Waddawewant? Anal rape.
Whendowewannit? In the next Cleggalition.
Clegg supporters at the launch of his party's ShitBook, yesterday.
My fellow child molesters,
All Cyril did was assault some children; what's so bad about that? Dave Boy Steel, former Chief Shitman.
my fellow shit-eaters,
ShitParty copraphiliac shadow home secretary,
Mark Oaten.
look, I've eaten so much teenage fecal matter
it's made my hair fall out.
How so Liberal is that?
my fellow wealthy benefit cheats,
So I only stole fifty grand because I was gay and I didn't want my parents to know. ShitParty Education minister and ShitBook author, Dave Laws.
So yes, of course I'm a millionaire, isn't everybody?
my fellow jailbirds,
Yes, I deeply regret it, being found out.
Former ShitParty energy minister,
Chris Huhne,
writing in the Guardian,
on wife-bullying and perverting the course of
justice.
And on claiming twenty grand of taxpayer pounds when his criminality forced him out of the Cabinet, as they call organised crime's HQ.
Yes, of course I'm a millionaire, isn't everybody?
my fellow incompetents,
The building contractors' friend,
Lord Boy Steel-Shitman,
Lord Boy Steel-Shitman,
presided over the Holyrood parliament building costs rising from fifty million pounds,
to five hundred million pounds, half a billion fucking pounds for a talking shop.
It was a foreign architect, said adulterer, Steel, Liberally;
It was a foreign architect, said adulterer, Steel, Liberally;
what do you expect from foreigners?
Yes, of course I'm a millionaire, isn't everybody?
Yes, of course I'm a millionaire, isn't everybody?
my fellow gropers, grabbers and bottom fingerers,
Mike Hairy Hancock, CBE, ShitParty Portsmouth MP,
where he molested every constituent he encountered.
Now believed to be standing as a Groping Independent.
my fellow dipsomaniacs,
Charlie Pisshead, deeply principled former Chief Shitman and TeeVee non-personality, courageously admitted to incompetence and unsuitability through alcohol addiction a full ninety seconds before his former aide was to blow the whistle on him.
my fellow raving lunatics
Field Marshal Lord Paddy Rupert-Golightly-Jockstrap-Narcissus, PC; VC, Croix de Guerre, Congressional Medal of Honour;
Nobel laureate, Oscar winner;
former Commanding Officer, Queen's Own Shitmen Regiment;
war hero, visionary, historian, distinguished statesman, orator, writer, philosopher, economist, theologist,
TeeVee personality, adulterer and steely-eyed delusional maniac.
Delirious, stark, staring, raving, dribbling, foot-stomping, door-punching, climbing the walls bonkers, is Paddy; raging, unhinged, preposterous, rabid, demented, frantic, Napoleonic, gibbering out of his mind, mad as a box of fucking frogs; Paddy is the ShitParty Election Supremo; how can it lose?
and last but not least, sickening hypocrites.
Straight Simon Hughes,
warty, pervy, bisexual queerbasher; liar, ponce, pseudo-Christian, cynical polytheist and all-round creepily untrustworthy bastard; the ShitParty's justice minister.
Delirious, stark, staring, raving, dribbling, foot-stomping, door-punching, climbing the walls bonkers, is Paddy; raging, unhinged, preposterous, rabid, demented, frantic, Napoleonic, gibbering out of his mind, mad as a box of fucking frogs; Paddy is the ShitParty Election Supremo; how can it lose?
and last but not least, sickening hypocrites.
Straight Simon Hughes,
warty, pervy, bisexual queerbasher; liar, ponce, pseudo-Christian, cynical polytheist and all-round creepily untrustworthy bastard; the ShitParty's justice minister.
What I say to you, all my colleagues, in the parliamentary party. And those several dozens of members and activists up and down the country, in the nation's public conveniences. What I say to you. Is this.
Has it been easy for me, a lifelong Tory, to lead my party into coalition with other lifelong Tories. Yes, of course it has.
Has it been easy for me, a lifelong Tory, to lead my party into coalition with other lifelong Tories. Yes, of course it has.
And the nation should give me credit for doing the easy thing. Not the hard thing, it's easy to do the hard thing. Not everyone would have done it the easy way. Some would have stood on their principles. And let the Tories fall, within a few months. But not me.
