It's Conference Season!
For our overseas readers, (and for those who don't pay much attention to the doings of the political classes), in the United Kingdom the political party conference season is held during the three weeks in September and October when the House of Commons has a little holiday, to recover from its big summer holiday. The Liberal Democrats have kicked it off this year, meeting in Bournemouth this weekend. The Conservatives will be next, meeting in Manchester from the 1st to the 4th October, followed by the Greens in Brighton from the 6th to the 8th October and Labour rounds it off in Liverpool from the 8th to the 11th of October. They stagger it like this so that each gets maximum publicity, and can appear on the Laura Kuenssberg Show of a Sunday morning. Mind you, Ed Davey, leader of the Lib Dems, must have been cursing this morning when Laura was inexplicably replaced by attack dog Victoria Derbyshire.
Where's the fragrant Laura? Is she sick? In the Red Tent? Sacked? Dead? All Vicky would say was that: "hello obviously I am not Laura, she couldn't be here today so obviously I have stepped in". So far, so obviously.
What do they do during these conferences? Schmooze, mainly, and have a discussion about what they should be selling to the public as their committed beliefs and ideals.
Anyway, poor chubby Ed Davey
had no chance as Vicky tore into him about Brexit:
Ed: We're talking all about it at our conference quite rightly. You're right that we did fight against Brexit and we voted against Boris Johnson's trade deal. It was a disastrous deal but we were the only ones to vote against it, Labour didn't. We voted against it because we knew it would damage our economy.
Vicky: I'm talking about now. What's the position now?
Ed : It's because of that history that I'm very happy to tell you we remain very pro-European.
His dapper little feet in their highly polished shoes bounced up and down in fear and frustration in realisation that Vicky had backed him into a corner. Actually, it doesn't matter whether the Lib Dems are pro or anti Brexit as they are unlikely to get a sniff at power again. Although, being total and absolute whores, they would jump happily into a coalition with Labour, as Vicky pointed out, despite having been in coalition with the Tories not very long ago.
Ed: Ah, but we fought them. Oh yes we did. I fought David Cameron every day.
Did you, Ed? Really?
It used to be that Conservatives were right wing and Labour were left wing, (although they are both centrists now), nobody knows what the Lib Dems are, and the Greens are hard-loony. Do you know the origin of that archaic expression, left and right wing?
In the summer of 1789, a French revolutionary mob had stormed the Bastille, a mediaeval fortress used as a state prison, to release the King's prisoners. A National Assembly was convened to write a constitution for the revolution's government, a major issue being how much power the King should be allowed to retain. As the debate continued, those Assembly members who thought the King should have an absolute veto sat on the right of the president of the assembly, and those who thought he should not sat on the president's left. That is, the traditionalists on the right and the radicals on the left. Turned out to be academic, really, as they cut his head orf. But, by then, the terms left and right had entered the political discourse. Only to be defeated by Ed Davey, who doesn't know his arse from a hole in the ground, let alone his left from his right, although he'd be quick enough to cosy up to Keir, if offered a place in a Labour Cabinet in return for bringing in a couple of Libery-Demery seats.
Now is the time to engage in a crime spree in London, it seems. Over a hundred Metropolitan Police firearms officers have handed in their weapons, saying "its just not worf it anymore, guv, 'sno fun, innit, yer can't shoot people of colour wivout bein' charged wiv murder, like."
Chris Kaba, a 24 year old black man, was shot in a police operation in South London last year by NX121, a Metropolitan police officer, who was charged with murder on the 20th September this year and released on bail the following day.
Kaba was driving an Audi not registered to him, which had been identified as being linked to a firearms incident the previous day. Police vehicles boxed the car in and witnesses stated that Kaba ignored repeated police instructions to exit the vehicle and tried to ram the Audi through the roadblock, whereupon he was shot through the windscreen. Members of his family said that he would not have been shot dead if he were not black. His cousin said "I've put it out there he wasn't perfect… but regardless of that nobody deserves to be killed by the police unless there is an imminent or direct threat to the public." Sounds like there was an imminent and direct threat to the police officers, as Kaba used his weaponised Audi to attempt to break through the roadblock to escape arrest. Kaba had been released in 2021 from a four year sentence imposed by Snaresbrook Crown Court for possession of an imitation firearm with intent to cause fear of violence. I rather think that a white man, with that known history, with those behaviours and refusal to desist and cooperate would also have been shot in those circumstances, but, of course, it has become a racial cause célèbre.
