We face a future of unelected national governments, alliances of worthless, thieving, tyrannical fuckpigs - career politicians. There is so little faith in political parties, so scant a likelihood of majority acclamation that whichever concocted tribe of thieves, child molesters, drunks and traitors can feign a majority will barge into Downing Street, claiming, as do the current shit-eaters, that the country actually elected them, even though, resoundingly, we didn't.
No-one elected a coalition; we need to remember that - because we are told daily that we did, as though millions of voters, acting in some telepathic conclave, elected just so many Conservatives and just so many LibDems, just enough of each to form our new-model government. Cameron's and Clegg's usurpation of democracy, however, only echoes that of Gordon Brown's so-called succession, as though he and Blair were some foul, shit-spattered dynasty, each monarchical despot emerging from separate, warring, royal houses. The 'papers wrote, without irony, of succession and large sections of the country were bamboozled into thinking that indeed some dark divinity was shaping our ends. Brown was an unelected bag of shit and it was his betrayal of democracy which permitted, encouraged the bare-faced impertinence of the present Flashman rabble
The obvious purpose of these new governments will be to further spread the almost global dominance of consumeriste totalitairianisme nouvelle, to promote, among those people who are neither corporeatistes or members of MediaMinster, a barren insatiability, to promote a sense of national values based on the acquisition of stuff; we see it already, the fathomless grievance of the i-phone addict, the poor wretch, trapped in his pathetic, digitised life, who knows that the next model will do so much more than the current one, yet cannot postpone his purchase; the zombies who foregather in the TopGear studio, cheering and applauding cars which they will never even see close-up, much less own; the fashionistas, gasping for the latest atrocities, torture garments excreted from the demented, drug enfeebled minds of grotesque, women-hating fairies. And then there's the latest, franchised Hollywood blockbuster, the latest computer game, the latest album from whoever-it-is; there's the multiple branches of Cruelty TeeVee - your voice is shit, your house is shit, your cooking is shit, your general knowledge is shit, you are the shittiest link, fuck off and die; there's even, I believe, a show about your body and your face being shit, Embarrassing Bodies, isn't it?
Filthy bastards in MediaMinster promote divisions, black and brown against white, healthy against sick, young against old. Never, though, do they imperil the Great Divide, that between Rich and Poor.
And in this obscene digitised reality of hatred and dissatisfaction people are both tantalised and cudgelled by the property behemoth; look, you don't need proper wages, they are told - and they believe it - the price of your house is tripling every five minutes; we have made you millionaires. How long can it be before Osborne squeaks NoMoreBoomAndBust or some variant of that contradictory insanity?
Already, we are no longer citizens, with rights; instead, if we are not hard-working families, we fall into some enemy group within, some group which must be coralled, oppressed, our rights re-assessed by some poisonous, embittered rodent - Ian Duncan Smith, a worthless tosser, good for fuck all, too stupid, too up his own scabby arse to even lead the brainless reptiles of the Tory party, a failure
which makes him more useless than even David Cameron, the man who believes Uncle Sam won the Battle of Britain - Smith is incompetent, a liar, an embellisher, bloating his achievements, disguising his resentments and his vindictiveness the reformers hairshirt, his, he witters and sneers ia a zeal to help the downtrodden, when in fact it is just class warfare disguised as good housekeeping; Schmidt's attack on our rights is imploding, ridiculed even by his own supporters for his dunderhead incompetence, yet the Quiet Man staggers on, like a fatally wounded suicide bomber, determined to do his worst. Chris Grayling, a gobby, jumped-up nobody, a repulsive gabshite bully, too stupid to find, unassisted, the hole in his own arse,
mad keen to rebuke us, chastise us, keen to imprison us fro life, or longer; currently, without any mandate, selling off the probation service to the infamous corporation of government choice, G4, the same gang as are charged with torturing, beating and electrocuting prisoners in their South African operation; party chairman Grant Schitts,
My name, today? I dunno, it'll be one of them.
well, what can you say about this cunt, a con-artist and a moron who thinks horses are carnivorous. That Cameron has faith in this piece of human rubbish to win him the election says much about both of them, all of it bad. Criminal idiots are highly rated by CallHimDave; his trading for Murdoch's support of a central position in Downing Street for Andy Coulson is emblematic of Cameronism, he should have it in a coat of arms, his criminal friends and aides being hauled off to the nick; it is his Hinduja brothers moment, Coulson is his Bernie Ecclestone. A decent man would've resigned the minute Coulson was charged.
A word in your ear, prime minister?
Certainly, Andy, what is it that Mr Murdoch wants me to do?
It's not that, it's just that I'm being arrested.
Never mind, I probly went to school with the judge.
But for the purposes of this essay it doesn't matter in the slightest which of the vermin wins the election, not in the slightest; it wouldn't matter if there wasn't an election, things will be the same whoever sits on the government benches. Does anyone with a grain of sense see anything to choose between, to differetiate George Osborne from Ed Balls, or Teresa May from Mrs Balls, Yvette, Gordon Snot's over-promoted ice-pixie; does anyone really believe that the ravaged, snarling harpy, Caroline Flint,
- the late Warren Zevon had an apt line: Her face looked like something Death brought with him in his suitcase -
is even fractionally, infinitessimally different from, more adept than the hapless half-wit, Ed Davey, himself a Chris Huhne manque (now, there's a nightmare thought) believing that the national energy crisis will be solved in the windmills of his mind, the fucking moron.
And we mustn't forget the FagAsh Lil de nos jours, Farage and his red-faced, sclerotic masturbators. Does anyone really think that he wouldn't get into bed with any party which turned-down the FrontBench duvet and spread its horrid legs? Can anyone doubt that given the chance he would find some form of words to betray everything he claims to stand for? The man's a politician, a smug, smirking, shameless bully, unbedevilled by conscience, the personification of patriotism being the scoundrel's last refuge; when he wakes up, he's lying, when his lips move, he's lying his arse off. Too busy smoking outside or jackassing on Question Time even to superintend his own party conference, too unprincipled even to defend an entirely harmless remark made by one of his own. I remember Katherine Whitehorn, a columnist, writing Oh, I'm such a slut, you wouldn't believe the state of my house, the other day I picked up the cat and started wiping the kitchen table with him. Nige the Fag would've had her expelled. Big political cojones, y'see, sacking a harmless old duffer. And such political nous that he really does believe that the majority of people cannot wait to get down the pub, cannot wait to kill themselves with tobacco. More to be pitied than laughed at, Farage and his choice of vices, almost, if it wasn't for the millions he's trousered in Euro expenses, like the rest of them.
There was a time, in my lifetime, when political parties meant different things, were differently peopled. Before my time but Winston Churchill was the greatest, the most important leader in British history bar none but he would have made a fucking awful post-war leader. There'd be no health service, just for a start. Without the '45 Labour government many of those who now damn the labour movement would have known only rickets, poverty and slums, God rot their fucking infantile, short-sighted, led-by-the-nose stupidity.
Tory, Harold McMillan had seen, stepped in the slaughter of the Somme, a landowner and a wealthy publisher he seemed, nonetheless, a decent sort of Tory, rebuking Whisky Maggie and her spivs, Tebbit and Heseltine, Lawson and Clark, for selling-off the family silver, as he called their criminal privatisations.
Alec Douglas Home, Harold Wilson, Ted Heath, Tony Benn, even the customarily seedy Liberal, Jeremy Thorpe, these were distinguishable, they and their parties, one from another.
No longer. All sit now, on the Great Latrine of State, shitting in our faces, regardless of putative party differences, the same villainous crew shits the same shit all over us.
In my youth, when I didn't think of myself as a socialist, I considered myself a liberal with a small l and I still do. A terrible thing has happened, though. Along with the general grubby and inaccurate colonisation of the language by business and by politicians, human filth like Nick Clegg have somehow persuaded people, well some people, that he is not only a Liberal but liberal. Like me.
