some young Franco-Arab barely out of his teens, a mastermind, worse than Ernst Stavro Blofeld or Doctor No.
The mastermind behind the atrocity, the slaughter, the massacre. Dunno what kind of mastermindedness it takes to get out of a car and open fire with an automatic weapon, into a theatre crowd, not very much, I shouldn't think;
even the Parachute Regiment can manage that, and there's not too many masterminds in there, quite the opposite:
serially-divorced, psychopathic homo-erotocists for sure,
but no masterminds.
Abdel or Ismail, or whichever one's in the frame, today, wanted Dead or Alive, he simply must be a criminal mastermind because if he's not it means that just about anybody who's pissed-off can do what he did and the spooks and snoopers and institutionalised thugs, therefore, the unaccountable bullyboys, not to mention the fantastically incompetent political filthsters can actually do fuck all about it; takes an evil mastermind, after all, to defeat the scintillating intelligence of Frankie Hollande or Micky Fallon. Must do, mussenit, stands to reason. It's either that he's a mastermind or our leaders are as thick as pigshit.
What, me?
Thick?
Probly.
But look.
Lessbeclear about this.
I'm French myself, same family as that ishmael bloke, on here, actually.
And that's why we have to stand epaulette to epaulette with our French cousins.
Because, you know what, at the end of the day, there's no real difference between roast beef and frogs legs,
not that I, personally, would touch the filthy fucking things,
never mind eat them,
but, as I always say,
better a green sauteed amphibian
than a fried sheep's eyeball.
And lessbeclear, I know we've beaten the French rather a lot, there was Sir Walter Raleigh's routing of the French Armada, for instance; the Relief of Mafeking, not to mention the Surge of Troy and, Oh, lots of other famous victories.
But now is not the time for boasting and on behalf of the English people I have, today, sent condolences to Monsewer Frankie, of France,
as he and his people stand firm
against the evil genius of Mr Sheikh bin Goldfinger.
I am also doubling the number of licensed-to-kill operatives working for Ms Dame Judi Dench, I mean for Ms Tracey May, the Obedience Minister, who, or is it whom, fucked if I know, whom or who is, to be frank,
rather angry about things,
not good, I might say, for a lady of her years,
enough to make her fall off her stilletoes,
and she will be taking a jolly good look at all your Internet histories.
Something I should probly do myself, rather good at history, me.
Wossat?
Where are they coming from?
Where are whom coming from?
The tererorists?
No?
Oh, the MI5 agents, the spies, the two thousand new spies?
Well, we don't achelly just have them, not in the sense of just having ready-trained spies, sort of in a warehouse sort of thing.
But I expect that Mr Ian Duncan Schmidt will find them.
Yes, like the seven thousand new doctors.
Yes, down the job centre.
Yes, another ten thousand jobs created by this govament.
Yes, yes, minimum wage, nobody should work for less than that, unless they have no other choice, that is.
What is it?
What is what?
Oh, the minimum wage?
Well, I should think it varies, y'know, from person to person.
Otherwise it'd be jolly unfair.
Somebody like me, it'd be, what, a hundred and fifty grand a year. Yes, about a hundred pounds an hour, all found.
Something like that.
I was away for mental arithmetic, not to worry, though,
got the best triple-first degree that money can buy.
Yes, that's right, like Mayor Boris, yes, and the Chancellor, well, lessbefair,
not much studying you can do when you're off your face on cocaine and class hatred,
dressing up like Regency spivs,
taunting the poor people.
But yes, about a hundred pounds an hour.
'Sjust not worth my while getting out of bed for less.
Well, I say a hundred an hour but that's just for starters.
I mean, just look at the founder of the modern Tory party,
who just happens to be my personal hero,
he's as rich as Midas, or is it Croesus?
That rich Italian.
Donald Trump, anyway, as rich as Mr Trump.
What???
Seven pounds an hour???
The minimum wage?
No, never.
Who would put up with that?
I'd rather be on the dole.
Whaddayamean,
there's no dole anymore?
Anyway, I think that recent events make clear the case, which I have long argued, for bombing civilians. No, no, it IS quite wrong in Paris or London but it is entirely proper in Cyprus.
Wossat?
Not Cyprus?
Well, alright then, Syria.
Because lessbeclear, as we have shown in Iraq and Afghaniwossaname and Lebanon....
Not Lebanon?
Libya, then.
It is only by bombing civilians and destroying their infrasubstance that we make progress in keeping ourselves safe at home, as the recent tragic events in Paris so clearly demonstrate.
Frere Frankie, frere Frankie, dormez vous, dormez vous?
Now, the police.
Superb professionals doing a first rate job.
But I can clearly hear people asking:
how can PC Pleb possibly cope with all this,
all this increased wossaname
The bullets, they go in 'ere somewhere, innit?
Yeah, 'sright, and you just shoot anybody you feel like.
now that we have cut his funding, quite proply, in my view, to half of what it was before all this whatever-it-is started?
Well, it beats me.
Fucked if I know.
I mean, lessbeclear, I dunno how my own parish council's still working, never mind the fucking police and the fucking schools and the fucking hospitals.
But the Chancellor does and that's the main thing.
Let me be quite clear,
I haven't a fucking clue.
About anything.
