Sunday 13 November 2022

The Sunday Ishmael 13/11/2022

 Learn Economics with mrs ishmael
Jeremy Cunt was on the Laura Kuenssnose show this morning. He accused her of having a hard nose. Steady on, old boy - pots and kettles, not so bad in the hard proboscis department yourself:
Anyway, turns out Britain is suffering from Inflation and Recession. Which is a bit of a problem, the remedies for I&R being diametrically opposed.
Inflation = Caused by too much money chasing too few goods. Remedy -  stop people spending so much. Increase taxation and increase interest rates so they haven't got any bloody money.
Recession = Caused by people not buying stuff because they haven't got any bloody money. Remedy - get people to spend more by reducing taxation and interest rates.
There you have it - the impossible equation. Jeremy Cunt will give us his solution on Thursday. He's already told us that everyone will pay more taxes and that there will be spending cuts. This will inevitably cause the existing recession to worsen. Cunty said that he hopes that it will be shallow and short-lived. Yes, I hope so, too. Not holding my breath, though. 
Also appearing on the Hard-Nosed Laura Show was Simon Bloody Schama, there to promote his latest TV piece of popular history. He told us that the Arts are not a luxury. Oh, yes, they are, dearie - just ask the single parent in the substandard tower block or the Albanian migrant in the Dover processing centre. He wanted to address the elephant in the room,
 Sweet Old Simon Bloody Gay-Schama saying the crops are rotting in the fields due to a post-Brexit lack of European slaves to pick them. He hasn't moved on to the current Ukrainian Elephant.
The huge drain on the economy of supporting the belligerent Dwarf Zelensky with weaponry and military training; the consequences of sanctions against Russia and the downright idiocy of blowing up the Nordstream pipelines seem to have slid right on by Simon Bloody Schama.  (Why is he Simon Bloody Schama, mrs ishmael, you may ask? Seems an inoffensive old git. Now that you ask, 'twas all that striding prettily along Orkney's beaches, hair twirling in the breeze, camera lingering on stone circles, stone tables, mysterious monoliths and burial chambers
that brought Orkney to the attention of mr ishmael. And the rest, as Simon Bloody Schama might say, is history.)
Fortunately, Radakin was there, all medalled and poppied up,  
to let us know that there's a war on and that we have to resist the assault to our beliefs and values that's going on, not just in London, but in Edinburgh, Belfast, Cardiff and our towns and cities all across the globe. Bit worrying that the Chief of the Defence Staff appears to be labouring under the misapprehension that Britain has towns and cities across the globe - but then he's not looking too good these days - it must be the strain of running the secret war. Laura Hardnose told him that last week a Russian aircraft released a missile in the vicinity of a British plane, at which the good Admiral looked a little surprised, but rallied rapidly and riposted that we have to be clear with our leadership. Undaunted, Laura told him that he had been to speak to Prime Minister Rishi and Jeremy Cunt last week to tell them how much money he wants to run the war, and could we know how much, please? Struggling to avoid any sort of meaningful answer, Admiral Tony committed to saying that the Ministry of Defence doesn't want any cuts in defence spending as there are long-term threats so there must be long-term investment.
There always are. Threats, that is. And if there aren't any, the clever fellows with the medals will poke about until there are some. I have come to the conclusion that human beings, a fairly flawed species, enjoy war. It is just the way of it. Human nature. I was at a Remembrance event in a little, isolated church, where the tiny congregation had knitted 600 poppies to commemorate the fallen of their parish. The local children had researched the stories of the fallen. One widow's three sons had all gone off to the Great War and, one by one, each had died. It was policy to keep brothers and friends in the same unit as they would be less likely to run away - the only sensible action, having committed the folly of going in the first place.

Oh, the pity of it, the pity of it. 
9,750 veterans were expected at the Cenotaph in London today, parading for an audience of 10,000. See, Simon Bloody Schama, you can make Art out of anything. The number of veterans the highest ever. Why's that? Because we have been in a state of perpetual war during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. 
The War Queen

Apparently someone chucked eggs at Mr & Mrs KC3 in York earlier.  Missed, of course - probably went to the wrong sort of school and never learned to throw properly. This is the statue of the QE2 that the Betters were on their way to view. She looks up for a scrap. That's what you need in a War Queen - belligerence in a long dress with a ceremonial doughnut on her shoulder.

Here's a poem and an essay by mr ishmael.

