Well, I'd just like to say to the working people of Britain, as a working man myself, yes, going to university and studying the very difficult subject of industrial relations is work, too, as is lecturing part-time for a charity, which I did for a couple of years, at least, before becoming a tireless Labour MP and working myself almost into an early grave, these past fifty years, on behalf of other people, what we call ord-in-erry people; and as a stalwart, yes and tireless, totally tireless and indefatigable champion of working people, for all of my tireless working life, and even now, in retirement, I am still tirelessly and totally, with no thought for myself, toiling relentlessly and without pause, daily, in the House of Lords, on behalf of working people, of whom I am, let's face it, one at heart, and have never denied my working classness, mine and the wife's, Baroness Kinnock's. And do you know what, well, I'll tell you a story about my Baroness Glenys,
but before I do I should mention that she's the first, the very first one, the originator, if you will, the pioneeress, as it were, the very singular and uniquely first in a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred, a hundred thousand generations of her family to, after, after, mind, giving singular and unique and unprecedented and unrivalled service to the peoples of Europe, to sit in the House of Lords, doing a proper job, ministering for Africa - on which, I would just mention, Lady Glenys, having read all the H Rider Haggard books, is a world expert, King Solomon's Ring, she knows them all - for my old mate, Gordon Brown, at a salary wholly and completely and utterly apposite and appropriate and entirely consistent with her training as a primary school teacher, of a hundred thousand pounds a year, whether she stayed for work or not, yes, yes, just had to turn up and sign-in, yes rather like her attendance allowance at the European parliament. But no, we're both very busy people, working our fingers to the bone on behalf of ord-in-erry people, it's only right and proper and decent and consistent with the highest standards of fair play and decency that people like myself and Lady Kinnock are properly rewarded, no, no, whether we do any actual, measurable, physical work is entirely and completely, utterly and unequivocally, wholly irrelevant, it's the possibility, y'see, of our presence which needs to be justly rewarded.
You know when I was lecturing for the WEA, before I fully entered selfless and wholly tireless public service, I often used to tell my students about the parable of the Labourer being worth his hire, and, let's face it, since I am Labour personified, the man who invented New Labour, isn't it only right and fair and decent that I be showered with taxpayers' money?
And after all, on two occasions I should have been prime minister, if only the electorate hadn't got things so cataclysmically, woefully, abysmally, disastrously and apocalyptically wrong, and so I should, in a fair world, be drawing two prime minister's pensions and, and be the first so-o-o-shul-ist Knight of the Garter
And after all, on two occasions I should have been prime minister, if only the electorate hadn't got things so cataclysmically, woefully, abysmally, disastrously and apocalyptically wrong, and so I should, in a fair world, be drawing two prime minister's pensions and, and be the first so-o-o-shul-ist Knight of the Garter
But I was saying about Lady Kinnock, y'know, when we go back to the constituency, which is at least once every five years or so - yes, on expenses, naturally, it is work, 'snot as though we like those people - Lady Kinnock has no side to her at all. Oh, she let's those clapped-out old miners' wives and widows curtsy to her, fair enough, but it makes them happy, see, and no harm in poor people hoping that their betters, in this case, Lady Kinnock and myself, might shed a little stardust on them. But what I love about Lady Kinnock is that when some chronically ill, wheezy old bloke, some mug who's voted Labour all his life, and has nothing to show for it, bows to her and calls her M'lady, do you know what she says, she says, no need for all that, amongst old friends,
why don't you just call me Madam?
why don't you just call me Madam?
This pair of smug, thieving cunts, Thicko Neil and Brassneck Glenys Kinnock, despite never having done a day's work - well, maybe she did a bit of teaching but mostly she was just barging into the Windbag's limelight - have amassed six public sector pensions, the largest by far of which come from Europe, where the baggage distinguished herself amongst all the other thieves, by going through the revolving door of the European parliament, signing-in for her daily allowance, dashing out through the door, hailing a taxi to an EasyJet plane back to London and claiming for a first-class BA flight allowance, and then repeating the whole thing ad infinitum. It was all, like slavery, legal at the time, and Glenys Crow always insisted that she had done nothing wrong, even though she's a rotten despicable bastard. It was Lady Kinnock's excess which caused the rules to be changed, (see below) perhaps her only accidental achievement in a lifetime of cheap hustling.
