Well, look, lessbeperfectlyclear about this.
I am absolutely one hundred per cent committed to those campaigning today on the issue that Spads Lives Matter, they do matter, they matter very much.
I don't necessarily think they should lie down in the roads and stop people going on holiday but if I could just make a personal observation, in my own case, as Prime Minister Emeritus, I simply cannot under-estimate the contribution made to this country by - sorry, wossat?
Over-estimate ? Not under-estimate?
Well, woddever, let's not be pedantic.
They do boith mean exactly the same thing.
I simply cannot wossaname the contribution made to this country by Mrs Prime Minister Cameron's personal stylist
throughout my time working very hard,
being in charge of you all.
I mean, lessbeclear, she didn't have much to work with, Mrs SamCam often resembling one of Mrs Brookses rather fine equine specimens,
and although even after her stylist had done her job she still looked like a horse, she was at least one with a nice frock and high heels.
Walk-on, Dobbin, there's a good horse.
The idea, quite proply resisted, in my view, by Spads Lives Matter, that Mrs Scissorhands should not be rewarded with public funds and medals for doing my wife's hair, is frankly untenable.
Yes, like I was, as prime minister, after BorExit, untenable.
But that's all a bridge under the water, now,
I've always prided myself on being up to trend with what's happenin' on da street
and Spads Lives Do very much Matter.
And although he wasn't quite a Spad, my right honourable friend,
Mr Sir George Junky,
to whom I have given the Order of Knight Commander of the Senior Common Room,
was of great special assistance to me in running the money laundry.
Wosssat?
Yes, the City of London, yes, and the property market, the money laundry.
Well, what happens is that our colleagues in Organised Crime, yes, Russians or Chinese, or anyone, really, who has stolen vast sums of money, or perhaps made fortunes selling drugs or arms, we let them know that the laundry is open to them, so they can clean it all up nicely, thank you very much, the stolen money, before stashing it in one of my father's offshore places.
But lessbeclear, it isn't just foreign criminals, it's also our own very valued ontrapanooers,
like Sir Phil Green,
Sir Phil with Mrs Horse,
I mean my good lady wife.
And with myself, the prime minister,
getting our stories straight.
Sir Philip, owner of clothing retailer Arcadia Group, will scrutinise government expenditure from the past three years to try to identify where savings can be made.
The conclusions from the external review will feed into the Comprehensive Spending Review due to be completed in October.
Announcing the appointment, Cabinet Office minister Francis Maude said:
"We are extremely fortunate to have Sir Philip, with his immense commercial experience and of course his fantastic track record at managing large organisations, on board.
"Sir Philip has made clear to the Government the importance of his business remit which has always been that efficient operating is different from cost cutting and removing jobs."
One of our hereditarty MPs, Maude, even among collegiate filth like Lansley, Hague, Letwin and Fox, had a superior knack for talking pompously out of his arse.
He has been honoured for the clarity of his judgements - Sir Philip's fantastic track record - with a seat in the Lords, amongst so many other thieving filthsters.
what they do, our laundry customers,
is steal very, very large sums of money from their own countries, yes, money which should have been spent on schools and hospitals, yes, taxpayers' money, and then they hide it, I mean invest it in British properties.
Well, yes, of course, it cranks-up the price of housing for ordinary people like nurses and teachers but who gives a fuck about them?
If they'd wanted to have a home or two of their own they should've gone to Eton, like decent people do, and had their father, quite proply in my view, invest money for them in a tax haven, instead of having it stolen by the govament and given-away to wogs and single mothers.
.And yes, the only alternative is to build millions of cheap homes but who in their right mind would do that? I mean that'd simply take us back to the bad old days of full employment, proper wages and council housing. I simply say, what would happen to those people working so hard in the food banks, if we went back to proper employment and affordable housing?
There's no telling where that would lead.
You might see privately owned utilities, like the railways and water and shortly the NHS being run for the benefit of ordinary riff-raff, and not for the wealth creators.
Yes, alright, if you will, by and for Organised Crime.
And although he wasn't quite a Spad, my right honourable friend,
Mr Sir George Junky,
to whom I have given the Order of Knight Commander of the Senior Common Room,
was of great special assistance to me in running the money laundry.
Wosssat?
Yes, the City of London, yes, and the property market, the money laundry.
Well, what happens is that our colleagues in Organised Crime, yes, Russians or Chinese, or anyone, really, who has stolen vast sums of money, or perhaps made fortunes selling drugs or arms, we let them know that the laundry is open to them, so they can clean it all up nicely, thank you very much, the stolen money, before stashing it in one of my father's offshore places.
But lessbeclear, it isn't just foreign criminals, it's also our own very valued ontrapanooers,
like Sir Phil Green,
Sir Phil with Mrs Horse,
I mean my good lady wife.
And with myself, the prime minister,
getting our stories straight.
Sir Philip, owner of clothing retailer Arcadia Group, will scrutinise government expenditure from the past three years to try to identify where savings can be made.
The conclusions from the external review will feed into the Comprehensive Spending Review due to be completed in October.
Announcing the appointment, Cabinet Office minister Francis Maude said:
"We are extremely fortunate to have Sir Philip, with his immense commercial experience and of course his fantastic track record at managing large organisations, on board.