I wrote this last year, Kipling's not the only poet I know, some of my best friends, if I had any, would be poets.  I say I wrote it but maybe I just, what's the word, channeled it, wrote it straight down without a correction. I like it better this year, it rolls along with an unstoppable venom, who knows where it came from, the shitegeist, maybe.  And given the rubbish that will be published along these lines, I make no apologies for posting it again.  The names and faces have changed, even though it's the same old names and faces, spouting the same old cant, just playing musical chairs, with the quick and the dead.

It is now  the eleventh day of the eleventh month; if you are visiting here,  maybe summonsed by a cyber prompt, maybe just wandering, spare a moment or two.


Oh they're wearing fancy poppies, as they're lined-up in the Mall
But they're no-good, thieving bastards, rotten cowards one and all
Rotten cowards one and all,  lads, rotten cowards one and all
And they're wearing solemn faces, as they're standing in the Mall.

And you'd think that they was 'oly, with their kissers all turned down
And a look so bleedin' pious you'd think the angels 'ad come down,
The angels 'ad come down, me lads, the angels 'ad come down
And blessed 'em all, for bein' such a sorry bunch of clowns.
A sorry bunch of clowns, me lads, all standin' in a row.
Got-up like tailors' dummies, the lowest of the low.

They do this once a year, me lads, the flags and all the tears
But we live with their rottenness, for years and bloody years.

Was the improvised explosive, done the damage to the lads
And they might have fared right better had they been in armoured cabs,
But they never spent the money, so the lads all 'ad it rough
While Bobby Bleedin' Ainsworth, 'ad is nose stuck in the trough,
'is nose stuck in the trough, me lads, 'is nose stuck in the trough.
'E 'ad 'is fingers in our pockets, an' 'is nose stuck in the trough.

Some is living in an 'ostel, some is livin' on the street
There's some 'as got no ears, no eyes, and some 'as got no feet.
And some 'as got no feet me lads, and some 'as got no feet.
Oh, it's hard to go a-marching, when you hasn't got no feet.

And some 'as melted faces, make the children look away,
Make their wives and girlfriends shudder, though they'd never like to say
That there's worser things than dyin', like comin 'ome this way.
They can do wonders, now, with plastic
Or so the doctors say.

And some is off on jailhouse leave, and can't be here today,
The Judge, y'see, he banged 'im up for ever and a day.
'E banged 'im up for fightin; but that's what soldiers do
And when he's got no war to fight, 'e 'as trouble getting through
Trouble getting' through, me lads, when all the shootin' stops 
And no-one wants to know 'im, just the prisons and the cops
The prisons and the cops, me lads, stick in a soldier's craw
Cos those what sent 'im killin' is far beyond the law.

If I but stole a fiver, now, from comrade next to me
I'd be on charges, sharpish, there, for everyone to see
They'll never get their collars felt, however much they steal
It's like that Alan Duncan said, a splendid fucking deal.
They write the rules, then break 'em, say they didn't understand.
They're shitting in our faces, up an down the bleedin' land
Shittin' in our faces, just as hard as e'er they can.

Pissin' in our pockets and spitting in our eyes
And travellin' on the gravytrain to the house of bleedin' lies.
An Armistice, all of their own, and no-one got no blame
They just paid a few shillings back and carried on the same.
Carried on the same, me lads, for now and evermore
Stuffed like pigs and drunk with power, while we go off to war.

The members and right honourables know only how to lie
And cheat and steal and fornicate, whilst we march off to die
In some benighted wogland, some jungle, veldt or bush
Or in the hills and mountains of the Hindu bleedin' Kush
The Hindu bleedin' Kush, me lads, you'd think they'd understand
That the killing fields of Afghannystan are No Man's Bleedin' Land.
No Man's Bleedin' Land, me boys, and it was ever thus
They shoot from caves and run away, in the Hindu bleedin' Kush.

There's Charlie in 'is medals, heir to the bleedin' throne,
The one what we're out fightin' for, while he's sitting safe at home.
E'll 'ave yer Mrs, like as not, you give 'im 'alf a chance
He just takes what he wants, you see, it only takes a glance
For he is true nobility, the country's pride and joy
Whilst we are noble savages, cannon fodder to deploy.
They'll send us up to fiery death, and out in unsafe trucks
And when we're blown to Kingdom Come, why, no-one gives a fuck.

But when we come in sixes, with coffins draped in flags
They look a bit embarrassed, like, they're just a bunch of slags
Just a bunch of slags, me lads, all standin' ramrod straight
They'll smile and say So sorry, just a simple twist of fate
I would have gone myself, you know, but I'm important here,
We also serve, we lousy pricks, who only stand and wait.