It is the nakedness, the emergence of true Liberalism which sees us now where we are, victims, effectively of unconstitutionality, of a coup. The result of the last general election was that no party had an overall majority and the democratic thing to do was for Cameron's party to run a minority government seeking support for its measures from other parties; eventually he probably would have fallen but maybe not. Up here, in Scotland, the best part of England, the Tribesmen governed as a minority government for five years, doing deals with Tories, Labour, the wretched Greens and the even more wretched LibDems. In the next election, the Tribesmen landslided. Cameron, of course, had neither the balls nor the brains even of Alec Salmond. And here we are, governed by spivs and nobodies who, in each party, have felt able to ditch their manifestos and do exactly as they please. The enablers of all this are a ragbag party of toilet-creepers, shit-eaters, drunks, liars and paedophiles; a look at their history is illuminating.
ALL OUR LIBERAL YESTERDAYS.
No-one elected a coalition; we need to remember that - because we are told daily that we did, as though millions of voters, acting in some telepathic conclave, elected just so many Conservatives and just so many LibDems, just enough of each to form our new-model government. Cameron's and Clegg's usurpation of democracy, however, only echoes that of Gordon Brown's so-called succession, as though he and Blair were some foul, shit-spattered dynasty, each monarchical despot emerging from separate, warring, royal houses. The 'papers wrote, without irony, of succession and large sections of the country were bamboozled into thinking that indeed some dark divinity was shaping our ends. Brown was an unelected bag of shit and it was his betrayal of democracy which permitted, encouraged the bare-faced impertinence of the present Flashman rabble
The obvious purpose of these new governments will be to further spread the almost global dominance of consumeriste totalitairianisme nouvelle, to promote, among those people who are neither corporeatistes or members of MediaMinster, a barren insatiability, to promote a sense of national values based on the acquisition of stuff; we see it already, the fathomless grievance of the i-phone addict, the poor wretch, trapped in his pathetic, digitised life, who knows that the next model will do so much more than the current one, yet cannot postpone his purchase; the zombies who foregather in the TopGear studio, cheering and applauding cars which they will never even see close-up, much less own; the fashionistas, gasping for the latest atrocities, torture garments excreted from the demented, drug enfeebled minds of grotesque, women-hating fairies. And then there's the latest, franchised Hollywood blockbuster, the latest computer game, the latest album from whoever-it-is; there's the multiple branches of Cruelty TeeVee - your voice is shit, your house is shit, your cooking is shit, your general knowledge is shit, you are the shittiest link, fuck off and die; there's even, I believe, a show about your body and your face being shit, Embarrassing Bodies, isn't it?
Filthy bastards in MediaMinster promote divisions, black and brown against white, healthy against sick, young against old. Never, though, do they imperil the Great Divide, that between Rich and Poor.
And in this obscene digitised reality of hatred and dissatisfaction people are both tantalised and cudgelled by the property behemoth; look, you don't need proper wages, they are told - and they believe it - the price of your house is tripling every five minutes; we have made you millionaires. How long can it be before Osborne squeaks NoMoreBoomAndBust or some variant of that contradictory insanity?
Already, we are no longer citizens, with rights; instead, if we are not hard-working families, we fall into some enemy group within, some group which must be coralled, oppressed, our rights re-assessed by some poisonous, embittered rodent - Ian Duncan Smith, a worthless tosser, good for fuck all, too stupid, too up his own scabby arse to even lead the brainless reptiles of the Tory party, a failure
which makes him more useless than even David Cameron, the man who believes Uncle Sam won the Battle of Britain - Smith is incompetent, a liar, an embellisher, bloating his achievements, disguising his resentments and his vindictiveness the reformers hairshirt, his, he witters and sneers ia a zeal to help the downtrodden, when in fact it is just class warfare disguised as good housekeeping; Schmidt's attack on our rights is imploding, ridiculed even by his own supporters for his dunderhead incompetence, yet the Quiet Man staggers on, like a fatally wounded suicide bomber, determined to do his worst. Chris Grayling, a gobby, jumped-up nobody, a repulsive gabshite bully, too stupid to find, unassisted, the hole in his own arse,
mad keen to rebuke us, chastise us, keen to imprison us fro life, or longer; currently, without any mandate, selling off the probation service to the infamous corporation of government choice, G4, the same gang as are charged with torturing, beating and electrocuting prisoners in their South African operation; party chairman Grant Schitts,
well, what can you say about this cunt, a con-artist and a moron who thinks horses are carnivorous. That Cameron has faith in this piece of human rubbish to win him the election says much about both of them, all of it bad. Criminal idiots are highly rated by CallHimDave; his trading for Murdoch's support of a central position in Downing Street for Andy Coulson is emblematic of Cameronism, he should have it in a coat of arms, his criminal friends and aides being hauled off to the nick; it is his Hinduja brothers moment, Coulson is his Bernie Ecclestone. A decent man would've resigned the minute Coulson was charged.
Certainly, Andy, what is it that Mr Murdoch wants me to do?
It's not that, it's just that I'm being arrested.
Never mind, I probly went to school with the judge.
But for the purposes of this essay it doesn't matter in the slightest which of the vermin wins the election, not in the slightest; it wouldn't matter if there wasn't an election, things will be the same whoever sits on the government benches. Does anyone with a grain of sense see anything to choose between, to differetiate George Osborne from Ed Balls, or Teresa May from Mrs Balls, Yvette, Gordon Snot's over-promoted ice-pixie; does anyone really believe that the ravaged, snarling harpy, Caroline Flint,
- the late Warren Zevon had an apt line: Her face looked like something Death brought with him in his suitcase -
is even fractionally, infinitessimally different from, more adept than the hapless half-wit, Ed Davey, himself a Chris Huhne manque (now, there's a nightmare thought) believing that the national energy crisis will be solved in the windmills of his mind, the fucking moron.
And we mustn't forget the FagAsh Lil de nos jours, Farage and his red-faced, sclerotic masturbators. Does anyone really think that he wouldn't get into bed with any party which turned-down the FrontBench duvet and spread its horrid legs? Can anyone doubt that given the chance he would find some form of words to betray everything he claims to stand for? The man's a politician, a smug, smirking, shameless bully, unbedevilled by conscience, the personification of patriotism being the scoundrel's last refuge; when he wakes up, he's lying, when his lips move, he's lying his arse off. Too busy smoking outside or jackassing on Question Time even to superintend his own party conference, too unprincipled even to defend an entirely harmless remark made by one of his own. I remember Katherine Whitehorn, a columnist, writing Oh, I'm such a slut, you wouldn't believe the state of my house, the other day I picked up the cat and started wiping the kitchen table with him. Nige the Fag would've had her expelled. Big political cojones, y'see, sacking a harmless old duffer. And such political nous that he really does believe that the majority of people cannot wait to get down the pub, cannot wait to kill themselves with tobacco. More to be pitied than laughed at, Farage and his choice of vices, almost, if it wasn't for the millions he's trousered in Euro expenses, like the rest of them.
There was a time, in my lifetime, when political parties meant different things, were differently peopled. Before my time but Winston Churchill was the greatest, the most important leader in British history bar none but he would have made a fucking awful post-war leader. There'd be no health service, just for a start. Without the '45 Labour government many of those who now damn the labour movement would have known only rickets, poverty and slums, God rot their fucking infantile, short-sighted, led-by-the-nose stupidity.
Tory, Harold McMillan had seen, stepped in the slaughter of the Somme, a landowner and a wealthy publisher he seemed, nonetheless, a decent sort of Tory, rebuking Whisky Maggie and her spivs, Tebbit and Heseltine, Lawson and Clark, for selling-off the family silver, as he called their criminal privatisations.