"Sir Philip has made clear to the Government the importance of his business remit which has always been that efficient operating is different from cost cutting and removing jobs."
One of our hereditarty MPs, Maude, even among collegiate filth like Lansley, Hague, Letwin and Fox, had a superior knack for talking pompously out of his arse.
He has been honoured for the clarity of his judgements - Sir Philip's fantastic track record - with a seat in the Lords, amongst so many other thieving filthsters.
what they do, our laundry customers,
is steal very, very large sums of money from their own countries, yes, money which should have been spent on schools and hospitals, yes, taxpayers' money, and then they hide it, I mean invest it in British properties.
Well, yes, of course, it cranks-up the price of housing for ordinary people like nurses and teachers but who gives a fuck about them?
If they'd wanted to have a home or two of their own they should've gone to Eton, like decent people do, and had their father, quite proply in my view, invest money for them in a tax haven, instead of having it stolen by the govament and given-away to wogs and single mothers.
.And yes, the only alternative is to build millions of cheap homes but who in their right mind would do that? I mean that'd simply take us back to the bad old days of full employment, proper wages and council housing. I simply say, what would happen to those people working so hard in the food banks, if we went back to proper employment and affordable housing?
There's no telling where that would lead.
You might see privately owned utilities, like the railways and water and shortly the NHS being run for the benefit of ordinary riff-raff, and not for the wealth creators.
Yes, alright, if you will, by and for Organised Crime.
And if I could just offer a word of advice to Mrs Askey,
not that I'm a back seat driver or anything, it would simply be not to worry your old head, too much, dearie, about the Stinky Point power thingy, whatchamaycallit, the nuclear boiler.
It'll never happen.
One of the things that she'll learn as prime minister - if she doesn't go into a diabetic hypo and die, the poor old dear, when the going gets tough - one of the things she'll learn is that quite often, nearly all the time, in fact, a govament announces all sorts of shit that's simply never gonna get off the starting chips.What? Get off the starting gate? No? Get out of the starting gate? I wish you'd make your fucking mind up. I quite clearly said that Stinky Point was never gonna get off the starting gun. Yes, exactly like the child sex fuck buggery torture'n'murder enquiry. Yes, it does keep stalling. Yes, exactly, yes, it was meant to.
Yes, long grass, quite right.
Yes, I know the Breferendum was meant to keep us in EuroCrime. Yes, I know it did the opposite. But that's not the fault of me and Mr Sir Junky George, now, is it;
'snot as though it was anything to do with us.
'snot as though it was anything to do with us.
Yes, they are all unintelligent, the people who voted disobediently, yes, just like they say on the PBC, all day long, there does need to be another Breferendum. And this time the stupid people, from Northern, and places like that, they jolly well better do as they're told. Yes, by the journalists, and the Trannies, them too, quite proply in my judgement.
But there's a case in point, here, about the honours; just take Dame Louella, the outgoing chair of that now sadly stalled enquiry, yes, the Kiwi bint, with the specs.
I mean, she's only earned about a million and half, plus exes, of course, and quite proply, in my judgement, so there's a shortfall in her earnings of at least a coupla mill. Wossat? No, of course I don't think she should pay it back. She has, lessbeclear, done some very valuable work, going home on holiday and so on, before abandoning it altogether because of some awkward questions.
And I think the very least we can do to compensate her is make her a Lady, or somesuch. Make her Lady Dame Louella.
Whaddayamean, she already is a lady?
No, no, forgive me, but I think you're entirely wrong, there.
Dame is just her name, like Dame Kiri Tikanawa, they all have three names, down there, in the arsehole of the planet; I think you'll find that Dame's quite a common Christian name, among Kiwis. All around that part of the world, Australia and New Zealand, yes, commonwealth places that we no longer trade with, preferring the Frogs, with their over-priced and unreliable nuclear boilers, and the Hermanns, with their filthy Volkswagens.
But no, I mean, there's this Dame Louella of the kiddy-buggery enquiry; there's Dame Kiri, who's a sort of music hall turn and there's Dame Edna Everidge, the famous hissing old tranny.
See, it's just a name, Dame, like Sheila. If Dame Louella was really a Lady, she'd be called Lady Dame Louella, wouldn't she? So the very least we can do for Dame Louella is actually give her a title.
Yes, for services to people pretending to have been assaulted by their betters.
And lessbeclear, after I wasn't able - most unreasonably - to send his father to the House of Lords, the very least I could do was give Mr Will Straw a knighthood
for his utter cuntishness.
I mean, she's only earned about a million and half, plus exes, of course, and quite proply, in my judgement, so there's a shortfall in her earnings of at least a coupla mill. Wossat? No, of course I don't think she should pay it back. She has, lessbeclear, done some very valuable work, going home on holiday and so on, before abandoning it altogether because of some awkward questions.
And I think the very least we can do to compensate her is make her a Lady, or somesuch. Make her Lady Dame Louella.
Whaddayamean, she already is a lady?
No, no, forgive me, but I think you're entirely wrong, there.
