tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post4750966664401658386..comments2024-03-28T16:31:27.365+00:00Comments on call me ishmael: A SLIGHT HIATUScall me ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-9007226073581752372016-06-10T22:25:21.110+01:002016-06-10T22:25:21.110+01:00It does seem a laborious way of signing-on, mr ric...It does seem a laborious way of signing-on, mr richard, same round here, among the tree-haters, barbed wire replacing drystone walls, which replaced hedgerows, and the whole agri-con a basket case.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-10511588983233647732016-06-01T00:59:29.211+01:002016-06-01T00:59:29.211+01:00I recently heard that Northern Irish farmers get 8...I recently heard that Northern Irish farmers get 87% of their income from EU grants, so we Paddies should vote "remain." Fuck that, Inefficient bastards. Ten sheep half way up a mountain and you dip your hand into someone else's pocket? <br />-richardAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-16392488365113720992016-05-28T17:52:09.181+01:002016-05-28T17:52:09.181+01:00Thank you,m'sieu alphons, for so tender a resp...Thank you,m'sieu alphons, for so tender a response to my lament.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-59602856017062243492016-05-28T16:38:18.811+01:002016-05-28T16:38:18.811+01:00"sometimes I feel like a motherless child.&qu... "sometimes I feel like a motherless child."<br /><br />Make sure you get one that has been cooked through properly. They can give you flatulence beyond belief if eaten under done. Alphonsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-23203556673281636082016-05-28T14:09:55.399+01:002016-05-28T14:09:55.399+01:00Just, in an unguarded moment, heard Vicky Mrs Huhn...Just, in an unguarded moment, heard Vicky Mrs Huhne Price, on one of the Dimbleby pension vehicles, lecturing the nation on truth and facts about the EuRef, how dare those cheeky cunts at the PBC pay my money to this disgraceful, mangy old jailbird, convicted only five minutes ago of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice? This is fucking bananarepublicanism, whores, slags, pimps, thieves and degenerates dressed-up in Decency's clothes and preaching to us about how we should behave. Sometimes, mr inmate, sometimes I feel like a motherless child.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-68224603674716804242016-05-28T12:47:27.846+01:002016-05-28T12:47:27.846+01:00Twasn't the thieving bastard Laws that turned ...Twasn't the thieving bastard Laws that turned my stomach Mr I, the creature I spoke of was some token tory black queer, David Laud or Laude, can't remember now. An effeminate simpering friend of Tophat boy, don't be looking him up until your strength has returned fully. inmatenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-90259007955334518282016-05-28T00:00:48.918+01:002016-05-28T00:00:48.918+01:00I believe, mr inmate, that I glimpsed that imperti...I believe, mr inmate, that I glimpsed that impertinent cocksucker, Laws, preaching at us, the cheeky fucking bastard. I ghoope his arse falls out and he trips over his intestines, breaking his fucking neck.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-27586934626912270742016-05-27T23:57:55.427+01:002016-05-27T23:57:55.427+01:00My bins are wooden built, mr mongoose, two x tripl...My bins are wooden built, mr mongoose, two x triple compartments, three and a half metres wide, a metre deep, a metre front to back, sometimes potatoes grow and are quite nice. Close to the kitchen we have a council bin which digests cooked food, and puts it straight into the soil, below. Probably like yourself, I sometimes generate sacksful of sawdust, which also goes in the compost. I can't imagine a life without all these inter-connections, salvage and recycling, although it has only been for a fifteen-year span.<br /><br />York is as much a Godlessheathenbastard's pilgrimage as it is a holiday. There is a marriage, of course, en route, at Gretna, which will be, at best, a strange affair, we know none of the other side, and I must speechify, as though a heart attack was insufficient burden.<br /><br />I suppose that Mystery plays are now anathema, to you lot; I shall report them nevertheless, ecumenically.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-76436672576852359342016-05-27T18:30:56.880+01:002016-05-27T18:30:56.880+01:00Burn it. Burn it all. Well, all of it with seeds a...Burn it. Burn it all. Well, all of it with seeds anyway. And anything wooden, or even twig-like. This covers most things except the grass-cuttings and the kitchen stuff. Do caution your vegetable operative - me, in this case - to chop up unused veg bits or the buggers sprout and grow inside those cheap and nasty council compost bins. My grandfather, who was WWI doolally, used to make his poor wife run all that crap through the meat-mincing thing. She had this mad grinding device that clamped to the kitchen table. Fortunately for her, her grandchildren thought it a great hoot to grind up perfectly good vegetables in order to make unseemly, gunky yeck. She did have to stand over us however, reminding us every three seconds not to poke stuff in there with our little fingers.