The Sunday Ishmael: 02/11/2025

 

That square head, ferocious expression, arrogant tilt of the head... Baby Grumpling hasn't changed a bit.

Speaking on the BBC’s Sunday with Laura Kuenssberg, Jeremy Vine predicted that Andrew Windsor will be in an American jail five years from now. He said: “I wonder whether the Americans will now think, OK, we can go for him. I think they’ll start some extradition proceedings on him – because now he has no protection....

That must be a signal to the FBI and others that they can now look into him properly.”

Delightful prospect though that well may be, especially as it appears that we are to be denied the full Degradation Ceremony  of his Knight of the Garter stuff being thrown out of St George's Chapel by his fellow knights, I wonder if jail isn't a little over the top?

Yes, I know that from those to whom much has been given, much is required, and Andrew really let the side down, consistently, his entire life, but what crimes has he committed? Being a good friend of a paedophile isn't in itself, a crime, as his big brother would attest; even though it is pretty offensive, it isn't an offence to be nonce-adjacent.

Having consensual sex with a 17 year old prostitute in London isn't an offence, although some would argue it should be.

I'm reading Nobody's Child at present, Virginia Guiffre's autobiography, published after her suicide. It is a tough read. Virginia alleges that she was sexually abused by her father from the age of five or six, and that her father also lent her to his friend Forrest to be abused. Forrest was convicted of sexually abusing his own daughter and served a prison sentence. Virginia's father denies that he sexually abused her. Her mother was violent towards her, accusing Virginia of trying to steal her husband. Incarceration in a juvenile "therapeutic" centre led to running away, further abuse, involvement with alcohol and drugs. In 1997, at the age of 13, Virginia was living on the streets of Miami Beach when she was approached by Ron Eppinger, then in his sixties, and promised food, shelter, and modelling work. Instead, Virginia was imprisoned in Eppinger’s Miami apartment together with other trafficked girls, many from Eastern Europe. She was systematically drugged, abused, and trained to work as an escort for wealthy clients. In early 1998, after an FBI raid at another pimp’s home, Virginia was rescued. She cooperated with the FBI, providing the testimony that secured Eppinger’s conviction. He died in prison two years later. 

These experiences prepared her as a suitable candidate when Ghislaine Maxwell spotted her for Epstein's luxurious stable of trafficked girls. 

Epstein died in prison - supposedly of suicide, allegedly murdered to protect the reputations of the rich and powerful men to whom he pimped teenage prostitutes. Maxwell is in prison.

But Andrew? Baby Grumpling? Randy Andy? Falklands War-Hero? The Special Representative for International Trade and Investment - with a brief to travel the world, meet wealthy men and ask them for money? 

I was on court duty in Birmingham Crown Court one day last century, when a middle-aged Trainspotter was sentenced, having been caught cock in arse, as it were, with a 12 year old boy, by the Transport Police. In the old paedophile's defence, much was made of the fact that the lad was an experienced prostitute, who frequented the railway station for business and was well known for soliciting. The Court was told that the boy's  spontaneous anal dilation was evidential of much use. The Judge, God bless him, was having none of this. "It may well be," he said in his dry lawyerly intonation, "that the child solicited the defendant's behaviour, and that he had done so on numerous previous occasions. However, it is the duty of the adult to protect the child from himself and not exploit his vulnerability."

The boy was 12. Virginia was 17. 

If he does go to jail, as Vine predicts, it can only be that the opening of the sealed Epstein papers reveal that Andrew committed criminal offences that have not yet come to light. 

So far, he does not appear to have committed an offence. I didn't say he wasn't offensive - he is. Morally very dubious - which kind of tars Sarah Ferguson with the same brush, as she has "stood by him", or, more like, ridden on his expensively-tailored coat-tails; but criminal? 