Dame is just her name, like Dame Kiri Tikanawa, they all have three names, down there, in the arsehole of the planet; I think you'll find that Dame's quite a common Christian name, among Kiwis. All around that part of the world, Australia and New Zealand, yes, commonwealth places that we no longer trade with, preferring the Frogs, with their over-priced and unreliable nuclear boilers, and the Hermanns, with their filthy Volkswagens.
But no, I mean, there's this Dame Louella of the kiddy-buggery enquiry; there's Dame Kiri, who's a sort of music hall turn and there's Dame Edna Everidge, the famous hissing old tranny.
See, it's just a name, Dame, like Sheila. If Dame Louella was really a Lady, she'd be called Lady Dame Louella, wouldn't she? So the very least we can do for Dame Louella is actually give her a title.
Yes, for services to people pretending to have been assaulted by their betters.
And lessbeclear, after I wasn't able - most unreasonably - to send his father to the House of Lords, the very least I could do was give Mr Will Straw a knighthood
for his utter cuntishness.
Yes, and while I'm here, this isn't the first time I have been wrongly accused of bringing the honours system into disrepute. Only the other day, that chap, Ishmael, he was saying quite unpleasant things about one of my other appointees to the House of Lords. Honestly, you'd think it was part of the legislature or something, and that people used it as a business address; that they dined extravagantly on the very best cuisine, and all for thirty-five pee a head. Yes, and anyone'd think they claimed three hundred quid a day, just for turning-up, signing-in and then fucking off to their favourite bondage parlour. Lessbeclear about these figures; it's only a grand and a half a week, plus dinners, hardly anything to get excited about. It's not even a hundred grand of public money; peanuts, when you think of how disabled people defraud the rest of us.
Anyway, here's what he said, that Ishmael chap:
Isn't
it sexist, to keep-on about the Dancing Queen, Mrs Askey, being a woman?
Gender doesn't colour my loathing of politicians, you have to treat them all equally, they are all filth; thieves, fraudsters, blackmailers, drug addicts, murderers, rapists, extortionists, embezzlers, money launderers, war criminals and child rapists; slags, pimps and sluts, shit-eating degenerates, all of them, repeatedly criminal either in commission of the acts or by default in not reporting them in others;
gender is irrelevant.
But that's just me, one of God's liberals.
When it comes to MediaMinster unctuously reminding us that this is the first female PM since Whisky Maggie one cannot help but retort, Well, why do you mention her gender? Next, you'll be bitching about her not having any children.
They really are scum, aren't they?
It is sexist if others dwell on the prime minister's gender, outrageous to question her fertility, although fine if the hacks do so.
Many of us actually had women as mothers, and sisters, and even aunts; some of us are married or otherwise affiliated to women; some of our daughters are women; some of us, here, even are women; how about that? It doesn't matter a fuck to me that Mrs Askey is a woman.
Gender doesn't colour my loathing of politicians, you have to treat them all equally, they are all filth; thieves, fraudsters, blackmailers, drug addicts, murderers, rapists, extortionists, embezzlers, money launderers, war criminals and child rapists; slags, pimps and sluts, shit-eating degenerates, all of them, repeatedly criminal either in commission of the acts or by default in not reporting them in others;
gender is irrelevant.
But that's just me, one of God's liberals.
When it comes to MediaMinster unctuously reminding us that this is the first female PM since Whisky Maggie one cannot help but retort, Well, why do you mention her gender? Next, you'll be bitching about her not having any children.
They really are scum, aren't they?
It is sexist if others dwell on the prime minister's gender, outrageous to question her fertility, although fine if the hacks do so.
Many of us actually had women as mothers, and sisters, and even aunts; some of us are married or otherwise affiliated to women; some of our daughters are women; some of us, here, even are women; how about that? It doesn't matter a fuck to me that Mrs Askey is a woman.
It's the filth in MediaMinster for whom
a woman's place is an issue.
People
like Kelvin Teenage Tits McKenzie,
If yer sixteen you can gerremout, girls.
thinker, commentator, liar, beast, bully and regular paid guest on the PBC.
Kelvin thought that young women's place was in his rag, with their tits out, Phwoar!!!
If yer sixteen you can gerremout, girls.
thinker, commentator, liar, beast, bully and regular paid guest on the PBC.
Kelvin thought that young women's place was in his rag, with their tits out, Phwoar!!!
And people like Lady Brooks of Chipping Sodom.
And this is our chief phone hacker, prime minister.
Jolly good show, keep up the good work.
There'll have to be an enquiry, of course, usual nonsense, some old whore of a judge, he may make some recommendations but we'll just ignore them, we always do, No, no, not at all, glad to be of help; we're neighbours, y'know, Lady Brooks and I.
And people like Tory peer, Karren Brady, Dirty Old
Lady.
Brady, right-hand woman, so to speak, of porn-dwarf, David Sullivan,
Brady, right-hand woman, so to speak, of porn-dwarf, David Sullivan,
worked for him during his take-over of the British dirty mags industry
until he made her, firstly, a director of the uber-sexist Sport newspaper
and then boss of Birmingham City Football club,
which he then owned.
Sullivan's former mistress,
Mary
Millington,
committed suicide after appearing in many of Sullivan and Brady's blue movies.
