A PRICE ON HIS HEAD

A YOUNG MAN ADMIRES HIS INHERITANCE.

Neither the rotten, thieving Parliamentary Labour Party nor the braying Tories want ANYONE prosecuted over Iraq, all of them being up to their scabby arses in it.

Two reptiles walking upright.

Prison works, Tony.

Not as well, Michael, as Shock and Awe and Torture and Gang-rape.
Bless you, prime minsiter, we are both men of faith.
Yes, Michael, and as rotten as the day is long.
I should say so.

However uncomfortable it may momentarily become for Blair and his gang at the Chilcot enquiry, no serious consequences will ensue..

George Monbiot, of the Guardian, is not everybody's cup of green tea but he's done us all a favour in launching a website - http://www.arrestblair.org/ - aimed at doing what it says on the tin, nicking the slag, Blair, encouraging the happy event by means of a bounty paid to anyone making a citizen's arrest, anywhere and everywhere that Blair pops up. Details are at the site.

It may be smoke and mirrors, as potent as Col von Fawkes famous private non-prosecution of His Grace, the Lord Levy but if it gives the sanctimonious, hypocritical, warmongering cocksucker and the slag, Imelda, a sleepless night or two, if it makes their pampered spawn look at them even a little askance, if it brings a fleeting comfort to the bereaved and tortured of Baghdad and Fallujah, then that'll be an acheivement considerably more substantial than any wrought by Chilcot and Chums.

WOTSONTELLY, WE THREE QUEENS, C4 NEWS

KENNY JAZZMAN CLARKE
STRANGER ON THE FRONT BENCH

To recover from recession the nation simply must smoke more fags; I can let you have some cheap. They're jolly good for you, I know, I used to be the health seckatry. Burst capilliaries? Nonsense, it's the studio lights. And anyway just look at Winston, pissed as a rat, all the time, just like me A-ha-ha-ha-ha

LORD MANDELSTEIN OF RIO DE JANEIRO

You know, Ken, some of those Brazilian boys have them this big......

Gosh do they really, and do the little minxes dig jazz, man, like Coltrane and that shit, Miles, he was a darky, too?

........but that is not the reason I had to have that emergency operation on my arse, Brazilian cock and the state of my arse are entirely unrelated ......

JOHN SOCKS, LEGENDARY POMPOUS NEWSREADER AND SNIVELLING YANKOPHILE.

That, secretary of state, if I may say so, is nothing, President Obama has one this big.......

How big????? Gosh, that must be what they mean by a cap in yo' ass.

Y'know, you really are a bit dishy, Peter, fancy my place afterwards ?

And now it's over to Samira, the token Paki, we always have one, with some of the day's other, less important, news. We like to give them a chance, better than them all running corner shops. We always have one, shows how modern we are, been doing it for thirty years now.

Thanks, Jon, you decrepit old wanker, suppose they'll carry you out of here in a box, and off to some fucking woodland burial somewhere. In other news some biddy at the Chilcot festival A feminist troublemaker, Elizabeth Wilmshurst.

has said that Jack Torture is a prat and a bully and a liar, still, at least she didn't wind up killing herself like one of his brain-addled conquests, Fiona something or other, that's Channel Four News. The weather will be cold and wet but not over those cocksuckers in the houses of parliament.

UPDATE: JACK TORTURE: I AM A DIFFERENT PERSON TO MYSELF.

THE CHILBLAIN ENQUIRY, JACK TORTURE UPDATE

A MOTHER'S LAMENT

OLD MOTHER TORTURE: MA SON, JACKIE'S, A REET LYIN' BASTID AND I SHOULDA DROONED THE FUCKING SHITBAG AT BIRTH, AYE, BONNIE LORD CHILBLAIN, AH SHOULDA, HE'S REET GUDE FER FUCK ALL, THE SMARMY FUCKING TOERAG. AND THAT GRANDSON, WILLIAM, FUCK ME, JESUS, WHAT A FUCKING MONSTER HE IS.

The mother of the Obedience Minister, Mr Jack Torture, today told the Chilcot enquiry that her son was a waste a fuckin' space and she wished that she'd a burned him and kept the afterbirth, couldna been worse than this piece a shit's turned oot to be.

Sir Michael Wood, senior legal adviser at the Foreign Office when Straw was mincing around like fucking Goebbbels, echoed Mrs Straw, he's a lying bastard and no mistake, I told him the war was illegal and he just fucked me off, look, here's his letter: Dear Sir Michael, I hear what you say but I am minded to tell you to fuck off, we wanna war and we want it now, so bollocks. He was the same at the home office, legal advisers'd tell the spotty cunt that so and so was illegal and he took no notice and now he comes here bleating about his conscience. Man's a fucking Nazi. Up against the wall, motherfucker.

THE CHILBLAIN ENQUIRY. PRAT INSISTS, I AM VERY IMPORTANT

Jack Torture supported the Iraq war only “very reluctantly”, he said yesterday.

He knew that he could have stopped Tony Blair going ahead with his intention of joining the US invasion."I am minded to say that I am an extremely important person and your listeners must understand that I could have stopped the war anytime but I didn't because I am a very different person to myself, or is it from, accountancy was never my long suit."

The former Foreign Secretary said he warned the Prime Minister that it would be illegal simply to overthrow Saddam Hussein and pressed for the United Nations to resolve the crisis peacefully. He told the Iraq inquiry that he had presented Mr Blair with an alternative plan on the eve of the crucial Commons vote on war that did not involve committing British troops.Only he took no notice of me, having his head up Mr Bush's arse.

Mr Torture repeatedly appeared to suggest that his hopes of avoiding war were at odds with those of Mr Blair, who wanted a large British force to join the invasion to prove that he had as big a cock as Mr Bush, the Executioner.