The standard monthly payment for all MEPs is 7,957 euros (£6,537). It is roughly on a par with a British MP's salary, but when the pound is weak, MEPs earn more than MPs.
MEPs also get a flat-rate monthly allowance of 4,299 euros to cover office expenses, such as office rent, phone bills and computer equipment.
In addition, MEPs can claim for travel related to their official duties in Brussels and Strasbourg. In the past they could claim for an expensive flexible economy class flight even if they flew low-fare. But under the new rules they have to submit their ticket (which can be business class on air, or first class on rail) and will be reimbursed for what they paid.
A separate annual travel allowance - 4,243 euros maximum - covers official trips to other destinations. And they can claim for up to 24 return journeys in their home country.
MEPs also get a daily subsistence allowance - now 304 euros - for attendance at parliamentary sessions. It is intended to cover things like hotel bills and meals.
And they are entitled to reimbursement of two-thirds of their medical expenses.
The Kinnocks' earnings for his ten-year stint as a Commissioner - during which none of the accounts were signed-off and her fifteen years as MEP, both jobs scandalously tawdry NewLabour sinecures are below:
In addition to these sums the Kinnocks, as peers, can collect three hundred pounds a day for lunching and dining haute cuisine at massively subsidised prices in the House of Lords as well as using the palace of Westminster as their registered business address, like they all do.
From Open Europe.
Destinations of the “fact-finding missions” are often suspiciously glamorous, involving places like the Caribbean, America and Australia, although less prosperous countries such as Rwanda have also hosted them as election monitors. Open Europe’s Lorraine Mullally said: “Never mind the gravy train, the European Parliament is more like the gravy plane. MEPs are flying around the globe clocking up thousands of miles on dubious ‘fact-finding’ trips to luxurious locations.”
I remember nearly pissing the bed, one morning, listening to Lady Glenys, in some election monitoring junket in Africa, lecturing Today listeners about what she would and would not tolerate in Africa, the very minimum I would agree to is blah-bla-blah, like anyone in the whole world gave a flying fuck about the thick, greedy doxy.
Mrs Kinnock’s league-topping travel for her last five years cost more than £51,000 and the miles flown totalled nearly 127,500.
The ginger gabshite himself is equally distinguished .
In his ten-year stint as EU Commissioner, the organisation's accounts - accounts of our money - were never signed-off, never approved as being true and accurate, and Kinnock, like the fucking Stalinist he is, harassed and persecuted the whistle blower who made this fact known.
Neil Kinnock stood accused last night of trying to cover up a multi-billion pound scandal at the heart of the European Union.
The European Commission's former chief accountant claimed the ex-Labour leader - who is Britain's senior EC commissioner - tried to
silence her when she uncovered evidence of mismanagement, incompetence and fraud in the EU's £63billion budget.
Marta Andreasen says the crisis could be worse than the business accounting scandals over Enron and WorldCom because it is impossible to trace EU accounts.
She warned that a total absence of basic accounting standards and effective computer systems leaves EU budgets 'massively open to fraud.'
But when she raised her concerns with Mr Kinnock - the man responsible for cleaning up Brussels - she claims he moved her to another job and tried to stop her giving evidence to the European Parliament.
She also claims she was threatened with the sack and faced harassment and that she was followed in Brussels and her private e-mails were hacked into.
But look, as I never tire of saying, we're all friends here, all workers in the glorious cause of whatever it was, I forget now. But let's be crystal clear, as my fellow baron, Peter Mandelstein said - it's one of those things, by the way, that tell you you've arrived,
having your own, vicious house-trained pansy, to do your gossipping for you, and Lady Kinnock so loved having her own fag to hag over -
it's like Peter said, So-o-o-shul-ism, my kinda So-o-o-shul-ism, is entirely relaxed about people being very rich, especially when, as in Peter and my case, it is on the backs of the poor taxpayer. And in his case, the odd Russian oligarch poof, or the Gaddafi family.