You can put your bleedin' poppies where the Sun don't never shine
For hypocrisy's your only creed, you ain't no friend of mine
You ain't no friend of no-one's, if the truth was only told
To the boys you send to bleed and die and never to grow old.
It wouldn't do for your sons, all to the manner born
To die alone in foreign fields, forgotten and forlorn
To die alone in foreign fields, forgotten and forlorn
That's the stuff for me and mine, our bodies ripped and torn.

So you can put your bleedin' poppies where the monkey put his nuts
The only thing we've seen from you is cuts and bleedin' cuts'
And some ain't got no bullets and some ain't got no boots
And some are boys of seventeen, just bleedin' young recruits
Bleeding young recruits, me lads, all blown to smithereens,
They never saw their twenty-first, they never left their teens.

See, they're only paper flowers and you're only paper men
And if the call to valour came you'd cut and run again.
But paper flowers, that's the thing, to show you are sincere
And shiny shoes an' overcoats, that's why you're standin' ere.
We're soldiers of the Queen, me lads, and not this sorry bunch
Who steal their houses, dodge their tax and steal their bleedin' lunch
They're one step down from parasite, a squalid learning curve
Lets hope before they meet their end, they get what they deserve.

Oh they're wearing fancy poppies, as they're lined-up in the Mall
But they're no-good, thieving bastards, rotten cowards one and all
Rotten cowards one and all, lads, rotten cowards one and all
And they're wearing solemn faces, as they're standing in the Mall.
I came across this exchange, somewhen in the Comments:
call me ishmael said...
How can you say such things, ms agatha? What have I done, that you would consign me thus, to skymadeupnewsandfilth?

Agatha said...
I was thinking more in terms of a book, dear sir: The collected insights of Ishmael and his good friend Stanislav, with occasional contributions from Buster.

Twelve years later, thanks to editor mr. verge, there are now three books of the collected works of ishmael smith:
Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack  and Ishmael’s Blues all available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.
Ishmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps :
please register an account first, at This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box.  Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.
Link for Hardcover :
Link for Paperback :
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 " voucher code" and see what comes up.  
With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.


Mike said...

This current war will be the war that ends all wars.

At this point, Russia has eliminated the Ukie army (estimated 120,000 killed and 250,00 wounded beyond further use); all the original Ukie (NATO supplied) kit is destroyed - in fact, Russia has destroyed more tanks and planes than the Ukies started out with. Now Russia is fighting and destroying NATO - it just happens to be on the fields of Ukraine. This was always the plan - to draw in NATO and the West. Of all western countries, Britain is the most invested and will suffer the most.

At the same time Russia is destroying the Western economies - the crunch will come in 2023.

And furthermore, despite all the propaganda and bollocks, the majority of the world sides with Russia (and China). India and Turkey move towards Eurasia; Saudi Arabia has applied to join BRICS - this is the death knell for the dollar.

mrs ishmael said...

You paint a very different picture from the official BBC version, mr mike. We are told that Russia is in retreat, has withdrawn from Kherson in disarray across the Dnipro and that Russian soldiers stranded on the West Bank have been told to dress in civilian clothes, bury their uniforms and blend in. Ukrainians draped in flags are jubilant in the streets of Kherson, where Zelensky has staged a walk-through, distributing medals and selfies.
The destruction of the Western economies is plain to see.
Will it be the war that ends all wars? Only if it succeeds in wiping out the human race, so addicted to warfare is the species. Every year we celebrate it on Remembrance Day.

Mike said...

The British MSM is total propaganda and lies Mrs I. It has really shocedk me - so much so I now question what I took for granted over most of my life.

ultrapox said...

thank you, mr and mrs ishmael, for painting that dreadfully accurate picture of our nasty neo-imperialist establishment in all its decadence; in fact, for the sake of the historical record, i have tracked down the full un-edited photo of our great nation's seven extant ex-leaders as they stand in attendance at this year's service-of-remembrance - awkward, shuffling in unease, and not knowing where to look - and have duly entitled it: "shit prime ministers we have known".

have we not yet instituted some socially expedient sin-bin for ex british prime ministers, into which they can be dropped at the end of their term, and onto which we can then just pop the lid - in order to forget the evil war-mongering bastards, forever?

do we really have to watch these noncing neo-colonial war-criminals as they line up, each fucking year, blood-soaked begging-bouquets in hand, for their generous genocide-linked public pensions?

ultrapox said...

quite, mr mike, like many true-blue tories here in tunbridge, i have torn up my tv-licence in disgust.

mrs ishmael said...