Did I desperately want to be Deputy Tory Prime Minister? Of course I did. It's what I came into politics for. I'd rather have been Tory prime minister. But we all have to make sacrifices. And I am sure the voters will give me credit for it. Has it been easy to pretend that I'm not a Tory? Yes, of course it has. The main thing is that I have been in govament. And that I have managed to keep the Tory faith, whilst destroying the prospects of you Liberals ever being taken seriously again.
Did I ever doubt what we were doing to Britain, throwing sick people out of their homes because they had an extra broom cupboard, where they kept their wheelchairs or dialysis machines? No, of course not.
People will know that as Tories our manifesto is our solemn word to the British people that we can be relied upon to break our every pledge, piss on our every promise and betray our every principle, not that we have any. And this one offers people the stark choice of me being in Downing Street, shafting poor people
or him
People ask me if this election is about one thing and one thing only.
Of course it is.
Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me.
28 comments:
Hee hee. He really is a dreadful fuckwit and I don't think it's just public school buggery that has made his self awareness default to such personal conceit - the man is a definately on the verge of a cataclysmic clusterfuck and genuinely believes that people in this country vote for policies. It's the blethering naivety of him, ensconced as he is in this Justin Bieber parliament where we're all kids and it's for our grown-ups to rig the game so that we don't really get any options between various types of teenage pop music.
Gawd, this has got to be one of the worst elections where the choices are between who gives a shit? It used to be ugly baby contests but now it's who gets aborted first.
Booze, booze may help - vast quantities of the stuff!
The hateful embodiment of management consultancy political man, with a vague and entirely meaningless left-liberal tilt. Jesus, that's a parade of wickedness all right and it doesn't even raise a hat to Mad Bugger Jeremy.
There may be one worthwhile result of the imminent circus: the destruction of this collection of preening hypocrites.
Laws was interviewed, last night, I think, by Emily Stringbean on Kiddy Newsnight. I was waiting for her to ask him about his fifty-grand benefits scam but of course the charmed circle doesn't bite itself, been punished enough, poor Dave, already. Let's not get into the blame game.
Booze is no help, mr dick, I wish it was
Fuck me, this is a cunt festival. I`ve been following elections since `83, fuck help me and this one is Satan manifest upon this earth, Mr Ishmael.
I can only tolerate any of the fucking bankster loving nonce protecting bastards for I think ten to fifteen seconds before the sound gets muted. I`ve got this fucking debate on now and I can hardly look at the scum, never mind listen to them.
Can Miliband urinate yet without assistance ? Farage looks deathly, maybe that Kipper woman you mentioned in the last thread knows something we don`t.
Thick Gnasher, dreaming of fifty extra Tribesmen clocking in at the Westminster they pretend to despise, dumb cow, confusing votes with support from JockLabour and JockToileteer refuges. Fifty extra Skirtsmen on Snobs Dole do not a Gnasherendum make.
Two irrelevant women and that`s without the whining, desperate Clegg, destined as the next Patten/Owen or the entitled snob, Hanoverian, lazy, thick cunt in the top hat.
I`m trying Mr DTPs remedy but it aint working.
It's on here too Mr Y. A cunt festival indeed! I've had to mute and switch off a few times + refill the glass a few times too. Cameron must be sitting back, laughing his arse off and pouring himself another large merlot by now. Game set and match I think...
It is truly fucking awful, the audience worse than the players, mr yardarm, a Central Hall filled with cunts, Dimbleby more useless than usual; this is the worst I have ever seen. I may try a single malt.
I think Sid was the only winner, on this side of the screen, anyway.
Ironically Farage was right about the audience, though maybe he shouldn't have said it. Where the fuck do they get these people from? They've put fucking Hague on in the 'Spin Room' now - that's as much as I can take - off switch deployed...
And Emily looking like she's dying to have one of his miscarriages.
Hey guys, I feel your pain. Its raining this morning, no golf.
Yes - looked that way on my side of the screen too Mr I. However, he would do better if he could see through the other end of the telescope.
