Should you be walking along, minding your own business and you become aware of a hellish cacophony of drums, screams and hooters, it is best to avoid the flat-bed truck cruising the streets of Kirkwall, bearing filthy, stinking and drunken persons to a rendezvous with the Merkit Cross,
to which one of their number is tied, in order to be pelted with more disgusting stuff of a disgusting nature, before being released, thrown back on the truck and conveyed to the harbour, where the whole party is tipped into the black, oily and freezing water. Great quantities of alcohol are consumed on the truck.
Wiki tells me that the Blackening is a traditional wedding custom performed shortly before a marriage in rural areas of Scotland and Northern Ireland. The bride or groom is captured by their friends, covered in food, treacle and other substances of a smelly and adhesive nature then paraded for the community to see, driven in the back of a truck, accompanied by the banging of pots and pans. I was told that the idea is to show the community that the bride or groom is about to be married and is therefore no longer available. Derision and scorn was poured all over me - a bit like the treacle and urine poured over the groom, when I suggested that surely this, if anything, is a breach of the peace? Breach of the Peace in Scotland is defined as any behaviour likely to put the lieges into a state of fear, alarm, annoyance or upset. Not so, mrs ishmael, you wimp, it is a happy Local Custom. The most famous occurrence, apparently, was performed on Melanie Richmond, who was covered in tripe, pigs blood and feathers before being marched from Elgin to Aberdeen over the course of five days. It has been known for a bride to struggle down the aisle of St Magnus Cathedral in full wedding dress, supported on crutches, having broken a limb falling from the truck into the harbour.
I'm not going to discuss the god-awful Kabul Airlift. I'm sure there will soon be lots of films and Gunny Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs will be revived to be laconically heroic.
Pen Farthing's fight to get his 173 rescued cats and dogs out of Kabul has been heart-rending. The Sunday Times, quoting some utter fucking bastard - sorry, senior Whitehall official; predicted that DEFRA will euthanise them, saying that "it will be Geronimo the Alpaca on speed". I'm hoping that former marine Paul Farthing will be better able to protect his animals than has Helen Macdonald, Geronimo's mum. Defence Secretary Ben Wallace has involved himself, greatly to his discredit. The Sunday Times published a message to Wallace's SPAD, Peter Quentin, from Pen Farthing, saying he would "spend the rest of my time fucking destroying you on social media and every other fucking platform I can find."
Here's Stanislav on matters dietary, Islamic and Monarchical:
Grand Old Duke of York, Special Representative for International Trade, visits the Middle East drafted 2/12/2010
Is not bloody job of idle, golfing prince of pork bloated-up fucking layabout to argue toss with bloke from Serious fucking Office of Frauds. Useless prat is out there to sell JCB tractor and Mars bar and pork pie from Melton Mowbray, only maybe not pork pie, not to angry muslem bastard - is all fucking angrybastard, innit, muslem bloke, every young muslem bloke stanislav ever meet is like that bloke off seven-seven video, shouty, finger-pointing bastard, need punch in fucking gob and quick rub-down with house brick, is a bit like Jock really, is both cross-dressing, wife-beating degenerate, only Ahmed at least not ginger is - with bad temper and big sword for head-chopping from English infidel, even if pretend prince is only German and Greek misbegotten inbred fucking parasite and not proper English bloke in first place, best forget pork pie and try flogging Gynster Pie and Pasty and Steak Slice, is all bloody rubbish, full up of testicle and foreskin and lips and sawdust and white pepper stuffed in sweepings-up from floor in pastry factory, stroll fucking on, eh, English bloke will eat any old fucking rubbish from garage; sandwich made in West Bromwich sandwich factory and supply every fucking garage in country with sopping wet sandwich full of mayofuckinaise and extruded fucking chicken rubbish, not even fit for dog, or maybe condemned prawn caught around fucking sewer outlets in Irish fucking Sea and good for fuck all is only as fucking fertiliser and is three pounds fucking fifty for this shit, or four, all made by members of West Bromwich Asian community with red dot on forehead and spit on every fucking thing and probably diarrhoea has from eating fucking vindaloo curry four times a fucking day and never washing hands but just go in staff toilet next to refrigerator door and spray thin hot brown shitliquid all round toilet bowl and wipe arse with hand - only not eating hand - come out and shove manky sandwich in plastic fucking triangle for helping fucking bugs breed and get off to head start in stanislav guts with salmofuckinella or some shit like that, load up in bread trays and send all around the country in fleet of dirty, shitty Transit van for busy executive in Audi to buy in garage and eat in car, listening to Radio fucking Two with Steve Wright: And now is Bruce Springsteen singing about his baby, in his car, and both poor is but Thank God, they is both Merkins, same song, nearly forty fucking year, is worse than Elton fucking John. No, really, is no shit, Mrs Elton is just ridiculous, fat old poof and needs piano slamming down on pudgy little fingers and shut bastard up to fuck and happy world get fucking break from Rocket Man and have good few punches in gob, too, and send home to husband on stretcher, Oh shriek, my darling husband, I mean wife, Elton, Oh, shriek, shriek, I was just showing this young male model the view of our bedroom ceiling, honestly, no, no, he has his cock out because he has a rare medical condition and has to get it out in the air every few minutes. Otherwise it catches fire, or something. Oh shriek, shriek, can I get you anything, some cocaine maybe, a bottle or Remy or two. I know, I am an independent film maker, why don't I make an independent film about you and your recovery? Oh, shriek. Shriek fucking shriek!