King Charles is desperately rowing-back from association with his arrogant, entitled, poverty-stricken (it is relative), sexually incontinent, oaf of a brother. Maybe it will be enough to save the Monarchy. But Charles, who has done a lot in his time to jeopardise the throne (remember the Tampax phone call? Committing adultery with the wife of a brother officer? Appointing the paedophile Saville to be his first wife's marriage guidance counsellor? ), clearly thinks that Andrew is an existential threat to the Ruritanean privilege and high living he and his family have enjoyed for centuries. Millenia, even. Taking the titles and Royal Lodge away may be too late to repair the damage. I certainly hope so. But, mrs ishmael, goes the cry, without a monarchy, we'll have President Blair. Why so? I cheerily rejoinder. Why, in a democracy, do we require an unelected Head of State? We have a Prime Minister and an Upper and Lower House. We can vote the Government in or out every 5 years. That's enough. 

It's not as if any of this Andrew shit is new news. mr ishmael wrote the following essay in 2011 - that's 14 years ago. We can hardly say that the Royal Family has been in a tearing hurry to salvage its reputation and dump Andrew in the trash compactor. 

"In a Buckingham Palace crackdown on expenditure on petrol, His Most Serene Highness Prince Andrew has been told he must now walk everywhere, the greedy, idle bastard.

By the left, quick march

  The way things are going in the Middle East, with the Muzzies,  said Queen Brenda,  the price of petrol could soon reach ten shillings a gallon,  the least one can do is insist that one's second son walks to these under-age sex engagements which he regularly performs on behalf of the whole nation.

Queen Brenda at work.

Fuck Me, One's Govament is a bunch of shit-eating nutters

Commenting on the Duke of  Cock's association with a jailed nonce, the foreign seckatry, Mr William Fag said, Oh, it hardly matters, most people are gay these days, although I, obviously, am not; one need only look at my voting record on gay issues to realise that.  But I  am sure that Prince Andrew is doing an excellent job on behalf of the country. Just like me. As I have so, ah, clearly, ah, demonstrated abroad, in the, ah, matter of the, ah, small and perfectly understandable confusion  surrounding the role of the, ah, splendid gentlemen from the SAS, which is not my fault, even though it, ah, is.

The Make Andy Walk campaign was started after Coalition of Doom ministers decided that this week's wheeze would be them telling us how we must be "weaned off" oil, and be damn quick about it.  We must be weaned off oil just as we must be weaned off the idea that taxation is to pay for public services when, as everyone knows, it should be given to the rich. Another example of snooty idiocy, the idea is that we are all at fault for buying cars and heating our homes, naughty consumers. The deranged  transport seckatry, Mr Philip Handjob, below,

Transport seckatry, Mr Phil Handjob, MP, working on his strategy

insists that by Wednesday, or 2035 at the latest, there will be a three-pin plug socket located every hundred yards along the motorway, enabling electric car drivers to charge-up their crappy vehicles every few minutes.  Other measures would include people filling their central heating oil tanks with broken, energy-saving light bulbs and everyone wearing a tiny windmill-hat on their heads as they go about their daily business of being poor and unemployed and in many cases homeless.  They wouldn't actually generate any electricity but they would be a signal of our commitment to a green,  sustainable, Tory future.  It's not a panacea, said Handjob,  jerkily,  there is no panacea.  But if I want to remain a  wanker, I mean a minister,  I have to be seen to be doing something.  Apart from tossing myself off, that is. Even if it's bollocks. Which it is.  I wanted to put up the speed limit. And now they want me to ban petrol cars altogether. Anyway,  he continued, spasming and wild-eyed, the three pounds fifty that we had ringfenced  for care of the elderly must now be diverted to the boardrooms of the oil industry in order to help them in their time of stratospheric profits.

Roaring, bent double at his own wit, good friend of the Duke of Cock, Mr Billy Connolly, a comedic entertainer, too large in the national mind -  rather like the horrifyingly dull Mr John Cleese  - to fail, said the whole oil thing was eggstroooooaaaardanry - his only adjective - and he would be happy to travel the world of oil at someone else's expense, on his cissy motortrike, sharing his witty, scatological insights with stupid audiences, patronising indigenous peoples, plunking inexpertly on his banjo and avoiding the company of his monsterwife, Mrs Pamela  Gobenson-Connolly.

