Tuesday, 4 July 2017


Smile, dear, we're on  Facebook

mr mongoose was lamenting the insufferability of the political discourse, bridling at how the ignorant commentariat would control our thoughts if they could. 
News reporting has metamorphosed into undiluted, full-on, hard-core Opinion, the more self-exalted the channel the more crudely  it proselytizes for a minority LiberalRight and events, when they are reported at all, are shoe-horned into the WorldView According to Jon or Kirsty orNick or Eddie or Adam, although, at least with skymadeupnewsandfilth, as with proper Tories, you know where you are, they don't fuck about, skymadeupnewsandfilth, it's all about the preservation, at all costs,  of le consumerisme noiuvelle et totalitairienne and the advertising revenues which it generates. 

Facelift Kay.

Stay tuned.
Or I'll bite your fucking face off.

Today, in the world of MalThought, there is a new ThoughtVillain afoot for it is now, in Scotland  a criminal act to publish, whatever that means, something called Revenge Porn, whatever that is;  I suspect it is the dissemination of relatively harmless domestic imagery which made the fortunes, firstly, of the Polaroid  camera manufacturer,  

 then for the owners of the publishing phenomenon known as the Readers Wives pages 

and subsequently of the entire home video/digital camera industry - people taking naughty pictures of each other, what we used to call erotica, and then one party publishing them without the other party's consent. Found guilty, under the  Abusive Behaviour and Sexual Harm Act an offender can receive a sentence of up to five years imprisonment.  
This is heavy shit and makes a mockery of what is or should be policeable.

The Orkney police - of Police Scotland to give them their new, national socialist title - were recently warning shocked parents that their Luv'Em 2Bits, Me, Do Anyfin4'Em children were all busy using their portable  telephones not to let Mum'n'Dad know that they were safely on the way home from swimming but were actually taking pictures of each others genitals and broadcasting them, the dirty little bastards. Well, not for the first time I said to myself, what the fuck did you think they would do with a personal digital camera, eh? 

The Police warned that these behaviours could adversely effect the vulnerable;  dirty pictures of children should only be viewed by responsible people, such as Liberal Democrat MPs, teachers and clergypersons. I do believe that the making of sexualised images of children is illegal and so shouldn't all these pervy little bastards be arrested and put on the Sex Offenders' Register, at the very least shouldn't their Luv'Em 2Bits, Me, Do Anyfin4'Em parents be hauled before the social workers and the Sheriff and have all their children placed in  care, the dirty little pornographing shits? Won't they all grow up to be the dirty digicam brigade?  Your fucking little horror has been taking photos of little girls tits and showing them to the whole world! Every bastard and his brother can see wee Mary's arsehole! You're a disgrace! You're not fit to be a parent, are you? All you're doing is breeding pornographers!
You should both be sterilised

If anyone had ever asked me what pubescent teenagers - boys and girls - would do with 'phone cameras this is exactly what I would have predicted.  Because that's exactly what I would've done.
Born too late, me.

There is a social awareness advertising campaign  on BBC Gnasher, telling boys that it is not cool to want to take pictures of girls' bits. Aye, right, see those hormones Jimmy, ragin' away, in your ballsack and your imagination, see them, Jimmy, them're pure bad. Och, dinnae worry aboot them bad wee bastard hormones havin' got us here, from awa' doon in the sea, among all the shite, dinnae worry  aboot them we hormonin' shites being the drivin' force a humanity, nae, fuck that, wee man, what y'havetae do, Jimmy, is suppress them, and only use yer wee Smart phone fer tellin' yer Mammy where y'are or where y'say ye are, anyway. An', see this, wee man, no matter how much them wee hormones are tryin' tae persuade y'otherwise, yon camera phone isnae fer yo tae take pictures a wee Maggie suckin' on yer cock. 
 It just pure isnae.

Aye, right, mammy, that's me told. I'll never do that again, honest I won't.

Somehow what we now call pornography - the making and viewing of it - has made cardinal sin of one of our oldest habits. 

  The Theft Libraries - or museums, as we call them - of the world are stuffed full of statues, friezes, paintings, prints, books and photographs, depicting people fucking other people,
groups of other people

and indeed other animals: 

the Vatican, acting no doubt as the font and spiritual home of pederasty, 

The Biggest Dirty Books Shop In The World. 

is believed to have catacombs bursting with dirty books and pictures, which only the holiest of holy noncing fathers is allowed to see and the more Classic the period, the dodgier the iconography, the whole of Greek mythology - if mr tdg will permit - seems a hymn to bestiality while the Brown Indians, I believe, those Indians who are permitted to touch one another at all, that is, - may Vishnu bless that great civilisation which makes sub-human and unTouchable so many - have regiments of deities pushing what we would call the envelope of sexual flexibility, all of them equipped with multiple arms and phalluses, all of them in an endlessly, inventive multi-sexual daisy chain 

Yeah, man, Hare Krishna.

