The chronicles of Ruin, continued.
Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do.
Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here.
10 September 2009 22:59
They're wetting themselves, again, at the Filth-O-Graph, old friends like Mr Swiss Bob and Mr Old Holborn, the tobacconist, as John Prescott takes his seat with the other Establishment ruffians, confusing ennoblement with Decency, they cling to some notion that Prescott lets the place down, when, in fact, he embodies its purpose, current and historical.
The thieves, the bullies, the degenerates, the killers, the rapists, the robbers, the assassins, these have always been made Lord or Earl or Duke or some such for services against the people, over time their descendants have sought to persuade us, like Uncle Sam's slave owning dynasties, that theirs are the Good Families, even though they are filth and yet simple folk believe that somehow this remaining batch of hereditary scum and their time-served, verminous, political hatchetmen and women and noncing bishops can somehow be polluted by the addition to their ranks of the stupid, greedy, cock-waving fuckpig, Prescott.
There is nothing novel or controversial in Prescott's annointment, in fact it usefully demonstrates or should, even to the blind that there is no significant difference between the benches of the government and the so-called opposition - how many times, one wonders, must we speak these truths before people stop acting like children, my party's better than your party, Jesus fucking wept? - that the only place for all who connive against us in these dark cloisters is Up against the wall, motherfuckers?
'ATE ALL THIS FLUMMERY, I DO, CAN'T STAND IT. WORKING CLASS, ME. MAN OF PRINCIPLE. BUT IT'LL KEEP THE MRS 'APPY, NO, NOT THIS ONE, AYE, THE OTHER ONE, THE OLD BOILER, WITH THE HAIR AND THE MAKE-UP ALL PLASTERED ON, LIKE, WI' A TROWEL. LADY PIEMAN, MILKMAN BOWIN' AND SCRAPIN, LIKE, SHE'LL LOVE ALL THAT. BUT IT WON'T CHANGE ME, DECENT, HONEST JOHN PIEMAN, THAT'S ME.
Her love of big hats, black men and soft furnishings is well documented, but now it appears that Pauline Prescott has developed a love for ermine.
The former Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott is being urged by his wife to accept a seat in the House of Lords after the General Election.
Commons insiders say the former hairdresser from Hull has become rather taken with the idea of becoming 'Lady P' for Pissed-On
Mr Prescott's name is expected to top the list of a relatively small number of peers that Gordon Brown will create if he leaves office this spring.
Despite previous claims that he dislikes 'flunkery and titles', his wife admits it is now an open secret that he wants the job.
Mrs Prescott is even said to be using his past affair with his diary secretary as leverage.
One well-placed source told the Sunday Times: 'Pauline is very keen. It’s not exactly John’s natural habitat, 'cos they like them to be able to string a sentence together and he can't, the fucking moron, well not one anybody'd underfuckingstand but she loves the idea of being known as Lady P. After everything she’s been through, it’s probably the least he can do.'
A well-groomed and loyal wife, Mrs Mutton has made no secret of her love for the high-life.
During recent interviews coinciding with the launch of her autobiography, Mrs Prescott admitted that relinquishing her 'lifestyle' was one of the key factors when she decided to stand by her husband following his affair.
Pauline stood by the former Deputy Prime Minister after his affair with diary secretary Tracy Temple, young enough to be his daughter.
When asked whether she would like to become 'Lady P', she responded: 'My God, Yes!'
Mr Prescott’s arrival in the upper house would cap his rise from a ship’s steward on Cunard liners to some of the highest offices of state, all of which he fucked-up completely, transport, the constitution, the regional assemblies, shit, all of it, good for fuck all, useless bastard. Wants dropping down a coalmine, flabby, stupid, sweaty imbecile.
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PRESCOTT ON PAULINE
On his peerage: 'What do you want to be Lady Prescott for? You’re a lady already!'
On their courtship: 'Paul [as he calls his wife] finished her hairdressing job earlier, so she’d wait for me in a cafe across the road and I’d signal with a string of sausages at the window when I was ready to leave.'
On her love of fine things: 'Champagne? There’s bloody champagne all over the house!'
On her role: 'She feels people think because she’s a housewife, she’s nothing. And, it’s not nothing, to do it all. Some of the powerful women think it’s not a job, but of course it is – she’s chosen to do it and she loves to do it.' Can't say fairer than that , John, she stays at home, looking in the mirror and trowelling Polyfilla all over her mush and you go out and fuck your juniors. Keep the red flag flying here, eh?
On the affair: 'She’s smart, beautiful, funny and she’s put up with my behaviour and tolerated my stupid mistakes. It’s quite amazing really, the poor, stupid bitch'll stand fer anything. I mean, who'd 'ave 'er, like, after I been sweating and bouncing all over 'er, fartin'[ them pie farts, under't blankets, like."
On taking a ministerial limo 250 yards: 'Because of the security reasons for one thing and, second, my wife doesn't like to have her hair blown about.'
It would also mark a remarkable turn-around for a man who regards himself as a working class hero, even thoiugh he is class traitor and a brown-nosing, moneygrubbing illiterate fuckpig..
In 2004 he railed against blue-blooded aristocrats, telling a Labour party regional conference: 'Now is the time to rid ourselves of the remaining rump of hereditaries in the Lords. They are an offence against democracy. Just like me'
In August 2008, he said he claimed he would not follow in the footsteps of other Labour grandees such as Neil Kinnock, Roy Hattersley and Denis Healey by accepting a peerage. Toffee-nosed prats. Mind you, I've heard the pies are pretty good in the Lords, quipped the eighteen stone stuttering diabetic moron.
He said: 'I don’t want to be a member of the House of Lords. I will not accept it.'
However, Mr Prescott's love of the finer things in life is well documented. He has owned two Jaguar cars and was famously photographed playing croquet on the lawns of Dorneywood, one of the Government’s lavish grace and favour country homes, even though he can't. Play croquet.
He also once offered his wife a short drive during a party conference so she did not ruin her hairdo.
With its turrets, his constituency home is also fit for a lord. When details of MPs’ expenses were revealed last year, it emerged that Mr Prescott had claimed for having mock-Tudor beams attached to the front of his vulgar constituency property in Hull, like a cunt.
Mrs Prescott, who was once told by her husband that she does not need a title because she is 'already a scrubber', refused to deny she wanted him to accept a peerage.
She said: 'We’ll just have to take each day at a time, and see how it goes.'
FROM THE ARCHIVE, COWBOY JOHN.
Cowboy gift ups Prescott pressure
UGLY BASTARD
John Prescott's contact with a US tycoon is being investigated.
John Prescott is under further pressure after it emerged he was given a "cowboy outfit" by tycoon Philip Anschutz during a visit to his US ranch.According to the Mail on Sunday, Mr Prescott received a Stetson hat, cowboy boots and an initialled belt, initialled C-U-N-T. A spokesman for the deputy prime minister said all gifts would be registered by the end of the month, now that he'd been found out.