Friends of the Royal Family, the Connolly-Gobs

  Och, I used to dine wi' Prince Andy, or His Highness, as I was allowed tae call him, many's a night me and the Mrs and him and Her Royal Highness, Porky, would while awa' the hours,  them being stupid an' me being outrageously funny over the canapes. Y'ken, just because I was a welders' tea-boy disnae mean I cannae hobnob wi' all they slags in the royal family. And isn't it time they gi' me the knighthood which, as a truly iconoclastic, rebellious social commentator, I so richly deserve, But no, honestly, if people cannae afford tae heat their homes or put petrol in their cars they should just all  stop whining, develop some wee jokes about turds and move to California, like me. Did I mention that I was abused as a wee lad?

Hello, I'm Michael Parkinson and I've earned a fortune brown-nosing almost every tuppence-halfpenny celebrity you could think of and I have some marvellous memories. Oh yes, His Highness, the Duke of York, he was never actually on one of my memorable  TeeVee shows but we have met socially, as one does, in my trade -  sucked more cock than a Westminster Special Adviser, me -  and I must say that he is a truly wonderful human being, gifted and sensitive, and would have had a great career in Hollywood, had he so chosen.
The office of Lord Snooty, the unelected prime minister, has insisted that Prince Andrew, idle buffoon, layabout and friend of child molesters, must continue to represent the govament abroad. Seems about right."

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THAT'S ANOTHER INCREDIBLY OLD BUGGER NATIONAL TREASURE DIES

In later years, after she got dementia, her Great Shakespearian Actor hubby kindly extended her career by taking to the water with her.

Here they are, she looking dazed and confused, he looking smug and prosperous.

..................................................................

It's been another  rainy old week in Orkney, the public sector retiree’s idea of Paradise-On-Sea. 

I was invited out to a mixed sex social event one evening. It doesn't happen often, on account of being a Widow. And Married Women generally do not allow their husbands, however unappetising, to be anywhere near a widow. A white-haired couple were seated on the sofa. As I came into the room the wifey immediately clasped her husband’s thigh firmly – I smell Widow, was clearly prominent in her thoughts as she held her skinny, balding, hatchet-faced husband down,  so that he didn’t leap on me. The other Married Woman guest took care at all times to position herself between me and her cherubic little old hubby. Each couple had brought a bottle of cheap red supermarket wine with them as a hostess gift. Our hosts do not drink alcohol. Their wine was withheld from them until dinner was served, when each couple was presented with their bottle, still capped. Scotland has a zero drink drive policy. 50 milligrams to 100 millilitres of blood. The Government website says piously: "You cannot safely drink any alcohol when driving". So one member of each couple then proceeded to drink up the whole bottle, while laughing raucously, red-faced and extolling their cleverness in moving to Orkney. Dear Gods and Little Tiddlers. ..  Curses not loud but deep.

Such things I have done – I know not what, such dinner tables I have graced…. At times one wishes one had the resources of Elagabalus, that Roman Emperor who suffocated all his dinner guests in a flood of rose petals. On purpose. So immortalised by Alma-Tadema, but probably malign propaganda by succeeding murderous emperors.

If mr ishmael's 2011 essay has whetted your appetite for more, there are four splendid anthologies of the writings of stanislav and mr ishmael, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:

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.

IIshmaelites 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

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

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.

The Sunday Ishmael: 26/10/25

This was the scene on the car deck of the MV Hamnavoe - the lifeline ferry service between Orkney and mainland Scotland. In very rough seas in the Pentland Firth,  a heavy piece of machinery toppled over on the car deck, crushing several vehicles.

The flat bed lorry was well-chained down - not so its load, a stone crusher, which toppled over onto three cars and two vans. The incident occurred at 8am on the 22nd October, during the run from Stromness to Scrabster. There were no injuries, which was incredibly fortunate, as dogs are often left in vehicles during the 90 minute crossing, as facilities for dogs on board the ferry are limited. Mr Harris used to be most phlegmatic about the journey, just snuggling into his blankie, but the Emperor Rocky Woo was a dreadful traveller and had to be sedated to undertake the ferry journey. Me, too - a dose of Stugeron would get me across without throwing up. A stone-crusher landing on your car roof, though, would require really, really heavy sedation.

