They're all there, again, emoting for us, Emily, Gabriel, Tim; this is BAFTA Stuff, and twice in one year,
The day Gaza came to Paris, the day we predicted, a few weeks ago. One at least of Merkel's infinitely welcome refugees
has expressed his gratitude to Europe and I wonder if anyone will have the nerve to demand her resignation, stupid cow.
The Parisian interviewees, shocked and horrified, some of them bereaved, I wonder if le MediaPalaisBourbon will permit them to pause for a moment and reflect that they have experienced a couple of days of what Iraq, Afghanistan and Gaza have suffered for years; more likely, drums will be beaten, sabres rattled and tubs thumped;
Voulez-vous regardez mon cock, cherie,
c'est tres socialiste?
Le Petit Frankie, useless, cock-waving git, will blusterez-vous, in the manner of de Gaulle shouting from the London sidelines, while braver men resisted the Hermans, at frighful cost. He really is a cowardly little piece de merde, Frankie, even by the standards of French Presidents.
Voulez-vous regardez mon cock, cherie,
c'est tres socialiste?
Le Petit Frankie, useless, cock-waving git, will blusterez-vous, in the manner of de Gaulle shouting from the London sidelines, while braver men resisted the Hermans, at frighful cost. He really is a cowardly little piece de merde, Frankie, even by the standards of French Presidents.
But gob as he may - as they all may, Cameron the nitwit,
Aujourd'hui, nous sommes toutes les Bosches,
I mean les Frogs.
in a state of permanent COMAtude, cloistered with shameless money-grubbing morons like Fallon and Dopey Hammond will issue mission statements of fawts'n'prayers, of Resolution, of Solidarity and of invincible Justice Inevitable;
Obama, the PuppetKing in the Land of Swindle and Fraud,
My fellow motherfuckers, as long as I'm Motherfucker-in-Chief, we just gonna keep on killing folks, until we have peace and justice. We done it with the redskins, we done it with the niggers, we can do it with the ragheads, too, bet yo' sweet whIte ass.
will mouth his tedious litany of Patriotism and Freedom under God, while continuing to torture and murder His subjects, at will, anywhere in the world, and the grubby hausfrau, Merkel,
Aujourd'hui, nous sommes toutes les Bosches,
I mean les Frogs.
in a state of permanent COMAtude, cloistered with shameless money-grubbing morons like Fallon and Dopey Hammond will issue mission statements of fawts'n'prayers, of Resolution, of Solidarity and of invincible Justice Inevitable;
Obama, the PuppetKing in the Land of Swindle and Fraud,
My fellow motherfuckers, as long as I'm Motherfucker-in-Chief, we just gonna keep on killing folks, until we have peace and justice. We done it with the redskins, we done it with the niggers, we can do it with the ragheads, too, bet yo' sweet whIte ass.
will mouth his tedious litany of Patriotism and Freedom under God, while continuing to torture and murder His subjects, at will, anywhere in the world, and the grubby hausfrau, Merkel,
will spout any old shit which might keep her in office, having fucked Europe and Germany both - gob as he may, le petit Frankie, the Frogs are far too sophisticated to be Dubyad, and he'll be out on his scabby derriere quicker than you can say Marie le Pen.
Here, though, all they will do is transfer the blame for all this shit, for their unparallelled incompetence to we, the cowed citizen-suspects, and Old Mother May,
resembling more and more one of the Three Witches,
will insist upon having my underpants as well as my belt and jacket as I make my lawful way through my local airport, travelling within my own country, as armies of fit young head-chopping Jihadists swan into Europe, unchecked.
resembling more and more one of the Three Witches,
will insist upon having my underpants as well as my belt and jacket as I make my lawful way through my local airport, travelling within my own country, as armies of fit young head-chopping Jihadists swan into Europe, unchecked.
I often think that I know how stupid are the likes of Jack Straw
The slag, Straw, lying his arse off for Coh-lin Powell, who has at least recanted.
Even people in Labour are now calling Jack Torture a vile git, wonder what took them so long.
and Tony Blair, Michael Howard and David Cameron: they are as stupid as those who vote for them, just more guileful, more dishonest, perverse, degenerate and amoral.