Alec Douglas Home, Harold Wilson, Ted Heath, Tony Benn, even the customarily seedy Liberal, Jeremy Thorpe, these were distinguishable, they and their parties, one from another.
No longer. All sit now, on the Great Latrine of State, shitting in our faces, regardless of putative party differences, the same villainous crew shits the same shit all over us.
In my youth, when I didn't think of myself as a socialist, I considered myself a liberal with a small l and I still do. A terrible thing has happened, though. Along with the general grubby and inaccurate colonisation of the language by business and by politicians, human filth like Nick Clegg have somehow persuaded people, well some people, that he is not only a Liberal but liberal. Like me.
It is the nakedness, the emergence of true Liberalism which sees us now where we are, victims, effectively of unconstitutionality, of a coup. The result of the last general election was that no party had an overall majority and the democratic thing to do was for Cameron's party to run a minority government seeking support for its measures from other parties; eventually he probably would have fallen but maybe not. Up here, in Scotland, the best part of England, the Tribesmen governed as a minority government for five years, doing deals with Tories, Labour, the wretched Greens and the even more wretched LibDems. In the next election, the Tribesmen landslided. Cameron, of course, had neither the balls nor the brains even of Alec Salmond. And here we are, governed by spivs and nobodies who, in each party, have felt able to ditch their manifestos and do exactly as they please. The enablers of all this are a ragbag party of toilet-creepers, shit-eaters, drunks, liars and paedophiles; a look at their history is illuminating.
ALL OUR LIBERAL YESTERDAYS.
Steel: All Cyril seems to have done is smack a few kids' bottoms.
Abortion, yes, I'm all for it, the more the better.
Killing the unborn, and buggering the children.
Killing the unborn, and buggering the children.
It's the sign of a Liberal society.
Really?
Aye, lad, it's amazing what a frightened child 'll do.
Really?
Suck you right off, if you frighten the little buggers enough.
Gosh, how Liberal.
I have always, always thought abortion a pretty drastic form of birth control but like most of my generation I have been coshed and trampled into feeling that to even hold such an opinion privately is to invite being spat upon by Goodness herself, albeit that A Woman's Right To Choose is one of the tritest, most facetiously sexist and criminally illogical slogans ever shouted triumphantly in our faces. So there, bollocks. A divisive and preposterous right to something unrighteous, the absolute nadir of an admittedly over-sloganised era, Make Love Not War, aye, right. All You Need Is Love, aye, right. And money. And murder.
Don't ask it of a Liberal Democrat but isn't abortion the ultimate in domestic violence? Isn't it?
Not only is abortion on demand a totally amoral and perverse pragmatism rooted in bitter, ruinous selfishness - what is it, now, a seven and a half million abortions whirlwind, and rising? - but its pernicious, homicidal logic seeps and then floods into the wider realm; the wholesale, industrialised slaughter of the innocent justifying, ultimately, the cynical dronemurders of Obomba the Clown and the shocking and awful terror bombings, arson and torture of the BushBlair beast supported by the UK parliament, itself assisted, we must never forget, by the vile and hideous Mother Cherie, imploring her fellow Commons wives to persuade their pox-ridden, noncing fagspouses to vote for Death4Money, the moneygrubbing Scouse cunt. He said what? He can't say that! Can't call a leading human rights lawyer AND a woman a Scouse cunt.
Do you think, Tony, I could have a dress made entirely from thousand dollar bills, it would so suit me ?
I simply say, Shut up you silly Scouse cunt.
But Oh, yes, I can, because she is a vile money-grubbing Scouse cunt. And much worse. And to her, A Woman's Choice is whatever she wants it to be, a right to incite the mass homicide of others, just for instance. It is our human right to murder wogs and niggers, torture them, too, the fuckers. We're talking about a lorralorramoney here, me an' Tony.
Talk of rights, y'see, is what they do, whilst impudently discussing amongst themselves, which of our current rights we may retain, thinking, in their delusion, that rights are granted us by them. Or not.
Abortion on demand was voted for by a majority of MediaMinster, maybe they meant well but I doubt it, they seldom do. And most of the time they get things wrong - they trashed the canals,
Beeching, a Tory private consultant; could be fatslob Pickles's father, if he had a father, the cunt.
they Beeching-trashed the railways and trashed all the irreplaceable ties, bonds, identities and responsibilities which the railways had wrought over many, many decades and instead a spiv transport minister
Look at this cunt,
Ernest Spiv, Tory transport seckatry
and owner of Marples MotorwaysRus.
Thieving Thatcherite bastard,
before the term was coined.
gave us motorways which were poorly built, obsolete and overcrowded almost before they were completed. They - living themselves, like me, in Georgian rectories - trashed urban communities, forcing people to live in skyscraping open prisons which they couldn't afford to heat and which inexorably drove them mad......
Beeching, a Tory private consultant; could be fatslob Pickles's father, if he had a father, the cunt.
they Beeching-trashed the railways and trashed all the irreplaceable ties, bonds, identities and responsibilities which the railways had wrought over many, many decades and instead a spiv transport minister
Look at this cunt,
Ernest Spiv, Tory transport seckatry
and owner of Marples MotorwaysRus.
Thieving Thatcherite bastard,
before the term was coined.
gave us motorways which were poorly built, obsolete and overcrowded almost before they were completed. They - living themselves, like me, in Georgian rectories - trashed urban communities, forcing people to live in skyscraping open prisons which they couldn't afford to heat and which inexorably drove them mad......
A little sidebar, here. I once delivered a Victorian pine chest of drawers to a rare, preserved Victorian terrace in Winson Green, Birmingham. It was a sort of cul de sac but had an original, paved, car-free courtyard between flanking rows of maybe six or eight two-up, two-downers, all modernised, but retaining a little iron-railinged front garden and a small back garden. These dozen or so houses were occupied, a little like the Bournville Estate, not by common workers, but by yuppies, maybe with a kid or two, digging the vibe. Birmimgham used to be filled with these little clusters and historically they had a communal wash house for the weekly wash, I remember them from my infancy, and I remember that they were doors-never-locked communities. A sensible and sensitive political caste would have worked out the logistics of refurbishing and renewing these places. I know about houses, I have delivered to hundreds of period homes, the owners of which are always happy to discuss their wainscotting, their sash windows, their Belfast sinks. My current home is well over two hundred years old and good, with a bit of maintainance, for another two hundred; my previous house was built in about 1890, for me the best period of English housebuilding, big rooms, big ceilings, slate and marble fireplaces, Minton floors, pitch pine staircases and doors, fancy mouldings and skirting boards, I love them, their great combination of design, great craftsmanship and the deployment of all the raw materials of Empire. This little preserved fragment of urban Victoriana that I'm talking about in Birmingham didn't consist of villas or semis or detatcheds but even so, it was absolutely lovely. All those neighbourhoods, joyously blitzed by wrecking balls.....they and their communities could have been saved, probably cheaper to do that than build nightmarish hi-rise monstrosities, many of which, after a few miserable decades, were dynamited.......
Another government triumph,
no fucking wonder there's not enough houses.
Spent all the money on dynamite.
I don't give a fuck what le Corbusier and his acolytes - people like the horrendous hunchbacked harpy, Kirsty Wark - say about concretised sky-dwelling, give me - and most people - rows of bricks and stones; our house is a very-very-very fine house, with two cats in the yard.......
......they trashed the shipyards, they trashed the steel mills, the car industry, the motorbike industry while tirelesly blaming the workers for the errors of shitty management, lack of imagination and stupidity. I swear if I hear, just one more time, even from my friend, mr jgm2, that Britain's industrial decline is all down to Red Robbo, I will scream. And then they trashed the coal mines and their communities, Let's face it, those fucking miners, they were the enemy within, as bad as the disabled people are now. And they trashed the fishing industry. And now they've trashed the corner shop and the High Street.
