes - presumably to control them. As Marx might have said: "football is the opium of the masses".
Alistair Carmichael for the Liberal Democrats will hold his Shetland and Orkney seat, I'm confident, although the SNP candidate, Robert Leslie, is promising everything, including re-joining Europe. The situation mr mongoose describes, of Nigel Farage splitting the already slim Conservative vote, looks set to make for amusing politics and the return of Labour with a massive majority. At least Starmer looks like a statesman, unlike wriggly little Rishi in his wet rent-boy suits.
Thank you, mr bungalow bill, for your calm and measured words.
Nah, mrs i, it's just the keyboard being full of cornflakes and toenail clippings.
The Tory collapse is becoming very close to a Tory eclipse.
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