IS THAT WHY YOU HAVE SUCH BAD BREATH?
Resign ? No, I’m minded to say that I’m very nearly perfect. And, if I may say, because it’s very important that your listeners understand, if I didn’t resign over lying like a cunt to the UN, over endorsing those so-called rendition flights and over the admissibility in English and Welsh courts of evidence obtained in Morocco by Ahmed and his electrodes, then, and I do want your listeners to understand this because everything about me is terribly important, even my farts, it is not likely is it, I put it to you with great respect, that I am going to resign over a couple of frog students carved up like salami by a pair of nutters, not when I can blame some young tart of a probation officer.
HELLO, MUMMY, MY NAME IS DEATH
YES,SON, I KNOW, I KNEW I SHOULD'VE STRANGLED YOU AT BIRTH.
12 comments:
Seeing as she didn't can I offer my services to do it now free of charge?
I'm reminded of Terry Pratchett's Death, who speaks in capitals. There's a job that could provide some satisfaction:
"MR STRAW, YOU'RE LATE"
Cheers!
There seems to be rather curious effect at work when members of the ruling class don costumes and/or engage in ceremony.
Straw, as shown above. Martin, the corpulent shit-stinking oaf, cacked in gaudy trinkets. "Lord" Goldsmith, in a frock and man-tights. Even that appalling Blairite ultraspiv Levy (he of the forward-facing nostrils), taking the Oath of Allegiance in the Lords.
It is as though, for however long the moment lasts, they, at least in their own minds, transcend their empirical existence of deceit, fraud and murder.
The Prime Minister of these Disunited Kingdoms made, I thought, a game, if somewhat vague, stab at holding a press conference yesterday.
The delay in starting was quite understandable, they were obviously taking the time to adjust his medication. Personally, I thought they had overdone the Valium and perhaps gone a touch light on the Ativan, but I acknowledge the difficulty with anti-psychotics, particularly with such a complex patient, and the side-effects of memory loss, acute hyper-excitement, aggression and confusion were understandably inevitable and all too apparent.
What was far less clear was any sign of logic or anything even approaching rational thinking in his appointments.
There are many in this country, on both sides of the EU argument, who share a sense of democratic outrage that the referendum promised by manifesto was denied. Into this already seething resentment Brown introduces Mrs Neil KINNOCK as Europe Minister. As if kicking us in the democratic bollocks was not sufficient, Brown now adds insult to injury.
With the nation disgusted at the venality and lack of integrity demonstrated by our elected reesentatives, Brown recycles Hain, fresh from resigning in disgrace only five fucking minutes ago over his hundred grand slush fund.
As if eight years in Afghanistan, achieving the square root of fuck all, had not taught everybody that you either provide sufficient forces to win or get the hell out, Brown compounds his contempt for our once-armed forces by making Bob (yes I really am that big a cunt) Ainsworth Defence Minister.
Obviously, I could go on. I recall, Mr Ishmael, when a couple of years ago the lodger, Stan, first started to question both the sexuality and sanity of our Prime Minister. At the time it seemed very avant guard and perhaps even a little over the top. How long ago those days seem now.
I look forward to your own usual restrained and respectful commentary on these matters.
That's nice thinking Daisy.
So much for "... a new kind of Government ... more open ... more accountable ..." or however the ghostwriters chose to phrase the lie.
A principal, almost by definition, is something one is willing to forego personal advantage, or suffer personal loss, in order to support.
Brown, therefore, has no principles. Everything is subordinate to his vanity. Everything, including the lives of others - not so much a man of stout moral convictions as a morality-free zone.
As Stan might say, the Age of Ruin has properly commenced.
"transcend their empirical existence of deceit, fraud and murder."
Yes Mr Black Hole Sunset, not to mention bypassing the egalitarianism which is supposed to be their credo.
Like the Lord Chancellor, the money-grubbing shitbag, Glenys, has a special place in our hearts and is discussed elsewhere, tomorrow, Mr Ms Daisy. Learning of her appointment and Hain's and Ainsworth's elevations, not to mention Lord Sucre's I wondered if we come equipped from Evolution's murk with an outrage limiter; something in the spleen, maybe, which auto-starts when, having our faces shat on, our pockets picked, our innate Decency run-over with tanks and our intelligence insulted by such as the arsehole Woodward and shuts down our normal emotional responses to the Unspeakable, substituting a kind of benign bewilderment at incomprehensibly bad behaviour when what we should be doing is storming Downing Street, Westminster and the BBC.
Like the outrage limiter, getting used quite regularly.
It's a horrible state of affairs Mr Ishmael.
Everything seems to be poised on the brink of annihilation.
Dear Mr DTP & Mr BHS
The diabetic hypo - a dramatic lowering of blood glucose - can sometimes, very rarely in my experience, create a sensation of disembodiment or, more accurately, depersonalisation, although it is a unique mixture of both; consciousness is present but indifferent to the host organism's need for rapid sugar, it's survival; physical orientation is absent, no sense of vertical or horizontal, straightness or curve; rational thought is absent, even the sinstinct of self-preservation is gone, there is just a numb aliveness, not dead yetness; it is the weirdest thing and hard to describe. The conventional wisdom is that the liver, sooner or later releases stored sugars and prevents coma or stroke; for one undergoing it, though, the possibility of taking remedial action oneself has passed, either the organism will repair itself, or someone will render assistance, or, if neither of these happens, one is fucked.
I think that those concerned about what ails us are hoping that some national liver will kick-in, or that some bystander will remedy the problem.
I think we have already had the stroke.
Straw is almost the worst of the lot in my reckoning, and the competition is fierce. Straw is personally, deliberately, nasty to insignificant individuals who happen to have got tangled up in the family courts.
Even if the rest of everything had never happened, the behaviour of Straw and Harman - with supporting disgrace of Goldsmith and Scotland - is enough to make me puke.
Dear Mrs Woman on a raft
Never like to let a week pass without mentioning Jack Torture.
We have mentioned before that something terrible overtakes anyone who becomes home secretary - barring, at a push, Roy Claret Jenkins - but in Straw's case the something terrible was already there, that it materialises in torture and bullying is unsurprising and like you, I believe the Devil has a special place for Jack, closer to the fire,deeper in the molten shit, the horriblest fucking bastard of the whole grisly crew.
Maybe, time permitting, you'd share what you know of his efforts on behalf of those ensnared in CAFCASS and the like.
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