Mandy's friend and donor Saif Gaddafi.
Oh, I daresay it's true that Baron Peter hasn't seen too much of Mr Saif since his arrest but that's only what one would expect. He's had the money and that's the main thing.
So, friends, and we are all friends here, yes, and comrades too, comrades in unearned luxury, at this time, when a few, a tiny few, an infinitessimally minute few, that's to say most people outside the tent, are saying that we should decouple, isolate ourselves, shrink back into primitive, indeed prehistoric mono-nationalism I would counsel the other working people in this land that a vote against Europe is not in Lady Kinnock's and my interest.
Were it not for Europe her ladyship and I would not have amassed and continue to amass a fortune in excess of ten million pounds,
our children would not be similarly set for life in cushy jobs with hefty pensions and expenses.
Do you really want to risk all this fantastic progress by voting to leave Europe?
The standard monthly payment for all MEPs is 7,957 euros (£6,537). It is roughly on a par with a British MP's salary, but when the pound is weak, MEPs earn more than MPs.
MEPs also get a flat-rate monthly allowance of 4,299 euros to cover office expenses, such as office rent, phone bills and computer equipment.
In addition, MEPs can claim for travel related to their official duties in Brussels and Strasbourg. In the past they could claim for an expensive flexible economy class flight even if they flew low-fare. But under the new rules they have to submit their ticket (which can be business class on air, or first class on rail) and will be reimbursed for what they paid.
A separate annual travel allowance - 4,243 euros maximum - covers official trips to other destinations. And they can claim for up to 24 return journeys in their home country.
MEPs also get a daily subsistence allowance - now 304 euros - for attendance at parliamentary sessions. It is intended to cover things like hotel bills and meals.
And they are entitled to reimbursement of two-thirds of their medical expenses.
The Kinnocks' earnings for his ten-year stint as a Commissioner - during which none of the accounts were signed-off and her fifteen years as MEP, both jobs scandalously tawdry NewLabour sinecures are below:
- A total of £775,000 in wages for Lady Kinnock and £1.85 million for her husband, adding up to £2,625,000.
- Allowances for Lady Kinnock’s staff and office costs of £2.9million.
- A £64,564 ‘entertainment allowance’ for Lord Kinnock.
- A total of five publicly-funded pensions, worth £4.4million, allowing them to retire on £183,000 a year.
- A housing allowance that allowed them both to claim accommodation costs although, as a married couple, they lived in the same house in the Belgian capital between 1995 and 2004.
In addition to these sums the Kinnocks, as peers, can collect three hundred pounds a day for lunching and dining haute cuisine at massively subsidised prices in the House of Lords as well as using the palace of Westminster as their registered business address, like they all do.
From Open Europe.
Destinations of the “fact-finding missions” are often suspiciously glamorous, involving places like the Caribbean, America and Australia, although less prosperous countries such as Rwanda have also hosted them as election monitors. Open Europe’s Lorraine Mullally said: “Never mind the gravy train, the European Parliament is more like the gravy plane. MEPs are flying around the globe clocking up thousands of miles on dubious ‘fact-finding’ trips to luxurious locations.”
I remember nearly pissing the bed, one morning, listening to Lady Glenys, in some election monitoring junket in Africa, lecturing Today listeners about what she would and would not tolerate in Africa, the very minimum I would agree to is blah-bla-blah, like anyone in the whole world gave a flying fuck about the thick, greedy doxy.
Mrs Kinnock’s league-topping travel for her last five years cost more than £51,000 and the miles flown totalled nearly 127,500.
The ginger gabshite himself is equally distinguished .
In his ten-year stint as EU Commissioner, the organisation's accounts - accounts of our money - were never signed-off, never approved as being true and accurate, and Kinnock, like the fucking Stalinist he is, harassed and persecuted the whistle blower who made this fact known.
Neil Kinnock stood accused last night of trying to cover up a multi-billion pound scandal at the heart of the European Union.
The European Commission's former chief accountant claimed the ex-Labour leader - who is Britain's senior EC commissioner - tried to
silence her when she uncovered evidence of mismanagement, incompetence and fraud in the EU's £63billion budget.