Never mind about these mad bastards who don't care if they live or die.
I didn't even think I'd still be prime minister.
So, to be fair, I think you should direct any further questions
to Mr Miliband.
Wossat?
Which one?
Which Mr Miliband?
How many of the fuckers are there?
Thick?
Probly.
But look.
Lessbeclear about this.
I'm French myself, same family as that ishmael bloke, on here, actually.
And that's why we have to stand epaulette to epaulette with our French cousins.
Because, you know what, at the end of the day, there's no real difference between roast beef and frogs legs,
not that I, personally, would touch the filthy fucking things,
never mind eat them,
but, as I always say,
better a green sauteed amphibian
than a fried sheep's eyeball.
And lessbeclear, I know we've beaten the French rather a lot, there was Sir Walter Raleigh's routing of the French Armada, for instance; the Relief of Mafeking, not to mention the Surge of Troy and, Oh, lots of other famous victories.
But now is not the time for boasting and on behalf of the English people I have, today, sent condolences to Monsewer Frankie, of France,
as he and his people stand firm
against the evil genius of Mr Sheikh bin Goldfinger.
I am also doubling the number of licensed-to-kill operatives working for Ms Dame Judi Dench, I mean for Ms Tracey May, the Obedience Minister, who, or is it whom, fucked if I know, whom or who is, to be frank,
rather angry about things,
not good, I might say, for a lady of her years,
enough to make her fall off her stilletoes,
and she will be taking a jolly good look at all your Internet histories.
Something I should probly do myself, rather good at history, me.
Where are they coming from?
Where are whom coming from?
The tererorists?
No?
Oh, the MI5 agents, the spies, the two thousand new spies?
Well, we don't achelly just have them, not in the sense of just having ready-trained spies, sort of in a warehouse sort of thing.
But I expect that Mr Ian Duncan Schmidt will find them.
Yes, like the seven thousand new doctors.
Yes, down the job centre.
Yes, another ten thousand jobs created by this govament.
Yes, yes, minimum wage, nobody should work for less than that, unless they have no other choice, that is.
What is it?
What is what?
Oh, the minimum wage?
Well, I should think it varies, y'know, from person to person.
Otherwise it'd be jolly unfair.
Somebody like me, it'd be, what, a hundred and fifty grand a year. Yes, about a hundred pounds an hour, all found.
Something like that.
I was away for mental arithmetic, not to worry, though,
got the best triple-first degree that money can buy.
Yes, that's right, like Mayor Boris, yes, and the Chancellor, well, lessbefair,
not much studying you can do when you're off your face on cocaine and class hatred,
dressing up like Regency spivs,
taunting the poor people.
But yes, about a hundred pounds an hour.
'Sjust not worth my while getting out of bed for less.
Well, I say a hundred an hour but that's just for starters.
I mean, just look at the founder of the modern Tory party,
he's as rich as Midas, or is it Croesus?
That rich Italian.
Donald Trump, anyway, as rich as Mr Trump.
What???
Seven pounds an hour???
The minimum wage?
No, never.
Who would put up with that?
I'd rather be on the dole.
Whaddayamean,
there's no dole anymore?
Anyway, I think that recent events make clear the case, which I have long argued, for bombing civilians. No, no, it IS quite wrong in Paris or London but it is entirely proper in Cyprus.
Wossat?
Not Cyprus?
Well, alright then, Syria.
Because lessbeclear, as we have shown in Iraq and Afghaniwossaname and Lebanon....
Not Lebanon?
Libya, then.
It is only by bombing civilians and destroying their infrasubstance that we make progress in keeping ourselves safe at home, as the recent tragic events in Paris so clearly demonstrate.
Frere Frankie, frere Frankie, dormez vous, dormez vous?
Now, the police.
Superb professionals doing a first rate job.
But I can clearly hear people asking:
how can PC Pleb possibly cope with all this,
all this increased wossaname
The bullets, they go in 'ere somewhere, innit?
Yeah, 'sright, and you just shoot anybody you feel like.
now that we have cut his funding, quite proply, in my view, to half of what it was before all this whatever-it-is started?
Well, it beats me.
Fucked if I know.
I mean, lessbeclear, I dunno how my own parish council's still working, never mind the fucking police and the fucking schools and the fucking hospitals.
But the Chancellor does and that's the main thing.
Let me be quite clear,
I haven't a fucking clue.
About anything.
Never mind about these mad bastards who don't care if they live or die.
I didn't even think I'd still be prime minister.
So, to be fair, I think you should direct any further questions
to Mr Miliband.
Wossat?
Which one?
Which Mr Miliband?
How many of the fuckers are there?
Yes, if he wasn't a mastermind, this bloke, he wouldn't have been able to outwit these two intellectual giants
or this one
Send us, bitte, because ov ze Nazis, your poor, huddled phoney refugees, longing for ze soft targets to attack. Nein, Ich vill not be resigning, zey vas only Parisians, unt our granpappies put zem up against ze vall, muttifucker, by ze sousands und sousands. It does not matter eine fuck, a few Frogs, more or less.
nor assemble a handful of blokes quite prepared to die for their beliefs - can't be more than a few tens of millions of them hanging around.
