NOT NICE TO SEE ME
TO SEE ME NOT NICE.
Aside from the clearly despised-by-all ordinary person jeering at him,
Charles Antony Lytton Moneygrubbing Fuckpig Blair may as well have been having a walk in the park at his appearance down Leveson, yesterday.
We are all Friends of Israel here, Mr ben Blair, and I am deeply sorry that someone was able to speak the truth to you, in my court, of all places. This must never happen again.
Maybe if Education Seckatry and Murdoch bumboy, Michael Spit, had been present he might have chided the former prime minister for his frightful, Look, you know, I mean, I simply say diction, his non-existent grammar and the overall poverty of his language and mind.
No, Hymie, you listen to me. Mr Murdoch is a great man, a democrat, a libertarian, a modern thinker, who should be able to do just what the fuck he wants, as, largely, he still is. And without him I'd be skint. The former Mr Blair may well be a Godfather to one of Mr Murdoch's blessed children but did you know that the Bible was dedicated to me, Jewboy? I am not kidding. Just examine a Schools Issue Bible and you'll see my name, right there on the front page, along with God's.
At one point his Lordship pronounced himself depressed by Blair's evidence, not as depressed, one ventures, as anyone outside the charmed circle of MediaMinster mediocrity, looking-in, bewildered by the laborious shadow-boxing of criminals, slags, pimps, ponces and degenerates, bowing and scraping and simpering at one another. In a very real sense.
Meanwhile, far away in another part of town, things proceed normally - as direly predicted here - among the torturable classes.
New Britons emoting for the meeja, as they have been taught to do by their betters.
It may well be that this pair are culpable of murder, hard to know, these days, with Old Bill, his reputation, such as it was, in tatters. As we know, Chief Superintendent Gob is interested only in convictions, guilt or innocence is nuffink to do wiv 'im and it may well be that the cops are just running this up the mast to see if the CPS will salute it. And the CPS, as we know, is good for fuck all.
If these two were the Brookses or the McCanns, or the expenses shredding Blairs, even, they'd be employing spinners, journalists and bent cops, smokescreening the whole matter with clouds of indignation and self-importance. These two wretches can only stew in some grimy cell and contemplate a hopeless life with everyone's hand against them; caged scum, as Kelvin McCunt would say.
We felt that there was something wrong with this bloke, I think we put it as at the very least contributory negligence; and I believe that mrs woar suggested that an incendiary stunt may have gone rapidly out of control, with awful consequences. However it pans out, the Philpotts are unikley to be offered Croesus-like remuneration by JP Morgan or any other division of WarCorp, we will not be providing them with lifetime round the clock security and lavish travel and accommodation.
Mr Blair's incendiary stunt, of course, wholesale arson, torture and murder, carried out with our troops and our money, was of a wholly different order, the sort of distinguished conduct which should result in an earldom, and if the Leveson show is anything to go by, may yet do so.
I simply say
Steal a little and they throw you in jail
Steal a lot and they make you a king
--------------------------------------------
Aberdeen Royal Infirmary may permit me to blog from its cardiac unit, which I enter tomorrow for about ten days. But I doubt it. Thanks to all for their participation over the years in the commentaries of my friend, stanislav, a young polish plumber and myself. We hope to see you all, further on up the road.
29 comments:
All the best ol' bean
Bon chance, Mr Ishmael.
May they be kind to you and good luck. Have you booked caterers?
I mean, hospital food is not terribly life sustaining...
Best wishes.
But it's a heck of a way to avoid the Jubilee.
Thank you mr dick.
As well as Plato's Republic and a VIZ annual, I have packed a box of green tea with lemon bags, ms lillith and Madame Ishmael is instructed to smuggle me les hors d'ouevres, les bonbons - sans sucre - et le petit omelet clandestine.
Glad to see you, too, mr mongoose, still alive and looking like a saint. I was about to launch a search-and-rescue mission among the green pastures of Oxfordshire and through her timbered buildings.
Each of us has his own special gift, mrs woar and mine is an ability to blot-out the existence of the monarchy. I knew, obviously, that it was this year, sometime but that's all.
Now, thanks to you, I can probably dine-out for years on the axiom Queen's Jubilee? Fuck me, I'd rather be eviscerated.
Best Wishes, Mr. Ish, for a steady heart and a speedy recovery.
....................
Busy, busy, busy, Mr I. Anyway, good luck and get the hell out of there as soon as you can.
Mr I. Best wishes. How about convalescing down under? Our winter is bound to be better than summer in Scotland?
Da boch chi, mr ishmael.
x
All the best Mr Ishmael, take your time and get back into fighting trim.
Take your time, and hurry back.
Looking forward to reading the next post when they let you loose, Mr Ish. (Although a Viz annual and stitches are not an obviously sound combination, methinks.) May the Aberdonian radiographers be soft-handed (unlike their Southern counterparts) and the gruel unlumpy.
I wish you a safe journey on that bypass Mr Ishmael.
Buena suerte
God bless you.
Good luck Mr I.
Bon chance mon ami
May you come out in the best of "fettle", and may you be attended by the all of the opposite to that which we wish on the above loathesome weasel.
Knew a wee nurse who worked at ARI, you'll be fine on Ward 50, Mr Smith.
See you back here in a few weeks.
Best Wishes for a speedy recovery.
As vigorous and prescient as ever, Mr Ishmael. The very best of luck with your procedure and a speedy recovery thereafter.
Think yourself lucky that you are not going to Risky Treliske (Truro)
All the best.
Best of luck Mr. Ish, and speedy recovery...
Bad times, this last two years. Where would we be without our rage articulated for us?
Thanks.
Best wishes for a full recovery Mr I.
...and we are left scanning for a signal that this airman is no longer listed as missing. Scanning, hoping, wishing..
Mr I: trust you are recovering well.
A small puff of grey smoke would be welcomed.
Best regards
According to the auto-spiel all comments must be enabled by the blog author.
So I suppose that if the whole heart-op thing went wrong nobody will ever know that I really do wish you the best of look with that whole dodgy ticker thing. And I say that as somebody who has only recently embraced the joys of General Anaesthetic and the fact that you are as fucked up as a wooden watch for days afterwards.
Benign is my new favourite word.
Post a Comment