THE BBC'S DEBONAIR MR POLITICS
ANDY NEIL, 73, EX-MURDOCH EDITOR, SUBSTANTIAL MURDOCH SHAREHOLDER AND DIRTY OLD MAN.
KELVIN HILLSBOROUGH MCKENZIE.
CURRENT SUN COLUMNIST
GABSHITE, MORON, RACIST, SEXIST PIG.
SIMON HOGGART.
NEVER PLEASED MR MURDOCH ENOUGH TO GET A GIG,
BLESS
ONE OF THE GUARDIAN'S MANY CHARITY CASES.
ITS SKETCH AND DISCERNING WINE WRITER.
NOT SO DISCERNING WITH HIS WOMEN, THOUGH.
SHARED kIMBERLY QUINN (THEN NEIL'S EMPLOYEE) WITH DAVID BLUNKETT AND, PRESUMABLY, HER HUSBAND. IF HE GOT A GO, NOW AND AGAIN.
SIMON DOESN'T LIKE IT MENTIONED.
Day after day, week after week, we suffer the wit and wisdom of the smirking old turd, Neil and his chums; this morning the ghastly trio above were determining the election again, on our behalf. Enough to make one join the Labour Party, they are.
Neil, the hereditary Dimblebys, the creaking, unshiftable Paxman; it is thin gruel, indeed, from the greatest broadcaster in the world. The people who most acclaim change in other organisations so reluctant to embrace it themselves, jobs for life for anyone who enters the door.
Old, white millionaire broadcasters interviewing old white millionaire politicians, what sort of shit is that ?
SIMON DOESN'T LIKE IT MENTIONED.
Day after day, week after week, we suffer the wit and wisdom of the smirking old turd, Neil and his chums; this morning the ghastly trio above were determining the election again, on our behalf. Enough to make one join the Labour Party, they are.
Neil, the hereditary Dimblebys, the creaking, unshiftable Paxman; it is thin gruel, indeed, from the greatest broadcaster in the world. The people who most acclaim change in other organisations so reluctant to embrace it themselves, jobs for life for anyone who enters the door.
Old, white millionaire broadcasters interviewing old white millionaire politicians, what sort of shit is that ?
8 comments:
The sport to be had is to witness their utter unpalatability, Ishmael. Like watching some poor beggar eating from a dustbin you are fortunate not to have to join.
What sort of shit it is depends on what you imagine could replace it, Mr Ishmael. I would say yes to something more risky, more controversial, at times, even offensive in some ways.
When did we start letting the boundaries push back on us? We are imploding under the pressure of self-righteous interference in each other's lives. If a scientific analogy is permissible, I think we may already be inside the Event Horizon and there is nothing to do but wait for the Crunch.
Judging by what I have seen of Andrew Neil's attitude to 'issues', he seems to regard everything as some kind of joke. 'Ha ha, you want to increase foreign aid, but what is this about you refusing to wear boxer shorts?' Of course, that is his 'editorial nous': and he's right, most of us do want to know about the shorts. As a species, we are lazy, stupid, and short-sighted. Sometimes, I talk myself into the belief that what we have experienced so far isn't even half of what we deserve.
Brillo said to that Thai tart "would you still love me if I had no money?" She said of course I would still love and I would miss having you around as well. As for Hoggart Christ on a bike do they actually pay this fucker for the drivel he writes? The Hay festival where I think they sell books or something, his oh so nice friends really know about wine and good schools I think he just recycles this crap year in year out.
I find it less and less like sport, though, mr oldrightie, just a great big pisstake. It's my money and yours, no less than the rental charges for Frau Schmidt's porno movies. I'd love to know what the overtime costs to us will be of all these fuckers gabshiting morning, noon and night. Anybody any idea?
They do pay them, all of them mr anonymus, or rather in most cases we pay them, either through the fake charitable status of the Guardian/Observer - wonder what CP Scott'd make of the BlairBummer, Rawnsley flogging his ouevre, through both 'papers - and it's waterfall of public money for the public sector jobs ads or through the license fee for the BBC.
Kelvin the Kunt earns most of his dough from the Great Democrat, Rupert and just a bit from the Beeb but since Rupert has a virtually charitable UK tax status, himself, courtesy of successive, frightened prime ministers, we may as well be paying MacKenie, too.
I think almost anything would be better, Mr Edgar, than what we currently have, which is the rigid exclusion of the popular voice, the Dimblebys being the most effective in shutting it down on the odd occasion it emerges, the slag, Neil, never going near it. He cannot bear the unRich, still, any luck and he'll choke on his Viagra.
You are probably right in
the belief that what we have experienced so far isn't even half of what we deserve.
lazy, stupid and short-sighted...... and yet, look at Hubble, look at Mozart, look at penicillin, we are also very clever monkeys.
You wanna see fake charities and by the way there are about 500,000 of them. Try the British council what a gravy train this is. and one I really want to get on here in Chiang Mai they have an office poor sods have to open at 9AM then after a gruelling 2 hours close at 11 AM pnly charge 50 quid to sign a name to endorse a letter. Mind you its in lovely suroundings guards the lot Even Kinnocks son has his snout in the trough employed by this shit outfit in Moscow. The older I ger and the more I see I am convinced there are parallel universes the one they live in and ours.
At the risk of being tiresome with the scientific analogies, Mr I, there is the concept of 'critical mass'. The way things seem to be going, whatever our stock of Mozarts, et al. may be, it looks like there isn't enough to ignite. The stupid, the vain, the greedy, the cruel: these are the examples now most in evidence and the consensus of most of humanity seems to be 'ruthless is good'. Somehow, strength and stupidity have been conflated. Somehow, what seemed must be unavoidable progress towards justice and compassion has, nevertheless, been reversed so that we now drift again in the direction of fascism and slavery.
Somehow, our past brilliance is now no more than a curiosity, useful only for making third-class tee-vee fodder that claims, for example, to 'tell the true story' about penicillin, while making up half of the 'facts' for 'narrative reasons'.
We can't handle the truth, Mr Ishmael. It isn't entertaining enough.
Thank you for the gorgeous pic of Scarlett.
Locate power where you will, but without a slave there is no master and without a master no slave. The broadcasters and their audience are bootstrapped into one. Viewing figures reign supreme here - is this not pure dictatorship by the proletariat? It has never been easier to escape any one media channel, yet the fuckers can't wait to lap it up.
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