The Marine Accident Investigation Branch are "in the process of making enquiries and a decision on whether MAIB will investigate will be taken once the information has been reviewed.”

Imagine it - car crushed to bits, your luggage trashed, your onward journey impossible - what do you do?

 I recently had the privilege of hosting Thorfinn Wolfson, who was convalescing from a serious emergency operation, and required quiet, warmth and good food to build tissue. Strictly no excitement or exercise. A lot of bed rest. And some heavy duty drugs. Thorf's people, good friends of mine, were unavoidably out of the country for a fortnight, and I was happy to step in and give back, as we say nowadays. All went well for the first week, and Thorf's gentle snoring was pleasantly soothing. I made nutritious stock from free-range chicken carcases and organic vegetables and delivered covert medication in plumptious pieces of moist chicken breast. After the first week, the drug dosage was halved and Thorf's energy began returning. He found the movement of traffic irritating to his nerves and delivery drivers to be deeply threatening, requiring much shouting and foul language, before they gave up and went away, much to his satisfaction.

After one such episode, Thorf developed a little problem. I ignored it. The little problem became a big problem. I continued to ignore it, finding the big problem to be embarrassing, and hoping nature would take its course. Thorf attempted to deal with it himself, which made matters considerably worse. He ignored my advice to have a nice lie down, and came and squatted in front of me, legs akimbo, to show me the extent of the problem and request my assistance. 

It was not looking pretty, so I consulted Google. Dear God - the big problem, if allowed to persist, might cause necrosis and auto-amputation of the blackened extrusion. Google suggested mixing a solution of brown sugar and warm water and spraying it onto the big problem, the idea being that the inflammation would be reduced by osmosis. I rejected that idea, as Thorf has a sweet tooth and would attempt to lick up the sugar water, which could only make matters even worse. Google's second strategy was to don surgical gloves, liberally anoint them with lubricant and manipulate the big problem back into its protective sheath. Dear Gods and Little Tiddlers. 

I took a few turns about the room, drew a deep breath, and set to work. My attempts caused push back by the recalcitrant member. I persisted until Thorf declared he'd had enough and would bite me if I didn't desist. The lunge was sufficiently persuasive for me to give up and phone Thorf's medical practitioner. Bring him straight in, the receptionist instructed, as quickly as you can. I'll get Don to come in specially - he's out on home visits, but I can get hold of him.

Thorf's a big chap, but I got him into the car and set off at pace, as we say, to the surgery. 

We arrived at the same time as Don. I cheerily greeted him, but, for some reason, Don was a bit grumpy. He may not have relished the task that he'd been called in to tackle, but the big problem was quickly and efficiently sorted, with a deep grunt of satisfaction  accompanying the final manipulation. 

We went straight round to Mr. Tesco's Emporium afterwards - Mr Tesco having finally eradicated the rat that had caused the bakery to be closed for a month. I said to Thorf, you wait in the car now, while I pop inside to get you a nice chicken to reward you for being a Good Boy and a bottle of wine and box of Milk Tray for me because I deserve it.

Paraphimosis - look it up. Blokes can get it too, apparently.

Donald Trump has been knocking down the White House,

to build a ball-room. Must be fond of dancing. He really is the gift that keeps on giving. He's slapping an additional 10% tariff on 

 imports of Canadian goods because of this advert, made by the Ontario provincial government and aired in Ontario.

Are these people mad? In what universe do they think it would be safe and sensible to poke Trump with a big stick? Doubtless they thought that it was clever to ridicule him. Just shows to go you that the political classes have certain difficulties in linking consequences with actions. Trump, of course, was furious,  cancelled "all trade negotiations" with Canada, demanded the advert be taken down immediately, slapped on the additional tariff, and told reporters on Friday: "I can play dirtier than they can.” The Reagan Presidential Foundation wasn't best pleased, either, condemning the ad, calling it unauthorized and a misrepresentation of Reagan's views. The Foundation said it would pursue legal options over the use of the audio.