The other reason that London is not currently effectively policed is the vastly reduced number of police officers on duty. More than 1,000 Metropolitan Police officers, one in 34, are currently suspended or on restricted duties.
Stuart Cundy, Deputy Assistant Commissioner, said the number of affected officers was almost the size of a small police force and that
removing all corrupt officers could take years.
In the past year 100 officers have been sacked for gross misconduct.
275 officers are awaiting a gross misconduct hearing, a significant proportion of which involved alleged violence against women and girls, compared to 136 last year.
Some 450 officers are also being investigated for historic allegations of sexual or domestic violence.
Cundy plans to hold around 30 misconduct hearings and 30 gross incompetence hearings each month, meaning that around 60 officers a month could face dismissal. He said: "This is going to take one, two or more years to root out those who are corrupt."
This is not a case of one or two bad apples, Couzens and Carrick, rogue officers, call them what you will - this is an institution with a culture so misogynist that it needs disbanding and its employees transferred to work that does not involve wearing a uniform, carrying firearms..... anything to do with the public, really. Maybe cleaning off graffiti, picking up rubbish from Britain's beaches or fruit picking. All under strict supervision, of course. Previously known for notorious financial bribery and corruption, the Met's dark culture of sexual violence is now being uncovered.
Mr Sam knows all about the dark underbelly of corruption in his part of London:
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Mr. Sam said...
Harro, Mr Sam here. This afternoon I have visit flom Mr Nkhangweleni Ekundayo and Mr Kaunadodo Odiambo flom Rambeth Council glants department. They say Mr Ken has decleed glant of ten mirrion pounds for lestaulant business in Rambeth! I risten carefurry.
They bling out form and ask: "Are you lefugee or asyrum seeker?"
"No."
"Are you Reninist, Tlot, or other reft-ring levorutionaly?"
"No."
"Are you Musrim, Congorese, or come flom Argelia, Rybia, Cameloon, Somaria or Callibean?"
"No."
"Are you otherlise brack?"
"No."
"Are you plepared to put hand on Kolan, or Book of Gaia as autholised by gleat grobal warning plophet Mr James Roverock (Hory Bibre and Engrish scliptures not acceptabre) and predge "I plomise vote Ken at next erection?"
"No, I not vote Mr Ken."
"You not erigibre for any glant then" say Mr Nkhangweleni.
"Oh preese! I work velly hard but not easy to make riving in Rundon. All plofit go to Mr Ken tax".
"We could bend the lures a rittle" say Mr Kaunadodo.
"How?"
"Do you have good rine?"
"Yes we have excerrent house rine."
"I was consideling better rine."
"I have case of Chateau Rafite 1994, worth hundled pounds a bottre."
"OK, we take that. Put Mr Sam down for a tenner, Nkhangweleni."
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Harro, Mr Sam here. This afternoon I have visit flom Mr Nkhangweleni Ekundayo and Mr Kaunadodo Odiambo flom Rambeth Council glants department. They say Mr Ken has decleed glant of ten mirrion pounds for lestaulant business in Rambeth! I risten carefurry.
They bling out form and ask: "Are you lefugee or asyrum seeker?"
"No."
"Are you Reninist, Tlot, or other reft-ring levorutionaly?"
"No."
"Are you Musrim, Congorese, or come flom Argelia, Rybia, Cameloon, Somaria or Callibean?"
"No."
"Are you otherlise brack?"
"No."
"Are you plepared to put hand on Kolan, or Book of Gaia as autholised by gleat grobal warning plophet Mr James Roverock (Hory Bibre and Engrish scliptures not acceptabre) and predge "I plomise vote Ken at next erection?"
"No, I not vote Mr Ken."
"You not erigibre for any glant then" say Mr Nkhangweleni.
"Oh preese! I work velly hard but not easy to make riving in Rundon. All plofit go to Mr Ken tax".
"We could bend the lures a rittle" say Mr Kaunadodo.
"How?"
"Do you have good rine?"
"Yes we have excerrent house rine."
"I was consideling better rine."