The Justice Secretary said that the Government was haunted by an error in an intelligence document that said Saddam could deploy weapons of mass destruction within 45 minutes. The most senior politician yet to face the inquiry expressed “deep regret” about the war and acknowledged that if he had refused to support the invasion Mr Blair would have been unable to carry the Government or Parliament. "I am a very important person, more important, probably, even than myself. "

“I was fully aware that my support for military action was critical,” he said. “If I had refused that, the UK’s participation in the military action would not in practice have been possible.” He described his decision to back military action in March 2003 as “the most difficult I have ever faced in my life”, which posed a “moral as well as political dilemma. I am a very moral as well as a very important person, that is why I want to take everybody's rights away and put them in prison if they don't vote for me. Or, in due course my son William, the boss-eyed one, who was not a drug dealer, but a good kid, really."

He had agonised over a decision to vote for invasion at a Cabinet meeting. He had discussions with Gordon Brown and Robin Cook, his predecessor as Foreign Secretary, who resigned as Leader of the House, before having a heart attack up a fucking mountain.

Pressed on whether he had considered leaving the Cabinet, Mr Torture replied: “Did I ever think, ‘I’m going to resign over this’? No, I didn’t. I was far too important. Especially since the prime minister took no notice of me at all” He confirmed that he had drawn up contingency plans in case the Government lost the Commons vote, making British participation impossible. They included offering the US intelligence and logistics support as well as the use of the air base on the British Indian Ocean island of Diego Garcia. “I prepared a paper for Mr Blair — I talked to him about it, and he wiped his arse on it” he said.

Throughout his three hours of evidence and in a 25-page note from his Mum Mr Torture emphasised that he hoped the crisis could be resolved peacefully. I am a very peaceful and important person."He appeared to distance himself from a secret letter that Mr Blair wrote to President Bush in July 2002, which is believed to refer to Britain joining the invasion. Sir Roderic Lyne, a former diplomat, asked Mr Torture if he felt “entirely comfortable” with the way Mr Blair had expressed himself. Mr Torture eventually admitted: “Mainly. Would I have written the memo in the same way? Probably not, because I am a different person. And far more important. Than either Mr Blair or myself.”

He admitted that it had been an error not to make clear in the dossier published in September 2002 that a claim that Saddam had WMDs that could be launched in 45 minutes did not refer to missiles." But it doesn't matter. When important people such as myself make errors it's not as though they are really errors, how could they be ? And actually, I am minded to say that there is not exactly a great deal of difference in being able to launch WMDs in forty-five minutes and not being able to launch them. It is, really, Mr Chairman, a matter of semantics"

Asked why there were so many differences of opinion emerging between himselves and the then prime minister he said that it was probably because Mr Blair was being paid so much more than him by the American WarsRUs Corporation. Asked by Lord Chilblain how much the figure was the Obedience Seckatry said "You will have to ask Mr Blair because we are different people but it was at least twenty million dollars for the first year after he went to work for the Americans full-time."

Asked about his much publicised relationship with then Secretary of State Condoleezza RicePussy the Obedience Minister said "Rice? Pussy? Never heard of her."

CHILD ABUSE, AN ICON WRITES.

Well, like it's just a shame, man, that these little dudes don't have a proper role model. You know, man, when me and Ronnie're playing, man, it's like more than the Blues, it's like some ancient art, man. Like, we been playing this shit for like forty years, or is it fifty, fucked if I know, eh, who's counting. If only those little bastards could dig it, man, know what I'm saying, like Ronnie an me, we're tight, man.

I mean, man, all these little dudes need to do is like score some good smack, carry a couple of guns and a knife maybe, cop an open tuning off Ry Cooder and like just stagger about on stage, smacked out of your head for fifty years . If you can find some foxy little chick, mebbe young enough to be, like, a schoolchick, man, and you looking like a ten thousand year old Egytian mummy, man, then that's really cool shit, slap her around a bit, y'know, it's what chicks expect. They respect ya for it. Y'know, man, it's like Under my Thumb, right, man?

So what I'm sayin' here is like, Rock'n'Roll, Y'know, man.
It's those Ho-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-onky-tonk wimmin, gimme, gimme, gimme the honky tonk blues. Ayn-gee, Ay-an-gee, when will those dark clouds dis-a-pe-e-e-ar. Can you dig my shit, man, it's like, Holy, man, no other word for it. Holy shit.

Child abuse? Wow, far out.

MATINS, GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DEO

SHIT AND BEGORRAH, SO IT IS, SEND FOR THE BLAIR PEACE CORPS

It's not like maimimg teenage boys but it'll do for now.
A mass murderer, lavishly salaried and pensiond and protected from his chums by the British taxpayer, enjoys one of the simple pleasures of life.

Gerry Adams, MP, of the Noncing Adamses. His brother is on the run after allegations that he repeatedly raped his own daughter and Adams' assertions that he broke off contact with his Beasty Brother are contested, convincingly, by many in the Paddy media. Photographs exist of the two monsters, the paedobeast, surely the white sheep of the family and the serial murderer/torturer etc etc have been published in hitherto sympathetic newspapers showing them campaigning together to get the nonce a Sinn Fein sinecure, long after Gerry is supposed to have denounced his bro and called for him to surrender to the Old Paddy. Still, torture, arson, extortion, burying-alive, drug-dealing, protection rackets and mass murder on a Wehrmacht scale, wotsabit of inter-family rape to get excited about, when the Peace Proh-Cess, or the survival of Sinn Fein/IRA is at stake ?

