Saturday 29 October 2011



 It goes to show that we have them on the run, the fuzzy-wuzzies, said Brigadier General Rupert  Golightly-Jockstrap of the Queen's Own NancyBoys  Regiment, and that's why they're killing so many of us.  Responding to the death of Western personnel in a Kabul suicide bomb attack, the Brigadier said it was always unfortunate when the wrong people got killed, much better when it's Afghani or Pakistani citizens, tragic though that is, and we do try very hard not to kill them, although, as that great Afghanistan  warrior, General CallHimFlashman has said, you can't make a war omelette without breaking a few eggs, or children's legs, just as long as they're nigger children, living on benefits. Responding in the UK to those events, the unelected Prime Minister said Now Look, lets be clear,  ordinary normal people would be quite happy to see suicide bombers fined twenty five pounds a week, and not the derisory fiver, as at present.  No, he continued,  jaw set truculently, arch traitor Sir Doctor Liam Fox is not being fined £25 a week or even five pounds a week for his crimes but instead would be given £17, 000 in benefits, a load of wellpaid sinecures and a seat in the Lords, in order that he keep the fuck quiet and not make my job more difficult, not that it is difficult . I do believe in giving people a second chance, only not poor people, of course,  who are poor by their own choice,  their own fault.  Dr Sir Liam has paid a significant price - ie nothing - for not doing anything wrong, apart from treason, fraud and false accounting and it is only right and proper that he be rewarded by the taxpayer with a lifetime of luxury and keeping quiet about what he knows about me. Not that there is anything to be ashamed of, and if there is it is a private matter.

In other news the most famous, most ghastly, creepiest closet queen in history, Sir Jimmy Arsehole, has passed away;

we, guys an' gals, must hope that in due course, Mr Satan fixes it for Jimmy. Police said there was nothing suspicious about his death, although they could not say the same about his life. No business like showbusiness.

a reader writes:  Sir Jimmy raised a great deal of money for charity, especially for the  Stoke Mandeville Spinal Injuries Unit and you should show him some respect, signed Terry Wogan, (Sir)  of the BBC and the Sunday Filth-O-Graph, a fellow charity bandit and cheery deejay, spinning platters for the people.

In response to Sir Terry's letter (above) I would just like to say that I think Jimmy Saville was a cunt. And so is Terry Wogan. And as for Dave Lee fucking Travis, Jesus, don't start me. signed, Ishmael Smith, blogger and graduate in anarcho-plumbing studies.


Now look.

 I think it's high time we got something clear, regarding this so-called protest at Saint Paul's which is, frankly, worse than anything we saw in the last great war when we were the junior partners to Mr Obama, or was it President Lincoln? Whatever, the fact is that I was elected to run this country,  the people elected me to privatise the health service, scrap employment rights, increase unemployment and inflation and force disabled people into jobs which, if Mr Osborne has his way, won't exist, even for the able-bodied.  Be that as it may, there's no doubting that at the ballot box the people voted for my brand of stupid, I mean caring conservatism. And you don't catch me putting up my tent  in Oxford Street when I don't get my own way. No,  I send in NATO, I find that usually works,  that and a steel bar up the arse. And I think it's time we looked very closely at these protesters. I'm all for the right to protest, just as long as people don't. ( editor's note: this is the default position of everyone in the sewer-nexus  of politics and infotainment,  the bloody, snarling Death'sHead of skymadeupnewsandfilth to whom all the aforementioned are in shitty thrall. Jon Snow, Jocky Neil, Toilets Maguire, all of them.)

And another thing, Liam Fox may have been a cunt and a traitor, running his own foreign policy, or somebody else's, but not the UK Govament's, anyway,  but at least he had the decency to resign when he had actually done nothing wrong apart from high treason,  you wouldn't catch him and his young friend, Mr Werrity,

 Happily married Mr Doctor Fox with his young boyfriend.

dossing-down in a smelly, old tent outside St Paul's, not when the taxpayer was funding five-star hotels, well, I say the taxpayer, but often it was a bunch of international gangsters, nothing wrong with that, when one is in public service one has to take bribes from all sorts of people. And let's be clear, say what you like about our distinguished Foreign Seckatry, Mr Miscarriage, he didn't let any gangsters pay for his young friend's hotel bills, he insisted that the taxpayer pay for it all.

 Happily married Mr William Miscarriage. And his young boyfriend.  One of his  young boyfriends.