They're trashing the health service, they're trashing the Greenbelt and those parts of education which they haven't yet trashed, they're getting round to; gibbering, bug-eyed little spit machine, Gove, playing BackToTheFifties to an audience of moribund redneck masturbators raging and drooling in the columns of the Filth-O-Graph. Social care is underfunded whilst they pour trillions into the pockets of banksters; they are trashing the army yet spending more imaginary trillions on useless aircraft carriers and obscenely suicidal nukes. The only thing we can be sure of is that all along this trail of destruction and ruin our masters, locally and nationally, will have had their fingers in the till, their lips clamped firmly around Money's cock. The variously denominated LibDems, also, will have been forcing infants into fellatio - you suck my cock son, while I suck Money 'swhat we call in our party a democratic daisychain, son. No point anyone trying to dissuade me of this, tell me something different, it's not that I think these things or suspect these things. I know these things.
MediaMinster, they really are good for fuck all. Just add the seven and a half million flushed down the sluice to the millions burnt alive, shot-for-fun, tortured, chemicalised and collateralised in the Middle East and South Asia, shameless, murdering scumbags, that's our legislature and that's those in skymadeupnewsandfilth, too, who so lucratively mediate between us and them.
I do not for a moment posit that there is never a case for foetus termination, just that it should be a seriously considered last resort - the alternative, a simple, consumerist, lifestyle choice, debases and endangers all of us. Condoms are free, the pill is free, self-restraint and responsibility are free. But it is no wonder that for crass, obnoxious, corrupt fuckwits like those in MediaMinster, infanticide can be reduced to a slogan. A Woman's right to choose. That's it, Junior, down the sluice or into the incinerator with you. Mass murder in its other forms is equally sloganiseable, Weapons of Mass Destruction, gotta stop 'em. Forty-five minutes and Cyprus is toast! Red lines, way to go, Ahmed!
I don't know what the vote was, but what became the Abortion Act was a bill adopted by the then govament but only after it was introduced by the eventual focus of this post, the unspeakably dreadful shit, David GissaJob Steel. Lord Steel, as he now terms himself.
Steel was always a bit suss - gobby, overcoiffed and overdressed. I was certanly raised - insofar as I was raised at all - to detest and despise politicians and I think I was probably raised to distrust a man in a shirt with a contrasting collar and such was one of Steel's trademarks.
Whilst a young MP, Dave was also, as they do, trousering funds for writing for the Guardian, a 'paper which we have now seen to be not, as it claims, the world's leading liberal voice but a LibTory rag, promoting the rehabilitation of the foul shitbag, Huhne, paying its editorial team vast sums of charity status money, the world's leading Liberal voice, come to think about it, with a capital L, is probably right. Thieves, liars, nonces and degenerates, guardianista-istas, innit.
saving the poor, from her home in Tuscany,
mangy old cunt.
Always a damp political squib, little more than the voice of cardiganed perversion, muesli-crunching crookedness and sandals-with-socks degeneracy, Steel and his Liberals were keen, then, as now, to forge coalitions with anyone, either loosely with old Labout or more tightly with the toerags who formed the Gang of Four - Williams, Owen, Rodgers and the dipso, Jenkins, a septic menage which still managed to split the Left and usher in our now decades-long nightmare of Blatcherism.
Breaking the mould, they called it, greedy, troughing, rightwing fuckpigs to a man and woman. SDP they called themselves. Or something.
Breaking the mould, they called it, greedy, troughing, rightwing fuckpigs to a man and woman. SDP they called themselves. Or something.
After his humiliation by both David Owen and on a weekly basis by the satirical Spitting Image teevee show, you'd think Steel would've fucked off out of politics but it was Owen who quit
and somehow the man in the pansy shirt has become a national treasure, well, among the filth, he has.
Leaving Westminster, he presided over the catastrophically extravagant overspend at the construction of the Scottish parliament which jumped ten fucking fold, from a budgeted fifty million to half a billion.
Of course it wasn't his fault, he bleated in a recent lecture series organised by the increasingly pompous Mr Tiny Speaker.
Of course it wasn't, it was a foreign architect, you see, so what can you expect from foreigners? Not that I have anything against foreigners, of course I don't, I have spent my whole life of dedicated service to the public in fighting foreignerism. But they are handy to blame for things, wogs and dagos.
and somehow the man in the pansy shirt has become a national treasure, well, among the filth, he has.
Leaving Westminster, he presided over the catastrophically extravagant overspend at the construction of the Scottish parliament which jumped ten fucking fold, from a budgeted fifty million to half a billion.
Of course it wasn't his fault, he bleated in a recent lecture series organised by the increasingly pompous Mr Tiny Speaker.
Of course it wasn't, it was a foreign architect, you see, so what can you expect from foreigners? Not that I have anything against foreigners, of course I don't, I have spent my whole life of dedicated service to the public in fighting foreignerism. But they are handy to blame for things, wogs and dagos.
I don't know if Steel is any more corrupt, inept and hypocritical than all the rest of the scabby six hundred but I do like to think so and a recent C4 documentary by Liz McClean - she of the shelved Savile expose at Mark Moneybags Thompson's PBC - did confirm the wee Scot's conspicuous venality.
I never knew much about Cyril Smith and his lifelong paedospree passed me by at the time. He was just so obscenely, grotesquely, impossibly fat that if I thought of him at all it was with pity; maybe many people reacted that way because for all those screaming about his serial beasting of children there were as many - in so called high places - protecting him, most notably the then leader of the Liberal party, wee BoyDave, now, according to Mr Tiny Speaker, a national treasure, y'know, like they used to describe Jimmy Savile and his fellow travellers at the PBC. This is what wiki says about Smith, who is dead, and Steel, who, unfortunately, is just dead rotten, Liberal Democrat and friend to the ChildfuckingBeast.
In May 1979, a local underground magazine, the Rochdale Alternative Press,
alleged that in the 1960s Smith had spanked and sexually abused teenage
boys in a hostel he co-founded. The matter was investigated by the
police but Smith was not prosecuted. The story was repeated in the same
month by the satirical magazine Private Eye.[24]
Smith never publicly denied the accusations of abuse, nor did he ever
take legal action, but after his death the allegations were denied by
his family.[25][26][27] The Press Office of the then leader of the Liberal Party, Sir David Steel, at the time (1979) in a 'Lib–Lab pact' with James Callaghan, commented "All he seems to have done is spanked a few bare bottoms"[28]
Just spanked a few bare (children's) bottoms. How very typical of senior Liberals - Jeremy Thorpe just engaged the infamous dogshooters to terrorise his rented boy lover; Field Marshal Paddy Pantsdown, steely-eyed former soldier and now visionary world statesman, in his dreams, just betrayed his wife and his marriage vows, man of the world style. Pisshead Charlie Kennedy owned-up to his inebriate unsuitabilty for high office a full five minutes before one of his former aides exposed him for a few quid from some filthrag. Straight Simon Hughes, bent, himself, as a nine-bob note, trashed his openly gay opponent, Peter Tatchell,
Hughes's infamous Straight Choice leaflet.
winning the Bermondsey election on a platform of queer-bashing.
Pathetically, when he was outed decades later by a shitsheet, former lawyer Hughes squirmed that since he was bisexual - yuk! JesusFuckingWept - he couldn'r be accused of being gay. Even though he was.
Straight Simon's slithering was the UK version of Spunky Bill Clinton's infamous hypocrisy, I Did Not Have Sexual Relations With That Woman.
Copraphilia, too, forms part of the Liberal canon of degeneracy. Mark Oaten, then LibDems' shadow home seckatry,
well, this isn't a family blog but even so I think that now and again we have considered enough of Humanity's vileness, it is unnecessary to go into too much detail about Oaten, the man the LibDems wanted as home seckatry - money, boys, shit, mouths, family man, that'll do, won't it?