And the weapons, I mean, it takes a true criminal genius to source a few Kalashnikovs
in a continent awash with them,
there's only seventy-five million of the fucking things floating around, unaccounted for, after countless wars, occupations and what they call policing actions.
The 7.62mm round, furthermore, packs a fearful punch; fire one into a crowd of people and no amount of OxyCodon gonna take those pains away.
Even thick, bog-trotting, sadistic, lobotomised Paddy arse-bandits can get hold of and operate Kalashnikovs.
and it takes virtually no training - a single click on the safety for automatic fire, two for single-shot; it's not like doing a Rubik's Cube, shooting an AK 47.
Just point the bastard and squeeze the trigger.
Christ, even a tribe of Stone Age Africans with bones where they shouldn't have, even they can use an AK.
But then there's the driving, the cars, the real mastermind stuff, that, and maybe stealing the cars in the first place, tough intellectual training required for that, albeit that fourteen-year olds seem able to do it instinctively, as easily as they busted into Talk-Talk, freaking everybody out.
I guess constructing a so-called suicide vest would challenge the skills of most, but as far as Ahmed is concerned it is no more difficult than changing a fuse and even if he and his mates were unfamiliar with the craft there will be tutorials on youtube,
bound to be.
bound to be.
Yes, cars and Kalashnikovs, not to mention recruiting people who can tell the time; mastermind it is, then,
give this bloke five minutes with a box of Lego and he'll have a fucking sattelite, up there, bristling and buzzing with magic rays, targetting every major city in the world.
The term mastermind is used in order to deliberately deceive us, to make us see our world as a movie set, our venal and inept masters as Judi Dench, M, controlling the tradecraft and heroism of wotsisname, that playactor prick, Craig, Daniel Craig, the cock-waving James Bond; to convert everything into entertainment, to allow MediaMinster to practice its own dark alchemy, the transmutation of base, inconvenient Truth into precious, holy Falsehood.
We are being Dubyad, good guyed and bad guyed
Craig, himself, incidentally, is a good example of showbiz-aping-life-aping-showbiz. He said, recently, that he had had it with Bond, he had poured all his considerable creativity into the character, he had virtually co-written the screenplays, co-directed the films with Sam Mendes whom he simply just so adored. And just so admired. And respected.
But Craig was now fed-up with Bond, hated him, in fact, and if he did it again it would only be for the money, just like non-luvvies do, in their miserable lives, go to work, just for money.
Fancy, going to work for money.
And I thought that Sir Sean Wifebeater was a cunt.
These crazybastard pilots, crossed in love, or drugged-up, why can't they crash their fucking planes into the BAFTAs or the fucking Oscars, rid the world of these simpering, hissing vermin.
But we digress, into the sewers of showbusiness.
Part of the Paris divertissement has been the Mourning-by-Hashtag. I dunno quite what a hashtag is, myself, something to do with what they call social media, but I guess it's like a cyber bunch of garage flowers, a device by which the morons join in showy, public grieving for people they have never met. In some of its mawkish forms it is described, on a previous thread, as a Sellotaph, a pop-up place of mourning, where imbeciles tape Teddy Bears and bunches of flowers, and worst of all, poxy little billets dout, scrawled messages to the dead.
I don't think there is a hash-opportunity to collectively grieve for the people of Nigeria, six fucking thousand of whom have been terror-killed this year by Boko Wotsit. Y'see, there's terror, which happens to people like us, and prompts nauseating self-righteousness, and then there's just background noise, collateralised mayhem and murder, which happens to those Not-Us; Palestinians and Africans, usually, Arabs of all sorts.
Hashworld doesn't give a fuck about them, it is quite a selective sort of party-mourning, in which each man's death diminshes me, as long as he's wearing the right clothes, using the right slavePhone, y'know, making informed consumer choices; I'll hashtag him or her, but those people, in the jungle, well, they're just so, well, UnMournable, really. I mean, don't get me wrong, I adore this Liberty, Fraternity and, what's the other one, yeah, Equalness, but like you just can't apply it to everyone. Not without just so completely devaluing it.
Ah, ma cherie,
'ow about we go an' 'ave a good Facebooking, eh?
Ever the optimist, I thought that the doings in Paris might prompt some reflection, on the nature of foreign affairs, what happened there, after all, happens in other places, much, much worse, every day of the week.
But no.
We are under siege from al-SMERSH, from al-SPECTRE; from criminal masterminds; from sinister, apocalyptic, suicidal visionaries.
The people, with their hashtagging, are actually having a party of sorts and, I suspect, slavering after the next event, maybe it's the new legal high, coming together in cyber-solidarity with well, woddever, as long is it involves death.
And almost every voice we hear from the commentariat now tells us, in terms of such sweet reason, that to preserve our way of life we must now abandon it; to defeat the terrorist we must let him win.
Most of France, seventy-odd years ago, bent over for Hermann, some in Vichy alliance, many in collaboration, a few, les braves, resisted, knowing that what they did could prompt their torture and death, and that of their friends and loved ones, too. In many ways, these were suicide bombers, prepared to die for their cause.
France, saved from herself by the Brits and the Yanks and the Reds, now emboldened by current military superiority, shits all over weaker countries, some former colonies, some just on the list of tortureables. Are they really surprised that some, at least, like the Maquis, choose to resist, and on the very streets of their tormentors?