I expect it was censored out of the Sermon on the Mount but the Saviour must have said:
Never mind the PeaceMakers,
Blessed are the Pornographers. 

 Wherever two or three - or even just two, or maybe, on reflection, even just one -  are gathered together in My name they will find a means - on the walls, on parchment, Yea, even unto an digital storage and retrieval system - to represent  themselves fucking, even for My own name's sake.  
Blessed are the Pornographers, for iconised Lust is Ejaculate's handmaiden. 
Ye may speak unto one another of Love but an Erection seeketh unto itself only Destruction which  Dirty Images and thoughts oft times Stimulate and Hasten. 
Verily, I say unto Ye, forsaking the Dirty Picture we mayst all have died-out, 
well, you mayst, 
My Heavenly Father and Myself enjoy Life Eternal but wouldst, even so, should our flock lose interest in fucking, due to an faminbe of Filth,
find Ourselves up Shit Creek, 
without even an paddle.

We don't like it, we of the LiberalRight, don't like the idea of Dirty Pictures, because they are exploitative.  The LiberalRight say this with pious finality even though sex is exploitative, how could it be anything else;  lessfaceit, even Sodomy, which as we now know is the highest and purest form of Love, involves the bodily penetration of one person by another - my old friend Tasty McFadden used to say:  If it needs lubing, mate, you're putting it in the wrong place but that is just so Old People - and that the disgusting practices of heteronormalcy climax in an urgent frenzy of internal organ battering.  Of course it's fucking exploitative, although it is, generally,  a pleasurably contradictory coincidence of Wants.
 No matter, that won't stop Kirsty Wark cawing and barking-out  an I-Know-Best opinion on it.
The Dirty Pictures have been around forever, 
there is nothing new about the practice of making them, it is just that the digicam and the Smartphone, not requiring their images to be developed and printed by a third party,  have made it the sport of Everyman. 
 Jolly good thing, too, I should think.  
Trying to police the product is pissing in the wind, just what you would expect from MediaMinster.

Is it OK to draw a picture of Chardonnay's arse, and show that to the lads down the 'pub, or to write a vivid description? Because by the standards of this legislation it shouldn't be. 
 Look, your honour, that pencil mark, there, that clearly indicates a mole on my client's left buttock, clearly identifying her to the entire world, causing her great personal devastation.
 Revenge Porn, may it please the Court, requires nothing less than a Revenge Sentence. 
Yes,  well, my Lord, the court might argue that she should never have let the defendant see her arse, memorise its contours and at a later stage draw them in this, I must say compellingly accurate sketch; 
that she should, in fact be a little more careful about whom she allows to see her arse in the first place. Much less create from it a digitised image which, by its very nature is already but a click away from global distribution.
But, my Lord, we are where we are.  
My client fell for a dirty rotter and now wants the Court to make things better for her, yes, wants the Court to Officially Pretend Retrospectively  that she didn't. 
 Even though she did.
 And even though no-one forced her to interact photographically with Mr Gary Knob, the defendant. 

And talking about hurt feelings, is it alright to deliberately poison the mind of a child - and of the Family Court -  against its father, causing life-long separation and hurt, something which happens every day of the week, without let or hindrance, much less five years' jail?

There is no other area of  behaviour in which the mere prompting of hurt feelings in another can result in a five-year jail sentence.

Maybe the cops and the Courts are under-used and need to be more fully utilised by Cameron or Meadow or Jade complaining that she is being revenged upon - pictures of her titties and her arse, which she was once happy to have had taken, have now escaped her control, must be tracked-down and destroyed, lest the dimensions of  her previous relationship become public knowledge, lest anyone find her carnal
anyone disseminating snaps of Meadow's pubis must, at public expense, be arrested, arraigned and jailed, money should be no object . 
 Kurt, too, may wish us to prevent Zachary from exposing his or their conjoined penis and anus to public acclaim or ridicule and as for those photographed on the surgical journey along the gender spectrum, well, the possibilities for State-sanctioned  Outrage and Retribution are almost infinite.

