Christmas in Calais migrant camp: dinner cooked by Jamie Oliver and 10 TONNES of prezzies
Before they had refugees to pick on, the conservative Cameron-Clegg coalition identified a new Enemy of the State, as mr ishmael tells us:
DISABLED PEOPLE, THE NEW NIGGERS
NIGGER, NIGGER, NIGGER
since the late Brigadier Enoch Powell had his arse kicked by an
emerging national sense of decency, British politicians, most of them on
all sides unspeakably racist, sexist, elitist redneck cocksuckers, have
steered clear of the N-word, as we have been taught to say it.
the bars and knocking shops of Westminster, and in the constituency
offices, however, they have found alternatives to niggers - immigrants,
except white ones; lone parents, especially Cecil Parkinson's bint,
but any dirty wimmen without the protection of a man have been fair
game to redfaced Toryboy poltroons; fat people, apart from themselves,
apart from bloated, whining, self-indulgent shitbags like Eric Pickles,
grown into great, fat, greasy fuckpigs on dinners and drinks which I
buy him, too fucking bloated to make his way a few miles home from work,
so we have to pay for a second home for the hulking lardarse;
Prescott, Lord John Pies, stuffing his face and waving his shrivelled
cock at women young enough to be his daughter; Reid, Lord John, pissed
out of his bigoted Glasgow mind, trying to kick down the doors of
female colleagues, they're all sluts aren't they? And then there's the
racist, Haliburton wars to which they are all signed-up, wars in
which we don't even count the nigger dead, Iraq and Afghanistan and
maybe - depending on how things go in Uncle Sam's pretend election
campaign - those moslem niggers in Iran, well, it's not maybe, is it,
just a question of when.
now this pathetic, rasping husk of a man, this ridiculous, failed
fantasist, Ian Smith, has identified a whole new species of Nigger or
Jew. The Disabled.
can't comment on the death of a disabled guy manslaughtered by the
Disability Bounty Hunters, ATOS. I just heard the start of his story on
what passes for the news and I ran out of the room with my fingers in
my ears, honest, not invent. I couldn't bear to hear it. Take all our
money and quantitatively ease it into the pockets of financial terrorists, chastise the sick for their sickness, the poor for their poverty,
and set ATOS on them.
Ed note: Atos conducted Personal Independence Payment assessments, notoriously slip-shod and inaccurate, targeted to reduce the number of claimants. mr ishmael was distressed by the death of a
disabled man whose benefits were stopped following his Atos assessment. Following the 2010 election, Ian Duncan Smith was appointed as Secretary of State for Work and Pensions in the Cameron–Clegg coalition.. Under his leadership, the DWP rolled out Universal Credit and a new Work Programme, as well as implementing a cut in benefits. He also looked at "how to make it harder for sick and disabled people to claim benefits" by giving DWP staff more powers to conduct benefit eligibility tests and to strip benefits from claimants with serious but time-limited health conditions. The DWP was criticised by The Trussell Trust, Oxfam and Justin Welby for "scandalous" and "unacceptable" rises in food poverty and forcing people to use food banks. Duncan Smith himself was criticised by the UK Statistics Authority and National Institute of Economic and Social Research for breaking the Code of Practice for Official Statistics.
Baron Eric Pickles stood down at the 2017 general election, but continued in his role as Special Envoy for Post-Holocaust issues, and Anti Corruption Champion.
Stanislav: Something I said, was it?
Fuck me, come back in best part of England after knees-up in Old
country and snot-eating lunatic bastard fucked off is and hiding in
Jock loonybin, raving and drooling and biting nails up to elbow. Not so
much right thing for country, now, wrong thing is, even for family and
especially for NewLabour bastard, fighting like fucking rat in sack and
still good for fuck all.
Just as good for fuck all as is Mr CallHimDave, fucking landowner
bastard and jumped-up fucking layabout, never a day of proper work has
done only write lies and smarm about like highclass rentboy and can't
believe his fucking luck at fuckwit shitbrain Mr Suit-and-Haircut,
dressed-up like it was Prizegiving day and him the senior prefect.