Funny, how affluence and a big stick make Nazis of us all.
LE BLITZKRIEG HOLLANDAISE.
Moi, je must bomb quelque personne, parce que de mon re-election, n'est ce pas. Oui, civilienne, ou soldats, il y a de non difference, Je suis a guerre totale.
A BOMBLOAD OF FRENCH VALUES
It is believed by people who understand such things, that of the places now being Frog-bombed4Freedom only ten or so per cent of the occupants are ISIL fighters, the remainder, the locals, are aslready under their savage cosh. Now they are to be punished, for the French news programmes.
Another massacre of the innocents, Vive la France.
Laissez-moi vous divertir.
We are being Dubyad, good guyed and bad guyed
Craig, himself, incidentally, is a good example of showbiz-aping-life-aping-showbiz. He said, recently, that he had had it with Bond, he had poured all his considerable creativity into the character, he had virtually co-written the screenplays, co-directed the films with Sam Mendes whom he simply just so adored. And just so admired. And respected.
But Craig was now fed-up with Bond, hated him, in fact, and if he did it again it would only be for the money, just like non-luvvies do, in their miserable lives, go to work, just for money.
Fancy, going to work for money.
And I thought that Sir Sean Wifebeater was a cunt.
These crazybastard pilots, crossed in love, or drugged-up, why can't they crash their fucking planes into the BAFTAs or the fucking Oscars, rid the world of these simpering, hissing vermin.
But we digress, into the sewers of showbusiness.
Part of the Paris divertissement has been the Mourning-by-Hashtag. I dunno quite what a hashtag is, myself, something to do with what they call social media, but I guess it's like a cyber bunch of garage flowers, a device by which the morons join in showy, public grieving for people they have never met. In some of its mawkish forms it is described, on a previous thread, as a Sellotaph, a pop-up place of mourning, where imbeciles tape Teddy Bears and bunches of flowers, and worst of all, poxy little billets dout, scrawled messages to the dead.
I don't think there is a hash-opportunity to collectively grieve for the people of Nigeria, six fucking thousand of whom have been terror-killed this year by Boko Wotsit. Y'see, there's terror, which happens to people like us, and prompts nauseating self-righteousness, and then there's just background noise, collateralised mayhem and murder, which happens to those Not-Us; Palestinians and Africans, usually, Arabs of all sorts.
Hashworld doesn't give a fuck about them, it is quite a selective sort of party-mourning, in which each man's death diminshes me, as long as he's wearing the right clothes, using the right slavePhone, y'know, making informed consumer choices; I'll hashtag him or her, but those people, in the jungle, well, they're just so, well, UnMournable, really. I mean, don't get me wrong, I adore this Liberty, Fraternity and, what's the other one, yeah, Equalness, but like you just can't apply it to everyone. Not without just so completely devaluing it.
Ah, ma cherie,
'ow about we go an' 'ave a good Facebooking, eh?
Ever the optimist, I thought that the doings in Paris might prompt some reflection, on the nature of foreign affairs, what happened there, after all, happens in other places, much, much worse, every day of the week.
But no.
We are under siege from al-SMERSH, from al-SPECTRE; from criminal masterminds; from sinister, apocalyptic, suicidal visionaries.
The people, with their hashtagging, are actually having a party of sorts and, I suspect, slavering after the next event, maybe it's the new legal high, coming together in cyber-solidarity with well, woddever, as long is it involves death.
And almost every voice we hear from the commentariat now tells us, in terms of such sweet reason, that to preserve our way of life we must now abandon it; to defeat the terrorist we must let him win.
Most of France, seventy-odd years ago, bent over for Hermann, some in Vichy alliance, many in collaboration, a few, les braves, resisted, knowing that what they did could prompt their torture and death, and that of their friends and loved ones, too. In many ways, these were suicide bombers, prepared to die for their cause.
France, saved from herself by the Brits and the Yanks and the Reds, now emboldened by current military superiority, shits all over weaker countries, some former colonies, some just on the list of tortureables. Are they really surprised that some, at least, like the Maquis, choose to resist, and on the very streets of their tormentors?
Funny, how affluence and a big stick make Nazis of us all.
LE BLITZKRIEG HOLLANDAISE.
Moi, je must bomb quelque personne, parce que de mon re-election, n'est ce pas. Oui, civilienne, ou soldats, il y a de non difference, Je suis a guerre totale.
It is believed by people who understand such things, that of the places now being Frog-bombed4Freedom only ten or so per cent of the occupants are ISIL fighters, the remainder, the locals, are aslready under their savage cosh. Now they are to be punished, for the French news programmes.
Another massacre of the innocents, Vive la France.
Laissez-moi vous divertir.
41 comments:
Took the dog for a walk along Manly beach yesterday arvo - thank god it has cooled down from 42C on Friday to a more salubrious 25C. Outside Manly town hall, which I pay handsomely to support, were two flipchart thingies with felt-tip pens so passing locals could emote and show their solidarity with la belle France. Reading some of the bollocks I lol'd and was forced to put in my 2 penneth.
I wrote some bullet points about illegal US regime change etc, and why Australia shouldn't be a vassal - you can imagine. I was half expecting a knock on the door last night.
There is a reason why they sell coffee and water in containers with nipples. Its because people are regressing back to babies.