But even so, it takes a stupefying lack of intelligence to imagine that there would be no consequences to the invasion and occupation of Iraq; did they really think that a billion or so co-religionists - many of whom simply do not fear death - would roll-over beneath the New World Order of the American Centuryists,
filth like Bush and Cheney and Rumsfeld and their lickspittle spear carriers in the NewLabourScam?
The slag, Straw, lying his arse off for Coh-lin Powell, who has at least recanted.
Even people in Labour are now calling Jack Torture a vile git, wonder what took them so long.
and Tony Blair, Michael Howard and David Cameron: they are as stupid as those who vote for them, just more guileful, more dishonest, perverse, degenerate and amoral.
But even so, it takes a stupefying lack of intelligence to imagine that there would be no consequences to the invasion and occupation of Iraq; did they really think that a billion or so co-religionists - many of whom simply do not fear death - would roll-over beneath the New World Order of the American Centuryists,
filth like Bush and Cheney and Rumsfeld and their lickspittle spear carriers in the NewLabourScam?
If I focus my imagination, the sudden, frightful events in Paris make my hair stand on end, the sights and the sounds and the smells of blood and shit, the shots, the screams and the sirens. I don't need Emily Newsnight - or any of those filthy hacks - to pornographise them for me, all earnest and compassionate and analytical, cheeky fucking bastards, but they do not distress me any more than the sights in Gaza or Bagdhad or the truly terrifying thought of being in Obama's Gitmo, better to be blown to pieces than suffer Uncle Sam's extra-constitutional torture.
In the media aftermath of the mysterious Twin Towers' collapse, I heard just one New York kid, maybe twenty years old, voice the unvoiceable: What have we done, that people feel the need to do this to us?
It was a genuine enquiry, not a whining complaint.
37 comments:
Very true, Mr Ishmael. The National Security State will turn this around into further pressure on the likes of us. The Civil Contingencies Act is still on the Statute Book. After all, they brilliantly alchemised the Great Tits Up of 2008 which was their fuck up into the Father Austerity, the Son Deficit and the Holy Ghost of Paying Our Way, the Holy Trinity of Balancing the Fucking Books. Unless of course they are library books, soon to be parcelled up and sent to the charity shops.
It`s hard to see what Franky can do: we`ve been flying over Headchopperland for years now, dropping bombs and its made fuck all difference. Unless he wants to drop the Big One of course. How`s that for cock waving ? Its a hell of a situation: Saudi and Iran fighting their proxy war, the Turks undermining the Kurds, Bad Vlad`s stuck his rubber truncheon in, fuck knows what.
Did you see Wysteria Dave has written to his own council, moaning about the cuts ? Either he`s got a sense of the surreal to rival Salvador Dali or more likely the silly cunt believes his own bullshit.
They don't like it up 'em, the cheese eaters, what they daily serve up to the Libyans, Iraqis, Syrians et al, from the safety of their Mirages and drones.
No doubt the boulevardiers currently slaughtered are all innocent, family loving, sweet things, but as a nation, France, and as a collective, the West, we deserve all the shit that comes our way for what has been done to the Middle East in the name of freedom and democracy, American style.
On the eve of Remembrance Day (and by the way, judging by the 'photos I saw in the Filthograph, what a Wooton Basset Disneyland farce that gig has become) I posted a comment in response to one of the armchair warriors that nightly when we say our prayers we should also give thanks to Russia for saving our collective arses in WW2, rather than demonising them as the bad guys de-jour. I got roundly abused for my efforts.
The cry will go up for more bombing, to invade Syria, boots-on-the-ground. As if that will solve anything. We are at war, says little Frankie, without for a moment thinking what the bombed and droned in Libya, Iraq, or Syria might be thinking.
Its a measure of my cynicism that I immediately give credence to those saying this is another false flag event.
I used to go, poppyless, to the local rain- and windswept memorial, down the road a coupla miles, just to endure the driving rain, coming off Scapa Flow, and hear those remember words. Even that tiny event, with a participation of a handful, was showbiz-hijacked bysome ghastly fucking Presbyterian ministeress, proselytising for her dreary trade; I now don't even watch it on the idiotbox, the Remembrance Sunday soap opera, even in solemn, national mourning there's no business like showbusiness, mr mike.
As to the false flagness of it all, we do live in that wilderness of mirrors, wherein the only truth of which we can be certain is that we are being lied-to.