No, you fucking don't, mr mike, this is real pain. This Green bint, she's one of yours, isn't she? Looks to me like she's going to emulate Des Wilson, if anyone remembers him, and be fucking off back into the Southern Ocean.
His boldness will have worked with those who already shop at Poundland and may have brought a few more customers in. Sturgeon will have irritated and infuriated far more than she will have beguiled, among the grown-ups, anyway.
Never seen this Pienaar bloke, has he escaped from somewhere?
Mr SG is surely right. How can Cameron fail in the light of that shambles ? Miliband is an absolute disgrace, utterly stupid and barely human. You'd pick him as an android wouldn't you in a line up?
The unspeakable Sid was the winner but only because he was pitted against sixth form opposition. The Green woman and the Welsh creature looked like they'd staggered in from some suburban book club, gasping and gulping their inanities.
How have we so declined in intellectual substance over the last 25 years? Dimbleby was lobotomised in sympathy.
I can't bear it and will watch no more of it.
Sorry I've switched over to Expendables 2 for more intelligent discourse but I think you may be referring to this Dutchman (PBC Radio 5's 'Chief Political Correspondent' WTF?).
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Pienaar
Or I'm a Dutchman!...
No, I've just seen him again and he's definitely escaped from somewhere, not even being Dutch explains his behaviour, poor man's a nutcase.
Booze didn't help much, just brought about coma at a reasonable hour. Ed fucking Miliband - geez, i've met some socialists and a la Farage, some of my best friends are socialists, but if he was mine, i'd cry a little. It's all very well Cameron being useless but he's the 4th iteration of cunt we've had so it was almost whoever turned up for the job interview got it but Labour have no excuse. Was he trying to be statesman like - I think he was!
I feel like i've been brain sodomised or something. UUUUrrrggghhh
Mr I: I regret to say that the green bint hails from these shores, as does a number of other nonentities who have chosen to make their way in the UK. You are welcome to them - think of it as reverse colonialism.
Call me a dirty old man, but going by the pics in the Filthograph, Gnashers been given a makeover and she looks almost human.
I thought gnasher had been brought into the fold to be useful for something. She’s making a right fucking arse of herself out there….maybe that’s why she was brought in though… that whiney Jock accent. I used to think she could hold her own in debate. She’s almost as out of her depth as the aussie bint. She’s been given a makeover, but she’s still mutton dressed as mutton…I wouldn’t..
Millinad is a made up thing of indiscernible nature. I can’t stand it for more than half a minute and curse myself after for the waste of those seconds..
On the other side there was a shitfilm about a bunch of teenagers up in a plane in trouble. They seemed to me to be using the same script…every so often one would go off…it’s your fucking fault we’re in this shit…etc
Probably the most intelligent thing Cameron has ever done…stay out of it.
I was up your neck of the woods last week, Mr Ishmael. Bad craziness happening up there at the moment. Have they all been on the Buckie since the Great Disappointment? An ugly, sullen mood abounds. But Gnasher has already won her election and she and Wee Eck are just finessing their position, trying even for a not too crushing victory. Labour is so hammered in Jockland that the contagion is starting to spread, and that's not good. Unless that is that they think that they can swing another referendum in the next parliament - or the one after - by squeezing hard on Millipede's nuts. He must know that as PM Milliband he is fucked either way. It will be a nightmare death by a thousand indignities. In the long run, someone needs to recover Scotland for Labour. And he is not the man to do it. Perhaps he could arrange for Sturgeon to be asked how many jobs and families rely on Trident for their porridge every morning. A Trident non-job is just the same as an Edinburgh tram non-job, Nicola, isn't it? She should not take on so.
Down here the Dogshooters are disintegrating by the day. Shattered they are, and not just Oaten. Imagine, the great party of the political enlightenment reduced to this. Dear me. It is going to be a slaughter for Clegg.
I guess if it all gets too complicated to argue coherently, chaos is best for the McNutters and Cameron both. But not too much. He must be hoping to hell though that Greece does not burn down before the big day.