Gerry, anyway, is hauling himself up to his full beardy height and throwing his toys out of the Ulster Hellhole pram. Delegating his chum, Marty Kneecaps, to go and sort out the cuckolded, thieving, turd-muching, numpty wanker, Peter Robinson, Gerry says that youse bastards better start taking us seriously or we won't play, so we won't. Gerry and Marty want the Ulster cops to be led by veteran IRA school-bombing kneecappers and Pete wants them to be led by bowler-hatted Orangemen and while Pete is struggling to hang on to his many jobs and salaries, following his allegedly sick wife's GrannyKnobbing episode, the terrorist component of the Northern Ireland Assembly is trying to kick the poor man when he's down on his knees, praying to God, and counting his money, the rotten piece of greedy, bigoted Presbyterian shit.

If the Peace Proh-cess is in danger of being derailed can it be long before its architect is summoned. He is well-regarded by this assembly of fuckpigs, having paid them all ministerial salaries and expenses for four years when they weren't doing anything and, of course, writing-off, with the Hand of History, all their considerable atrocities. Not doing deals with terrorists, it's called.

I'm a pretty, straight guy.
We'll see about that, so we will

SATURDAY CLUB, HEROES AND VILLAINS

FIRST THING IS KILL ALL THE LAWYERS

The sentencing remarks of Mr Justice Slag in the Doncaster Court, yesterday.I am awful sorry, lads, that you're here, today, in a grown-ups' place, with angry strangers and people hating you. I'm sorry because you're only children and it's not your fault that your Mam and Dad, well, how can I put it, didn't act like Mams and Dads should and as a result you don't act like children should. It is not your fault, how could it be?

And, you know, we have made arrangements, so that when Mams and Dads aren't doing what they should then little guys like you are sent to live with nice people who act like real Mams and Dads do, it's just that it didn't happen that way for you. Maybe the man in charge of the people who should have made it happen was too busy with his boat, or his house in France, and he didn't, as he should have, made sure that you were being looked after. He gets paid an awful lot of money to make sure you are looked after and as often as not, he doesn't. We grown-ups should really sort that out but we never do. What happens is, and I'll let you into a secret, that none of the really important people are much good at making sure children are looked after and since none of them are any good we can't just pick on one of them, we have to pick on all of them, all the MPs, all the Directors and Chief Executives of this and that, all the Head Teachers and the Chief Constables and yes, all the Judges, everybody, really, who knows about the sort of lives that you two blokes have had and allows them to continue and that, lads, is never gonna happen, is it, even you know that?

So, here's what's gonna happen. If you were nine years and three hundred and sixty four days old you wouldn't be here but when you are one day older, just one day, a minute really, then the police can do what they say is their core role, and that is prosecute you, so here you are, one minute you're a child whom the state must protect the next minute you're criminally responsible, and the state must prosecute you; I know, seems stupid, that's because it is stupid.

Anyway, because all these proper grown-ups failed to protect you from your Mam and Dad, doesn't mean that I can protect you and what I have to do is say things that the newspapers will like to hear, because if I don't that's what we call, in my game, failing in my duty to the public and what that means too, is that instead of going to some nice people who are going to act like a real Mam and Dad, which is what should have happened long ago you'll be going into custody, just to satisfy the angry stupid people, and when you can come out, well, that depends. But don't worry, because in our nice country, in which I am so proud to be a judge we lock up more young people and for longer and at a younger age than almost anywhere else, something for everyone to be proud of there, I feel. And let this be a warning, if you don't want to go inside at eleven make sure you are born to parents who will send you to a good school and give you every advantage, like I did. Take them down.


Here is what the shitbag really said:

Mr Justice Keith described the brothers’ crimes as “truly exceptional” during a lengthy sentencing at Sheffield Crown Court.

Here is the full text of his comments, with the two defendants referred to as A and B and their three victims referred to as C, D and E:

“The two of you know that you are going away for a very long time for boys of your age.

“I’ve got a lot to say to you and I’ll try to put it as simply as I can. It may be that you won’t understand everything I say but it will be explained to you later by your lawyers or social workers.

“Neither of you need me to tell you how shocking your attack on C was and how appalling and terrible your treatment of D and E was.

“You, B, were responsible for most of the violence on C. You stamped on his face when he was on the ground and you punched him in the face a number of times.

“But you, A, punched him in the stomach and you were holding him so that B could punch him, though you were eventually to tell B that it had to stop.

“I haven’t been told why C had his pants round his ankles, because C can’t bring himself to talk about it, but it is obvious that you were intending to humiliate him in some way. Your attack on him has left him emotionally scarred.

“But what you did to C doesn’t begin to compare with what you did to D and E.

As with C, you lured them to an isolated spot.

“You, A, took what was left of D’s pocket money, and you, B, took E’s mobile.

I’m not going to spell out everything you did then — that would take too long — but what it amounted to was torture. They were cut with broken glass.

“Their genitals — that’s their private parts — were kicked. Really heavy stones were thrown at their heads or dropped on them. They were whipped with sticks and branches.

“And they were gagged to stop them screaming. You, A, tried to strangle D with a metal hoop, putting your foot on his back for leverage, and E was then burned with a cigarette.

“They were forced to undress and covered with a plastic sheet, which was then set alight. At one stage, D had to ‘bum’ E. Fortunately, E doesn’t think D succeeded but they had to ‘snog’, and when E said he needed to pee he was told to do it into D’s mouth.

“E managed to avoid doing that, though his wee went down the side of D’s face.

“I don’t think you got a sexual thrill out of any of that, in the same way that robbing them of D’s pocket money and E’s mobile wasn’t about gain.

“It was all part of the torture and humiliation which you wanted to subject them to.

“Indeed, by recording parts of what you did on a mobile, you made at least some of this an example of ‘happy slapping’.

“Then, having frogmarched them to another isolated spot, you tried to strangle E this time. You forced both of them into a stream and, although E got to the other side and pretended he had killed himself by shoving a twig into his mouth, D crawled back to your side of the stream where you, A, threw part of a discarded sink at his head.