"I have case of Chateau Rafite 1994, worth hundled pounds a bottre."
"OK, we take that. Put Mr Sam down for a tenner, Nkhangweleni."
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Harro! Mr Sam here, pleviously owner of Fuk Yoo Ken lestaulant in Rambeth,
South Rundon. Solly I not lite retter more often but lestaulant had to crose
down. Lates so high in Rundon, I cannot afford to lun rarge business. So I open
rittle takeaway in Rewisham.
Mr Guido* just say Mr Ed Bores get rots of Musrim money. Perhaps I appry for
glant flom Alab too. Anyway...
My old crient Mr Ken Rivingstone, Mayor of Rundon, come to see me rast reek. He want to hold runch in memoly of young Mr Stephen Rollence, a brack boy srayed in plime of rife. They elect monument and office brock for him, but grass was bloken by hoorigans and feckress rayabouts. Disglaceful.
Mr Ken want me to plovide runch for 20 at City Hore, office of RDA. I ask him why he want Chinese runch when boy was Aflican.
"Because we sprit 50-50, you plick" said Mr Ken. "I road the bill, you take half of plofit. My flend Mr Ree Glasper** alrays do it"
I not rike this collupt frimfram, but I go arong with it or they crose down takeaway too.
"OK Mr Ken, I cook you runch" I say.
Come Fliday, I take runch over to City Hore with Miss Yasmin, waitless, and Mr Fu, chef. I lecognise faces of porriticians who Mr Ken bling to rast Fuk Yoo Ken lestaulant. Miss Halliot Harperson, Mr Mirriband, Miss Brears, Mr Ree Glasper and plinciple guest Mrs Dorleen Rollence. Mr Gobbrer not there today.
I wully about this gloup. Mr Ken and Mr Ree say they rike Chinese glub. I think they rie. They ray on carnival and palade for Year of Lat, but I think it is for porritical upsucking to Chinese and Mandolins.
Mr Ree say: "What the fuck is this, wack? Fuckin chinkie? A bruddy stir fly? Stephen was a brack boy! We want Callibean runch - citlus jerk, prantain, mirret, bledfloot and loot beer. We cannot fratter up Mrs Rollence with this clap.
Miss Halliot intellupt: "You must not talk to Mr Sam rike that, Ree. He deserve lespect as minollity.
"Fuck you, Halliot. Chinese are all fucking capitarist, ey, ey. All lich, fukin roaded. Mr Sam tell me he was pranning to vote Mr Bollis, the sritty clunt."
Miss Halliot say: "Ken, prease stop them bickeling. You learise there are votes in Chinese rundoners? We not want Mr Sam to deneglate Rabour when he reave.
"VOTES, VOTES?" say Mr Ken. "Oh shit."
Mr Ken then reap off chair and plostlate himself on froor. He frail arms and beat his blest.
"I aporrogise, Mr Sam, I aporrogise for all past longdoings to Chinese popuration. I glovel in all humirrity to beg absorution and cremency. Prease be reenient on me and give me lerease flom this tellibre road. Preese fray me with rashes. I letlact compretely, I offer any lepalation you rish".
"But you not do longdoings to Chinese popuration, Mr Ken".
"Yes I do, I do. I comprain about erectlic lazor made by Zhejiang Yongkang Tepai Erectlical Appriance Company"
"But I not know Zhejiang Yongkang Tepai Company"
"They are your blother, your cuntlymen, your lerratives, your offspling. I comprain lazor not working and now I am liddled with disglace and opploblium. I leglet, I rament. Preese vote for me."
"Shut up, Rivinginstone you plat," say Mr Ree. "He's a fuckin sritty, not brack or Callibean. No use to me. Shut up or I might just brab to pless about your fring with radyboy in bendy bus."
"OK Ree, you rin. Pass the lice rine."
My old crient Mr Ken Rivingstone, Mayor of Rundon, come to see me rast reek. He want to hold runch in memoly of young Mr Stephen Rollence, a brack boy srayed in plime of rife. They elect monument and office brock for him, but grass was bloken by hoorigans and feckress rayabouts. Disglaceful.
Mr Ken want me to plovide runch for 20 at City Hore, office of RDA. I ask him why he want Chinese runch when boy was Aflican.