Brady's fawning biographies in the press and online rarely mention her unsavoury past, describing her mainly as a star of The Apprentice, a Cruelty TeeVee show and a successful business director. Sullivan served a sentence for living on immoral earnings, David Cameron honoured Brady with a peerage.
committed suicide after appearing in many of Sullivan and Brady's blue movies.
Brady's fawning biographies in the press and online rarely mention her unsavoury past, describing her mainly as a star of The Apprentice, a Cruelty TeeVee show and a successful business director. Sullivan served a sentence for living on immoral earnings, David Cameron honoured Brady with a peerage.
Lady Brady, Dirty Old Lady.
Following Cameron's hooking-up with Brady, she Sullivan and another porn-dwarf, David Gold, did surprisingly well, staggeringly well, out of a bizarre arrangement gifting them an Olympic stadium for West Ham FC, the club which they own.
Following Cameron's hooking-up with Brady, she Sullivan and another porn-dwarf, David Gold, did surprisingly well, staggeringly well, out of a bizarre arrangement gifting them an Olympic stadium for West Ham FC, the club which they own.
‘A real disgrace’: Critics slam British govt over West Ham’s Olympic Stadium deal
West Ham United's move to the Olympic Stadium in London has
caused a major row in Britain, with the Premier League club set to pay
just $3.55 million per year to occupy the facility, with part of the
deal funded by British taxpayers.
Taxpayers to pay for heating, police & corner flags when West Ham move to Olympic Stadium https://t.co/cRViyfrZytpic.twitter.com/VWP83pGkBz— MailOnline Sport (@MailSport) April 14, 2016
The
London Legacy Development Corporation (LLDC) has signed off on a deal
that will see the Hammers move into their 60,000 capacity home at the
start of next season.
The club has agreed a 99-year lease at the
Olympic Stadium, which is being converted into a Premier League venue at
a cost of around $386 million – with West Ham contributing just $21.3
million towards the costs.
The LLDC must cover stadium expenditure
such as pitch maintenance, undersoil heating, security, cleaning and a
variety of other running costs.
The deal does however include
performance-related payments, with a top-five finish in the league
costing the Hammers a further $1.4 million. Success in Europe would also
generate further revenue for the LLDC.
West Ham's annual payment
to the LLDC amounts to just 2 percent of the annual TV income they can
expect from being in the Premier League, but the club says the deal
benefits all parties.
"While
someone renting the stadium for 25 days a year cannot be responsible
for 365 days' running costs, going by our performances this season, we
hope to deliver additional revenue to the stadium via extended cup runs
and big European nights," a club statement said.
"This
will secure the international exposure and additional usage and revenue
that may now be more challenging for the stadium owners to find
elsewhere as a result of this ruling."
While West Ham are
clearly delighted with their new stadium, critics have slammed the deal,
with many questioning whether it is right that the club's owners should
profit from the British taxpayer if they decide to sell the club.
Confirmation that West Ham will have goal-posts, nets and corner flags paid for them by the LLDC at Olympic Stadium pic.twitter.com/az67TbQa0l— Dan Roan (@danroan) April 14, 2016
If
David Sullivan and David Gold sold the club in the next 10 years for
more than $177 million, the LLDC would get just $17 million if the sale
price was $355 million.
Respected journalist Mihir Bose says the deal is a public scandal.
"That British politicians make such deals is the real disgrace," he said. "Politicians pontificate on how they are always looking for the common good.
"But
where is the common good in this West Ham deal? Other clubs have to
raise millions to build a new stadium, West Ham are virtually gifted one
yet no one is consulted on the deal.
"In America when
such deals are done there is a city-wide referendum. Should we not have
had one before the West Ham deal was done?"
LIVING OFF IMMORAL EARNINGS
A gruesome threesome, Cameron's Tory peer, Brady, with the two porn-dwarves turned soccer moguls.
Sullivan describes himself as a Freedom Fighter.
We do not know if any of this crazy, inexplicable taxpayer-gifted bonanza will find its way into an offshore former prime minister's account but Cameron is such a cunt that one would stake one's life on it.
Sullivan describes himself as a Freedom Fighter.
We do not know if any of this crazy, inexplicable taxpayer-gifted bonanza will find its way into an offshore former prime minister's account but Cameron is such a cunt that one would stake one's life on it.
Well, lessbeclear,
pornography, it's a perfectly respectable profession these days.
Oh, gosh, no, not being in it, that's just pants, that is, or rather that's just no pants,
Yes, prime minister.
No, not being in it, just making money from it, yes, selling degrading pictures of other people's daughters. Yes, and wives.
'Swhat the Big Society's all about.
And as for me bringing the honours system into more disrepute than it already was.
Well, I simply say that I love my country, have been proud to serve my country and can modestly claim to have left my country a good deal more rotten than it's ever been.
Wossat? An earldom?
Well I would only accept it on behalf of all the lesser people;
yes, the ones whose wheelchairs we've burned.
Well I would only accept it on behalf of all the lesser people;
yes, the ones whose wheelchairs we've burned.
He's a piece of filth, Cameron, always was, but livng, breathing proof that Eton's villains are merely over-confident thickos, too stupid to know Shame.