“Although there is some evidence that you were intending to kill them, the prosecution has accepted your pleas of not guilty to attempted murder and I therefore must assume that you didn’t intend to kill them.

“But you told the police that you thought that you had come close to killing D, and the fact is that this was prolonged, sadistic violence for no reason other than that you got a real kick out of hurting and humiliating them.

“Their physical and emotional scars will live with them for a very long time to come.

“Their relationship with each other has been seriously affected, and their parents have been left with a strong sense of guilt — which they don’t begin to deserve — about whether they could have done anything more to protect their boys.

“The first thing I have to decide is whether there is a significant risk of you committing what we lawyers call specified offences in the future, and a significant risk of those offences causing serious harm to people.

“In one sense, what you did speaks for itself. The fact that you couldn’t care less what happened to D and E is itself a strong indicator that you harm people simply because you want to.

“Everything I know about the two of you suggests that there is at the very least a significant risk — and in my opinion a very high risk — of the two of you committing really violent offences, causing your victims serious harm, unless your problems are properly addressed with the help of professionals.

“You had already shown, despite your age, a worrying pattern of offending and bad behaviour. Your convictions, A, as well as the reprimand and warning you received, were for your violent behaviour towards children and grown-ups alike.

“The reprimand you got, B, when you punched one of your teachers — a 50-year-old woman — and head-butted another was itself a serious incident.

“But most important of all is what the reports prepared on the two of you tell me about why you say you behaved as you did, and what the reports tell me about you. I’m going to be using longer words now because I’ll be quoting from those reports.

“You chose your victims because of their vulnerability and you wanted to assert your dominance over them by what the author of the pre-sentence report on you, A, called ‘the use of aggression, extreme violence and sexual degradation targeted to inflict maximum pain ... in order to gain a sense of power and control’ over their lives, and by what the author of the pre-sentence report on you, B, called a wish to control your victims ‘by domination, degradation and inflicting pain for the purpose of own emotional pleasure’.

“You, A, came across to the author of the pre-sentence report as someone who was ‘emotionally detached, desensitised and lacking in empathy towards your victims’ and you, B, were said to justify your actions ‘with a degree of righteous indignation’, which showed that you had no empathy for your victims at all.

“You have expressed views towards your victims which, in the opinion of the author of the pre-sentence report on you, prepared on you as recently as December 11, reflected ‘an intense rage’ on your part.

“It is this chilling detachment from what the two of you did coupled with, in your case, B, your anger and your attempts to justify your behaviour, which enable me to understand perfectly why the two of you have been assessed in the pre-sentence reports as posing a risk of serious harm to members of the public — a very high risk in your case, A, and a serious risk in yours, B.

“The conclusions in the very full pre-sentence reports are mirrored by the psychiatric assessments on you which I have also been provided with.

“They make grim reading. I know that positive things are said about you, A, by the manager of the secure unit in which you are being held, and that suggests that the time may eventually come when you are safe enough to be released.

“But Professor Bailey says that, when it comes to assessing the risks which you currently pose, you scored high when she looked at the things you’d done, and at the moment there is little which can be seen in your profile which might inhibit you.”

The judge added: “Dr Vizard, from whom I heard oral evidence as well, thinks that you, B, pose a very high risk of serious harm to others and will continue to do so until specialist help has been shown to be effective in changing your attitudes and behaviour.

“I know that it is said on your behalf that Dr Vizard’s views about you were unfairly coloured by your offending and your bad behaviour when she last interviewed you, and that many of the things she has said about you don’t sit comfortably with how well you are said to be doing in the secure unit where you are currently being held.

“But that, I think, can be explained by the fact that you can behave when you want to and when you think it may be in your interests to do so.

“The bottom line is that I am sure that both of you pose a very high risk of serious harm to others.

“In the light of all that, I turn to whether it really is necessary to pass indeterminate sentences on the two of you, rather than sentences for a fixed period of time, whether with an extended period of supervision after you have been released or with the normal period of supervision.

“I have decided that it is necessary to pass indeterminate sentences on you.

“As Professor Bailey says in her report on you, A, risk can only be predicted in the short term.

“I realise, of course, that young offenders can change and develop in a much shorter time than adults, but the risks which the two of you pose are so high that I do not think that it is possible for me to say that, in a particular number of years, the risks which the two of you pose will be such that you can safely be released.

“I have to leave that to the professionals who will be monitoring you over the years to see how much your behaviour and attitudes change.

“Finally, I have to decide how long you should remain in detention before your release can be considered.

“Here the focus is on what would have been the sentence if the court was not having to pass an indeterminate one.

“I have been referred to a number of previous cases in which boys of about your age and, in one case, a girl, have had to be sentenced for offences which share some of the features of your crimes.

“But none of those cases share all the features which make your offences so serious: the deliberate targeting of your victims, the prolonged attacks on them amounting to torture, the fact that there were two of you and there was more than one victim, the fact that your attack on D and E took place so soon after your attack on C, the humiliating sexual acts you forced D and E to perform, the appalling injuries they sustained, the life-threatening condition in which you left D and the emotional scarring with which they will have to live for so long.

“Your crimes are truly exceptional and how other children of your age have been dealt with affords little guidance about what would be appropriate for you.

“Against all that has to be put the fact that you are still very young. You can’t be expected to have developed the sort of mechanisms which grown-ups have and which make it easier for them to stop behaving badly.

“In particular, you never had guidance at home about the way you should behave. You come from a dysfunctional family, where the environment has been described as ‘toxic’ and the adults were hardly role models.

“There was an atmosphere of violence at home. You were never taught what the proper boundaries were, and your bad behaviour was never confronted within the family.

“It is not for me to apportion blame, though I do know that criticism has been levelled against social services and various child protection agencies for not intervening earlier.