You will have seen the calibre of Tribesman discourse, these past few weeks, it is initially in the style of student politics but then quickly turns abusive and, by some reports, violent, for those reasons the Togetherist majority refuses to engage with the mad wee bastard, come the day, however, and the secret ballot, a more representative voice will emerge. It doesn't matter a fuck about a hundred thousand strong membership, the Proclaimers have that many in their fan club. The SNP is just a new cult, nasty, stupid and violent, of course and anti-democratic, we could see troops on the street, yet, mr mongoose, and quite right, too. As to Labour reclaiming anything, a career vehicle for jumped-up filthster families, it doesn't deserve to and it won't, You know that song , the gem that never madebit onto the album, that describes the position of lefties looking for a home: .....was thinking of a series of dreams, where nothing cones up to the top, everything stays down where it's wounded, and comes to a permanent stop, wasn't thinking of anything specific, like in a dream where someone wakes up and screams, nothing too very scientific, just thinking of a series of dreams......
That is what has been offered to what used to be organised labour, a series of dreams, Miliband the most inept spinner yet.
Organised anything is too much for me, Mr Ishmael. Organisation leads as night follows day to corruption. We must stomach organisation while there is a greater purpose, and then press the pillow painlessly to its face to hasten its just rest. Revolutions eat their own and I begin some days to understand why. We do though need Labour yet to hold back the tide of me-ism and the insular stupidity which might be the over-reach of the collapse of the Euro nonsense.
Except that it wrought the health service and spared you and I from rickets and polio and educated us, organised labour; you and mr jgm2 cannot now, Irish pilgrims to Prosperity, eschew its principles, having dined on them so richly, and as we will discuss in the next post, organised labour is just dreamspinning, come true. Clean water for all, such heresy, health and safety in the workplace, equal pay for wimmin, I don't know how we disentangle those achievements from raucous clothcappery, do you?
Joining those organisations is too much for me, also, but I have hated witnessing them strangled and sub
domised by six-figure pimps. We should not forget, either, that the dead and maimed of Iraq are organised British labour's gift to the world's working class.
The thing that amuses me most about our wonderful elections is that the nearer we get to polling day the more idiotic and child like do our prospective "leaders" become and the more they assume that we, the great unwashed, are taken in by their childlike lying and pretense.
This belief then follows them into the Palace of Westminster and is used for the next five years to determine how willingly we, the punters. will believe their lies.
All of that is true, Mr I. But the flag-bearer of the working class - in their struggle for freedom and dignity - is a hereditary fop, and a dickhead to boot. And he was put in place largely by the union vote.
And while I am a liberal, to a degree, look what happened to them. They are the ones who screwed representation from the landed gentry. You might think that that was the real end of feudalism - the passing not of the indenture but of the forelock-tugging, and the daily need for it. So when all that glory faded and was replaced by flatcappery, real liberals didn't weep, and real socialists shouldn't weep now but should look for a way forward. Passing on the solutions of the past from father Straw to son Kinnock is how flat cap turns into top hat. They are now part of the problem. Well, enough, I say. Time to go start anew.
If another match is to be struck it needs must be outwith MediaMinster for therein it will flicker and die.
I saw some fat fuck in a shiny spiv suit, last night, on Newsnight and I thought he'd been roped-in from a snooker hall to provide some colour. Fuck me, turns out he is a Poundland MEP, repreezentin, he said, the West Midlands. We are paying him a hundred grand a year plus exes plus mistress plus pension; of course he's going to go on telly, get paid some more and talk like a cunt. Multiply him by many hundreds and it is hard to see how any decent individual or group could enter any of the parliaments and not be eaten alive, as was Nellist. I'll return, once I have addressed my battery issues.
All the best radical positions are reversions to what we have developed against the grain, forms of behaviour and practice in service of ourselves together and not of power and money. So it is that we need to escape from the nets and traps of capitalism/neo-capitalism which demand that we live in a state of perpetually excited and frustrated appetite, moving ever faster and more pointlessly, degrading everything in our path.
That's where we are now, that's what our dying political lives proclaim. We are overloaded with information and material and we don't know what to do or what to say or where to go next.
We can only look to the old places and ways. Recover craft and trust and proper value and give ourselves time and space to do so. It may be that some convulsion is required first, a reverse big bang, and in the meantime we can slow ourselves down, look about and acknowledge each other. Start to build some proper things for proper reasons.
Whatever name you want to give that process, I think it's our only hope.
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