one of our submarines is missing

More than one, actually. Stuff has gone. Posts and comments and ree-plies to comments. Blogger was unavailable this morning, maybe o'erloaded with people blogging about the foxtrotting nincompoop Vince Mabel, I mean Cable, silly old woman, Cable the Unstable on QT last night - which was certainly a topic vexing your correspondent - together with some mad Tory bint, his partner in crime; also there was Blind Boy Blunkett, talking about his wife -is that his wife as in his wife or his wife as in LittleLadsRUs, in which the silly old fucker manages to impregnate someone else's wife, just as though she was his wife and then, when spurned, set MI5 on the silly slut, who was, by all accounts, a bit of a Westminster bicycle?  I think we should be told, whenever Blunky is waxing lyrical about wives, just whose wife he's on about, the horrible fucking git, gives disability a bad name, that cunt. Spanky Max Mosley,was on, too, grinning and chortling like he was sitting on a seat with no bottom and someone was underneath, dressed in an SS uniform, flogging his arse with a bullwhip,  he was a waste of space, actually, one expects better from a rich flagellant than that,  and there was some  cliche-spouting fuckwit nobody, off Radio London or something, one almost felt sorry for Dimbles, surrounded by pouting, moist, talking arseholes, like he was in The Naked Lunch and not on the BBC, or the CIA Broadcasting Authority.

Saw that huge, fat fuck, Mark Mardell, last night, too, the BBC's North America - ie Washington - correspondent or editor or whatever these wankers call themselves, when they're not all queueing-up to play Pantomime Dames on This Week, with Jocky Neil, and he must have tripled in avoirdupois since he got Justin Webb's job as mouthpiece for  WhiteHouseInc, just blethering, unquestioningly, the latest press release from Uncle Sam's gang of organised criminals, it was as though he was reading it from an autocue, Anyone we kill is legally killed because the Attorney General says so.  Thisnis the greatest nation on |Earth, ever, because we say so. I  bet we're paying this cunt a a hundred grand a year for this nonsense, and supporting his family of fat children and fat wife in some luxury, could have been worse, though, could have been Jon Sox, Channel Four's Job-for-lifer, and he would have been down on his knees fellating any passing Democrat Congressman, the worthless piece of shit .

Mabel Cable, anyway, the shameless, worthless old cocksucker, was  telling us how great it would be if David Laws could find his way back into public life.  And there was the rest of us thinking that being an MP was, sto all intents and purposes, being in public life.  I suppose, when you don't ever turn up for work but stay at home, sulking like Gordon Snot or sulking  and counting your stolen money like this revolting shithead,  Laws, then actually all you are in is receipt of state benefits, awarded once every four or five years, in the festival of competitive promising. Proper public life, according to Cable,  means being in the cabinet of doom, regularly humiliated and demoted. Or being on Strictly Come Dancing.

If anyone can explain the doings of Blogger - I am sure I posted on Laws and mr ptb responded, and sure that I answered several earlier comments -  please send a message in a bottle. And herewith my apologioes to those whose comments prompted ree-plies, now disappeared. Off, now, to search the garden for little Maaaahdlin McCann;  she has to be out here somewhere, that's what Gerry and Cilla say, and they should know.