“In addition, the law requires me to give you credit for the fact that you pleaded guilty and when it was that your lawyers told the prosecution which of the offences you would admit. I have factored all of that into the period which I have decided you must be detained for before your release can even be considered.

“You, B, are the younger, but I don’t think that I should distinguish between the two of you.

“You appear to be brighter than A and it looks as if, in some respects, you may have made some of the running.

“The total sentence which the court would have passed if it had been passing a fixed sentence on you would have been 10 years’ detention.

“The law would have required you to have been released after you had served half that sentence.

“That means that the law requires the period for which you will now both be detained before your release can be considered is five years from when you were first remanded into the custody of the local authority.

“But you will not be released then. You will only be released when the authorities are satisfied that the risks which you pose are such that you can safely be released.

“I acknowledge that the effect of a minimum term of five years is that it will not have been completed by the time you get to the age of 14 and have to be transferred to a young offender institution from the secure local authority accommodation where you are currently held, and that the effect of that is that the possibility of you remaining in secure local authority accommodation after that age as boys who are in the care of the local authority will no longer be an option.

“I must now express the sentences which I pass on you more formally. On counts 10 and 11, which are the counts which charged you with causing D and E grievous bodily harm with intent, the concurrent sentences which I pass on each of you are ones of detention for public protection, and the minimum term which I set before your release can be considered is five years from when you were first remanded into the care of the local authority.

“I leave it to the lawyers to agree that date but, if they cannot, the case will be referred to the resident judge for him to determine that issue.

“Since the offences of robbery and causing or inciting a child under the age of 13 to engage in sexual activity are an integral part of the incident which gave rise to the offences of causing grievous bodily harm with intent, and since the minimum term which I have set for the offences of causing grievous bodily harm with intent is based on the sentence which I would have passed for all your offences had I passed determinate sentences on counts 10 and 11, I propose to impose concurrent determinate sentences on all the other counts in the indictment.

“On count 3, for assaulting C occasioning him actual bodily harm, the sentence will be one of 30 months’ detention.

“On counts 4 and 5, for robbing D of his pocket money and E of his mobile, the sentences will be 18 months’ detention on each count.

“On counts 6 and 7, for causing or inciting D to attempt the anal penetration of E, and for causing or inciting E to attempt to be penetrated anally by D, the sentences will be 24 months’ detention on each count.

“As I have said, all those sentences will be served concurrently with each other, and concurrently with the period of detention for public protection to be served on counts 10 and 11.

“All of that means that you will be detained for at least five years from last April before your release can even be considered.

“Since the sexual offences were all about degrading and humiliating D and E, rather than for the two of you to get a sexual thrill, I have concluded that this is not an appropriate case to make sexual offences prevention orders in your cases.

“Finally, since you have pleaded guilty to sexual offences of the kind listed in Schedule 3 to the Sexual Offences Act 2003, you will remain on what is colloquially called the sex offenders register for the period prescribed by law, which, in view of the length of the sentence of detention passed for those offences and your age, will be for the period of three-and-a-half years.

“If you were to have been released from detention in that time, the practical result would have been for those responsible for caring for you to notify the police of your address when you were released, and when you changed your address later on within those three-and-a-half years.

“However, all this is academic because you will not be released within the next three-and-a-half years. That concludes what I have to say and you should now leave the court.

The judge continued: “I now want to say something to C’s family, but principally to the families of D and E.

“I want them to know that I have taken into account the devastating effect that all of this has had on their lives and on the lives of the three boys.

“I have no doubt that they would have preferred to see A and B locked up for very much longer and I know that nothing can compare with the trauma which the boys went through.

“But I hope that they will appreciate that five years is the very least which A and B will serve.

“They may well be in detention for much longer than that and it will ultimately depend on when the authorities conclude that they no longer represent a risk to the public.

“I should also like to thank the court staff for ensuring that the special arrangements which have been put in place for this trial in view of A and B’s age worked so smoothly.

Mothers & Sons, the tyranny of the nipple

Funny business, mothers and sons. Barely knew mine and remain astounded that people of my age have had mothers all their lives and still have them. They're in the news a lot, now, mums, what with Iraq and Afghanistan and of course with young Tommy often having had a series of uncles or you're-not-my-real-dads. The both-ways intensity of some of these relationships appears, to my curious eye, a bit too close to Iris Robinsonism for comfort, not incestuous as such but out on the unnatural end of parenting.

There's that geezer, wotsisname, the hacker, forty years old and cute enough to sneak into the cyber Pentagon and piss in the drawers but there, too, is his Mum, Mother McKinnon, all glammed-up, bleating about her Gary, like they were lovers. He has one of these syndromes but maybe it wouldn't be quite so disabling if he wasn't so mother dominated, I dunno, I do get impatient with syndromees.

Wearisome, how often we hear some poor, haggard, but optimistic biddy opining, with no ear for its incongruity, that Wayne is more than a son, 'e's me best friend, deaf to the Ruinous implications of such a statement, another sheet ripped from crass sentimentality's bogroll.

They are everywhere, syndromees, victims, separatees, divorcees, mothers in love with their sons, ready to die for them, or kill them. Like Frances Inglis, below, God bless her poor, mad mind. This is her mugshot. I've known a lot of murderers and they don't look like anything special but Frances really doesn't look like a murderer/ess, even so, at fifty-seven she's been given nine years, minimum nine years, for killing her comatised 22 year old son, Tom, with a heroin injection, succeeding on her second attempt, while on bail, charged with attempted murder, after her first crack at it failed. Fuck me, you couldn't make it up.