  And for my money that says  a great deal about William.  Lets be clear. We are very lucky to have him in the role of Foreign Seckatry. And so is he.


Adam Lard of skymadeupnewsandfilth charms some people who think, quaintly, that what the citizen thinks should matter.

Welcome to  Lunchtime with Lard, with me, Adam Lard, political editor of skymadeupnewsandfilth, you know me, I'm the bloated one, married to one of Tony Blair's bints, Anji Hunter, that's Anji with a J, or is it a double J, or a double I, fucked if I know.

Mr & Mrs Lard.

(editor's note: Hunter was BloodyBlair's so-called gatekeepeer, in fact one of his many publicly-funded SpADS, despised by Imelda Blair for her closeness to Tone she eventually left to become, like so many in the NewLabour putsch, a highly-bribed servant of transnational thievery, in this case BP, which paid her £25OK pa.  Selling-off contacts and info acquired at the public expense,  Hunter should of course be in jail, next best thing, I suppose, is being joined together in holy deadlock with Murdoch's GB bumboy, Lardy, hysterical Adam.)

y'remember me????....I'm the one who Alastair Campbell nearly made cry, only he didn't, so there. And anyway, he's a fairy, everybody knows that.  That was the unelected prime minister babbling there, he's got very macho, these last few days, usually an indication that we are in the last of days.  But to move on, in today's Lunchtime with Lard we'll be examining objectively the position of the Church of England vis a vis the riffraff and benefits scroungers and drug addicts and illegal aliens protesting on the steps of St Paul's Cathedral, although, Heaven only knows what they're protesting about, and no pun intended there.  They should go and try protesting in the US, and see what Mr Murdoch's Mayors and Governors and policemen make of them. Anyway our reporter, Jayne Tits, is in our Saint Paul's studio for us now, Jayne, what can you tell us?

Well, yes,  Adam, that's right and I'm joined by one of the canons of the cathedral, the Most Extremely Reverend Jervaise Amyl-Nitrite. Jervaise, what do you think about all this ?

Well, of course, we support anyone's right to protest, wasn't our Lord, Himself, that is, if you,  believe  in a literal Jesus..........

His Most Exalted Reverence Canon Jervaise Amyl-Nitrite.

Sorry, Jervaise, you will have lost our viewers, there, what exactly do you mean by a literal Jesus?  

Well, Jayne, to be in communion with gay men and women and young choir persons all over the Anglican, well, communion, it doesn't mean that you have to literally believe in Jesus, or indeed God, or, in fact, anything;  man - or woman's - love for his fellow man - or her fellow woman- 

 is what this great big family is all about;  Jesus and the Resurrection is, frankly Jayne, a load of old cobblers......


But as I was saying, if Our Lord HAD existed, which is frankly laughable, he would've been a tent person, too, kicking-up fuck about whatever got on his tits......kind of like Julian Clary, only in sandals, bitching and whining about stuff.....

Like one per cent of the population owning, or having stolen, nearly everything ???

Oh no, I doubt that, it's a well-known fact that our Board of Trustees is made up of, well, the one per cent who own everything..., if they say Shit, Your Reverences, we say What Colour? You know, the Corporation of the City of London is just like, well, just like the Kray Twins, really, just better tailored.... crooks, racketeers, moneylenders and pimps.....

And you mean they own Saint Paul's????

Well, yes, actually they do...

And that's why......

Yes, that's why neither they nor we want this riffraff hanging around here, trying to draw parallels between Christianity and quite frankly, lets be clear, what can only be called Anarchy, Anarchy in the UK.

That was his most exalted gay reverence Jervaise Amyl-Nitrite, there, preaching from the gospel of Sodom & Gomorrah, here, at St Paul's and now back to you in the studio, Adam.

Thanks Jayne, that was Jayne Tits there for us. Stay tuned because after the break Kay Burley

Kay Burley of skymadeupnewsandfilth

will be asking if Victor Tubak, the immigrant sex killer should have his balls cut off and fed to him, why it is that the old fairy with blue hair is able to claim compensation from newspapers which quite fairly wrongly accused him of killing landscape architect, Jo Yeates and why people in this country actually have far too many rights for their own good. Don't go away.