<br /><br />York, eh. What larks.mongoosenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-75704081183480166412016-05-27T17:40:43.167+01:002016-05-27T17:40:43.167+01:00I think what I did with the seaweed, last time, wa...I think what I did with the seaweed, last time, was to bring it home, hose it down thoroughly on the gravel and shred it up with the mower and then use it as a mulch. There is no knowing what is in stuff, these days, it could all be radioctive, here, from Dounreay. I have one of those incinerator dustbin things and we do burn quite a lot of stuff and spread it but I just wondered if a mulch would give a longer, slower release boost to the trees. I'm away Sooth tomorrow, to Gretna Green and York, I'll see what's available in shredderworld.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-68087653525047836632016-05-27T14:33:40.955+01:002016-05-27T14:33:40.955+01:00I don’t have a garden big enough to consider the u...I don’t have a garden big enough to consider the use of a shredder. I just fling the stuff into the soil and stab it a bit with a spade.<br /> I’d have thought burning would have released the good stuff quicker. <br />They used to use seaweed around here when my dad were a lad. He never told me what the salt might have done to the soil though and I think I heard someone say that seaweed can be full of stuff you wouldn’t really want in your soil …seeds mainly. I don’t know really..I’m not an expert. I’d be more inclined to harvest the sheep shit.<br /><br />My thoughts entirely too on London. Outside of the M25 is where my sister lives and you only have to look around to understand why Englandland was so coveted by continental invaders…stark contrast to London now. I used to frequent into the city when my sister first moved down there. Sometimes wondrous, sometimes jawdropping..exciting and bursting with life some places of quietness as well….you can keep it now. <br />Doug Shouldersnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-32383037386800040442016-05-27T14:24:18.553+01:002016-05-27T14:24:18.553+01:00Yes, twas a pleasant surprise Mr I, been many alon...Yes, twas a pleasant surprise Mr I, been many along year since Mrs inmate spoke dirty, to me at least.<br />I don't believe it was the Crick creature that prompted the outburst of fucks n bastards, more likely the pigfucker, the fatblondefucker and some strange other-being, Mr David Laud, from the same mould as Mandlestien, fair made the flesh crawl. inmatenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-61721819267278088202016-05-27T13:50:52.360+01:002016-05-27T13:50:52.360+01:00That is a great point, mr mongoose, about the disp...That is a great point, mr mongoose, about the disparity between women's rights and GBLT rights, and the inner and exdtra M25 divide, one which prompted a lengthy reply, just eaten-up by blogger. Briefly reprised it was along the lines of London becoming a multi-racial city-state, owned by froeign criminals, whose money-laundering is facilitated by the British Treasury, whose mayor prays to Mecca and whose populace is more tha half alien, London no longer a traditional, patriotic capital city in the old sense, now a relatively lawless, polyglot, cosmopoiltaan shithole. I will come back to it but thank ou for the thought, most of us are outside the melting pot. call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-20556397338247710132016-05-27T13:15:22.267+01:002016-05-27T13:15:22.267+01:00Yes, I just see them as being like grit. And they&...Yes, I just see them as being like grit. And they'll break down eventually, everything does, apart from plastic and Monty Don.<br /><br />I put in anything organic and just try to balance the greens with lots of clean, brown, shredded Amazon cardboard. Any thoughts on a shredder? I was thinking of buying one to shred all the prunings and use the result as a mulch, otherwise I burn them and spread the ashes.<br /><br />I would guess we make about half-a-ton a year but it goes nowhere. Fortunately, the local council makes what they call Up-Mak, soil conditioner, for making it up, just coarse compost, you can take as much as you want in your car, as often as you want and if you take a trailer and collect a ton, they'll scoop it in for you and charge twenty quid.<br /><br />When I feel a bit dtronger I'll hire a trailer and get a couple of tons. There's limitless seaweed, just a couple of hundred metres away but it's ferociously heavy to collect and bring home, mebbe recruit some teen wasters, give 'em fifty pee per black bag. It's been used in the garden here for centuries, when labour was cheap, it was women's work, in Northern Scotland.