Anyway is all in shit with each other now and part of NewBroom Sweeping;
stanislav seventy-year old disabled bastard must have as assistant
plumber, and disable fucking access in van so's disable public enemy
number one bastard up beside stanislav can sit and customers can all see
dribbling bastard in sunfuckinglasses in middle of fucking winter and
think Ah, stanislav welfare work has taken up and driving dribbling
bastards to library is doing, in own time, see, not all Pole is fucking
rubbish, coming over here in God's country and doing work, always said
so, but no, new govament of SpivULikebastard is attacking sick and
cripple bastard with pitchfork up arse and saying, Raus! Raus! Come on,
idle useless piece of disabled shit, nothing wrong with you is apart
from being disabled and sick, you plumbing can do for living and stop
parasite being, all in this together we are, only not Mr&Mrs
Fuck me with disabled ramp and sleeping quarters for
HomelessAllInThisTogether but stanislav can't hardly get no fucking
tools in fucking van.
Mr verge’s recipe for Seabass, with
hat-tip to stanislav and Jamie Geezer
(mr verge would like it noted that he wasn't really trying to tribute/pastiche but noticed as it happened that plumberspeak
was seeping through unbidden, and attributes it to months of stanislavian immersion)
Preheat oven - best to turn it to 200 and then it's ready to
go up just before you're ready to cook the fish. Assuming you have a
pestle & mortar for seasalt...empty the salt into temporary accommodation,
leaving about half a teaspoon's worth. Or use the expensive Mason and Cash
pestle and mortar that has been lurking in the back of the cupboard since you
got bored with it. Put in a small (or half a normal-sized) clove of garlic,
paper skin removed and stumpy end cut away. Grind into paste (looks a bit
like - ugh - mashed banana.)
Gently reapply any of the oil that's escaped the fish, and
carefully turn the fillets over; they go in skin side up. The oven should
be increased to (honest, not invent) around 220 fan. (If dirty bastard
and oven cleaning needs, have broom handle ready to turn off bastard skriking
fire alarm when bomb-bay door is opened wide). If the fillets are thin, 7
minutes will be plenty - if they're thick, up to 8 minutes. When cooked,
remove carefully with oven glove and place tray on cooling rack - use
bastard-hot oven to warm plate, but try to remove quickly so it's not
cauterizing hot when you come to eat off it. Using a couple of forks,
carefully peel off the skin and gently scrape off the dark gunky stuff down the
middle of the fish, unless gastroperv is with unaccountable taste for such
stuff. Use a spatula to transfer cooked fish to plate - fragile so it may
not come away in one piece, but this is not fucking masterchef so don't worry
about that. Some of the herbs etc will still be on the foil, so scrape
that off and add to plate for flavour. Add sides of veg, pour modest
glass of chilled non-filth white wine, and eat at table with TV on like civilised
bastard. Top Tip - even if wrapped in newspaper and a plastic bag,
the discarded skin will stink like a whore's drawers in the morning, so if poss
put rubbish out before bed (in bin, not neighbour letterbox.) Hope that helps - fiddly the first time, but easier
thereafter and very tasty.
mr ishmael's essays today are:
if we decline to invest drafted 12/4/16
Christmas in Calais Migrant Camp with Jamie Oliver drafted 8/3/16
Disabled People - the New Niggers drafted 28/9/12
Stanislav: Something I said, was it? drafted 25/6/10
Honest, Not Invent
book is available as either paperback or hardback; we've had proof
copies of both and the production quality is very good. Cover design is
the same for both. 340 pages, each chapter dated in the list of
contents; we have stanislav from as long ago as 2007, and some of the
finest ishmael essays from the present blog. For now (there are still a
few hoops to go through before it appears elsewhere, at the same price)
the book is only available from lulu.com. No
one's billing or delivery address, nor any payment info, will be
available or disclosed to the creator of the book; all this is securely
handled by the publishing platform. Ishmaelites wishing to buy a copy should follow these steps:
register an account with them first. This will save you a couple of
quid, as going straight into the links provided below seems to make
paypal think it's ok to charge in dollars, and apply their own
conversion rate, which will put the price up slightly for a UK buyer.
Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links (to either
paperback or hardback) or type "Honest, Not Invent" into the Lulu
Bookstore search box. If you follow a link, a pop-up box asks for age
confirmation - simply set the date to (say) 1 January 1960, and
proceed. If you type the title, the anthology will not appear as a
search result until the "show explicit content" box (found at the bottom
left by scrolling down) has been checked. You may also see the age
verification box, as above, at this point.
full title is "Honest, Not Invent - the best of stanislav, a young
polish plumber", and the cover you'll see is red with white titles and a
picture of Buster the Blog Dog.
With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £14.35; HB £23.74.
Link for Hard Back :
Link for Paper Back :
At checkout, try WELCOME15 in
the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before
postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try
a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.
(ORDER10 might also work, for a 10% discount, if the 15% has expired.)
Excellent Mr verge, and I can see the accent as Mrs I describes.
I will try that, though we don't get sea bass here.
I have a similar variant, and have just been prepping for ce soir, by coincidence. Based on a dish I've regularly eaten in Seville - across the Puente de Triana from the centro going west and its immediately the first side road on the left after the bridge, Especialades Ceveceria. Only open after 8pm. Prawns in garlic and chili oil. The locals have it with cerveza, or local beer, I quite like a chilled dry sherry.
Anyway: take plenty of garlic cloves, red and green chili, small amount of ginger, flat leaf parsley, salt and black pepper - now its trial and error until you get the blend that best suits - I like plenty of garlic and chili, The Memsahib likes less - but there is an easy answer. Put all in a blender and grind up. Add to an earthenware pot (in our case 2 pots adding the required amount of paste to taste) and add plenty of good olive oil. Put in the oven till sizzling, but don't burn. Take out of oven and add prepared prawns being careful not to scald the crown jewels. The prawns will cook in the hot oil. Serve with crusty bread and a nice cold pinot grigio.
Thanks, mr Mike - I initially misread your last line as "a nice cold pinta grigio", and nodded in approval of your splendid Australian approach to the wine-list. Unfortunately I'm allergic to chili (sitcom waterfalls of sweat with even a moderate dose) so I won't be able to give your recipe a go, sounds good though.
Delighted to hear Ishmaelites are beginning to receive their copies of the anthology, and hope it does the business. Please spread the word.
You're lucky, Mr verge, being allergic to chili, I'm addicted. It all started years ago working in Singapore and Hong Kong. My golf mates thought I was joking this morning when I said I had green chicken curry for breakfast (I wasn't, leftover from Sunday, better on day 2). BTW the prawns were good this evening.
Grrr. I wrote a post about things immigrational etc and it has disparrued.
Anyway, it was about the decadence of us all. If a child can be in poverty with a 48" telly and an iphone in his pocket, then we do not even value properly the words we speak let alone the values we hold.
Your breakfasts, mr mike, continue to horrify me.
Was it your error, mr mongoose, or is our Blog being censored? I haven't done anything to disparrue it.
The key word is relative - relative poverty is a term that denotes the lack of access to goods, services, housing, etc that are the norm within a society. It is not about being denied the physiological needs that a street child in India suffers, but about being excluded from the goods that allow a child to participate fully in the society in which he or she lives. Not justifying the shift in language, just explaining what they mean by it, those people that use the term.
And I totally agree with you regarding mr mike's breakfasts - haven't you heard of a bacon sandwich, mr mike? I suppose you could put some chili paste in it, instead of brown sauce, if you insisted.
Oh, it happens from time to time, mrs i. Blogger eats a post every now and again to stop us getting too precious.
We already have a useful word for the less well off - "poor". Hijacking the word poverty for political ends means that those who do live that life are even more hidden from view than they would otherwise be. Which is a wickedness.