I trust you are naturalised, mr mike, undeportable.
I'm a true blue Aussie now, Mr I, but recently the Gov said they would deport dual passport holders who caused trouble. I'd better shut up and toe the line, I guess.
As luck would have it, the day previous to the shoot up, I had just booked a flight to Paris for next year, so I could get to the start point in Southern France for my Camino walk. My wife is trying to veto this now. I'm still going to do it, but she does have a point that turning up in Paris with only a black backpack is asking for trouble.
That's the main point, isn't it, that no-one cares a fig for the innocent Arab corpses, there being many children, pensioners and other non-terrorists included in the toll. My Marxist mind sees only the oldest trick that Power has up its sleeve: create a fiction whereby shitting on the weak and hopeless is deemed to be mere natural justice and "human nature" at work.
The ludicrous death-seekers and their vile primitive instincts are, of course, to be despised but no more so than the very same sort of murderers in suits and in 5 star Summit hotels.
Fuck them all, these strutting arseholes. I'm much too old and weary to raise a finger these days but there is a reckoning upon us and I hope there are some who are game, I really do.
Indeed Mr BB: we are all expected to shed rivers of tears for the 3000-odd 9/11 deaths and then rejoice in the consequential killing of millions of innocents.
By any measure the US is the major terrorist state; it truly hurts me that Australia sends one token jet fighter as part of the coalition of the willing.
Ever since my first visit to Vietnam, a lovely country and people, its been clear to me where the true evil lies.
Greatest general of my lifetime, Ho Chi Minh. And waddaweget? Stormin' fucking Norman, General Sir Mike Jackson and Coh-lin Powell. Nit fit to be Ho's batman.
It's a great situation.
The State bombards the middle east for years and then allows the recipients of said bombardment free access to Europe, filled with a seething resentment. A bit like when they bombed Germany, apart from the bit when they didn't allow 2 million Germans, including fit young men, into Allied countries.
Can the crowd shoot back?
No, the Sate has taken our guns.
Could some valiant soul rush upon the attacker and stab/mace/stun him?
No, the State doesn't allow people to carry weapons, even feeble ones.
"We will fight them on the beaches?" My left ball! Sheep in a shambles is what we are, where's a good Webley .45 when you need one? Tony Blair's bodyguards, that's where.
-richard
The paddy in the bw photo is toting an M16, not an AK47.
American tat, a present from Boston, no doubt.
It`s this week that Pansy Face is going to steal what is ours in the name of class war and social engineering this week and utterly by coincidence Ham Face is gearing up to the new Churchill, waging a cuntish war: Johnny SuicideVest Could Be Sitting In The Train Next To You so Cameron will blitz some desert shit hole that's already been blitzed a dozen times to no great effect.
He`ll be hosssan`d along by a chorus of generals, spooks and diplomats, the same individuals or with the same mindsets that produced such triumphs as Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya. The nincompoop Fallon, truly a cunt beyond satire praised the RAF for intercepting two of Bad Vlad`s bombers in international airspace en route to blast Johhny Headchopper; Fallon so utterly thick he doesn`t know which war he wants to fight. The one raging in his fucked up head it should be.
But just watch the fancy footwork as Gideon piles the library books onto the bonfire of the wheelchairs.
Craig Murray made the bleedin' obvious when you think about it point that the declaration of 1,900 more spooks and associated dog's bodies came bloody quickly after the Paris event and, unlike the tax credits imbroglio, seemed worked out for a change - as if it had been consulted on, prepared and costed; things which this current shower of shitheads seem preternaturally incapable of doing in every other sphere of government. Also, today, they've announced that we're to buy sooper dooper fancy jets from the Yanks at a cost of £12bn in today's currency which undoubtedly equates to about £30bn when they realise the original tender forgot about wings or engines thus changing the requirements. I've no idea why we 'need' stealth bombers when we've got drones which presumably can be covered with the same material and still fly on a two-stroke but I guess that's why i'll never make the mega-bucks; my friends being happy with a decent lasagne rather than a fucking huge bung. (That story about Osborne's best man making £50 million in the morning of the Royal Mail floatation working for Lazzard's made me realise i'm an amateur at this shit).
Love the sellotaph label - highly descriptive.
Labour, of course, is too busy trying to restore its own troughing aristocracy to the front bench, too keen for an Iraq Mk 11, too timid, too corrupt, too cowardly to resist any of this shit, they all just want the return of a Government of National Unity, which they will now have. The filthsters at the PBC are doing the WarWank for all they are worth, jerking themselves half to death, spasming in their their urge to please govament, secure their jobs and boost their travel and overtime.
I can rarely bear the PBC's Sport'n'Business'n'Gossip channel - what used to be News 24, until they found that they couldn't actually do that, there being no joirnalists on the staff - but it was on in the background last night and it was like a Party Political Broadcast for Death, pundit after pundit, scum who had never even been in a good argument, let alone a war, talking like they were fucking Clausewitz or Alexander the fucking great, some scrunched-up media bint, probably incapable, after a bottle of Chardonnay, of wiping her own scabby arse, slut-gobbing about how bombing-from-the-air, as she put it, was all well and good but proper purchase on the target needed boots on the ground, cue nodding of booze-raddled heads all around the studio. I suppose on skymadeupnewsandfilth there would have been a display of dazzling martial expertise from Mrs Ian Cardigan Dale, the bullyfag, whose bravery extends as far as bashing a disabled man on the Brighton Tory beach and maybe Toilets Maguire, Fleet Street's very own Billy Bragg, working-class-boy-made-cunt.