Marta Andreasen says the crisis could be worse than the business accounting scandals over Enron and WorldCom because it is impossible to trace EU accounts.
She warned that a total absence of basic accounting standards and effective computer systems leaves EU budgets 'massively open to fraud.'
But when she raised her concerns with Mr Kinnock - the man responsible for cleaning up Brussels - she claims he moved her to another job and tried to stop her giving evidence to the European Parliament.
She also claims she was threatened with the sack and faced harassment and that she was followed in Brussels and her private e-mails were hacked into.
But look, as I never tire of saying, we're all friends here, all workers in the glorious cause of whatever it was, I forget now. But let's be crystal clear, as my fellow baron, Peter Mandelstein said - it's one of those things, by the way, that tell you you've arrived,
having your own, vicious house-trained pansy, to do your gossipping for you, and Lady Kinnock so loved having her own fag to hag over -
it's like Peter said, So-o-o-shul-ism, my kinda So-o-o-shul-ism, is entirely relaxed about people being very rich, especially when, as in Peter and my case, it is on the backs of the poor taxpayer. And in his case, the odd Russian oligarch poof, or the Gaddafi family.
Mandy's friend and donor Saif Gaddafi.
Oh, I daresay it's true that Baron Peter hasn't seen too much of Mr Saif since his arrest but that's only what one would expect. He's had the money and that's the main thing.
So, friends, and we are all friends here, yes, and comrades too, comrades in unearned luxury, at this time, when a few, a tiny few, an infinitessimally minute few, that's to say most people outside the tent, are saying that we should decouple, isolate ourselves, shrink back into primitive, indeed prehistoric mono-nationalism I would counsel the other working people in this land that a vote against Europe is not in Lady Kinnock's and my interest.
Were it not for Europe her ladyship and I would not have amassed and continue to amass a fortune in excess of ten million pounds,
our children would not be similarly set for life in cushy jobs with hefty pensions and expenses.
Do you really want to risk all this fantastic progress by voting to leave Europe?
30 comments:
The new EUSSR aristocracy shows little sign of shrinking. Sadly it would seem only mass starvation and depravation will wake the populace to react. The smug pair you so justifiably viscerate are but two of thousands now running and ruining people's' lives and aspirations.
Starvation, even rationing, is so distant a concept, mr oldrightie, as to be unimaginable by most. A few more jihadi massacres, however, might gird the loins for Leaving. As long as this issue remains one of argument and not necessity the gabshites will win, jobs, trade, rights, as though, even if they existed, they trumped everything else.
I watched a show last night, about the British Army of the Rhine, the Airlift and the Cold War; the cost to every last one of us must have been stupendous, what a standard of living we might now have, without having sheltered, fed and rebuilt the Hermanns' clever and sensible way of life for them. Should've left it to Uncle Sam, as we should now. There has never been a time that European adventures did not skyrocket our taxes and bankrupt us.
America's declared intention in the last century was to destroy the British Empire. Start from this basis in fact, and everything else makes sense.
For example: the late entry into WW2, and only when they were tricked into it through a dying president; they provide shitty rusting WW1 ships and charged premium prices; all the war debts to Britain were enforced, plus interest - whereas money flowed into Germany via the Marshall Plan and the Jap debts were written of. Britain's worst enemies are the yanks; they have lead Britain into the ME fuck up, and they even nearly changed sides in the Falklands.
Special relationship my arse.
Far from leaving it to Uncle Sam, Britain should ally itself to the US enemies. Vlad and Iran look good to me.
I'm in Cambodia at present; a more likeable people you could not imagine. What the yanks did in Cambodia was a war crime on the scale of anything the Hermans, Stalin et al have perpetrated. Fuck them.
I proper critique of low class, low morals, nose at the trough, chomping and snorting away for all their worth. And that is their worth…that’s their value to the society that bred them. How easy they are won over with baubles.
We saw this shit going on years ago and they’re still doing it….fucking shower.
Still if you don’t teach them the lesson they’ll never learn. We can’t even say we only have ourselves to blame cos we never voted them in and we can’t vote them out.