"Because we sprit 50-50, you plick" said Mr Ken. "I road the bill, you take half of plofit. My flend Mr Ree Glasper** alrays do it"
I not rike this collupt frimfram, but I go arong with it or they crose down takeaway too.
"OK Mr Ken, I cook you runch" I say.
Come Fliday, I take runch over to City Hore with Miss Yasmin, waitless, and Mr Fu, chef. I lecognise faces of porriticians who Mr Ken bling to rast Fuk Yoo Ken lestaulant. Miss Halliot Harperson, Mr Mirriband, Miss Brears, Mr Ree Glasper and plinciple guest Mrs Dorleen Rollence. Mr Gobbrer not there today.
I wully about this gloup. Mr Ken and Mr Ree say they rike Chinese glub. I think they rie. They ray on carnival and palade for Year of Lat, but I think it is for porritical upsucking to Chinese and Mandolins.
Mr Ree say: "What the fuck is this, wack? Fuckin chinkie? A bruddy stir fly? Stephen was a brack boy! We want Callibean runch - citlus jerk, prantain, mirret, bledfloot and loot beer. We cannot fratter up Mrs Rollence with this clap.
Miss Halliot intellupt: "You must not talk to Mr Sam rike that, Ree. He deserve lespect as minollity.
"Fuck you, Halliot. Chinese are all fucking capitarist, ey, ey. All lich, fukin roaded. Mr Sam tell me he was pranning to vote Mr Bollis, the sritty clunt."
Miss Halliot say: "Ken, prease stop them bickeling. You learise there are votes in Chinese rundoners? We not want Mr Sam to deneglate Rabour when he reave.
"VOTES, VOTES?" say Mr Ken. "Oh shit."
Mr Ken then reap off chair and plostlate himself on froor. He frail arms and beat his blest.
"I aporrogise, Mr Sam, I aporrogise for all past longdoings to Chinese popuration. I glovel in all humirrity to beg absorution and cremency. Prease be reenient on me and give me lerease flom this tellibre road. Preese fray me with rashes. I letlact compretely, I offer any lepalation you rish".
"But you not do longdoings to Chinese popuration, Mr Ken".
"Yes I do, I do. I comprain about erectlic lazor made by Zhejiang Yongkang Tepai Erectlical Appriance Company"
"But I not know Zhejiang Yongkang Tepai Company"
"They are your blother, your cuntlymen, your lerratives, your offspling. I comprain lazor not working and now I am liddled with disglace and opploblium. I leglet, I rament. Preese vote for me."
"Shut up, Rivinginstone you plat," say Mr Ree. "He's a fuckin sritty, not brack or Callibean. No use to me. Shut up or I might just brab to pless about your fring with radyboy in bendy bus."
"OK Ree, you rin. Pass the lice rine."
--------------------------------------
*Mr. Guido: Guido Fawkes – Parliamentary Plots, News, Gossip and Tittle Tattle, to be found at order-order.com, a right wing political blog, to which stanislav, the young polish plumber, and mr ishmael were regular correspondents back in the day.
** Mr Ree Glasper - see Sunday Ishmael, 17/09/23 "Lee Jasper (born 4 November 1958), Professional Black Person, father of 9 children and grandfather of 5, is a British politician and race relations activist."
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The Call Me Ishmael oeuvre now comprises four volumes, thanks to editor mr verge.
Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are 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 lulu.com. 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 : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr
Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux
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.
With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.
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12 comments:
Let us dispose of Ed Davey first, mrs i. And speaking as a liberal Liberal who voted Dogshooting Liberal the day Mrs T took the throne, I can only say that the man is an utter halfwit. In fact on his best day he would make about two-thirds of a half-wit. Whatever he says, the opposite is the truth. Whatever he thinks, the opposite is correct. It's actually a useful rule of thumb for working out what's going on. If the LibDems are for it, it is tyranny on styilts; if they are against it, it might just allow a tiddly bit more commonsense or freedom to emerge blinking and astounded into the light.
As for the other matter, as we know, ACAB. Even if they didn't start out that way, that's how they end up. On this matter though, they are very far from the worst. Getting tooled up in their Darth vader kit and speeding is their gig. (They probably shag their poor missuses in that kit, you know, for the authentic feel of power unbridled. Just saying, and don't tell mr v. That anagram shit is bad for him.) But they don't actually shoot many of us. 2 or 3 in a bad year and given what goes on, that ain't bad.