It seems such a vague stretch, nine years, not enough to indicate real wickedness or sadism or gain in the offence, yet way too long for a woman obviously, given the facts, living outside Reason's shelter, made loony by grief and guilt and imaginings, clinging to a distorted sense of ultimate responsibility for the fruit of her womb. We can argue that she knew what she was doing and she knew the likely penalty so let her enjoy her porridge and her roll-ups but we should be bigger and wiser and kinder than those who, deranged by cruel circumstance, offend us, shouldn't we?

We are awash with mistreated, mateless mothers, exploited, prey to passing strangers, bullying children, unstable, rudderless, making ends meet, firefighting; harangued, hectored and bullied by the likes of wee, salivating Michael Gove or Harriet Soursister; their relationships askew, often bizarre and it seems to me that in this case, as in so many, what's needed is that strong but gentle father's hand, keep Gary McKinnon on the cyber straight and narrow, tell him not that he's wonderful and talented and a very special person but not to fuck with Uncle Sam; to mediate between Frances Inglis and her isolation to regulate whatever chaos it was which saw Tom Inglis jump from a moving ambulance, his mother and her neighbours, au fait with the acquisition and administration of fatal doses of narcotics, adept at penetrating secure facilities, and at teaching her other children the jargon of grievance, this, friends, this is the apparatus of Ruin.

The boy, Tom, is dead, now; he might've died anyway, doctors may have eased his passing, he may have suffered, a bit, a lot, who knows; maybe Frances's remedy was a grim kindness but it wasn't her decision to make and she has transferred the boy's suffering, if such it was, to herself and to we, who must exercise our own freedoms, conscious that she for nine years, barring a successful appeal against sentence, may not. Lost her son, lost her freedom in her old age and distressed all who know her. And many who don't. Time to ring some changes.

JUGBAND EVENSONG, WHEN I'M DEAD AND GONE, OOH LA LA

MORE EMPIRE BURLESQUE, THE CURSE OF GORDON SNOT.

DEMOCRATS WAVE GOODBYE TO SAFE SEAT
AS REDNECK WINS MASSACHUSETTS.

It's easy, you get used to it after a while; trust me, I'm a snot-eating lunatic. And I love you, Sir Edward.

Prime Minister Snot has been a lifelong admirer of the late Ted Kennedy whose forty-year Senate seat fell, yesterday, to a redneck; Brown has sponged holidays, most years, in the Kennedy compound and made a much publicised visit last year when Ted was dying and managed to confer on his chum and mentor a British knighthood; Snot-watchers in this side of the Empire know that good wishes - or worse, a personal visit - from Snotty doom any enterprise or sporting fixture to failure; the Republicans' capture of the safest Democratic seat in the Union, was, after Snotty's high-profile visit, entirely predictable.

Ted Kennedy was the son of a prominent US Nazi-supporter, the repulsive Joe, who was once Ambassador to the Court of St James and determined to buy the Presidency for one or other of his sons; alas, the family was cursed, few of the Kennedys evading grief and scandal, booze, drugs, philandering being family traits, often kept secret by a compliant US media and civil service, happier to toe the GoldenBalls line, gifted young men, anxious to offer public service; Camelot, they called the travelling Kennedy knocking shop.

A millionaire, wife-beating, cock-waving drunk, who had never done a day's work in his rotten, pampered life, Ted had everything Brown could admire, including heaps of Brown's trademark personal characteristic, cowardice, running away from his submerged car, leaving a poor wee girl to drown, emerging twelve hours later to report the accident, having been closeted with the family lawyer, sobering-up, Kennedy's association - and abandonment to drowning - with Mary-Jo Kopechne scuppered his hopes of what he and the clan thought was his entitlement to the Presidency but otherwise he got off Snot- as we say, free;

an utter bastard, a rotten husband, a sexual predator, Kennedy's conduct set the tone for the likes of Spunky Bill Clinton and his wanton abuse of power with young Monica Lewinsky and so many others; like all the powerful in the home of the brave, like George Dubya Bush, Kennedy was given special treatment by what Uncle Sam calls Law Enforcement, steal a little and they throw you in jail, steal a lot and they make you a King, all his crimes and misdemeanours brushed-away and of course, in a population happiest wallowing in sentimentality the brother of the slain president could do no wrong, no matter who he fucked, no matter how drunk he was, no matter how he tried to stitch-up State legislation to ensure his own Senatorial permanence and a smooth succession to some toadie. Generations of rancid career politicians all sought Kennedy's bogus imprimatur, his link with the dead Emperor. Father of the House we'd call him here, in the protectorate of Air Strip One. Cunt.

Happily, post-Obama Massachusetts has pissed all over Kennedy's grave, maybe they've just seen through the big-haired, Botoxed, bought and paid for, pseudo liberal slags, pimps and whores who make up the Democrat party; maybe Massachusettsians are up to their tea-partying arses with Obama's relentless speechifying, his ghastly, didactic pomposity and his ubiquitous, grinning, shimmying family. Whatever it is, for Bostonians to prefer the Republican gangster riff-raff which permitted George Dubya's Reign of Terror to the party of Joe and John and Bobby and Teddy Kennedy, and mustn't forget Jackie O, too, is little short of a miracle, a bit like Kensington voting for George The Gob Galloway. Here, we must rejoice that this virtually anarchic behaviour on the Eastern Seaboard must distress, must tarnish by association, were he not already so lacklustre, the snot-eating, bad-tempered babyman, Gordon Brown and reflect that maybe the slogan Yes we Can, is rebounding on SundaySchoolTeacher, Now-Listen-To-Me-Children Obama. Massachusetts gone redneck; Fuck, Yeah, we can.

HOONERY

mm

WEE SMALL HOURS, BACK STREET JELLYROLL

'QUAKE PORN

Natural disaster, noun, any event or force of nature, such as earthquake, flood or avalanche which has catastrophic consequences.