Hughes's infamous Straight Choice leaflet.
winning the Bermondsey election on a platform of queer-bashing.
Pathetically, when he was outed decades later by a shitsheet, former lawyer Hughes squirmed that since he was bisexual - yuk! JesusFuckingWept - he couldn'r be accused of being gay. Even though he was.
Straight Simon's slithering was the UK version of Spunky Bill Clinton's infamous hypocrisy, I Did Not Have Sexual Relations With That Woman.
Copraphilia, too, forms part of the Liberal canon of degeneracy. Mark Oaten, then LibDems' shadow home seckatry,
well, this isn't a family blog but even so I think that now and again we have considered enough of Humanity's vileness, it is unnecessary to go into too much detail about Oaten, the man the LibDems wanted as home seckatry - money, boys, shit, mouths, family man, that'll do, won't it?
But thanks to CallHimDave's inability to oust the most unpopular prime minister of my lifetime, BoyDave's party of shiteaters, benefit cheats, spivs and child abusers is now in power, sort of, anyway; holding the Tories' coats whilst they privatise everything and stomp on the old, the sick, the young and the disabled. Clegg, Laws, Huhne, these cunts' names can go on the Liberal battle colours, along with Thorpe and Steel and Smith
Thorpe and Smith
LIBERAL BEASTISM,
The rough with the smooth.
and now we have another Liberal hero-noire, Big Al Carmichael, described by skymadeupnewsandfilth's Adam Lard as brutish,
Oh, get me, I'm in the cabinet.
Carmichael, remarkably, has replaced the gobby Micky Moore as independence referendum-busting Scottish seckatry.
Thorpe and Smith
LIBERAL BEASTISM,
The rough with the smooth.
and now we have another Liberal hero-noire, Big Al Carmichael, described by skymadeupnewsandfilth's Adam Lard as brutish,
Oh, get me, I'm in the cabinet.
Carmichael, remarkably, has replaced the gobby Micky Moore as independence referendum-busting Scottish seckatry.
There's a truism in politics, people say, like the infants which most of them are, Oh, MPs, they're all shit, but my one's OK, though, does a good job for his contituency. Well, Carmichael is my MP and he's a bloated, platitudinising, hypocritical wretch and like all of his gang he is wholly anti-democratic. Lied his fat face off over tuition fees and everything else; a whiff of office and he'd cut his granny's throat and shit down the hole. As do they all, he writes himself a weekly fan letter in the local 'paper, how wonderful he is, how wonderful the coalition is, the usual lying, self-serving shit. A year or two back he spread out from his weekly column into the letters page to rebuke a constituent who had criticised him. This, growled the fat oaf, is not how we do democracy here. And there it is, that's Fat Al's credo - Do not as I do, do as I say. I will tell you what democracy is.
The Islands, far from scrutiny, are a microcosmic example of institutionalised corruption - the council is bent, the kirk is bent and half a dozen crime families control most of the business. Once upon a time, Jo Grimond was MP here and as far as I can tell he was OK - as MPs go. His sucessors, Jim Wallace and Big Al Carmichael have proven to be Despotism's lickspittles, as liberal as barbed wire. Cunts, both of them, incompetents, Wallace especially, shovelling salaries and expenses into their trousers. And now Carmichael's assiduous polishing of David Cameron's shoes has paid off with a cabinet post, for a year or so, anyway.
The Islands, far from scrutiny, are a microcosmic example of institutionalised corruption - the council is bent, the kirk is bent and half a dozen crime families control most of the business. Once upon a time, Jo Grimond was MP here and as far as I can tell he was OK - as MPs go. His sucessors, Jim Wallace and Big Al Carmichael have proven to be Despotism's lickspittles, as liberal as barbed wire. Cunts, both of them, incompetents, Wallace especially, shovelling salaries and expenses into their trousers. And now Carmichael's assiduous polishing of David Cameron's shoes has paid off with a cabinet post, for a year or so, anyway.
Fuck knows what the English will make of him - his winning vote, incidentally, totals a tiny few thousand - and his irritatingly belligerent Jock accent. But up here, his hectoring, lawyerly, I-Know-Best slime oozes out of him and down the teevee screen. He's in the charmed circle of Scottish Celebrity and so is made for life. That doesn't mean he will make a success of his post, so irritating is he that he might even push the tribesmen over the line but that is unlikely.
His appointment, any way you look at it, is another gaffe, maybe deliberately so, by Cameron; Moore, although smug and stupid, had some people skills and unusually for a politician was remarkably handsome,
Carmichael has no such attributes, a bullying, whining blabbermouth, he will alienate most people North and South of the border.
You can just see Fat Alec Salmond singing in his marble, emperor's bath - Oh, happy day, Oh, happy da-ay.
For decades, now, people, mainly LibDems, partying, below,
Carmichael has no such attributes, a bullying, whining blabbermouth, he will alienate most people North and South of the border.
You can just see Fat Alec Salmond singing in his marble, emperor's bath - Oh, happy day, Oh, happy da-ay.
For decades, now, people, mainly LibDems, partying, below,
have been bleating for proportional representation, for some means to dilute even further the bitter dregs of democratic representation at which we now lap. PR, of course, removes even the flimsy, tinselly, cheesy G-string which now barely covers the cuntishness of Carmichael and his ilk. PR means the formalisation of legislators' loyalty not to their constituency electors but to their party; a sordid, infought, Buggins' Turn democracy. PR is the LibDems' crie de couer and this disgusting, illegitimate coalition, spun and confected by witless, whoring, unprincipled Tory opportunists like Cameron, Letwin, Osborne and Clegg, all detestable public schoolboys, is PRs own, misbegotten, mutated and unloved abortion.
I may have drowned Decency's babies, I may have broken every pledge, shat on every principle but Behold, look at my abortions, ye mighty, and despair.
We must, before it is too late, rid ourselves of these criminals and see that they are punished. LibLabConGreenJockTribesmen or Ukippers, they are all the same. We have done it before. No more coalitions, no more compromises, no more criminal privatisations of our own property and our own resources; no more Duncan-Smithing of our rights, throw them out, the career politicians, all of them, and if they won't go, take to the streets and hang a few of them. Now, that's liberal talk.
17 comments:
Okay, I won't blame Red Robbo. But can I at least think it?
Your overarching theme is, however, sound. There is literally nothing to be lost by stringing the whole fucking lot of them up. There is no Churchill. no Mozart, no Newton amongst them. We will be no worse off without them.
The problem is that there is a limitless number of busybodies and arseholes and I-know-better-istes who would rush to fill the gap. And, sure as shit stinks, they'd be no better. Just the same bunch of self-serving, corrupt crooks as the last lot. You have done your best to isolate yourself from the egregious idiocies of your fellow man by stranding yourself in the remoter parts of Fucking Scotalnd. Is it any wonder that the rich, with more skin in the game and at the mercy of these fuckwits, do the same with their money? Would you, if you had billions, leave it lying around where some fuckwit, looking for a quick 'fix' could sequester it, on behalf of the people you understand, look at my mandate? I fucking well wouldn't. The rich Russian crooks buying up London and sending their kids to my kids school don't either. Although they'll be a bit cross about Cyprus looting the lot it gives the rest of us a heads up if we were so complacent as to think such a thing couldn't happen.
And you, Mr I, with your big house, up in the People's Popular Republic of Fucking Scotland, Proprietor: His Excellency Alex Salmond, will be first in line when the fuckers run out of money to make good on their promises. Another reason I left the place.
So we should definitely hang a few pour encourager les autres but in reality I don't expect it to make any positive difference if you hang all 600 or 6 million a la Uncle Joe. The same mindset will still persist amongst enough of those who remain to keep fucking well coming for their turn at the trough.