That’s the beauty of it isn’t it? The EU?.A masterclass in “Fuck you I’m alright Jack, or whatever your name is”
I see Vlad will be siding with Assad and is expecting the US to back the other side.
I have, for a long time pondered the rise of Germany and Japan through the 80,s to be where they got to.
Wasn't Japan 2nd only to USA as the wealthiest at one time.
All that with hardly any of the resources that were available to USA at the time. Except of course cash investment.
Which has gone tits up now.
A bit like Gnasher in a Stetson, then, mr mike, Uncle Sam's special relationship with us.
I meant that given what he was charging us for our special WW2 relationship, we should've left him to sort the Hermanns, and we should've spent the Airlift money on chocolate and bananas. I dunno, did that horrible cunt, de Gaulle, spend any francs on the airlift, seeing as how we had supported his worthless shower of collaborateurs, while arming and funding the few warriors in le maquis, or was he just flouncing around, grumbling apres moi le deluge and torturing Algerians? I suppose Dien Bien Phu was the Frog's Finest Hour, wasn't it, good for le fuck toute. Britain should be their ami premiere et plus bon, how very dare they link arms with Frau Lardarse, seems that Frenchmen were born bent-over, saying, Je suis l'homme tres jolie, fuckez moi dans le cul, s'il vous plait, M'sieu soldat allemagne. Christ, the cowardly Frog, the crooked Eyetie, the coprapagic Kraut, the bull-torturing Dago, what are we doing with this riff-raff?
One only has to recall Chris Patten, mr doug, Catherine Ashton, Leon Brittain, Neil Kinnock, Peter Mandelstein and Roy Jenkins, British EU Commissioners by turns incompetent, greedy, venal and degenerate and one can only vote Leave.
1847 and gold's found in the Black Hills. Indians are aggrieved when it's dug up, it's their land after all, and a war starts. But instead of having lost to the ingenuity and organisation of the white man, what if history had taken a different turn? Imagine if Eastern States were told to take millions of Indian men, straight from the battleground of the Wild West, plus their wives and children, and to let them live in the towns and cities of the very race that had wronged them. Anyone already living there and who objected was vilified and prosecuted by their own neighbours, and all were taxed to rehome, feed and clothe the redskins who - at the same time - received constant news of their homeland being pounded into dust by the sons of their enemies amongst whom they now dwelt.
If George Custer (a General at 23) has gone down in history as a tactical fool, what will history have to say about Frau Merkel? And who will be writing it?
That's neat, mr anonymous, and horribly accurate, except that the numbers of those we clumsily call native Americans were tiny, compared to the surging Muslim populations, already here, and heading here, with guns in their hands and God on their side.
I recently mentioned William Tenn's Eastward Ho! which dealt with a similar colonial inversion.
Much being made today about the big business endorsements but if a big business endorses something it must - almost by definition - NOT be in the interests of its consumers. And, of course, it goes without saying that if a Kinnock is for it, it must be a fucking atrocious idea.
Far and away the most intelligent and rational letters and comments I read on this matter, mr mongoose, are from leavers. As for big business, I think that to very many big business is seen to be as larcenous and tax evasive as the big banks, so many have had such bad press this last while -Tesco, TopMan, M&S - that their imprimatur, as you say, is the kiss of death. Kinnock I would hang ahead of Thatcher.
Excellent detailed confirmation of the Kinnock gangsterdom. There should be a statue to them in Brussels, hands in the till, a study in corruption and stupidity and a summation of the entire rancid enterprise.
May the waves wash away this grasping pigmy (pity they didn't get him the first time...). Meanwhile a Gaint (philosopher) speaks - sorry about the music / photoshop makeover - though I don't think it detracts from the words):
https://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=a_S6KfpqnXQ
You know me, Mr Ishmael, the fewer rules and regs the better as far as I am concerned. And therefore the idiocy of the EU mission creep should never have been allowed to happen. But what did we all know? There is much talk of conspiracy and a German Fourth (economic) Reich by stealth but it is largely bollocks. Political elites will always do this. The Euro was nail and coffin too. Fucked for sure once they'd tried that. Daft buggers. (And, yes, I did say so at the time.)