Cruel  images of sadistic brutality and the abuse of minors abut a clear, criminal  line separating  them from images of domestic, consensual sex. 

It is none of our business what happens to sexual imagery voluntarily generated, it doesn't matter who sees it. 
What's gonna happen, if someone sees someone else doing sex for the camera?
 The brown children still can't get a drink of water or an aspirin, yet Mr Justice Slag is expected to adjudicate on the broadcasting of Chardonnay's blow-job. 
I mean, who gives a fuck?  
In an age when the NewPeople instantaneously broadcast every feature of their empty, knuckle-headed lives - so that advertisers may use them as sandwich boards -  it seems doubly perverse that the Court intervene merely because people had no clothes on, whilst self-publicising.

The state is not the NannyKnowsBest Gatekeeper of personal relationships and should not grant Jade a Universal Super Injunction. 

Even fully-clothed, my avoidance of  the camera is an article of  faith; if Cameron would have us post-facto correct her flawed partner-judgement and if Jeremy would have us airbrush-away his narcissism on the grounds that their publication is vengeful then he and she should exercise better judgement in the first place, keep their legs and their mouths closed. 
If consenting adults consentingly take images of each other engaging in consensual sex then they should beware that when they fall-out, Life being what it is, Vengeance may rear its hurt, unreasoning  head.

The State, that is to say you and I, cannot and certainly should not protect people from their own horny Vanity biting them in the arse.


Oldrightie said...

Succinct, pertinent and chock full of common sense. Ergo, no place for these views in the modern world of not only "weaponised ignorance" but now weaponised hedonism. Power to your elbow, Sir!

Anonymous said...

There is an anomaly in the law, surprise surprie, which was explained by a copper to our school's parents' meeting.
If you are an 18 year old boy - or "man" as they used to be called - with a 17 year old girlfriend you can legally have sex, the copper helpfully explained. If, however, she sends him a picture of her parts most private, he is then in posession of illegal material and can be arrested for having underage sexual imagery since she wasn't 18.
This actually happened and the boy was arrested, expelled from school (6th form), lost his university place and his parents had to move due to harassment for harbouring a sexual offender. All due to having (and unwisely showing, not posting it, to a presumably ex-friend) a picture of a person whom he could legally marry.
It would seem to be the case that even if they were married such a picture, owned by her husband, would make him a criminal.
Funny old world except it isn't.
PS. What Oldrightie said.

walter said...

A former workmate of mine reminded me that you could get married in Scotland at sixteen have a baby, but you couldnt buy a box of matches to light a fire to keep the baby warm.... thats what happens when you have lawyers for mp,s

Mike said...

It may be a class thing? The gentry, in the good old days, used to enjoy erotica in the confines of their clubs, but now its available to the masses, well something must be done.

Occasionally I play snooker. There are some fairly tame, but suggestive Edwardian prints on the wall of the club - 'potting the red', and that sort of thing. I've often wondered if anyone complained.

call me ishmael said...

I don't object to a debate about what is Decent, about what is offensive to women in particular and I do not actually believe that people SHOULD post material meant to humiliate but neither do I think that the criminal law has any place in soured relationships. If we really wanted to make a society which gave no offence to women we would've hanged Rupert Murdoch, Andrew Neil and Kelvin McKenzie decades ago.

Anonymous said...

Mike - Hopefully there's not a print called "Going for Brown."

Anonymous said...

Always heartening to see the old folk had much the same sense of mischief as we do - in the background of that statue of Stoical Dobbin the Spit-Roast Pony there's a figure who apparently can't look - or can't help but peek. (Reminds me of a terrific line somewhere by Burroughs where the hick sheriff is having a quiet word with the local lads about their habit of skinny-dipping at the quarry: "Now in future I want you boys to wear trunks. Decent church-going women with binoculars can see everything. There've been complaints.")

As for that potting colour-chart, Messers Richard & Mike, you'd think twice about yellow and green, I shouldn't wonder (along with blue, nature's way of saying "steer clear.")


Mike said...

Sorry to hijack the discussion, but you saw fetishists did it first, and two wrongs make a right, but some heartwarming news from one of the few remaining news sources:


Incidentally, for you snooker fans, 'potting the red' was a print of a Lord Lucan type gent with his arm around a glamourous red-head, in 1930s attire.

call me ishmael said...