We have not yet seen a clamouring mob of limbless ex-servicemen, demanding their opportunity to fight the wogs, maybe the formation of Prince Harry's Own Most Irregulars, but Oh, wouldn't it be a sign of our times, publicity-crazed cripples, fighting amongst themselves, for the chance to lose their remaining limbs in another exercise of StateTerrorism4Peace?
Due to the stupidity of these people, stampeding to an entente discordiale, instigated, this time, by a useless, unpopular, priapic dwarf,we all face, as I said last week, a mushroom cloud, over a country near us
Another thing, mr dick, which is likely, is a revolt by we Scotch, it will be largely orchestrated by the GnasherMen but their certainly is a sincere groundswell of anti-warism, North of the Border, combined with a loathing of Cameronism. It is an opportunity, also, for the tribesmen to divert attention from their increasingly visible failures in government, notably with the State Police, education and health, as well as displaying the worthlessness of Labour, even under the pacifist, Corbyn, and thus the need to vote SNP. in the coming Holyrood election. You can't blame them, who in their right mind would want to hear one more smug, sneering, know-it-all insult from Millionaire Mayor Livingstone. Fuck me, Jesus, from here to Glasgow in a Pink Bus, why don't they go away and interfere with children, in the finest traditions if the House, these people, what on Earth possessed Corbyn to appoint Livingstone to a pivotal, high-profile role? He couldn't even hold cosmopolitan Labour London against a guffawing, cock-waving Tory spiv, who now has two other well paid jobs, as well as the Mayor's. The sound of Livingstone, whining about nukes, will turn anyone who hears him into Dr Strangelove. Livingstone and Abbott, for fuck's sake, is that really the best team Corbyn can muster, out of a couple of hundred MPs? If Ken Livingstone is the answer to any of Labour's problems then they should all cross the floor and perch on the knees of their fellows in govament, it's the closest they'll get.
The War In Mickey Fallon's Head, mr yardarm, sounds like a book by Philip K Dick. I love it. Somebody should write it.
I was always uneasy, mr richard, about the confiscation of firearms, it hasn't stopped criminal acquisition and use but has merely left the law-abiding defenceless, should Death knock on the door.
I have never owned one, and I don't think I would like to but I am as settled and law-abiding as a man can be - discounting my thoughts - and I don't see why I should not be able to arm myself, since politicians seem intent upon endangering me, making me a vengeance-target by their own unspeakable wickkedness.
Maybe we live in days which validate the axiom: Better to have a gun and not need one, than need one and not have one.
And only tis morning, Mr I, the bobbies are raising the prospect once again of needing to be armed. In order, one imagines, to be able to more safely arrest aged non-entities.
And what is going on in Brussells do we think? The whole fucking place shutdown for a week? For one maybe geezer with a maybe explosive vest? And the other copper saying that we'd be at greater risk outside the EU. One the same day? And little Britain out here with a silver sea around it too.
Such cynical, comprehensive advantage is taken by the unGodly after these events that even if they were not false flag operations, they may as well have been, inasmuch as their impact is used to further the black agenda.
The party-mourning Parisians and the football oiks at Wembley, if they were an infinitesimal fraction as clever as they think they are, instead of lighting candles and blubberhugging they'd be denouncing the Elysee Palace and the House of Commons, both instrumental, with Uncle Sam, in conspiring with the House of Saud to fund the very terror which all three publicly condemn.
One single, ostracised, brilliant man stands out in our shitty, Western created, corporate mafia world, Vlad. The rest are Arses of their own dark orifice receptacles of vanity.
I don't think you need a firearm Mr I as you seem to have a very useful range of power-tools to hand (I'm still wincing at the thought of that circular saw - as fearsome as anything Blofelt et al could deploy...). I'll endeavour to make some observations about all of this shit in due course...
It is strange that these people are described as "cowardly", as if needlessly walking into certain death were not as deeply, coldly, courageous as anything a man could do, however misguided it may be. The courage on this side, of course, has long passed into history.
Childless German woman has a meltdown, adopts couple of million future doctors, poets, composers, and EU astronauts. What is not to like!
I have referred to this previously, mr tdg, in bewilderment at the power of Repetitive Insult. The last group to display such indifference to sacrifice, of course, required nuclear pacification, twice.
I look forward to it, mr sg, as long as it is not as downright cynical as is dr y's. Poor hausfrau is onlyn trying to do what's right, although what's right is to resign, move to the country and grow sauerkraut.
The cowardice is moral not physical. "God commands me to slay these infidels." Yeah, right.
Yeah, but, mr mongoose, howsoever the point of self-slaughter is arrived at, then, as with the kamikaze, the rejection of existence, its abandonment, is, as mr tdg says, regardless of its inspiration, an act of personal, what, bravery, denial, courage? Have you seen what remains after a suicide vest detonation? Hardly a consumnation devoutly to be wished, and regardless of our philiosophising of disgrace, Messrs Kneecaps and Adams took an entirely different approach to killing civilians in places of entertainment. I know which band of freedom fighters I would describe as cowardly.