C'mon, now, I put it to you that you're all rubbish. Why aren't you doing better? Anyone'd think there'd been a fucking earthquake, or something. You do know who I am, don't you, the eminence grease of a British broadcasting dynasty?

Of course there are bodies on the street, of course it is nigh-on impossible to deliver food and medicines, this is because the Haitian Earthquake is a natural disaster and it is also because, presumably, even on a good day, the place is a chaotic shithole or what we call a Third World Country, a Developing Nation but such obvious facts do not deter the boys and girls of skymadeupnewsandfilth. Jon Socks, the lifetime proprietor of the taxpayer-funded Channel Four News, is looking and sounding his age, a bit of a natural disaaster himself, as he querulously attemps to berate anyone he can find about how all this shit isn't getting to where it needs to be, fuck, he seems to say, if I wasn't here it'd be a total fuck-up, best thing he could do, of course, best thing all of them could do would be to shut the fuck up and roll their sleeves up, dig some bodies out, bury some bodies, something useful, instead of carrying on like Time and Fucking Motion experts. Bunch of cunts, journalists.

If you took all the to-camera people, the producers, the photographers and the soundmen you could form a labour batallion and maybe accomplish something, also, of course, it would free-up some US Marines to get on with their traditional role of shooting-up Afghani weddings and gang-raping teenagers, semper fides, like.

As we said a while back, the forlorn and dispossessed of Haiti are not crying-out, in their anguish, for Gordon, the Great White Snot-Eater, to come and preach at them, the horrible fucking bastard but as long as Jon Socks is there, agonising, the useless gobby prat, we Brits can relax, someone, on our behalf, is meddling and nit-picking, pushing himself, front and centre, into Sergeant Death's Spectacular Extravaganza.

In a stampede for an image or a soundbite, these clowns, the paparazzi of Doom, shame us all; the mountains of dead, the oceans of sorrow, just a backdrop to the career of some cheesy hack; in a few months they will be giving each other awards for their courage, their integrity; bless.

WOTSONTELLY, THE LEGEND OF LAWRENCE OF ARABIA, BBC 2 ,PART 2 SATURDAY NIGHT, PART I STILL ON iBEEB with RORY STEWART

Rory Stewart is a one-to-watch wunderkind,

now a Harvard professor of some achingly modern syllabus, briefly an officer in the Black Watch, once, at 31, a Deputy Governor of an Iraq Province, an OBE and the Tory PPC for a Cumbrian seat, on telly he oozes an erudition, a wisdom and a presence which Michael Portillo, faltering and stumbling self-consciously from one bizarre sinecure of a show to another, completely lacks; maybe it's because Stewart's an Old Etonian, maybe it's because he has had a life outside the ghastly, pampered world of Westminster. There seems to be stuff going on his head, other than the calculations of the opportunist.

His two-part consideration of TE Lawrence of Arabia, as inspiration to the Taliban of today - and all guerilla fighters - and as a deeply thoughtful realpoliticiste, bitterly dismayed by the West's breaking of solemn promises given to a fledgling Arabian state, is compelling both for the relatively novel broadcasting technique of Stewart himself - it is still largely a head in various exotic location talking to camera, although framed and expressed with poise and poetry and occasional silence - and for the sandscapes, the backdrops to Lawrence's military and political endeavours, shot, perhaps predictably, cinematically.

Stewart's analysis of our self-interested carve-up of the Middle East is not his exclusive property but his simple freshness of approach makes Simon Schama, for instance, look like Ena Sharples. As well as shedding considerable light on why it is that those in the region with inherited memories of Lawrence's time so despise us, these programmes are pleasant to the eye, stimulating, informative and authoritative, this is good telly.

If he is elected, by the way, Stewart will highlight the utter vacuity and worthlessness of the prefect, Cameron; imagine, a parliamentarian, soldier, civil servant, academic, broadcaster and thinker, he'll be like a fish out of water.

GLOBACORP 1 : BIRMINGHAM CITY O

A couple of years back I took a taxi ride in Birmingham; the driver was an Asian Brummy, fiercely proud of his city's retail and leisure facilities.

They is even 'avin' a Bentleys, man, for Bentley cars, know what I'm saying, Bentleys in Brummagem, what a great place, I come from Pakistan but Birmingham is me 'ome. He meant it, too, there are lots like him, more than we often think.

He was a lovely guy and stuck in an expensive traffic jam we or rather I got talking. I told him about how, once, this place was the Workshop of the World, about how his city was once a hotbed of trades and skills, of heavy and light industry of electronics of tyres, of beers and ketchups, of clocks and jewellery, of guns and motorcycles, of how the surrounding towns and cities had shared this industrial bonanza, chains and needles and springs, nuts and bolts, gadgets and gizmos, handles and knobs and saddles and cars, cars, cars and I told him of George Cadbury, a teetotal Quaker industrialist, shocked at the squalor and consequent inebriation of his workers' inner-city living conditions, built a model village, in which no home might occupy more than a quarter of its plot and so its inhabitants had room to garden, how the houses were light and airy, the streets wide and the whole place, in perpetuity, was to be devoid of licensed premises. If I lived in a two-up and down slum in Small Heath and went home to cramped-up, dirty, screaming children, I'd be on the gin, too, said George, at the turn of the nineteenth century and he built the Bournville Village Trust, for his workers, and in the factory grounds he laid out playing fields and bowling greens and down the road he built a lido with diving boards: Cadburys flower beds, laid by a large team of Cadbury gardeners, beautified the surrounding areas, many were visible from the Bournville/Cross City line.

Other industrialists from all over the world visited Bournville and copied it, Lever built Port Sunlight and local authorities encouraged the development of Garden Cities across the UK.