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-74537990122829361732016-05-27T12:31:31.261+01:002016-05-27T12:31:31.261+01:00The breaking of them helps keep the soil aerated M...The breaking of them helps keep the soil aerated Mr Mongoose. I used to put all manner of ex meal stuff into the soil…mainly tea bags. I had a pear tree with the best pears I ever tasted.<br /><br />I’d have switched over sooner Mr Ish. I won’t have them on the screen. I won’t contemplate their fucking miserable fizogs.<br />I even switch over when adverts are on...who doesn't? It's not like you have to get up out your seat.<br />Doug Shouldersnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-13107503307756883482016-05-27T11:49:14.598+01:002016-05-27T11:49:14.598+01:00We get free, and free range, eggs around here - fr...We get free, and free range, eggs around here - from the hens of the mum of the lad to whom we give a lift to swim training. So they are quite thin sometimes but seem properly and variably organic, and not those precision-dosed oblate ovoids (No3s) that indeed one gets from Mr Sainsbury's statistical guide to hen husbandry. But the breaking of them before composting did in fact have us foxed for a while. An oversight, as they say. But the shell bits themselves seem indestructible. It does make though for pleasing white triangles in the muck.<br /><br />The trans crisis is just the luvviedom test crisis for today. Either you do believe that spectrum of gender has no beginning and no end, or you a fascist pig-fucking Tory-licking, BBC-hating, environmentally destructive, little Englander, a polyester-wearing, denial-denying beyond-the-M25 oik. And you can therefore be safely ignored. That these crises now arise co-ordinated on an international basis should give us pause for thought. Why is it that these so-called liberalisations happen in concentrated passages? Why did it take less than a decade to get same-sex marriages onto the statute books of over half the world when it took a hundred to get women votes? mongoosenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-33585968603738484612016-05-27T10:49:43.546+01:002016-05-27T10:49:43.546+01:00There was one on C4 News, last evening, mr doug, a...There was one on C4 News, last evening, mr doug, an ancient Man-Lady, looked and sounded like something from tne StarWars bar; an author and thinker, yes, and critic, too, and respected commentator, just not by me, fuck that, whom Krishnan Thick was pleased and honoured to welcome to the show, show being what it is. The TeeVee was only on for a minute, waiting to go to youtube and this bloke, I think he was John-turned-into-Jennifer, was there, instantly, dribbling and croaking about leDonald, before I was able to yell, OFFS, and switched the cunt off. This was before the watershed, an ugly old man, pretednding to be an even uglier woman and the presenter drooling over him. I might ring the fuckers up, they'll probably try to have me arrested and cautioned for anti-transism.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-92007303990740927962016-05-27T08:26:27.146+01:002016-05-27T08:26:27.146+01:00It’s a career thing innit? I remember Bowie’s proc...It’s a career thing innit? I remember Bowie’s proclamation. “I’m Bi” when it was the fashionable thing and his record sales had taken another nose dive. (If he ever sold as much as people claim…I’ve never been convinced). It was cute back then and didn’t really matter much cos’ everything on teevee is fantasy…scripted. The terrifying thing is when people believe it’s real…that the Karshidians are a real family and that their shenanigans there to aspire to. That American bloke who became a woman and they made a teevee about him. The subterfuge is what gives me the heebee jeebies. I saw a trailer..he trurns to the camera and say “I’m the new normal” it wasn’t a ferfucksake moment…it was terrifying. Because right now people are buying into it.<br />Who is “they” that are making these programs? Who thinks that a teevee show about a rich dysfunctional family has legs? But it’s there isn’t it? And the attendant message is there also..completely fucked up? No problem.. here..have your own show.<br />I don’t mind poofs either Sir. No rational person gives a flying fuck whether their neighbour is gay or no. I ain’t walked in their moccasins. <br />Doug Shouldersnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-64861004409675773382016-05-27T08:13:56.984+01:002016-05-27T08:13:56.984+01:00it was Crick's diminution, his trivialising of...it was Crick's diminution, his trivialising of the SuperState argument, into gossip about personalities and rivalries and ambition- although, God knows, neither BoJo or PigFucker have much of a personality, rather a series of cheesy, ungrammatical soundbites written for them, I swear, by a roomful of captive chimpanzees on cocaine - which, in mere seconds, enraged me. I didn't stay long enough to hear more.