All the pretend outrage and shock, it's just skymadeupnewsandfilth, that, his so-called honours list;
it's just Ruin, sneering at us, pissing in our faces, as usual, blinding us to the real shit they're doing.
-----------------------------------------
As for Corbyn's Folly,
well, we always said that Chakrabarti was the latest in a line of faux-left career moralists which attached itself to Islington Labour - horrid NCCL monsters like Harriet Soursister and Patsy Leatherface.
Hatty Harman and Patsy Leatherface,
standing up for paedophilia.
Patsy, after being a NewLabour Health Secretary, immediately went off to take bribes from Boots, the Chemists, as a marketing adviser. It's a civil liberties thing, selling contacts one makes as a minister.
Doesn't matter which set of rights these charities are defending - prisoners', women's, black persons' - they all wind-up being run by vain, hard-faced, careerist shitbags like Chakrabarti, stomping on the faces of their clients in their personal march to glory. A moment's thought on the grimy subject of Imelda Blair is enough to forever obliterate the idea of the human rights lawyer
Cherie Blair has been accused of accepting money from repressive regimes after her legal consultancy signed a deal with the Maldives government – which faces international condemnation for human rights abuses.
Omnia Strategy, the London and Washington-based consultancy that Ms Blair founded and chairs, is to advise President Abdulla Yameen’s government on “democracy consolidation”.
The value of the contract, which was signed this week, has not been confirmed.
Lady Imelda, telling lies for money.
But the deal has sparked an outcry in the Indian Ocean archipelago, where the current regime has been accused of suppressing political dissent. The leading opposition movement, the Maldivian Democratic Party (MDP), condemned Ms Blair’s decision, describing the consultants as “unethical and profiteering” people who were being employed to “help wash the blood” off the President’s hands.
Funny, isn't it, that no matter how much money she grubs, Imelda always looks like shit; that's an expensive suit, in the top picture, it will have cost the blood of many tortured souls, even so, Imelda wears it as though she'd just been in a dangerous dogfight. She's always looked like shit, even when she had her own lifestyle guru, Carole, who went clothes shopping with her, massaged her and placed crystals on her, even then she looked like she'd been rolled down a hill and was staggering about with her shoes on the wrong feet. Must be the Devil, her master, taking the piss.
Chakrabarti, her beastly little face, all screwed-up and indignant about the lives of people for whom she quite clearly couldn't give a fuck, is just the latest incarnation of fictional civil liberties executives such as Imelda Blair.
I always thought that Swami'd be parachuted into a safe Labour seat and then straight on to the front bench, in the style of Mr Harman, the oafish, bent, fuckwit bullyboy, Jack Dromey; maybe, though, there are no longer any safe Labour seats; Corbyn's U-turn on Lords' appointments may well increase the danger now faced in many of his constituencies.
If anyone disputes my charge of vanity, just take a quick look at google images,
Chakrabarti lives every moment of her life posing for the camera, her only equivalent, in my experience, is the rotten bastard Sir Malcolm Shouty,
who, not conent with innumerable posed photographs, has himself captured in portraiture, most likely paid for by us.
I cannot comment on the veracity of Swami's report on anti-semitism in the Labour party;
any questioning of Israel's brutal ethnic cleansing of occupied Palestine is shouted-down as being neo-Nazism, the laying of foundation stones in a new gas chamber complex. It has become impossible to voice any criticism of Israel, an investigation of anti-Jewish behaviours in any organisation, therefore, is doomed to controversy.
If Corbyn had any sense he would never have ordered an inquiry, would he; he should simply have said, if you have evidence of breaches of the race relations act or of hate crime, by anyone, you must report it to the authorities, let them investigate. Otherwise go and fuck yourselves. As it is he simply made a rod for his own back, and an ermine robe for the poisonous Chakrabarti's.
What is unavoidable, though, is that many, myself included, see Swami's so-called report and her peerage as a sleazy quid pro quo, sleazy enough to temper any enthusiasm felt for supporting a cleansed, reinvigorated, Corbyn-led Labour party. Counter-claims, by Corbyn zealots, that Chakrabarti's intergrity is infinite, that never has so much been owed by so many to just one, that she is beyond reproach, these may as well be readings from the Tory Manifesto; to the newly-arrived yet hard-boiled Corbyn convert, these claims will be seen for what they are, shit and drivel, barrel scrapings, turds of wisdom. Corbyn vowed never to appoint to the Lords, Swami Gob vowed never to go, what's the difference between that and the Coalition raising VAT after it had vowed not to; implementing raised student fees, when it had vowed not to or down-fucking the NHS, when it had vowed not to? With the Tories playing the electortae like trout, this was not a time for Corbyn to shoot himself in the foot, to absolutely no discernible purpose.
I daresay that the ghastly little wretch will, like Lord Roy Hattersley, insist that she is only entering the Lords in order to bring it down, and not for the dinners and the showing-off and the business opportunities;
will insist that she is there only as a hand to the helpless, a friend to the fearful and a voice for the voiceless.
All the pretend outrage and shock, it's just skymadeupnewsandfilth, that, his so-called honours list;
it's just Ruin, sneering at us, pissing in our faces, as usual, blinding us to the real shit they're doing.