One could not insert a moral fag paper between them. And there is no virtue - even of the relative kind - to be found in a dick who kills himself too whilst about his murderous business.
For every safe-and-sound McKneecaps too there will a Mohamed AlKneecaps somewhere directing the footsoldiery to their doom.
I didn't say virtue, mr mongoose. mr tdg spoke of a misguided courage, which I amplified, and while there is no difference in the outcome for victims of ISIS or PIRA, the use of self-as-weapon in the case of the former - and not just ISIS but other outlawed groups - and the remotely-detonated nail bomb, and in some cases the attempted use of coerced-by-family-kidnap innocent bystanders by the latter creates a chasm of cowardice between both groups; which is not to say, as you will know, that I endorse either. I don't know where on a spectrum of cowardice we would put the uniformed perpetrators of the misdirected holocaust we chose to call Shock and Awe, the brutality of Abu Ghraib prison or Guantanamo Bay.
I suppose the headchoppers deserve to be called any name you like but this recent lot, vile and brutal though they are, play in no different a Cowards League than do Uncle Sam's gang-raping torturers, their inspiration, their role model. Bombing civilians at prayer, af school, or at a wedding is no different to shooting civilians grooving to some ageing rockers, is it?
Bombing the Tavern in the Town and then ducking off to Boston, Mass. and a hero's welcome seems, to me, far more repulsive than dying as part of the mission. If only Queen Brenda shared my revulsion for the Provisional IRA then maybe the global terror network might not, as if does, consider its triumph inevitable.
Just read that Dave is spending 178B of your money, creating new brigades, ordering new squadrons etc. And that nuclear strikes from ISIS are imminent. Thats one hell of a mastermind that little spotty Franco-Arab, to cause such an effect.
We are all being gamed for some purpose.
It will doubtless be £178 big ones over about a thousand years but, yes, I did not think that we had 178 of those laying about the place.
It seems also that the Turks have not shot down a Russian fighter over Syria - which just about offends everyone in some way. Are Turkey in NATO? Oh dear.
The anti-Vlad propagandists will be out in force on the madeupnews channels.
But not to worry. In the interests of their security and for training purposes, the conversation between ground and pilot will have been recorded so we can all hear it.
RT is offering a different point of view, at the moment; meantime I remain committed to the belief that stocks of tinned food and bottled water may prove to be worth their weight in gold. And petrol. And medicines. And sharpened sticks. These fucking simpletons may yet kill us all.
t
Murk upon murk...
https://undercoverinfo.wordpress.com/2015/11/20/isis-survives-largely-because-turkey-allows-it-to-the-evidence/
verge.//
That is what commentators on RT have been saying all day, mr verge; the CIA have been doing similar shot for years, though, haven't they, forever in fact, since they grew from OSS after the Hitler war, servants of American Exceptionalism, supporting both sides in a conflict and none, selling them all arms and then bleating when they use them, the Great Satan, authors of the Mujahuideen, al Quaeda, the IRA along the way, and now ISIL; the Pentagon is probably even now working on the next incarnation of raghead terrornutters.
Do you think, in passing, that the President is on drugs? His remarks seem so, what, uninspired, irrelevant, desultory, like he can't wait to leave the White House and have his own TeeVee show, a song and dance man thing, an un-nigger nigger mistrel, a bit of singing, a few jokes, some flatulent celebrity guests.
I will go and read wordpress.
Russia supplies 70% of Turkey's gas. Turkey's goose is cooked.
I do hope so, mr mike, although not being able to fire-up the kebab spit may be the least punishment that Vlad visits upon Johnny Turk.
Funny you should mention that, I've been struck by this for a while now - some cocktail of prozac and diazepam, or stronger, perhaps, who knows. The more sombre the statement, the closer the tone seems to come to a dazed in-store reminder that Walmart has a special on novelty pet-wear in aisle 6...
v.//
Yes, that's the way of it. A spaced-out PROTUS. Pribably par for the course. He plays golf, doesn't he.
My belated thoughts on this matter, offered without 'prayers', Mr I. You are right, no 'masterminding' required at the tactical / operational level here. But isn't that the very devil of it?A 'Desmond' in Information Systems from the You-Knee-Versity of the Staines Reservoir, or wherever, is all the brain power needed to create mayhem in the soft underbelly of our 'civilisation' - plus a willingness to 'give' one's own life, as a certain lover of frogs and other amphibians put it recently (ISIL, the 'gift' from 'God' that keeps on giving!...). Isn't that what makes them so dangerous? Go up a few levels and a different picture emerges - an organisation, or maybe it is more like a 'movement', that appears to have branches everywhere, its tentacles reaching into almost every country across the Middle East, North, East and West Africa, Central and Southern Asia, The Caucasus and Europe (If the Jihadis had a sense of humour, they might have placed SPECTRE's octopus motif upon their black flag).