No, I didn't see that, about Dave, mr yardarm, but I really do believe that, like Clarkson, he is a simpleton, who cannot believe his luck, inasmuch as so many other simpletons cling to his every, graceless, grammarles, clueless, bombastic utterance. Probly.
That cynicism is well founded Mr Mike; wee Frankie new within minutes that it was the headchoppers wotdunnit, Wysteria new within hours that it was the headchoppers wot brought down the Russian jet, with a bomb, even though the data recorders had only just been found let alone downloaded.
Yes the Blair Peace Co. has much to answer for Mr I although hasn't he bought his place with the angels already? with his conversion and donation to the former Pope Nazi, we'll not see Tony'n'Imelda brought to answer for their crimes this side of the Judgement.
The change of nature of our decadent political life from creative and reformative to reactive is no reason to see a spook under every bush. They are just awful bastards who would use their grandad tripping over a as a reason for some new affront. In fact, I think it is a mistake to see everything as political first. Sometimes the mayhem is just mayhem. The politics grows out of it. Afterwards. We nice, safe and sensible types, eh? What better than to draw a pint and argue the toss over the radicalisation of Islamic youth? Loser buys the next round.
Meanwhile in other news, Myanmar has transformed itself - just about - and non-violently, from military dictatorship to newborn democracy. There may be something in this Buddhism lark.
I suffered the same, Mr. Mike, when I ventured to remind some armchair warriors that we ought to be a bit more thankful for the efforts of our Soviet cousins during the orchestrated bloodletting aka WW2. A few sturdy souls stood with me, only to be roundly condemned in turn; there really is no limit to the short-sightedness and general stupidity of l'homme sur le Londres Omnibus.
In the immediate aftermath of events in Paris, my attention was drawn to M. Hollande's closure of French borders ... what on earth is the point of that? The country is already filled to overflowing with zealous malcontents who are not noted for their forgiving nature or inclusive pluralism. We are being carefully shepherded towards a period of divide-and-conquer where people who would normally rub along together tolerably well if left alone to get on with it will be encouraged to tear lumps out of one another. Who benefits, I wonder ...?
Mr ish as soon as i heard about the french atrocity, i thought attack your friends
blame your enemies. Meanwhile 87 years old Ursula Haverbeck got 10 months in a german prison for having doubts about ww11 history!
Religion is a wonderful thing. It can be interpreted in any way at all, to justify anything at all, and never will a miffed deity interfere.
I am so mad about that, mr mongoose. For days I was not paying any attention because I had never heard of Myanmar, although it seemed that everyone else had. When did that happen, that Burma just upped and changed its name? And how very dare they, fuck about with the names of the world, like that? Happens everytime you turn around. First it was the Marathon bar, then it was Oil of Ulay, then Peking, Bombay and now fucking Burma. Are we now to speak of the Myanmar Railways, of the Bridge over the River SomethingElse.
Oh, I'm glad that Mrs She Sells Sea Shells has achieved whatever it is, and probably more attuned to her BuddhaPolitics than is a Godless, Fenian Republican, like yourself, my dear, but fuck me all along the eight-fold path, I don't think I can tolerate everywhere changing its name every five minutes.
But say what you will, mr mongoose, about there not being conspiracy everywhere, you would not, I am sure, dispute my avowal that those to whom we look for truth deal only in lies, would you?
He would seem pathetic, Frankie, would he not, king caratacus, if he were not so commonplace a statesperson, frothing ang gibbering so authoritateively, speaking le Dubya Francaise, like a village idiot on cocaine.
I have been in news-avoidance mode forb a while, mr walter, and know nothing Frau Heberbeck, I will apprise myself.
I was wondering, m alphons, about Quakerism, doesn't seem to have much religiosity, just a frame if mind. I might go to a meeting, jf thet have them here.
The audience of Tristan & Isolde may now be drily aged, drab shufflers with plastic sandwich boxes, assured of nourishment inbetween the acts, but it nonetheless remains a truth that nothing is more intensely sexy, nothing more vital than the threat of extinction in the name of a cause. The cold war that parenthetically sent me to these shores was both awful and thrilling, hateful and irresistible, the wave that made one want to be on no other crest. Hard to blame others for feeling the same way over their own pissy little war, however foolish it may be.