-----------------------------------------
As for Corbyn's Folly,
well, we always said that Chakrabarti was the latest in a line of faux-left career moralists which attached itself to Islington Labour - horrid NCCL monsters like Harriet Soursister and Patsy Leatherface.
Hatty Harman and Patsy Leatherface,
standing up for paedophilia.
Patsy, after being a NewLabour Health Secretary, immediately went off to take bribes from Boots, the Chemists, as a marketing adviser. It's a civil liberties thing, selling contacts one makes as a minister.
Doesn't matter which set of rights these charities are defending - prisoners', women's, black persons' - they all wind-up being run by vain, hard-faced, careerist shitbags like Chakrabarti, stomping on the faces of their clients in their personal march to glory. A moment's thought on the grimy subject of Imelda Blair is enough to forever obliterate the idea of the human rights lawyer
Cherie Blair has been accused of accepting money from repressive regimes after her legal consultancy signed a deal with the Maldives government – which faces international condemnation for human rights abuses.
Omnia Strategy, the London and Washington-based consultancy that Ms Blair founded and chairs, is to advise President Abdulla Yameen’s government on “democracy consolidation”.
The value of the contract, which was signed this week, has not been confirmed.
Lady Imelda, telling lies for money.
But the deal has sparked an outcry in the Indian Ocean archipelago, where the current regime has been accused of suppressing political dissent. The leading opposition movement, the Maldivian Democratic Party (MDP), condemned Ms Blair’s decision, describing the consultants as “unethical and profiteering” people who were being employed to “help wash the blood” off the President’s hands.
Funny, isn't it, that no matter how much money she grubs, Imelda always looks like shit; that's an expensive suit, in the top picture, it will have cost the blood of many tortured souls, even so, Imelda wears it as though she'd just been in a dangerous dogfight. She's always looked like shit, even when she had her own lifestyle guru, Carole, who went clothes shopping with her, massaged her and placed crystals on her, even then she looked like she'd been rolled down a hill and was staggering about with her shoes on the wrong feet. Must be the Devil, her master, taking the piss.
Chakrabarti, her beastly little face, all screwed-up and indignant about the lives of people for whom she quite clearly couldn't give a fuck, is just the latest incarnation of fictional civil liberties executives such as Imelda Blair.
I always thought that Swami'd be parachuted into a safe Labour seat and then straight on to the front bench, in the style of Mr Harman, the oafish, bent, fuckwit bullyboy, Jack Dromey; maybe, though, there are no longer any safe Labour seats; Corbyn's U-turn on Lords' appointments may well increase the danger now faced in many of his constituencies.
If anyone disputes my charge of vanity, just take a quick look at google images,
Chakrabarti lives every moment of her life posing for the camera, her only equivalent, in my experience, is the rotten bastard Sir Malcolm Shouty,
who, not conent with innumerable posed photographs, has himself captured in portraiture, most likely paid for by us.
I cannot comment on the veracity of Swami's report on anti-semitism in the Labour party;
any questioning of Israel's brutal ethnic cleansing of occupied Palestine is shouted-down as being neo-Nazism, the laying of foundation stones in a new gas chamber complex. It has become impossible to voice any criticism of Israel, an investigation of anti-Jewish behaviours in any organisation, therefore, is doomed to controversy.
If Corbyn had any sense he would never have ordered an inquiry, would he; he should simply have said, if you have evidence of breaches of the race relations act or of hate crime, by anyone, you must report it to the authorities, let them investigate. Otherwise go and fuck yourselves. As it is he simply made a rod for his own back, and an ermine robe for the poisonous Chakrabarti's.
What is unavoidable, though, is that many, myself included, see Swami's so-called report and her peerage as a sleazy quid pro quo, sleazy enough to temper any enthusiasm felt for supporting a cleansed, reinvigorated, Corbyn-led Labour party. Counter-claims, by Corbyn zealots, that Chakrabarti's intergrity is infinite, that never has so much been owed by so many to just one, that she is beyond reproach, these may as well be readings from the Tory Manifesto; to the newly-arrived yet hard-boiled Corbyn convert, these claims will be seen for what they are, shit and drivel, barrel scrapings, turds of wisdom. Corbyn vowed never to appoint to the Lords, Swami Gob vowed never to go, what's the difference between that and the Coalition raising VAT after it had vowed not to; implementing raised student fees, when it had vowed not to or down-fucking the NHS, when it had vowed not to? With the Tories playing the electortae like trout, this was not a time for Corbyn to shoot himself in the foot, to absolutely no discernible purpose.
I daresay that the ghastly little wretch will, like Lord Roy Hattersley, insist that she is only entering the Lords in order to bring it down, and not for the dinners and the showing-off and the business opportunities;
will insist that she is there only as a hand to the helpless, a friend to the fearful and a voice for the voiceless.
Aye, right;
fucking monster.
fucking monster.
19 comments:
Apparently this half witted Kiwi ambulance chaser was overwhelmed by all the paperwork, alleged nonce victims signing on at the rate of 100 a week, the sheer scope of an inquiry going back to the fall of the Roman Empire. If we had an opposition they would ask Mrs Askey 1/ Is there no ambulance chaser in the UK untainted by establishment noncing. 2/ Why is the inquiry not more focused, perhaps on Sir Cyril Buggerman ? A tug on a single thread might unravel the whole tapestry.