Wherever they touch, they seem to be able to create, or maybe it is more like exploit, environments in which willing followers can be groomed, recruited and then motivated to kill, either there and then using the most primitive means (as per the attack on Lee Rigby), or sucked up, via one of the many conduits, to the centre (or one of the centres...) for training in simple but highly effective methods of inflicting mass casualties. Then returned, via a multiplicty of routes including amongst the throng of 'refugees' trudging through the Balkans, by private jet or whatever. Masterminds, perhaps not, but this is certainly not the work of imbeciles given that they appear to have been able to sustain and expand all of this in this in the face of the combined, though evidently not always joined up, efforts of Western intelligence agencies, continuous bombing, drone strikes, special forces operations etc. Yet more of the same treatments are prescribed by our politicians and pundits? Like a virus they have already adapted to the environment created by this treatment regime which is not to say that it doesn't hurt them - but it is clearly far short of delivering anything like a mortal blow.
I would support bombing ISIL targets in Syria (can we even identify them and, if we can, isolate them from the civilian environments in which they have embedded themselves?) from the half dozen or so ageing Tornadoes, that is all we appear to be able to deploy, if I though it would be effective but I think it is time to step back and take time to ask questions before shooting any more. At home, cutting off the money supply would be a good start, whether that be funding from the KSA, Gulf states or the involuntary contributions of the UK tax payer, for Wahhabist Mosques and Blair's 'faith schools' (aka terrorist madrassas) that helps to sustain the swamp from which ISIL recruits. Abroad, we should give tacit support for Russia's efforts to disrupt the Caliphate's economy by interdicting the oil trade with Turkey (good piece on that here http://raedwald.blogspot.co.uk/2015/11/turkeys-erdogan-hit-by-russian.html ), or at least get out of their way.
Interesting that ISIL (or is it ISIS, or whatever the fuck we call them now?) don't seem to have mounted any attacks on Israel, despite close geographical proximity. They must be laughing their arses off, the Israelis, sat securely behand their Iron Dome, while their enemies fight amongst themselves... You couldn't make it up you really couldn't!
Thanks, mr sg, I guess, however, that any analysis, commenced from a post-capitalist, post-imperial, post-industrial, enslaved-by-usury, lapsed Judaeo-Christian standpoint must founder on the rocks of ignorance - try as we may, we simply cannot, by definition, think oursleves into the minds of the devoutly suicidal, and any one who tells you that such an analysis can understand or predict the actions of the Death-Hungry is talking like a cunt.
Up to my arse, me, in gobbledegook from nitwits in some think-tank or security or intelligence specialism; where do they find these idiots? I saw one of them, shot-down, decades ago in some ThatcherWar, blethering-on from the University of his Home Extension, and I thought I'd tumbled down the rabbit hole, this fucking numpty had crashed an aircraft decades ago, or been shot down, I dunno, he wasn't as bad as Tory wannabe, Simon Weston, who seems, mercifully, to have shut the fuck up about matters military and geo-political, but he was just making up cliches as he went along. And that was former flight lieutenant John Nichol, for us there, John, you may remember, was heroically captured or shot-down, some magnificnet deed or other, sharing his thoughts with you, here, on the PBC, about whatever it is we are covering-in-depth for you here, today, and now the sport with some gibberling, hard-faced slapper,......
I don't know what the reality of these attacks is and nor does anyone else, my guess would be that there is no central control or planning, that rather there is a KamikazeZetgeist, sprread through cyberstreets but also in coffee shops and universities around the world and that people, those with access to guns and bombs and those like the Rigby killers, without, just do what they do, when they do it, in respionse to whatever prompts them; the idea that a cok-wcing arsehole l;ike Hollande could co-ordinate any straegy against such a nebulous movement is only what we should exp[ect from a worthless, fraudulent political coward keen to be seen as effective enough to re-elect; thast thousands or millions may be roasted in order to nourish a worm like him is profoundly depressing.
As others here have said, perhaps the only pragmatist engaged in this farce is the wretched Putin, how'd that happen?
They all look like nutters, to me, NATO, the EU, the presidents and prime ministers and I expect a Nutters' Christmas.
Yes, for a start, kick that Turkish president in the arse for he is surely playing both ends against the middle and cut-off, insofar as is possible, terror funds and terrorist access via Turkey but it needs smarter statesman than we have to sort this looming global inferno
Over now to Gayle Tits, with the weather and stay tuned, after that, for a Christmas Celebrity Come-Dancing, Pottery-Sewing-Bake-Off, presented by the members of the Hampstead BGLT Broadcasting Association. And no, no, that is not the hot breath of the Jihad which you feel on your cheek, just concentrate on what a great programme of rubbishy repeated shows we have lined-up for you, and all tyhe bad things will go away, They were shit first time round, these shows, but my, how well they have aged. Yes, rather like the arguments for bombing and burning innocent children.
cock-waving arsehole like Hollande, worth clarifying.
Glad you clarified that, Mr I. For a moment I thought you had got your digit stuck in the keyboard.
You may well be right that they are just random, impressionable youths - and by God, there is plenty to persuade them.
Me, I'm not discounting false flags and other dirty motives by the Great Satan.
No, you never can discount that, mr mike. Not since JFK. And I suppose that any direction or control that influences these events - rather than the zeitgeist - will be seated in the most unlikely official and unofficial government black ops agencies, in the wilderness of mirrors, the place where security services and lawnforcement collude with, fund and arm Mayhem. Places like Belfast. Places like Kabul. Places like Ankara.
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