The Bournville Village Trust still exists today, flanked by less salubrious Birmingham suburbs, Cotteridge, Selly Oak and to the South West the open prison that is Northfield. Today, oddly, many of the Trust's houses are occupied not by fourth or fifth generation Cadburys workers but by precious American academics and media luvvies but overall it offers a way of living - clean, healthy, spacious and uplifting - which generations of professional planners have failed to replicate.

And then there's the work, of course, the employment that so many have taken for granted, one man's sweet tooth another man's honest day's work.

Yeah, man, CadburyWorld, I love it, my kids love it. An' how comes, anyway, that you, down from Scotland, knows so much about Birmingham? A long story, my man, pity the poor immigrant, fresh from Belfast, No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish, a popular 1950s Birmingham street sign. Wow, you is kiddin', innit, really? No, Man, really. But never mind that, get yourself down the Art Gallery, look at the Pre-Raphaelites. what's the damage?

And many of Ahmed's generation will be mystified at the fuss over Cadburys, what-the-fuck, the city still has Selfridges and Centenary Square, innit, it's canal basin lined with high-security whores' and gangsters' apartments. And then there's the Bull Ring shopping and New Street shopping and just down the road is Merry Hill Shopping. Ahmed's German-owned Bentleys are retailed close to what was Fort Dunlop but is now another retail mall, Heartlands Shop Til You Drop or some such.

In the commons this afternoon a gang of the oiliest wankers I have ever seen, the Select Committee on Business, indulged in an orgy of mutual admiration with His Grace, The Lord Mandelstein, born, as he modestly says, to govern.
Just a poor gay blackmailer, me;
can't even fill-in a mortgage form.

Nothing he could do about the Kraft takeover - and just as well considering the cack-handedness over Rover, of his predecessor, the blundering Blairite, Byers. Not my job, he oozed, although we would prefer it if companies and shareholders took a longer view. But in every other respect, as everybody knows, I am wonderful. Did I mention that a finger of fudge is just enough..?

Mandelstein didn't say that NewLabour was still intensely relaxed about people being filthy rich but we can judge that one for ourselves.

South West Birmingham recently lost The Ostin - Austin, Morris, BMC, BLMC, Leyland and fuck knows how many other names - as well as all the suppliers of that once-mighty manufacturer. Cadburys is, really, small beer in comparison and we shouldn't cry into our Milk Tray, except that if all the traditional industries and employers fall victim - as most of them have - just what on Earth will people do ?

CHILCOTT, A CHIMPS' TEA PARTY

A FULL AND FAR-REACHING COVER-UP INTO THE JUSTIFIED AND INEVITABLE AND ENTIRELY LEGAL INVASION OF IRAQ.

See no criticism of the Establishment, hear no criticism of the Establishment and speak no criticism of the Establishment; fuck me, no, never.

There has been no interest, here, in Ishmaelia, in the clown, Chilcott and his chums; if they want to collectively shit in the faces of the dead Iraqi children, that's a matter for them, they will be well practised in institutionalised copraphilia, knights, lady and lords. The blog dog, Buster, would have pissed all over that rotten slag, Scarlett and ripped the throat from bullyboy Campbell, the chimps scarcely raised an eyebrow at the load of old fanny they were served-up.

Next week, though, might be different. The biggest cunt in recent political history,

Geoff Cunt, pretend defence minister at the time of the Shock and Awe Blitzkrieg, is thought likely to blame the then Chancellor, Gordon Snot, for delaying the provision of Enhanced Combat Body Armour to UK troops serving in that foul, bloody misadventure.

Geoff Cunt has set a new low-water mark for the evasion and denial of personal responsibility but in blaming Snotty for this particular fuck-up he will be continuing his damp-squib revolt of a week or so back. Snotty, of course, has arranged things so that his appearance at the chimps' tea party - and any rebuttal of Mr Cunt's allegations - is delayed until after the election. Oh, when thieves fall out.....

L/Cpl Snot, at the sharp end.

POSTMAN PAT TO BAN CAT STEVENS

'ome seckatry detains potential terrorist.

I'm gonna ban your Daddy and your uncle.And you.

Yes, well, he's worse than that other bloke, innee, Nutt, the professor. Cor, blimey, I'm a reasonable sort of postman but fuck me, can't have me own experts disagreeing with me about stuff I know fuck all about now, can you? But this bloke Stevens, or Ali Baba, as he calls himself now; he's always been a wrong 'un. That song of his, Matthew and Son, nothing short of a direct attack on the unregulated capitalism which is such an important part of our great Labour tradition which I'm proud to say I 'elped forge as aturncoat union baron, I mean leader and now he, the beardy git, or some other fucking muslim, wants to go and disrupt the solemn proceedings at Wootton Bassett, where some ordinary people do what the government should be doing. I'd go meself, straight up, I would but as 'ome seckatry - yeah, I know, me, great, innit - my presence'd probly distract from the main event, people arskin for me autograph and so on.

No, Mr Ali Baba wants to carry some empty coffins through the streets like we was actually killing thousands of wogs in Afgannywotsit, which of course, we ain't, well, not exactly; so, given 'is 'istory of going down the mosque and prayin' and everyfink and 'im 'avin recorded shitloads of what they call spiritual music, terror rappin' to you and me, I, as 'ome seckatry, have no option but to ban 'im. Freedom of speech is all very well but only if you're saying the right thing, obviously, like Vote Labour for a Secure Society, wiff me as prime minister in due course. So, instead a 'im bein' followed by a Moonshadow, he'll be finding himself tailed by a couple of well-fit, moussed-up young men from the Internal Obedience Force, be failing in me duty, else.

WAR CRIMINALS IN REHABILITATION EXERCISE

PRESIDENTS DUBYA & SPUNKY BILL BOUND FOR HAITI



You bring the whores, Mr President.
Yessir, Mr President and you bring the cocaine.

EVENSONG, FUCK THE POOR.