But, as you say, Operation Our Little Secret is proving brilliant at fulfilling its remit.
Top Hat Boy has laughingly nominated a list of human rubbish, tax dodging business arseholes, pay masters in Tory plc; his old Etonian bumchums; useless wankers who helped him fuck up the Remain campaign and some bimbo who was ' stylist ' to his wife: she made sure the dozy horse faced bint put her knickers on the right way round each morning. But it`s impossible to devalue a system which has ' honoured' Saville, Cyril Buggerman, Janner , Brittan, slob Philip Green and Karen Brady.
If we had an opposition they might also ask why Goldman Sachs terrorist agent Carney, the Bankster of England was creating another £125 billion Magic Money for the banksters to buy up debt and another £100 billion to go directly to the financial terrorist cells to shield them from the consequences of their own fuckwittery ? The stasis field propping up the global financial shithouse since the Great Tits Up is failing. But Mrs Askey`s cabal of clerks, chair polishers, office noddies, suit wearers, dosh jugglers and keyboard bashers have already headed off the threat to Bankster Land. We`ll just get more food banks.
Quite a litany of sleaze, overt corruption and debasement. I hadn't realised the Olympic Stadium was such a blatant fraud. Was reading something in the Guardian today that the Olympic Committee robbed £400 million off the lottery earmarked for community causes which has never / shall never be paid back - curious, seems almost exactly the cost of the stadium. I guess we all knew the lottery was a slush fund but giving it to a pornographer who's fallen behind technology in these 'difficult times' really is just a piss take.
As Mr Yardarm states - I think we're up to £425 billion in money printing and I just can't get my head round the figures anymore. It's like standing at the base of a breach in one of Cornwell's novels and just seeing a pyramid of dead bodies wondering how to start clearing up the shit. God, it's all so fucking depressing.
An apposite diatribe Mr I, that I greatly enjoyed. But I am mostly unmoved by this sort of thing. So, CMD handed out a few ice creams at the end of term? These Ruritarian baubles (now made in France I hear...) are for the stupid and / or 'do you know who I am?' set (to which the answer is 'No, Fuck Off'). However, compared with 'our' Tony and Imelda, he's a mere amateur (whenever I catch sight of the Blairs in their younger days, I always think of that Pet Shop Boys song, the one that opens up with "I've got the brains. You’ve got the looks. Let’s make lots of money" Tony, he really has lost his looks, hasn't he? Poor chap... But the money machine carries on, feeding voraciously - a hunger that can never be satisfied...).
The ones that bother me, however, are the recipients of the free 1st Class tickets aboard the House of Lords Gravy Train, funded by the likes of you and I,Mr I. It is now far worse than it was when its composition was decided by the lottery of birth. I've started to warm to that Katie Hopkins, God help me, who upon the elevation of lingerie entrepreneur, Michelle Mone, to the House of Lords, said: "Frankly, I don’t really mind if we seal up the room and gas the lot of them". She's proper radical is Katie...
P.S. and apologies, I meant to say 'Ruritanian'. The above reached you via a rather circuitous route thanks to some sort of 'upgrade' to the Internet that has occurred over the weekend rendering my second generation I-Pad obsolete (no longer recognises 'reCAPTCHA', You Tube and much else besides). Had to sweep aside the cobwebs, enter the 'study' and fire up the PC (constructed by my son) which seems impervious to all these changes somehow... This shit may account for low levels of feedback until we've all shelled out £350 of quantitatively eased English Pounds for new ones Mr I! There's that thing about 'built in obsolescence' that I seem to recall from somewhere - the cunts!...
One's ghast was well and truly flabbered a year or two back when news was released to a grateful public that the trade in prostitution and illegal drugs was to be included in the nation's GDP total. Mrs. Osborne's little boy must have calculated (on the back of his membership card to Mme. Fifi's Establishment for Discerning Gentlemen) that if his own consumption of Columbian marching powder was anything to go by, GDP figures would enjoy a considerable leap northward ...
Not so much a diatribe, mr sg, more a Lamentation of Record, The Finance Minister of the Kingdom declares war on the victims of financial crime, rewards the criminals, sells the nation's assets to Oriental fuckpig barbarians, regularly turns up for work off his head on drugs, doubles or triples the national debt and is rewarded with ennoblement; it is worth noting.
My own response to DYKWIA? has always been, No, Don't you, shall I look for your nurse?
I hadn't paid much attention to Katie, maybe I shoul.
I have been unable to get into blogger from my own ipad3 for many months, now; I hate Apple and everyone who works there, they are the Jesuits of the Information Age.
I suppose the only light in the House of Lords tunnel is that more and more people see it for what it is and I guess that maybe tens of millions would turn on the gas.
I often have the feeling that ghere are a few thousand people inhabiting MediaMinster, talking to each other, without the slightest clue about how despised they are and that their darkness will not be lightened until some of them are dangling from lamp posts.
On the other hand, the recently militarised filth may have been armed as much against the citizenry as against the headchoppers.
America must be our litmus test; if the Clintons rig the election against Trump as they rigged it against Sanders there will be civil war, Stateside, and some of those rednecks have all sorts of shit in their barns, maybe even nukes and bug bombs.