Prompted by someone here, mr mike, I sent tha JailBlair organisation fifty quid, but I suspect that as a nation we are more interested in the X Factor, whatever that is. Maybe, however, the thought of being arrested keeps Tony and Imelda awake at night although they will certainly be deaf to the cries of the burning Iraqi children. Yeah, you only see that stuff on RT. 'S a wonder Bukkake George Osborne hasn't a slot on there, he likes wrking for the Russians and lets face it, to a cunt like him, every openny counts.

People's fetishes are their own affair, their dog leads and their bathsful of baked beans, it's just that I don't want to be compelled to "celebrate" their diversity. Don't care what Lord Brian Paddick of the Gay Police Fedceration shoves up his arsehole, I just wish he'd stop talking out of it, at £350 a day of my money.

There is,incidentally a series on, here, called Kinky Britain and you simply would not believe what gets some people off; I don't, and I have seen them, right there, on m'TeeVee screen, in m'living room.

Dick the Prick said...

Good to have you back, Mr Smith

I don't know if it's true but one of my college buddies is a teacher and says he had to kick a lad out of class for doing a bird up the arse at the back of his class. I defo have been born too soon or too late - you had the 60's with free love and kids today have interactive porn. All I got was vast amounts of Class A drugs and the occasional knackered shag - these days, it's fucking Tuesday. Hmm.. oral gonorrhea's on the increase though - God hates lucky bastards!!

Seriously, a campaign to stop 15 year olds wanking - good luck with that!

Defo as per the kid thread - ridiculous sentiment. I adored my Siamese cat - they develop best friend's do cats, much like Labradors if treated correctly (although he did once claw my eyeball) but when I put him down the waterworks went independent yet my brain was totally clear. I've got the same arrangement with my mum - when I decide to end it, job done. Nip down whores row and score a killer dose of smack and i'll take her out. Law is a political device and we have the ability to govern our own family subject to common understanding. If my mum turns retard, she's given me the green light. Smack is meant to be quite morish and i'll even pop some Placido Domingo on. To e fair, the boy's not bad.

Life is sacrosanct, to be sure, but it's also relatively cheap. We've lived in peaceful times. I walk past a frikkin' huge war memorial every time I walk into town and one of my favourite TeeVee shows is Brideshead Revisited. I kind of identify with Charles Ryder - everything's going on in the world yet there is a remarkable internal calm. But we could have been called up for a pointless war almost any time in British history until now - it's only nuclear weapons and a bit of common sense that allows us to take the total piss out of government. We've lived such safe lives that we've almost sought out recklessness and wreakheadedness. (just texted my weed guy at noon on a Monday and he was round in 10 minutes - all done by taxi cabs these days; none of that sit there and have a cup of tea bollox and make out you're friends shit like we had to do in the olden days - fuck that with bells on - it's Amazon days now!) But there has to be a common understanding that life is also quick, it's fallible, it can fuck up - it's a family matter.

As you say - these guys are fuck all like the McCann's but I think they've been hit by mindless expectations. Plus being stupid hasn't allowed consequence analysis but they're parents - they're allowed to kick off. A similar thing is going on with the Grenfell Tower people in that expectation has just gone mental and it's disturbing. The kid thing has no ramifications but the Tower thing does - if amnesty is declared then surely to fuck people are gonna start torching flats. These fuckers are **cough** playing with fire, the cheeky cunts.

House renovation taking ages - turns out my sump pipe was fucked outside and the cheeky bastards had built a couple of false walls in my kitchen to hide the leaks. What the fuck is the mentality of that? We reckon that to fix ceramic pipes back in 1998 ish was a proper job requiring shit loads of excavation whereas now you can get industrialized plastic seals that can be fitted to anything. Cheeky gits though - had my plasterer and electrician in happily talking bollox and suddenly we ripped a fucking wall off. Not really to be expected. Got a dehumidifier at the weekend so letting that bad boy try its best. Really chuffed that it's sorted - it's been a comedy of errors and this genuinely is the last possible thing it could have been!!

Love to the fam


call me ishmael said...

Right, mr dick.

Last thing i heard was that you were going Walkabout and now it's all Homes Under the Hammer. Where IS your life at? But Yes, it's never the house, it's always the cheap, fuckhead, dimwit bastards who owned it before. It was millionaires had my house and he used cooker cable for the lighting; eight inches of nice, brisk fresh air for the insulation, and of the hundreds of his screws which I have removed, no two of them were the same, he musta had the biggest Quality Street tinful of rusty scews in the history of bodging. Oh, and the ones before him used six-inch galvanised nails for every single thing, bent-over when they were too big, which was always.