Well done, mr ultrapox, what a photo! They have arranged themselves in chronological order! Gordon is giving John the hard stare for putting his foot over the line, Dave is doing the same to Gordon and Boris appears to be wearing the jacket of one suit with the trousers of another, wholly different one.

ultrapox said...

in the class-photo, the downing street discards appear a bit on the chubby side, mrs ishmael: do you think they're all wearing their teflon-undies, perhaps?

i have also chanced upon a rather compelling snap of the former pow being brusquely button-holed by the late banking-luminary, sir evelyn de rothschild, and just wondered whether this noble image might, at the risk of undue anti-semitic commentary bubbling to the surface, form suitable future material for one of your famous call me ishmael caption-comps? of course, in light of these two aristo-families' recent bereavements, you might, at the current sombre time, consider it somewhat 'too soon' for such photographic publication in the pursuit of parody...

mrs ishmael said...

The relief of no longer being in charge seems to have gone straight to their waist-lines, mr ultrapox, particularly that of Boris, who seems to have packed back on all the weight he lost after his Covid brush with death. Maybe that is why he is wearing two different suits?
Thanks for the suggestion for a new Caption Competition. I'll have a bit of a think about it. At the moment, though, I'm more than a bit worried by the Poland development. mr mike warned us that NATO would be drawn in - and we see that it has happened. The G20 leaders will no doubt have a chat about it.

ultrapox said...

are you by-any-chance an agent of the illuminati, mrs ishmael?

mrs ishmael said...

Steady on, mr ultrapox - if I am, I couldn't possibly tell you.Secret, innit?
The illuminati, founded in Bavaria in 1776, its goals being to oppose superstition, obscurantism, religious influence over public life and abuses of state power, specifically excluded from membership Jews, pagans, women, monks and members of other secret societies. So that's me ruled out on two grounds.

mrs ishmael said...

So the G20 leaders have had a bit of a chat and decided that it was An Accident. The Accidental missile, although Russian in make, was not fired by, with or from, Russia. Nor was it fired by Ukraine on their Polish allies in an attempt to draw NATO openly into the war in order to bolster their war effort to drive they Rooskies from territory claimed by Ukraine from time immemorial, or to at least get their hands on air-fired missile systems. For which they have been asking for quite a while. The Accident churned up a farm and killed two farmers, which seems quite specific targeting to create minimal damage and maximum publicity impact. Just saying.
Come on, mr mike, what's your take on this?

Mike said...

Mrs I, its been proven conclusively it was a Ukrainian anti-aircraft missile. Went astray after trying to shoot down a Russian missile. The pictures of the missile fragments, particularly the engine and its markings, show its an S300 missile of Ukrainian origin.

BTW the daily extensive missile strikes from Russia on Ukraine are hardly mentioned in Western MSM.

Mike said...

PS the interesting fact about this missile incident is that the NATO (ie US) air defences in Poland failed to detect let alone destroy the old Soviet era missile. NATO is now spinning that they did detect it but saw no hostile intent - which of course is bollocks.

In a roundabout sort of way this may have cooled down the crazies who want to have a go at Russia, since its is clear that Europe and the US has no credible missile defences.

BTW the latest 90+ Russian missile barrage was of stealthy long range (4500km+) pin-point cruise missiles - range enough to hit anything in Europe and the UK.

mrs ishmael said...

wish I hadn't asked. Your concluding sentence, mr mike, depresses the life out of me. Just glad that everyone is staying with the Accident theory and that there are some voices now calling on Zelensky to sue for peace.
We have been told about the Russian missile barrage, by the way.

Mike said...

Have no fear, Mrs I. I don't for one moment think that Russia will attack the UK, unless the UK does something incredibly stupid - OK that's a possibility, and blowing up NS1/2 and the Kerch Bridge was not a good sign. But if it is any consolation, at hypersonic speed you won't hear it coming.

Mike said...

I now read that because of interest rate rises etc, the size of the black hole in Britain's finances is this year not 50 billion but 70 billion. It will only get bigger. Oil and gas prices are rising after a short lull. I wish I could offer some good news, but I can't.

mrs ishmael said...

mr mike, your idea of consolation leaves a great deal to be desired. I suppose a nuclear missile delivered at hypersonic speed will at least save me doing the washing up. You know what Christ said: "the washing-up - it is always with you".
Today's the day when Jeremy Cunt will explain, in his Autumn Statement, how he is going to fill in that black hole, ensure growth for all, allow the Conservatives to continue to conserve their wealth, put food on the table, money in our pockets and turn on the nation's radiators. Or not.