It is amazing, mr dick, how deeply, how rapidly we have sunk into banana republicanism. Mass murderers and torturers in the Ulster assembly, the pissed-up manic depressive pornographer, Campbell, writing the official cassus bellus for the criminbal parliament; a pornographer's moll rifling the national cash register from the house of Lords and money being borowed into existenc that it might pay bankers bonuses which they do not deserve, the national broadcaster unashamedly the spiritual home both of child molestation and murder and larcenious back-scratching.
He's good with those dismaying images of spent cannon fodder, Cornwell.
It has, mr yardarm, just become pantomime, the beasting cover-up. If there was an opposition or a free press they would be asking serious questions of the then home secretary responsible for this cynical fuck-up, unfortunately that gibbering and malign incompetent is now the prime minister and attention properly hers is now diverted to the lunatic, Rudd, another gabshite, frothing at the mouth with self importance. Swiftly, it won't end well for all these mad Tory bints.
Both of Mrs Osborne's little boys, king caratacus, leave much to be desired, both junky incompetents, both deformed by dishonesty and at least one of them on the Sex Offenders Register. One almost expects to see the brothers Osborne walking about with their faces pixillated, like tarmackers, off Big Fat Gipsy Weddings.
I hesitate to add further to the saga of the ripped off national stadium, but I think the total cost to the taxpayer is north of a bill - certainly when you add in the associated infrastructure - train stations and surrounding roadworks and the like. After all the bollox from His Noble Lordship Coe in justification for the London bid, I guess its more embarrassing having the stadium lie empty, save for the tumbleweed.
We had the same issue here in Sydney after the olympics - and this is a sport mad nation blessed with all-year sport weather. It still looks embarrassingly empty for footie games. The olympic scam is just a bigger global form of Fifa - chance for those in the tent to enrich themselves at the taxpayers expense.
Bread and circuses.
it is also quite a few pennies isn't it, the conversion bill for the stadium. Could this not have been foreseen? I believe that it was and was fudged at the time. It amounted to the addition of a few permanent/lower rows of seats all around to make the space conducive to the TV footie pictures. I am sure that any of us could have done it for a few million.
I wonder how much HS2 will really cost when it is all over.
You’d think the help up from daddy that Brady had she’d have a fucking smile on her face now and then. Another one that had "struggled against prejudice in the boardroom"…yeah like fuck she did.
They’re all in a charmed circle of fortunate…right place right time, lucky sperm call it what you want. There's not an ounce of intelligence amongst them. If they have such business acumen where does it come from? Where was it learned? And why do their businesses need public money to survive?
Can we not bring back Hercules?
The stables are in a right mess.
The Augean Stables are indeed a mess Mr Alphons, all clogged up with a variety of foul smelling effluents. On balance, Ms Hopkins' 'final solution' to the problem, whilst offering the advantages of expediency, is probably not the right answer, since killing is seldom a good thing, though I do not exclude the possibility that it may be in some circumstances. It seems to me that the problem lies with the 'separation of powers'. It cannot be right that the 'Executive' can appoint, by powers of patronage, to the Legislature (Mr I's example of Ms Chakrabarti refers - albeit appointed by Her Majesty's Most Loyal Opposition - another part of the 'Executive' rather than the 'Legislature' as one might suppose from superficial analysis). The Americans have the same problem with the President being able to appoint to the Judiciary... Whilst I like the idea of a bi-cameral parliament with a revising upper chamber, the size and composition of the House of Lords worrys me, though not enough to keep me awake at night...
Struggling in the boardroom, eh? Not quite the struggle of ordinary spreading their legs for Brady's cameras. Scum, she is, not worth spitting on, |Lady Bdardy, Dirty Old Lady.
Sleep easy, mr sg, there is no guillotine yet in sight.
None of the ills you identif can be remedied whilst there remains the idea of a Career, in party pol;itics. Gotta get outside that old Good and the Great envelope. 'swhat we gotta do.
Aye, Coe, the rotten, thieving fucking hypocrite, mr mike; he was one of Hague's bumchums, wasn't he, helping the then and briefly Tory leader keep his manly, slaphead physique, down the gym, all the better to accompany his stable of pretty boys. Hague's in the Lords, isn't he, no shortage of fellow degenerates there.
I saw Coe on some celebrity Champions programme or something - the Ron Pickering type show. Anywho, his team won and Freddy Flintoff chucked him into the pool at the end and he was fucking livid. Seriously weird like semi-psycho; far too big for his boots.
I wonder if we'll get Lords' reformm. Obviously, it's probably not a priority but I wouldn't be surprised if Askee gets furious if they fuck with her agenda. There's projections that after boundary changes that the Tories could box off about a 90 majority and it would genuinely make sense for the Tories to do it then rather than waiting until it becomes a red line in a future co-alition. Hmm...fatty Stratchclyde did a review for Cameron - can't remember reading it but I guess that's been filed in the bin.
Probably cost as much, mr mongoose, as the Stinky Point Nuclear BolierRoom, and probably be as much use, the HS2. I should think that Mrs Askey wil shelve them both, unless hubby has investments in them.
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