Mr I: I reached the same view as you some years ago, having worked for various bits of Govt and seen some of it first hand. So I did the only sane thing I could and packed my bags and left. I now consider myself a world citizen with no allegencies, other to myself, my family, and my dog. Though its getting harder to keep one's distance from interference. I will never set foot in the UK, not even to change planes at Heathrow. I would, however, make an exception to join any national rebellion - something along the French style, with a guillotine in Trafalgar Square. Only a complete clearout might change things, because as Mr jgm2 says there is no shortage of arseholes to replace the 600. It won't happen.
There, you've got me all angry now.
I concur.
The only thing is I'm starting to wonder if the word "cunt" (and I've read your young friend Stanislav's thoughts thereon)is still adequate to describe these people.
A pox on Churchill for me, though, there's a school of thought that "Churchill drank too much. He treated his wife and children deplorably. He extorted huge advances from his publishers, sponged shamelessly off rich friends and spent money like water. He delivered long monologues at meetings, refused to listen to others and could not bear opposition. His judgement of other people was appalling. He was an elitist, a sexist and a racist. He fought to preserve the privileges of his class, had contempt for democracy, was beastly to the suffragettes, despised Hindus, feared coloured immigration and wanted to sterilise the degenerate. Insensate ambition drove him to folly after folly. His unnecessary but never-ending interventions in high strategy were uniformly disastrous, a fact which his grossly overpaid books were written to conceal. With such a contemptible figure at its head, it is a miracle that Britain did not lose the war".A good number of my uncles, back from the war, my aunts and grandparents in Oldham put their boots up his arse in 1945.
He was roundly hated by my father, too, as were his somewhat scandal-torn family. My late brother used to damn him for shooting the wogs for sport, out in the Boer War, and he was sybaritic and pampered.
But those speeches work on me, as cynical an observer of politics as you are ever likely to meet and in the forties, by all accounts, they were dynamite. Battle of Britain, Battle of the Atlantic, I can see none of his contemporaries leading those conflicts to victory and it was only his wartime leadership - theatre, really - which I endorsed. If he'd had his way, immediately post-war, God alone knows where we'd be now. God bless your Oldham relations.
I agree with every well written word. I'm afraid though that my sense of impotence is more fully realised when I read your articles, and an ever-present cloud of depression, which I attempt to keep stuffed into the background, bursts forth, enraging and saddening me in equal measure.
I can't believe we've got to this state and I no longer believe it can be fixed. It's as though I've woken up on another planet, totally unrecognisable to me, when I cast my eye around these shores.
The people, that's the fucking problem, the awful fucking people. And so, therefore, I am part of this problem. There is no cohesion in society any more, perhaps, even, there is no society anymore. Every man and his dog has an opinion on everything, usually an ill-informed and incorrect one, but this does not deter him from attempting to inflict it on me and everybody else. That's why we're ending up with coaltion; not enough people of one mind to vote a single party into power, as well as plenty who don't give a fuck and refuse to add a semblance of legitimacy to these crooks by voting for them, including me and I suspect thee. As things fragment even more, and they will, it will require at first three, then four and even five parties to form a coalition and the most popular (least hated) leader will be willing to agree to any old shit from the Greens or Socialst Workers or whomever in order to attain power; power for power's sake.
I'm from mining stock, btw. One of my grandfathers was killed in a coal mine, and I've witnessed first hand the utter devastation caused by closing a fully functional, viable pit. That's a fucking crime against humanity, and people praise that fucking witch for her spite, think she helped the common man. She, for me, along with Heath, started this shit.
I'm going to bed, right pissed off now. I may be some time.
Vincent
PS We would have lost WWII if Churchill were not in charge. Not that winning it has been much good.
I wonder about it myself, too, mr vincent; the point of it, with people such as we have become.
These are not a remedy, these commentaries; they do what it says on the label, they are chronicles of ruin; the tumblin' dice of catastrophe.
But there's no advertising, no gameplan, no ambition, not here. These pages are more Venerable Bede than Kelvin McKenzie.
Bon nuit et bon repose.
with people such as we have become<
Well, that's just about the strength of it.
We look at Africa and shrug our shoulders. We have seen how Africans 'do' government. One lot gets in and then proceeds to steal and oppress and murder to keep themselves there. Zimbabwe is the fate of all Africa. Whites ethnically cleansed. And the blacks themselves kept in squalor to limit their ability to organise and rebel so that Mugabe and a few close thugs and murderers can enjoy a lifestyle not dreamed about by Ian Smith and the hated colonists they were so keen to be rid of.
South Africa is headed the same way. 3,000 white farmers murdered in the last 10 years. That's almost one a day. A cynical man would question how it is that these white farmers, tooled up as they surely are, with safe rooms and black-hating dogs guarding the premises are being so efficiently murdered. State-sponsored score-settling by the ANC or I'm a fucking Dutchman.
But the point with all this is that any black chap, growing up in a reed hut has the blueprint for government stamped on him from Day One. He knows that if he wants to be in control he'll need to be at least as ruthless and murderous as the guy who presently has the conch.
Same with the Arab world.
And same here, albeit slightly less blood-letting being required. But no less ruthless and mercenary and indifferent to the job they should be doing. ie Looking out for the other 60 million of us. Naaah, that's just an incidental to their corruption, insider dealing and general self-centred fuckwittery.
As I said before, given that the generations have now grown up with the state of UK politics, we cannot expect those who would replace them to be any better. They have only the example of the last 60 years or so to work with and that example is divisiveness, incompetence and corruption. And, while it might seem better to simply throw the dice and kill the lot of them we know from history and from living memory (Somalia, Afghanistan, Iraq, even fucking France and, going far enough back, that cunt Cromwell) that the alternative is even worse. Millions of innocents dead along with those who desperately deserve it.
Perhaps the ANC murderers have the right idea in terms of the drip-drip-drip execution of your 'enemies' rather than a formal all-out war. Perhaps the whites will get the picture and leave as they (largely) have in Zimbabwe. Perhaps here, rather than mass hangings, we would benefit from the most egregious of our elected enemies being eliminated (say) once a month or so. Just enough to keep them on their toes (I hesitate to say 'keep them honest' because the cunts are congenital liars) but not enough to draw the whole fucking army and police kicking down doors, machine-gunning marchers and generally bringing civil war to our doorstep.
But such a solution is but a dream. It will not happen. We are doomed to be ruled by thieves, liars and cunts of the first water for they alone possess the necessary 'skills' to succeed in the political landscape that we, the British people, have allowed to develop.
There's a saying, perhaps more a cliche, 'You get the government you deserve' and, while on an individual basis I can say I definitely do not deserve such a bunch of incompetent arseholes I have to concede that, looking about me at the general fuckwittery, short-termism gratification and ignorance of my fellow Britons that, collectively, we probably do deserve no better. For they, the thieves, spivs, incompetents, corrupt, venal, lying bastard politicians are us.
I rarely do such things, I don't venture out much but I have been having a bit of a discussion, at her place, with mrs woman on a raft about how strong is the opposition which the arsehole, Farage, claims to represent - even, in passing, if it is as big as he claims and hopes I would not see his advancement as anything other than disastrous - or if his support is, actually, the same,
self-selecting angry Fawkesian commentariat who thought, for instance, a few years back, that stanislav, a young polish plumber was a right-winger because he trashed NewLabour. He must be one of us, they thought.
The blogosphere may not be indicative of public, political consciousness. But if it is we are in big trouble; Paul Staines and Nigel Farage are bigger pollutants than Kelvin McKenzie ever was and in cyber forums there are fascists who call themselves libertarians and racists who call themselves patriots, mysoginists who call themselves egalitarians, Fawkes especially.
I don't want these people empowered, I want them suppressed or jailed or by some other means re-educated; me talking, in my contexts, about Tory Totty, is one thing, at order-order, as was, the phrase almost immediately led to a pageant of pathetic, offensive, machoboy ejaculatory fantasy along the lines of Oh, I wouldn't even do it on her. If this band of brothers is Farage's imagined constituency then I don't give a fuck about his policies.