<br /><br /> I paid Mick Crick's salary and expenses and bought his stupid fucking scarves while he was at the PBC, and now I'm doing it for him at Channel Snow, how dare the shitty, gibbering, little oik come on like Evelyn Waugh, wittering about Life at Oxford and pretending to be a journalist. Everybody already knows anout private, tax-dodging schools and Bullingdon and bought degrees for useless thickos like Cameron, about sanctioned, privileged deabuchery, everybody knows that the inbred spunkfruits of the wealthy are almosr inevitably repellent, criminal and corrosive of the public good and the public discourse.<br /><br />Maybe the show improved, I dunno, doesn't matter, I got m'mind made-up and it'd be a long, cold day in Hell before I required instruction from Crick, or any of his ilk.<br /><br />On the bright side, it's probably great for mr inmate to hear mrs inmate unexpectedly talking dirty, although Crick is a weird stimulant, even for the broadminded.<br /><br />And thanks, mr yardarm, I have just come in from the garden, looking at the water-colour ocean, still and silver, even Turner couldn't paint it; you can't photograph it, either, you need a lens as vast as God.<br /><br />call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-18415681696968606302016-05-27T07:46:15.805+01:002016-05-27T07:46:15.805+01:00It is a trouble to me, that one, m alphons, the qu...It is a trouble to me, that one, m alphons, the quality of life discussion, the presumption which underpins its very airing; it is not for public debate for such is facile and stupid but for friends and lovers of the diminished to discuss and determine.<br /><br />I think I am with the wretch, Dylan Thomas, inasmuch as we should not go gentle, into that good night. Money and stuff are of no value, Life is all we have or will ever have, to take it, however grim it may aappear to be is abhorrent and unnatural. If people want to make arrangements privately and in Decency and with the informed consent of the sick one, then that is their affair, for doctors to assume a determination of Life's worth, to another, is, I think, monstrous.<br /><br />I don't know if your old friend is suffering such that he wouild his quietus make, maybe the ride on the buggy, in the Sun, is worth living for, maybe the sight of his wife's patient smile, should she deliver one. I dunno, fucked if I know. This in sickness and in health vow, either it means what it says or it means nothing.<br /><br />If mrs ishmael ever firmly asked me to end her life I guess I would find a means and take my chance with a jury, fuck 'em, it wouldn't matter anyway, then; for the state to do it, even by professional neglect is something else.<br /><br />Grim thoughts for a bright, May morning. I hope your friend gets out,today, feels the Sun and hears the birds.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-21802126487567725872016-05-27T07:30:14.412+01:002016-05-27T07:30:14.412+01:00continued
Child abuse in TeeVee? Oh, well, lessbe...continued<br /><br />Child abuse in TeeVee? Oh, well, lessbeclear, it was all a long time ago, and quite frankly, there were some rather important people involved, people who are in a position to make trouble, even now, for other rather important people. And anyway, these witnesses and so-alled victims, they can't be relied upon, can they, I mean, most of them are jailbrids, now, they've led perfectly ghastly lives, some of them, and all they want to do is blacken the names of honourable child molesters and decent men at the PBC. No, I think you'll find there's little appetite for pursuing thoroughly decent politicians and broadcasters. And things were very different then. Wosssat? The Holocaust? That was even longer ago? Well, I think what you fail to understand here is that in the Holocaust, which was the wo0rst thing ever, after 9/11, of course, in the Holocaust, what you had was cruel, powerful people doing cruel things to vulnerable people. Which must never happen again. No-one could say that a bunch of MPs or TeeVee people passing children around between themselves and raping and murdering them is anything like the Holocaust. Because it just isn't. I mean wasn't. Not that it ever happened, anyway. And even if it did, my good friend, the noble Lord Hague investigated it all, or some of it, and it didn't happen, he said, even though it did.<br /><br />How they must laugh, in the child dungeons and brothels in Belfast and London and Birmingham and Manchester, the cops and the judges and the lawyers and the councillors and the MPs. The national broadcaster, the Palace, Ten Downing Street and the parliament are exposed as the HQ of organised child vice and murder and some mangy old cunt of a crooked lawyer lets everybody off, nobody sacked, much less prosecuted, instead, Villainy's henchmen come out blustering, about the reputation of the repulsive Brittan, the man who lost the dossier on his mates. Rantzen, the sometime lover of one of the Tory nonces, gets a Damehood, for her work with children. Johnathan Swift, eat your fucking heart out.