A bacon butty doesn't really cut it nowadays, Mrs I. I'm trying to eat healthily as I age. For example, tonight I am having a simple dish of spaghetti with the remaining oil+garlic+chili from the prawn recipe above. Classic Italian recipe. I'll make sure to make enough for a pre-golf breakfast tomorrow.
BTW I weigh less now (71kg at 6ft 1 inch) than I did over the last intervening years since my school days, despite a prodigious red wine consumption.
That's shockingly thin, mr mike. Get some pies in.
What are they like up there in Scotland, eh, mr mike, with their pies?
And lo it came to pass. Dunderhead SNP Beckfod oaf was prattling at PMQs about "sever poverty". Having debased the word itself, he is now fecked for ameans to describe the reality he seeks to address. Useless bugger.
I see The Lunatic is likely to lock down Northern England from Monday with some codswallop about three tiers; though he could as well say it’s about brillig and the slithy toves.
Don’t we have to get rid of these deranged fuckers once and for all, whatever it takes? We’re watching our lives and our world being dismantled and pulped by spivs and knaves, and we’re doing nothing at all about it. May God help us all.
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
Not that easy, I fear, mr bungalow bill. Democratic process and all that.
Nowt wrong with pies, messrs mongoose and mike, especially with mushy peas. I suppose you have to be from Northern, really, to appreciate these fine points of gastronomy.
Nothing against mushy peas, Mrs I. We regularly consume with beer battered flathead. Home made from split peas, and onion and some veggie stock, salt and pepper to taste.
BTW, there has been one good thing with Covid. We now buy our seafood fresh from the wholesaler delivered the same day, or at worst, next day. Excellent quality; better than what we bought retail - although that was good.
I don't think they deliver to Orkney.
We'll forgive your breakfasts, mr mike, but if Orkney needs fish delivering then the world is about to end, I reckon. You are a thin lad for 6'2. I was 65kg until I was mid-thirties and I was but 5'11. I was certainly too thin but then I am an Irish midget stretched a bit by eating proper protein as a lad.
The madness, mr BB, can now be fought a little. The massed scientists and medics are starting to rebel. Why though? What is it all for? Surely not just to screw Trump and stop Brexit? These are myopic, homegrown conceits. Where is the plan for such an extravagant stupidity? Or are we witnessing the largest cock-up the world has ever seen?
Mr mongoose: I am a bit on the thin side. Ive always been a bit wiry, but 8 years ago I started walking the Camino routes. Over a 1000km walk I would aim to double my daily food intake to 5000 cals; even so, after a month I would be minus 5kg. Putting the weight back on is difficult, even with a high Guinness diet, because I find my metabolism is hyper for several months. It buggers up my golf; a loss of weight really affects distance.
Ah, democracy, Mrs I. A fond notion.
The heroic Sunetra Gupta, Mr Mongoose, and a few others have been consistently rational. They are accordingly ignored.
Thank you, mr bungalow bill. Sunetra Gupta is an Indian infectious disease epidemiologist and a professor of theoretical epidemiology at the University of Oxford. A critic of lockdown, her view is that countries should follow the Swedish approach, shielding the vulnerable while those with minimal risk go about their lives and allow herd immunity to build up.
Madly, and very many long years ago, mr mike, I was told that I was too thin to be a batsman. And golf is but batting with a stationary ball. Too many long(ish) moving parts with no corordinating momentum. I think there's truth in that. Batsmen tended to be shorter individuals and the tall ones had meat on their bones. These days the lads put gym-weight on.
Sunetra is absolutely a hero of the Resistance, mr bb, mrs i, and all. What worries me is that everyone talks of vaccines but there can never be a proper vaccine for an RNA coronavirus. Yes, we can have a sort of covid flu-shot but that's all. Why aren't the virologists shouting this from the rooftops?
Mr Mongoose, why are so many people not doing the thing they must know to be true and right and instead doing what is false and wrong? What, to quote the pote (sic), has driven a nation mad? Who or what on earth, or otherwhere, would be so fixated on our degradation?
Culture, not nation, but the madness is the same.
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