Mrs woar, for her part, says that she cannot dismiss, out of hand, the Euro juggernaut, especially it's overarching role in national jurisprudences and cannot thus dismiss Fagash Lil, himself.
I mention this, mr jgm2, because our feelings, here, seem to be quite widely shared - as I say, amongst the self-selecting blogotariat. Many now utterly despise mainstream politicans and all their works, yet their horizons seem limited to more - in the form of Farage - of the same.
My own task, were I to set myself one, would be to force the abandonment of the late nineteenth century idea of adversarial political parties and substitute a non-careerist, non-self perpetuating Senate, drawn from the electoral rolls, advised by a civil service with selected individuals limited to five years service at the national average salary, with reasonable expenses.
Anytime I mention this, there is a chorus of Ah, buts, but my Ah, but is How the fuck could it be any worse than the present system, which you all claim to despise but will not relinquish ? Go on, tell me that, tell me how ordinary people would be so much worse than Cameron, Blair, Blunkett, Osborne, Milliband and Duncan-Schmidt, just for starters.
I am not a wise head, mr tdg is one of those, cool and lucid, I am a reactionary but I can and do take a historical view, now and again and once upon a time slavery - the whipped kind - was the only conceivable economic and political option; then it was serfdom, then it was joint-stock companies and capitalism and now it is perhaps equally enslaving free market debt-trading without even the risks of capitalism; we are post-capitalism our lives at the mercy of financial terrorists.
Given finite resources and virtually infinite population growth then a free market, debt-swapping approach is lunacy, suicidal lunacy, as well as being irredeemable EarthCrime.
".....the thieves, spivs, incompetents, corrupt, venal, lying bastard politicians are us."
No,they are not me, they are not from me, they do not represent me; they are Vice and Destruction, and their excision depends only on the rest of us spontaneously uniting against them, all of them; we have nothing to lose but our consumer chains.
ps Is PartyBoy Nelson still alive, largeing it with Beckham and Campbell, all the JetSet filth; now, there's a great statesman, a great human being. So they tell us.
and their excision depends only on the rest of us spontaneously uniting against them, all of them
We must be careful here in our corner of cyberworld that we don't make the same mistake as those deluded fuckers on The Grauniad 'CiF' site.
They quite literally couldn't believe it when the proles didn't all vote for PR or whatever the fuck was on the table in that referendum. Utterly stunned. Couldn't believe it. Because, well, quite literally everybody they knew had voted for it. Same as the cunts still can't get it into their heads why Clegg formed a government with Cameron. Errr, because it was either 5 years of ministerial salaries with the Tories or zero with Labour you fucking idiots. If the Tories/Liberals have 'no mandate' then in what fucking world does Labour/Liberals have one you utter jackasses?
We, here, must be wary of the same groupthink. To you and me it is as plain as day that 600 people selected at random from the electoral roll could not possibly be more incompetent than the 600 who have fought their way up the greasy poll. No matter how venal one of them was they couldn't possibly get organised enough and carry enough people with them to so comprehensively fuck everything up like (say) Brown. If for no other reason than they hadn't spent years sitting around planning how they would fuck everything up. Random acts of spontaneous idiocy couldn't possibly be more dangerous than the planned and co-ordinated and railroaded idiocy we have come to expect.
But I'm afraid that out there, beyond these virtual walls, the great British Idiocracy, while moaning about fuel bills and whatever else the media and government deem appropriate to be put up for discussion are just as short-term and tunnel-visioned in their thinking as their MPs. Where was the groundswell when Brown suddenly started borrowing 20bn quid a year back in 2001? Hold on a fucking minute, what's this? Nowhere to be seen. Naaah, it was way-hay-hay, look at me, I'm clever, my house 'went up' 20K last year. Like buying kids a fizzy drink. Fucking idiots. Not everybody of course. But enough of them to let Brown destroy the economy.
We are surrounded by arseholes and bastards I'm afraid Mr I. The best thing you can do, just like 'the rich', is, as far as is possible, insulate yourself and your money from their idiotic decisions.
1,000,000 people or more marched against the Iraq war. Most of them probably Labour voters but did they let the loss of lives, treasure and reputation guide them at the next vote? No. Because Labour had banned fox-hunting. Millions of little bed-wetters hugging their pillow delighted at the thought that a few rich toffs will be inconvenienced. Unnecessary war? Hundreds of thousands dead? Civil war? Chaos? Priorities you see Mr I.
We are at the mercy of utter idiots and of those who would exploit their idiocy.
Even today our own government borrows money to give to people so they can afford a deposit on an overvalued house. And the people don't rise up as one and give it 'Hold on a fucking minute, that's what got us in this mess in the first fucking place..'. The Liberals say nothing. Labour has to watch its mouth because their 'economic miracle' was built on the same rampant escalation of borrowing and house prices. And, by their very silence, we can divine that when it's 'their turn' again they will be pulling exactly the same stunt or a variant themselves. Newspapers say nothing. The BBC says nothing.
Arseholes and bastards.
Dunno where to go, mr jgm2. I fancy South West France, a farm and some land and buildings, be warm, grow some fruit, make some wine and think in a different language but if France blows it'll be worse than here. I do think that there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Mr Mike seems happy DownUnder in RolfHarrisLand but their politicians seem, to me, to be worse than ours, machine-gunning boatloads of poor Vietnamese doesn't strike me as much of an immigration policy, cobber. Maybe the distances, the spaces in Australia make things different. But they wouldn't have me, anyway, even though I am white, half-educated and have criminality in the family, I am neither rich nor healthy enough.
Stuck here, I reckon, on my quiet shore, until the Chinks find out about it, anyway.
The HelpToBuy - up to six-hundred-grand - notion IS, frankly, unbelieveable; everyday I expect some jerk in the Treasury, somebody with a double-first from Oxbridge to say, Actually, Chancellor this idea is fucking bollocks, time for a U-turn. Blame Labour.
there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
The same problem has been vexing me for the past decade. For years I've been thinking a nice spot in the French Caribbean is what I need. Good weather, an abundance of free or cheap food, cheap booze and all underpinned by the French state. Then, this summer I had a couple of nights with the missus in Monaco. I'd been to Monaco before. I'd flown into Nice before. But I'd never taken the train from Nice to Monaco. Fucking beautiful. Little seaside villages, all astronomically priced, but no worse than West Sussex for a nice home with a sea view. So now I'm conflicted.
And there's always Italy which is equally beautiful from Monaco all the way around to Cinque Terres. There's the Amalfi coast. People have told me Croatia is beautiful too but I've never been. But in the background, ever present, is the knowledge that all these places are at least as fucked up as the UK. They've all got the same criminals in charge and the same fucking idiot population who want more and more and more and they want some other fucker to conjure the means to provide it out of, well, they don't give a fuck where it comes from. Print it. Steal it. They don't give a fuck. And so neither do the politicians. Give 'em what they want. It's democracy innit. It must be right.
Maybe all generations feel this way. My dad was telling me to get the hell out when I was a kid over 30 years ago. A man who had, in his turn, got the hell out of Ireland. I tell my kids to get the hell out. In their case Canada is an option (missus is Canajan). Perhaps we're being unnecessarily alarmist but I don't think so. We really are governed by idiots pandering to idiots. Being generous I would say that those it pleases me to describe as governing idiots are no such thing. Those double-firsts might not be be capable of bending spoons through the sheer will of their intellect but neither are they utter fucking plankton unlike so many of their voters. Most of them at least. They must surely realise the folly of their decisions but also realise that if they try to explain the sensible options some other liar or chancer will only pop up and tell the idiot voters what they want to hear. Which is how you end up with Alex Salmond or Nigel Farage. But can you blame desperate people for seeking any alternative, any at all, to the death grip of idiocy?