<br /><br />I don't mind poofs, at the PBC, mr doug,I don't mind poofs, period, what someone needs to do is devise a new nomenclature, a new gender classification for the freaks who, for career, or just for fun will fuck anyone, let anyone fuck them and kiss bestiality warmly on the cheek, darling, so long as it furthers their careers.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-90564575873300002982016-05-27T07:26:52.923+01:002016-05-27T07:26:52.923+01:00It is a big story, mr doug, the polysexuality in T...It is a big story, mr doug, the polysexuality in TeeVee Land. The trans thing, an utter abomination, facetious and peurile, is taken by all in News, as a given, the rest of us just need to be brought up to speed, we need educating by Sophie and Evan and, well, maybe not Huw welshman, I shouldn't think he sees self-indulgent Freakery as a valid human rights campaign, and I certainly don't, yet, according to News, we are all just five minutes away from discovering our other gender and demanding the swift flurry of happy-making scalpels; stereotypical males will be sashaying down the road, in our high heels, and the wife will be togged-up in the boilersuit, wielding the sledgehammer and everybody will have expressed their true inner selves. Trans is the most cuntish thing I have ever heard, sheltering from a life-long bombardment of horseshit. Maybe if all the brown children could have a drink of clean water or an aspirin and a bite to eat, maybe then we might tolerate Graham demanding to be Susan, the worthless cunt; if he comes round here he'll get a good swift kick where his goolies used to be, right into his inverted scrotum. What are the doctors thinking about, can't they be restrained. Needs a private prosecution, I think, misuse of public funds, asault, deception, fucking blasphemy, even.<br /><br />But wed digress angrily- and why the fuck not? - TeeVee has got away Scot-Free in the matter of its institutionalised paedophila and worse. A dead freak has been spat on, and his grave dug-up; Tony Blackburn's had an undeserved kicking and a bought-and-paid-for judge has cleared everyone else - Bill Cotton, Michael Grade, Alan Yentob, even the simpering oilslick, Paul Gambacinni, the man who said he knew all about it, darling, but couldn't speak, because of his careeer; if he ever shows-up, here, with David, he'll wish he hadn't, an oily, mucus-covered turd, Gambo, smirking and whispering stories about gay showbiz, how all the freaks first came-out to him, the wretched Bowie and the ghastly Freddie Mercury, crying their eyes out on Gambo's shoulders. In an insult to children everywhere he's reinstated, now, reading to us from wikipedia, as though he was a musicologist and knew stuff, not a vain, empty-headed showbiz slut.<br /> continues......<br /><br />call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-21591467460827829272016-05-27T06:02:52.450+01:002016-05-27T06:02:52.450+01:00You could always stop eating eggs, mr mongoose, th...You could always stop eating eggs, mr mongoose, they are, after all, on the face of it, a gastronomic atrocity, right up there with caviar and other roes; the creatures haven't even been born yet and we boil them up, fry them, poach them, scramble them and make meringue from them. Fucking omelettes, too, Hollandaise Sauce, no end to the things we can do with the UnBorn If God is a chicken, mr mongoose, we're all fucked.<br /><br />My eggshells, anyway, from chickens just up the road, seem to compost, you do smash 'em up, don't you? I have heard, though, of the rise of the non-biodegradeable eggshell, down there, in TescoLand, maybe it's just another free market mutation.call me ishmaelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14369028864168461729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-81536518110962806452016-05-26T22:35:34.898+01:002016-05-26T22:35:34.898+01:00I saw it too, Mr Inmate. Mrs Inmate wasn`t exagger...I saw it too, Mr Inmate. Mrs Inmate wasn`t exaggerating.<br /><br />Glad you`re back, Mr Ishmael, ready to enjoy summer by the Flow.yardarmhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08700165830593026578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065998731267025499.post-39487769441278316802016-05-26T21:48:09.319+01:002016-05-26T21:48:09.319+01:00Glad to see you are "up and running" Mr ...Glad to see you are "up and running" Mr Ishmael.<br />An old, dear, chum of about 60 years had an open heart job done about six years ago. Sadly he had a heart attack when he was "open"on the table. They saved him, but the right hand side of his body was left paralysed and he could not speak when he was brought out of his coma. He has gradually improved but he still has to spend his life either in bed or in an electric buggy if he is in a fit state to get into it and can get someone to lift him in to it. He even has to have some one feed him. His wife is riddled with Rhumatoid Arthritis and she can do very little but support him mentally. <br />I often think how unlucky it was that they "rescued" him.Alphonsnoreply@blogger.com