No, I would have no argument with that, Mr I. All events are to be turned into nutrition to sustain the long march. I switched on the telly yesterday to see what had transpired overnight in Paris ("Paree"?) and some Sky prat advised me that a) he had got up early to get on the train, and b) that the train was almost empty. Now I had always harboured the thought that the channel tunnel would be packed with baguette hunters early of a Saturday morning. The mad analyst in me wondered about the normal traffic for the Saturday 0300 run. A comparitive analysis is surely available and we could measure the fright coefficient... But the coffee started to do its work, reality dawned, and it was just a twat on the telly turning his anecdotal sacrifice of his bed into part of the trauma and tragedy. Arse!
It is also surely part of this new narrative that the numbers have been done and a new deal carved. Syria - but maybe not now Assad - is for the high jump. And Isil will surely reap a terrible - if deserved - harvest. Not on the TV though.
There are also rumblings at long last in Saudi Arabia. Why, do we think, that the Suadi air force have twice as many aircraft as the UK?
Yes, the names thing is madness. It has reached anew silliness in the cricket. I waste more hours of my life on the cricket than is sensible and all of the venues in Asia have been renamed. Bombay is Mumbai. Bangalore is Bangalurulurluru or somesuch silliness that none of the comentators can pronounce. It is anti-colonialism by beiung a prissy, daft cunt. As if the people of the kand did not have their own language and script with which to name their places and our Western AtoZs listing just approximation. It started long ago with Peking, did it not?
Well, Peking recently, but there have been, also, St Petersburg-Petrograd-Leningrad and of course Istanbul-Constantinople. In due course my Presbyterian Manse will become a shrine to Chairman Mao, its drawers socked with chopsticks, its walls adorned with dragons and the name of my shore drawn in pictures.
You have previously mentioned a knowledge of totalitarianism, although not with such intensity, mr tdg. Were I the kind of bloke who shared his geo-political "worries" or "concerns" with hapless others, the sort who chuckles that the Devil, as ever, is in the detail, I might say that my worry, here, is that unlike the Cold War, this erratic conflict is not self-regulating, inasmuch as there is no mutuality in the fear of assured destruction, the exact opposite, in fact, and that what is, now, by historical comparison, a pissy little war, could very easily go, not, as they say, pear- but mushroom-shaped.
It is the tip of the language iceberg, mr mongoose, I do not understand one per cent of that imho, lol, btw stuff, nor want to. What is so wrong with words? If I had mongeese around my feet I would box their little rodent ears if they deployed such vandalism round my gaff.
More than ever, we must do whatever it is they least want us to do. The entire shitfest of Death on The News is unbearable, as if any of the assembled dunces has a fucking clue. Meantime, Power and Money have it all in hand we may be assured.
Let us get about our own business and attend to the proper things, the innumerable observances and practices of daily life that they have never yet managed to reach.
I think we are a lot closer to the mushroom event than we wish, Mr I.
The suicide bomber who exploded left only his thumb and, conveniently, his Syrian passport behind allowing Frankie to declare war. And conveniently France's only aircraft carrier was positioned off Syria last week. I would venture that if the French and/or the yanks were daft enough to send a bombing mission to get Assad then the Russians would shoot them down. Then "on my command, unleash hell".
I met a traveller, last week, to distant lands, home now, retired, and before I knew what I was doing I was urging him to share, by teaching, his experience of South American history, native culture and modern politics. I told him to find the Universoty of the Third Age, or whatever the WEA is now called and there tell his tale, people would enjoy it and it would help him to frame and understand his own experience, by the telling of it to others. A bit like blogging.
I think, mr bungalow bill, that this was one of your kbservances and practices. At the thought of preparing and running a course he seemed as happy as a dog with two cocks
These passports, mr mike, wasn't there one which survived the inferno of its holder crashing into the WTC and fluttering diwn at the feer of lawnforcement? It is all too wretchedly possible, Frankie must be remembering George Dubya Chimp, like himself, dead in the water but rejuvenated and re-elected, once he and his masters in GlobaCorp let slip the dogs of war. As I was saying to mr richard, we know, from his personal misconduct that Hollande is unwholesome, and from his political conduct after his election that his words of promise mean nothing . Nothing he does would surprise me.