But I think I am coming around to the view that a tactical staying inside the fence might be advantageous. We do not want the finger pointed at poor Blighty as being responsible for pulling it all down on their heads. It is half down already. The PIGS are dead broke, the German kitty is all used up. The stupidity of such an economic gradient within a single currency ensured disaster, even without the great banking fiasco. It beggars belief. But this is what always happens. "Our Empire will last forever." Welllll, err, no, it won't. And it hasn't. Again. So stay inside the fence and make Angela say the words. She's half Osti, of course, she should have known having watched it once already.
Time for a Bill of Rights, I reckon. Burn the rest of it and start again. Magna Carta 2, or 3 perhaps. UK law is supreme on UK soil and Bonnie Prince Charlie soon to be our saviour sovereign in Parliament. Oh.
I just want to see people doing the opposite of what they are told to do, mr mongoose, just for once. The last time was throwing out Churchill, wasn't it, and demanding a welfare-attuned state. Psephological disobedience is more important to me than nuts'n'bolts pragmatism. Same in the States, Trump's rhetoric is only remarkable as long as no-one actually examines the unabashed, racist, murderous wickedness of every one of his recent predecessors, he's a pussycat compared with Bush-Cheney-Rove, the Clintons, Nixon-Kissinger or Ron'n'Nancy. Why shouldn't he win, if enough angry people vote for him, he is, after all, the Neo-Cons' creature, serve 'em right.Over here, thr possible developments in the EU are so unprecictable that they are irrelevant, the consequence of an insurgency, though, a Euro-Spring., would usefully define our new millenium.
By and by, mr sg, when the laptop's free.
Sadly, they are all either too stupid or, more likely, too cowardly. If Jezza had half a political brain he would accept the PM's proposal that a better deal was required to recommend a Stay vote, declare the deal as announced to be wanting, have a vote of confidence at a sensible moment, and he could have Cameron on the street by Easter. Instead we have nothing because he is frightened of losing the Scottish vote - oh, which he doesn't have. Useless fucking JCR-droid is worse even than the Millipede. If he killed a Tory PM 'live' on the telly, the soft Labour vote would flood back to him, even in Scotland.
There is still time, mind you. If he wasn't busy re-writing composite motions from the TUC conference of 1975 about the steel industry. Silly bastard must have been in a cellar for 40 years.
I don't care how many letters they sent, morning came and morning went, pick up your money and pack uo your tent, you ain't going nowhere. Could be Jerry Corbyn's Blues.
How the heart empties at the sight of that front bench, Watson sat smirking in foul serenity, like a Borgia pope; the dessicated shrew, Eagle, with a face like caustic soda; Burnham, lost, stupefied in Ambition's waking dream; Diane Lard windmilling her fat greedy arms and Hilary fucking Benn, smugly safe-keeping the family seat, for generations of gobby parasites yet to come. And out in front, E-mail Man, leading a charge actually in full retreat, blunted sabres drawn aganst itself. You must be more disappointed than I, mr mongoose, having joined the three-quid volunteers. I tried to enlist myself but could not persuade the electro recruiting sergeant to recognise my house for I am numberless, streetless and roadless. Had I been admitted I would now want my money back,.
All that Cornyn had to say was How very dare Mr Top Hat say that anyone who disagrees with him is linking one arm with Mr Saddam Hussein's plenipotentiary and the other with the smokey, inebriate, back-stabbing Duke of Poundland, how very dare he, the cheeky cunt?
But no, as you say, composite resolutions, papering-over Rivalry's cracks. Thirty years in that cesspit, makes cowards of them all. Or aristocrats, cloaked in fine-spun shit.
"I just want to see people doing the opposite of what they are told to do"
Someone wants us to vote (otherwise there'd BE no vote) in order to decide what coloured flag is to fly above the great big farm we live in, and the only way to deal with this so-called choice whilst maintaining one's self-respect is to do nothing.
The above comment by our beloved Mr I. sums the whole thing up nicely. I believe that the only thing to do is to look away and don't look back, except to think of it, politics that is, like an old job with a mad, bullying boss that you should have resigned from long before you did.