In the end maybe it'll come down to I might as well be warm in France or Italy when the final reckoning comes as stuck in the UK freezing my bollocks off.
There's only a few miles of it but there's some heavy water crashing and vortexing between me and the mainland and then there's a hundred miles of badlands before the hearest city, enough to deter the dispossessed, foraging millions, for a time.
I think I'll probably stay here. It was, among other things, thoughts of impending collapse which brought me here in the first place. As you say, one is not safe anywhere and as my young friend, stanislav, used to say, sharpen big stick, dip in dogshit and stab in fucking eye of first bastard who come near anywhere, cut off fucking head, dead or not, and hang on bush.
It's quite obvious really. Although I haven't partaken in politics since doing it once at the age of 18, some 24 years ago now, Labour will be in government after the next election. Why? The voters vote governments out, not in. And the whole clusterfuck begins all over again.
As for abortion, well, always have and always will see it as murder of the unborn. Sadly the sisterhood are now trying to foist the legality of post birth abortions up to, I believe, 3 fucking months!!!
The vagina is a birth passage. It's a delivery chute for the continuation of humans on this planet and needs to stop being looked at as a pleasure zone for a man and a woman.
If a woman must bring herself to orgasm, then there are plenty of phallic shaped vegetables/fruit out there to please herself with at a fraction of the cost of a steely dan.
And a man can use his hand or a slice of liver.
I'm still disturbed at the gross selfishness of people who fuck for the sake of fucking and having this carefree and inconsiderate attitude of disposing of life afterwards. If that isn't cold blooded, pre-meditated murder I don't know what is....
Fuck politicians and politics but then I would say so as an anarchist believing in the fundamental pricipal of no one one having any authority over you other than yourself (and parents once you've been taught that necessary to survive in life).
National control of industry and a health service? On paper, good principles, but firstly in order for them to work you have to remove the exploitation factor and considering psychopaths automatically gravitate into positions of power, the you're fucked from the get go. And secondly, apart from the NHS being the world's, how much of those chemicals, courtesy of Big Pharma being proscribed to patients actually help in the long run?
Nationalisation of industry only works when the nationals are considered first and foremost above all else but when one realises that we have international socialists (globalists) running westminster and most certainly the NHS, then it's pretty much fubar.
Let people take land, build their homes, farm their lands and be self sustainable. But that's not going to happen because the parasitical system wouldn't survive were that to happen. If debt was no longer viable the debt creators wouldn't have an industry and we can't have that can we?
regards
Harbinger
Now, there's bravely said, mr harbinger, a demolition of the pleasure principle.
I don't know if it is entirely due to a sisterhood, per se, that we consider barbarism to be liberty. As I tried to say, the hi-jacking of the word liberal by Liberals, has legitimised the outrageous and bizarre, transforming them into desirable social reforms - I am not Christian, other than culturally, yet the idea of female priests and bishops seems internally inconsistent with scripture and if scripture is infintely adaptable then whatever else it is, it's not scripture.
I would in any event, confine in custody all clergypersons of all denominations and genders until they could prove that in practice or by omission they had not been engaged in child buggering.
The idea of homosexual marriage seems to me to be scripturally as well as logically contradictory. I don't have anything against homosexuals, bar their now institutionalised heterophobia.
But the Liberal party has been the standard bearer not for people being liberal but for people being nasty, loudly and publicly until there is now not a sisterhood of rottenness but a polygendered phalanx of destructive and hate-.
filled misanthropes, to whom any perversion, degeneracy or selfishness must become a human right.
I used to have a conversation with mr ptb, about queers. I and I think he used to quite admire queers, they were brave and they certainly didn't want to be mainstream, married couples, they had chosen a risky, exciting way of life. I always stood up for them, for their Otherness, in times when Steven fucking Fry would've run a mile.
Now that organised bglt people demand the right to be straight I have no time for them, they are internally inconsistent, too, part of a minority tide, lapping at the foundations of, well, everything really. These are not people fighting for their freedoms, they are intent on trampling others' freedoms; the abortionists, the gay marriers, the pierced, poly- and bi-sexual, dungareed bloated misfits, these are nothing to do with freedom, these, Simon Hughes; young parent, Elton John; chattering nincompoop, Alan Carr; anal sex obsessive Jonafun Woss , these people are nothing to do with freedom, they are Ruin's internal, tyrannical fifth column.
Call me Ishmael,
I think it is quite appropriate to say today that the Liberal party are infact the pro minority or anti majority party in their endeavours. Having been a libertarian, I would be mad to say I never had liberal ideals, but that is to say, old liberalism; yet I will say that where I fall foul of liberalism is its belief that government should be created with which to protect the individuals. Individuals should protect individuals, for by creating government you create a beast, that courtesy of psychopathy, will attract totalitarians into positions of power, they should never attain.
It is clear that liberal beliefs are most certainly benevolent at heart (old liberalism) however I am inclined to promote the adage:
the road to hell is paved with good intentions
when it comes to defining old liberalism.
I would only go so far as to say I was a Christian in the principle teachings of Christ, as I oppose the church in every form and believe it contrary to every wish Christ had.
As to female clergy and homosexual marriage, I am against both simply because clergy are supposed to represent the disciples who were male (although many will argue Mary Magdalene was one) and marriage amongst homosexuals is not promoted. And quite frankly, it's really a 'stick two fingers up' at the church and Christianity in saying:
"Look at us? We've defeated your Christian beliefs."
People united themselves together as couples long before the church ever existed, but the marriage ceremony and the consummation are most certainly Biblical in their practices and try as one might, a lesbian cannot consummate a marriage with her lesbian partner, regardless how lifelike the dildo is and a homosexual cannot consummate a marriage with his male partner, no matter how they may try to pretend the anus is a vagina. Marriage is the ultimate union of man and woman to create a family. Homosexuals will never attain to this simply because any family they have will always be completely unnatural, regardless how they may try to foist their insane belief that they can.
You are correct in that we're seeing blatant heterophobia by the LGBT brigade and more ironically, desperate attempts to live heterosexual lifestyles as lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transsexuals. It's laughable to say the least, but thanks to the power of political correctness they are achieving their aims, albeit through overwhelming totalitarianism.
regards
Harbinger
I was heartened, just a little, to see that one -only one - newsreader, at ITV, had refused to wear a poppy on screen. The other day, you see, I saw the dreadful arsehole, George Alegaiha of the PBC, hypocriting his way through a series of stagey interviews with wretched, typhooned Philipinos; thousands of miles away in the midst of awful devastation and suffering, Georgie's producer had made sure that he was, nevertheless, properly poppied.
I have seen wildlife programmes recently, with presenters crawling through the undergrowth in pitch darkness equally properly poppied, poppies ferociously adhered to their jumpers and fleeces, it seems, also, to be the case that PBC VoxPoppers carry a stock of poppies with them for interviewees in overalls, teeshirts, boilersuits and deepsea fishing gear have all, amazingly, sported poppies.
As I said in Remembrance Day Blues, this whole Poppyshit is an ignorant, impudent, skinflint imposition; even in dodgy charity is totalitarianism.
I vaccilate on cliche. Sometimes I endorse them but with reservation; the road of excess leading to the place of wisdom is only occasionally true, it can also kill you in a traffic accident of over-indulgence; the road to Hell being paved with good intentions, I suspect, is put about by the same hard-hearted fuckpigs who bleat, with balls-aching superiority, that The Devil, as ever, is in the Detail; wake up and smell the coffee, step up to the plate, all that shit. In my view good intentions and kind words trump malefaction and calumny, are pitfalls in Ruin's path.
And in the news coverage of homosexual marriage was the ubiquitous half-smile of approval for the proposal, the puckered lips of outrage at any dissent. It is as we say - so much is common or garden totalitarianism that most hardly notice it.
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