Yes, exactly that, Mr I. Doing and sharing things they don't care about and think are useless and unimportant.
Mr I: there was also the passport that one of those Charlie Hebdo perps left in the getaway car.
They are really taking the piss to think we keep falling for this.
The indestructible passport again. So much for the securitee. The whole country and his dog is survellied, frisked, queued, suspected, corralled, and frisked and suspected some more. And us all paying for it. I count 7 fucking cameras on the village train station where I live. The platform is less than a 100 yards long.
Yet the only way to finger the perpetrators is by happenstance? You couldn’t make this shit up. We’ll somebody did.
I hear so many say, Oh, well, if it's for security I don't mind, better safe than sorry, mr doug, and I just want to kill them for their smug stupidity.
Coo Mr Ishmael!
How many ex-luminaries such as Eric the Blair and T E Lawrence would it take, rotary motionally wired-up and attached to the National Grid, to negate the need for that rather scary Chinky nuke thingy?
Meanwhile, Al-florista go completely under the radar.
Alas, part of the desired outcome is a further demonising of the perpetrators ethno-religious thingy. It being in everyone's interests that the teams wear bright and easily-distinguishable colours when they are dead anyway. So it may not be entirely by accident that the soon-to-be-dead take their IDs with them on their terminal adventures. One can even imagine in dark moments coercive circumstances when it might be part of a bargain that one be plainly doing as one is told - even unto death.
And as if by magic, it is now - Vlad included - everyone against The Bad Ones. It just goes to show what happens when you play at high table but do not know the rules. Fucking terrible things will now happen in Syria, and already are happening in Egypt. Though the true horror will be, as ever, invisible. And it will be 999 unimaginable cruelties for every one deserved levying of techno-bayonet justice to ISIL dickheads.
Pity though, and think upon if you have the stomach, what has happened this last couple of years or so to the ordinary people, nobodies like us, of the near middle-east. Can we count the invisible casualties of the Kurds and the Yezidi, even more so of the wrong sort of Muslim? There are more tears in Hampstead for the ancient stones of Palmyra than the wrong sort of Syrian, men and women alike, twenty-five and too ancient they for slavery or raping.
Exactement, m le mongoose, one is almost puking at the double standards, here, this is what les Bosches did, massive reprisals against wholly innocent civilian populations, in Frankie's case purely for electoral purposes, the revolting little shit.
Short odds U2 will record a "Friday Bloody Friday" Live at the Bataclan charity tribute treble cd before too long.
On the subject of false flag paranoia - anyone know how long it takes a forensic lab to process a DNA sample? One of the ID's was made plenty quick based on the perp's having a petty criminal record which meant his DNA was already on file.
And what about that French national anthem? I'd never paid any attention to the words before but watering the soil with their enemy's impure blood is a good one - the headchoppers would surely approve. Marchons? Fucking jog on, more like...
verge.//
My money, mr verge, had been on young parent, Lady Sir Elton, doing Bougie Dans Le Vent but I guess that Mr Bono is an even bigger dwarf humanitarian than Dame Reg. There's room for all, of course, David Becham, Sir Paul Fab, Prince Harry, Naomi Diamonds, maybe even Wayne Rooney could buy himself a half-dozen new Bentleys, to help him cope with his grief.
I didn't see the Wembley chantez-along but I cringe myself to fitful sleep, just imagining it. Nous sommes vraiment arrivee dans le Monde du Cunt, the place where everything becomes shiwbiz
Monde du Cunt; c'est bon, mon vieux...@nonymous should make themselves useful and hack Hollande's i-pod so all it plays is Serge G's "requiem pour un con" over and over and over again.
v.//
I have seen a few - Clinton, Obama, Brown and Blair - but I have seldom seen such a political volte-face, mr verge, as that performed by Frankie, within minutes, it seemed, of him being elected. A socialist-pacifist revealed, immediately, as a warmonger, immersed in shit, breaking surface only to eat vomit, Power's cock down his throat, Money's fist up his arse, he is truly, truly disgusting and an eternity of Serge Gainsbourg should be the measliest of his desserts. His loyalty to Vice will secure him a decent sinecure, after his replacement by Marie le Pen, or even by Chrissie la Vache, if she stays out of jail.
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