(editor's note, regular readers might conclude that  our view of the Church of Rome is that it is little more than a fabulously successful global crime corporation, trading in fear, superstition and guilt and that its staff, nuns, priests and noncing monsignors,  are either by sins of commission or omission a repulsive, degenerate and  amoral   criminal community,  engaged  historically in all manner of nefarious genocidal, racist and exploitative  and extortionate  activities  and notably in the persistent  sexual assault of infants and children and in the blackmailing and terrorising of their parents, in which the current Capo, Benjy the Nazi, has particularly distinguished his rotten self  and that we consider the Anglican Church to be a rapacious landlord, an investor in dubious companies and nations, a  historically warmly complicit arm of the state in all its wrongdoings  at home and abroad and recently not so much a  faith at all as a powerful proselytiser of  homosexuality, contrary to its own doctrines and teachings hitherto, and they would be correct.  The idea that a spontaneous global movement opposed to the status quo maledictus will find any common cause among the hypocrites, bandits, torturers and Godlessheathenbastardfrockwearingchildbuggeringcocksuckingmotherfuckingsonsafuckingbitches of Religions Inc. is preposterous, may God rot their fucking black hearts and roast their wicked poxy arses in Hell, forever and forever, Amen.)

Thursday 27 October 2011


 A disconsolate Clarkson, pictured comfort eating, the horrible fucking bastard.

Popular loudmouth fatso, Mr Jeremy Clarkson, today abandoned his legal attempts to keep secret his love life, I mean sex life. It's no good, moaned the worthless, over-exposed, over-paid, over-rated lump of shit, you might think that I'd been having affairs with all sorts of unlikely loony bints, like my producer and my first wife and my second wife, the dwarfy one;  you might think that I ran about between lovers so fast that my hair caught fire, that no sooner had I done a handbrake turn on Jemima Wotsername,  that I'd be burning  some rubber  with my ex-wife before  screeching home sideways to my current wife and children and faffing about with her column-mounted gear paddles, pausing only to let little Richie Hammond lick my tailpipe for me.  But you'd be wrong.

No, the truth is that I've only ever had one love, myself;  I simply cannot help it, I adore myself.  I am the man I most want to touch, to see, to be with.   David Cameron, James Murdoch.... they're alright, but they're just mates, when you're rich, like me, you need rich mates, nothing like getting together with other rich guys and mocking the poor - you know, those morons who stand around in my studio, applauding cars they'll not even get to sit in, much less drive, never mind own - but it's not the same as love I feel for myself;  I am the Hispano-Suiza, the E-Type, the GT40 of men, just look at my lines, 

and hear my throaty roar.  And the injunction, well that was just a way to keep that knowledge private.  But you know, there comes a time in your life that you have to face up to the fact that you're just an empty-headed exhibitionist, flogging a dead horse of boyish,  faux rebellion to an audience of equally empty headed boymen - and the odd silly tart.  Uncompromising and fiercely opinionated, they call me, those that don't call me a fat, spoiled, indolent, bullying, racist fuckpig.  But they're all wrong. I'm just a helpless, old-fashioned narcissist. 

I've done the injunction thing, now, kept me in the gossip pages for ages, which is the main thing, nobody reads my column in the Times anymore, or anything else in it, for that matter, and TopGear just goes from bad to worse, it's like the Wacky Races, only not funny. Next week Hammond and me and that other cunt are going to drive our cars to the top of Mt., Everest , set fire to them and throw them off. And I'll be in the studio talking to Ronnie Wood and some other nonces about how brilliant they are. And I am.  Oh, and I'll probably be saying something  ballsachingly funny about  Birmingham.  It's what I do.And it's why people love me. Only not as much as I do.

a reader writes: I'd just liike to say that whatever Mr Smith says, Jeremy Clarkson has given me a great deal of pleasure over the years, it's all good, clean fun, what he and the boys do, and it earns the BBC a lot of money, I can tell you. So let's have a bit less of the sarcastic moaning Mr Smith and instead, a word of praise or two for a fine British institution
signed, Shirley Clarkson, (Mrs)


  President Dwarf, Prime Minister Ali Baba and Prime Minister CallHimDave

We are proud of the role Britain played in helping the lions of Libya reach peace, democracy and the rule of law.  

trans: And if this little fucker doesn't do what he's told, Sarko,  he, too,  can have a steel bar up his arse and a bullet in the head, mon ami. 

Oui, d'accord, CallezVousDave.

Is 'ow we say, in la Belle France, liberte, fraternite et le sodome brutale  et metallique.

Lions, eh? Jesus fucking wept.