-richard
Trump's position, as far as any view of his is stationary enough to be described so, is not really neocon in that it does not have the imposition of American values on the rest of the world as an avowed goal. He is really an old school isolationist, primarily concerned with returning America to the crude, brutal but strangely beguiling original form modern political sophisticates so spectacularly misunderstand. I think he will win.
I think he will, too. I meant that he was their creation, not their creature.
Well, I have much sympathy with that view, mr richard, especially since a Leave vote will just be referred back to the voters for them to reconsider so I would only be voting to defy the Tribesmen's one-party statism, as I mentioned, above, to mr yardarm. When I contrast the proceedings in Stormont - where there are real, valid hostilities, discussed, nevertheless, in a civilised manner - with the National Socialist rallies held in the Scottish Reichstag, where any difference is howled-down, I feel compelled to vote against our little, shouty McFuhrer whenever the opportunity arises.
She's a dreadful, newly emergent species of Giant Midge so I understand your reasoning. But logic tells me that my vote is worth a 40 millionth of the whole and statistically insignificant, even if it were to be ethical to cast it in the first place. As you alluded to above, the country formerly known as Ireland voted No to the Lisbon Treaty and was promptly shafted in retaliation.
I'm going to do something, tomorrow, much more useful than to worry about Midge, Pig-Head, Knee-Caps, the BBC, or any amount of Krauts or Wogs - I'll put up a few bird-boxes, walk the dogs, and read a book. Nobody'll ever make a difference by voting or even by action; even Gunther Prien's exemplary seamanship and courage has been all but forgotten. We settled him good and proper yesterday; today we're deciding whether to ask Festung Europa for our ball back? Bollocks to that! Inertia to well beyond the point of non-participation, in my view, trumps what would otherwise be a self-deceptive complicity in humiliation.
-richard
All of this is insignificant in global news terms Mr I. Mere trivia. The important news of the day, apparently, is that 'Adele' (a brassy, big voice, pub singer type - but doubtless a multi-millionaire - thanks to Globa Music Corp - all rights reserved etc.) has expressed solidarity with 'Kesha' (someone I had truly never heard of before but feel disinclined to make further enquiries about) who has apparently and allegedly been 'abused' by her record 'producer' or something. What the fuck? This is 'news'? Maybe I have simply passed beyond the point of obsolescense and am ready for the scrap heap? I'll go quietly I think...
The worst of that Adelatry, mr sg, is that it ain't even over when the fat lady sings.
Not entirely gone, mr richard, Gunther Prien. German naval intelligence, in the guise of Lutheran ministers stayed in my house, pre-war, and daily boated up and down the Sound, pretending to be fishing, they were sounding the depths for the war they knew was coming, and the attack on the Grand Fleet which would be in Scala Flow, just around the corner. And I am become the memory of an old neighbour, now dead who told me his eye witness story of Prien and his boat.
Sounds like a fine day's work, may Fortune aid its completion.
"Adelatry" Ha! Yes indeed Mr I. She's not a patch on this brassy, fat lady, pub singer who does come to an end - though alas this is cut short in the only clip of her I could find (but I'll wager you've seen the rest...)
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=nZoeoFf9FkU
Yo Mr Smith, I have sent you a few messages by carrier pigeon but I guess they were shot down on the way by those French fucks.
My main addresses are the same as they've always been if you want to catch up. I am also back in the blogging business rather suddenly and in an unexpected way. we are currently here: http://going-postal-beta.blogspot.ch/
I look forward to hearing from you.
Yo, mr swiss bob, sorry, I use the emailer so infrequently that sometimes the addresses implode from lack of use. mrs narcolept AND mr swiss bob, both returned. But whither mr mother'#s ruin, mr a young anglo-irish catholic, mr the noblest prospect, mr pt barnum and his majesty king caratacus, these and others, vanished in the ether?
I'll popalong shortly and catch up.
I look forward to it.
You will need a Disqus account to comment; between the Devil and the deep blue sea as some see a Google account as the font of all evil. My email is till good though.
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