Probably no market in desert is for Gynster West Bromwich Mechanically Reclaimed Meat Pasty and Condemn Prawn with Mayo and dockleaf sandwich but hooknose, evil-looking raghead Sheikbastard could feed to English loverboys and girls, instead of caviar and champagne and sheep's eyeball, all wash down with cocaine up nose or maybe up in Jacksie, off gold-plated Cartier bumstraw; Jesus fucking wept, is savage, innit?
RUN AND GET THE FIRE BRIGADE. POLITICIANS ON HOLIDAY. 7/8/2011
Interviewed on skymadeupnewsandfilth, Tottenham MP, Mr David Buffoon, NewLabour, said it was all unacceptable, totally unacceptable, that he was being made to look like an utter cunt before the world's media. As usual, blustered the useless bastard, it is a majority of people who think I'm a cunt, and the great minority who voted for me and my fellow MPs must have its voice heard. If there is one thing I would say to the people made homeless by these totally unacceptable events it would be Vote for Me, you can be sure that I will hear your concerns and do nothing about them.
Elsewhere in London, the Mayor, Mr BoJo, could not be found, despite a search being made of whorehouses and coke parlours but a statement issued from his office said that the Mayor would find it absolutely unacceptable, all this shit, rioting and stuff, hadn't he single-handedly secured freebikes4all, yes, and the Olympics, what would all the foreigners think of this shit. I do think that although he has done a fine job that Sir Paul Gob, the Police Commissioner, should consider his position....
What, the blighter's already gone ???? Well his deputy should go, then. Not a moment too soon.
What???? He's gone too???? Well, some sergeants, they should go. The policing of the capitol is a very important matter and not to be left to some coked-up, cock-waving nincompoop. And another thing, this is all the work of a criminal minority, bent on undermining the blah-blah-blah...you all know what I'm saying, help me out here........gosh, I hear they've been looting shops, don't these people have trust funds for their shopping? Anyway, once my holiday is over you can all be assured that I will give this matter my fullest whatchamaycallit, remember my Bullingdon Club motto, cogito ergo dumb, I think but I am an idiot. Not to worry, what, just a handful of wogs playing up, a few water cannon'll sort the buggers out. And hopefully people will see my handling of this great city as an example of how I would rule as Prime Bully, I mean minister. Rotten appointments, rotten police resigning left right and centre and the place up in fucking smoke and me nowhere to be seen.Vote4Boris, what?
A statement from the unelected prime minister's holiday location said that Mr CallHimDave was keeping in close touch with events in wherever it was, some slum in North London. This is exactly why I have a cabinet of millionaires, said the worthless, jumped-up fuckpig and former PR man, to reflect the concerns of the ordinary rioting Briton who hasn't a pot to piss in and my govament taking away what little support there is is a sign of our very great concern that rich people must, simply must, there's no two ways about this, mr deputy speaker, rich people must have more money.
And if the whole fucking country goes up in smoke - only not Chipping Norton or Chequers, obviously - then it will all be as a result of thirteen years of Labour misrule and nothing to do with me. I must say it's a bit rich that the former prime minister has not come to the House to take responsibility for all my fuck ups but at least the people of Britain will know that I am doing everything I can to condemn this stuff as being totally unacceptable in a modern democratic police state. And to all the people who have lost their homes and businesses I simply say a heartfelt shutthefuckup, you're just the first of many.
Here on skymadeupnewsandfilth we will be following this story and if possible fomenting more riots up and down the land as part of our attempts to draw the line under all this Murdoch shit. I'm Kay Burley. Stay tuned or I'll bite your face off.
The Sunday Ishmael Cryptic Crossword Clue, courtesy of mr verge -
We picketed dim strike-breaker here for golden wino. (3,6)
stanislav and mr ishmael's essays today are:
Is not bloody job of idle, golfing prince of pork drafted 2/12/10
Run and Get the Fire Brigade. Politicians on Holiday drafted 7/8/2011
Both anthologies of the work of mr ishmael and Stanislav : Honest Not Invent and Vent Stack - are available to purchase for mere money at Lulu or Amazon. It is cheaper to buy from Lulu. Register an account with Lulu to save a couple of quid, as going straight into the link 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 our 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.)
The full title is "Vent Stack love from stanislav" by ishmael smith, and the cover you'll see is red with white titles and a picture of Buster the Previous Blog Dog having a green thought in a green shade.
Link for the paperback:
shorter link, which might make it easier if you wish to paste it into an email and tell a friend:
Honest, Not Invent is available in paperback or hardback.
Link for Hard Back :
Link for Paper Back :
At checkout, try PROWRITINGAID15, WELCOME15 or TREAT15 in the coupon box, which 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.
With the 15% voucher, the book (including delivery to a UK address) should cost £10.89