I think that - as I've said - being a parent only allows you to kick-off so much and this is way too far, Ms Ghastly and the Weed are conflating their own sentiment with the one-way-street option for the child, y'know, as I said, Mick Philpott, dogmatic, egotistical, exploitative, look where his kicking-off led.

Dehumidifiers are great, I had to have one, after James Farquahar of JD Roofing, Orkney, flooded my house, because he is stupider than a fencepost, the worthless git, and Lo, what one once thought of as dry did actually yield-up an lakeful of water.

Having to sup a cup of tea is one thing, my Dealer usedta make me listen to double albums by Peter fucking Frampton before reaching for the scales. I bumped into him, years later, he was a 'publuican in the Black Country, same trip, really, selling drugs to the Beaten.

I don't suppose that the NewParents want to stop their kids wanking per se, more that they want to control the form and the media deployed, which is about as jaw-dropping a failure of understanding as one could imagine. And quite creepy, too.

Dick the Prick said...

I think they de-plastered the living room with the kitchen directly underneath already finished. In their wisdom, they took the floorboards off the room. So, on n removal of kitchen ceiling to replaster due to damp stuff and a full rewire, fuse box, damp proof course etc etc, a fucking tonne of shite fell through above the wonderful individually set lattice pines, in stages. I can imagine the scene where the gaffer, on a Friday, probably about 2.30, says to the boys "..if we pull them floorboards out we don't have to lug this stuff down to the skip" and then fucked off to the boozer - the utter cheeky cocktards. What looked like a bit of damp turned into an FBI operation. For months I thought it was the woman next door!

I have had a bit of money issues too as I lent my mum all my cash to buy an awesome flat and she finally managed to flog hers. Weirdest thing - we've never been affluent before. There's an element of shell shock. I spent 12 years paying back my mortgage and constantly reducing the years so I got to about 20% loan and for a couple of years interest rates were 0% and I hated my job and I managed to blag an Economics degree and I just snapped buddy. Blah blah blah economic theory etc - it shows that the Bank of England is on its arse with no direct action available other than to fuck off. It advertises an end to monetary policy, a boundary, a fucking end point. Zero % interest rates in normal language is a nothing, a flight of fancy - what if we had interest rates Magenta - it'll never catch on Simeone! Drivel with bells on. I used to work in a NHS thing - could quite easily have done a Collumbine!

I am of the New Parent generation and I take significantly more drugs than most people. What I have noticed is that these daft bastards are such social retards that when they do their drugs - it's at a BBQ or something with their teenage kids around. There's an association with Oasis and the Stone Roses that simply doesn't translate into normal behaviour. Huddersfield have promoted to the Premier division so i'm quite phlegmatic about raucousness - all over it - but at some point in their mind they must accept that they are adults. I'm a bit lucky, been an analyst for 20 years but if i'd have looked up and tried to integrate - I dunno. Kinda feels like the first time i've looked around since college.

A lot of my generation are retards and the ones who think they're good usually aren't. There's a lot of good character there, it's just been morphed into some mass bullshit sponge with 0% interest rates. If 68% of our GDP is based on consumer spending then fuck it - let them be mongs! Hey ho!

I've had some fucking terrible dealers. My best mate now used to 'sort out his mates' and he used to sing. He still does it but we've been through therapy. He's a Londoner and used to do busking down there, we met at 17 after I bought a teenth and 25 fucking years later he can still make me furious with 1 guitar string. When you were at the dealers, it was a forced audience - was horrible when it was just 'give me the fucking weed and stick your dreamcatcher up your arse'.

Seriously, assumed my water problem was topography - just accepted it, wall didn't look so bad, no smell or anything. Then my carpet got saturated. It has taken a while but the initial quote was £20k to tank it and it turns out that may not even work. I've had to learn where the waters coming from. (bit Gospel!)

Nah man, getting there. Spent half that and done twice the job. Kinda thinking fuck travelling but yer know, what could possibly go wrong?

Never heard of Peter Frampton - will check out your pain!

Dick the Prick said...

I was umming and arring about going to the booze shop. Pete's got his uses - GET THE FUCK OUT!!!

call me ishmael said...

I will have to think about all of that, mr dick; I believe that in our long relationship this is as much as you have ever said about yourself; I must try to contextualise it all. Fuck travelling would be my position, too; people should stay where they are and make it better; mr mike, of course, would disagree.

Dick the Prick said...

Cheers fella. Will comment up the road - me and my mum pissed ourselves at Cilic.