Now, I know that this doesn't count all the falling down stairs and accidental throttlings that are the daily lot of the inebriated poor or mentally ill bastards in the cells of our police stations but that's another tale.
Jesus, mr mike! Did you send the B team by accident? I have never seen a poorer display of rugby from your lot.
Embarrassing, Mr mongoose. It was the B team. Its just been leaked that Eddie was in negotiations with Japan, just at the start of RWC, for a job coaching Japan.
But the plot was lost about 10 years ago when they started using big, burly, Pacific Islanders in the team, whereas Australia has traditionally been a white, fast and skillful team (with some exceptions like the Ella brothers). Its not just Rugby where the plot has been lost Down Here.
On the other hand this could be a great RWC. Ireland, Fiji, Argentina; SA lost. The All Blacks? Its wide open.
I think you have previously confessed to having voted Liberal back when you were a boy, mr mongoose. I can see it has been preying on your mind all these decades. Don't beat yourself up - many of us have been guilty of a bit of strategic voting - I have voted Liberal Democrat myself since fetching up in Orkney, to keep Big Al Carmichael's fundament firmly ensconced in Westminster in order to thwart the SNP. And, as every fule knows, I'm really not a Liberal. Anyway, Act of Contrition, one Our Father and four Hail Marys and that's you absolved.
I daresay mr verge will respond to your anagrammatical aspersions and possibly the rugby chit chat, as he's a bit of a rugger bugger himself, I understand.
Only a bit, mrs ish, specifically the bit I get from my Welsh mother; so yes, it was an unexpected treat, especially with the Wallaby coach being such a virtuoso dickhead.
ACAB, mr mongoose, may have deeper treasures but the best I can do for now is "retards' cabal prolapses", which does nicely for the way they appear to be buttoning their holsters in a (hate to say it but understandable) huff.
cheers
v./
The paddies v the saffers was a brutal game played straight. No cards, no foul play, and refereed well too to be fair. It's either of them or the French to win. The Irish are probably the best of the three but any of them are a couple of injuries away from being in trouble. The Frog No9's surgery may even be the thing that scuppers them but it is v hard to beat the Frogs at home. We shall see.
I think on this one occasion the bobbies probably have a point. And God help us all if we get the army on the streets with their shooters. Did nobody notice Bloody Sunday?
may i just say how sorry i am to hear of mr buster's death - indeed, this sad news has left me so deeply bereft that i have not since been able to bring myself to comment hereabouts.
as your longtime loyal companion and guardian, mr buster will be sorely missed not only by your good self, but by all who visit his blog - and given mr buster's great capacity as your carer, i trust he has made adequate provision for you, now that he has sadly passed.
well, i hate to be the blog-contrarian, however with regard to the killing of chris kaba, i have to dissent: the recent murder-charge in this case - brought against the armed policeman - must, i deduce, be predicated upon evidence which, regardless of mr kaba's reportedly reckless actions, indicates that there was not in fact an imminent and direct threat to either police-officers or the general public.
Thank you for your condolences, mr ultrapox: my little warm brown friend passed away, aged 12, on the 19th July and his death has left me heart broken. His name was Harris and there was never such an intelligent, kind, friendly little dog in the whole world. Buster was the former blog dog, who passed away a decade ago. Their lives are so short, their passing so mourned. I no longer have a little companion animal in my life - it is all too distressing.
mrs ishmael, may i make my apologies for misnaming the late mr harris - and also re-affirm my condolences to you for your loss.
Mrs I: if I may be impertinent for a moment: you should seek out another little furry companion; there are may rescue dogs who would welcome your care; in return they will provide you with love, companionship, and much happiness.
due to an unforeseen crisis in the housing-market, mrs ishmael, i am currently the subject of a no-fault eviction-notice - and seeking a new home.
i love wooden furniture, soft furnishings, and little children.
Thank you, gentlemen - it is very tempting, and I've not been without a dog in my life for over three decades, but I couldn't contemplate it at present, as the grief is still very raw. And I'm away on my travels at the end of the month. Who knows what next year may bring?
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