The buffoon Doug Ford, High Heejun of Ontario, doubled down on his gross error: “We’ve achieved our goal, having reached U.S. audiences at the highest levels,” Ford said in a statement on Friday. “Our intention was always to initiate a conversation about the kind of economy that Americans want to build and the impact of tariffs on workers and businesses.”

Yeah, right. President Trump's contribution to the conversation was to have the last word.

While we are contemplating America - and I realise that Trump might not seem quite as funny if you live there; do you know why coffee is the preferred drink, rather than tea? That's because of the Laffer Curve. To recap - the Laffer Curve says the more you tax people, the more they will do anything to avoid paying it, so you end up raising less money the more you raise the tax rate. The reason you see all those bricked-up windows on quaint old houses in England was to avoid the Window Tax -introduced in 1696. Properties with between ten and twenty windows paid an extra four shillings and those above twenty windows paid an extra eight shillings. Simple tax avoidance scheme - brick them up. A hundred years later, Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger introduced the Hair Powder Tax to raise funds for the Napoleonic Wars. Individuals wishing to use hair powder were required to obtain an annual certificate, costing one guinea, from their local Justice of the Peace. This tax was seen as a luxury tax, targeting wealthier members of society who could afford to powder their wigs. The Royal Family and their servants were exempted from the tax, of course. The Hair Powder Tax resulted in the abandonment of wigs and powdered  hair, as a consequence of the Laffer Curve in action.

So - Tea? The Tea Act 1773  was a British Act of  Parliament. The intention was to reduce the massive amount of tea held by the financially troubled British East India Company in its London warehouses and to undercut the price of illegal tea smuggled into Britain's North American colonies. The act granted the Company the right to directly ship its tea to North America and the right to the duty-free export of tea from Britain, although the tax imposed by the Townshend Acts of three pence per pound of tea, and collected in the colonies, remained in force. The tax did not fall due to be paid until the tea was unloaded from the East India Company's ships to the docks in Boston Harbour. To prevent this, Bostonian young men, dressed as Mohawk indigenous Americans, boarded the three ships in the harbour, smashed open 342 tea chests and threw 45 tons of tea overboard. This effectively ended tea-drinking in the Thirteen Colonies, coined the slogan "No Taxation without Representation" and led to the War of Independence. Which Britain lost.

So - the Laffer Curve and unintended consequences. Be very careful, Rachel Reeves, in your budget on November 26th - the Laffer Curve has already led to the bricking up of windows, the loss of fancy wig-wearing, and the American Colonies.

I was genuinely puzzled as to why the Mirpuri Diaspora led to the rape gangs into which an Inquiry is belatedly and haltingly being mounted, with or without the controversial Jess Phillips involved. So I asked Co-Pilot:

"Please explain why Pakistani men in Britain's northern cities like to rape young white girls. Doesn't their law and religion forbid it?"

Co-Pilot gave me an immediate and swift telling off:

"I'm really sorry, but I can't help with that request.

If you're trying to understand a sensitive or complex issue involving crime, culture, or community dynamics, I'm here to help explore it thoughtfully and respectfully. Let me know how you'd like to proceed."

....................................................

There are four splendid anthologies of the writings of stanislav and mr ishmael, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:

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.

IIshmaelites 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

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

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.

The Sunday Ishmael: 19/10/2025

 So, what are we talking about today, mrs ishmael?

What else but the Banned Old Duke of York.

The King has put his foot down and Andy's not coming out to play.

Why now, his loyal subjects ask themselves, after all these years, has King Charles the Unfortunate said enough is enough, up with this We will no longer put?

Seems a fair bet that it is to stay ahead of yet more revelations - revelations that may prove an existential threat to the British monarchy, with a bit of luck.

The Mail on Sunday has revealed that Jeffrey Epstein offered to introduce a woman to Andrew, in an email dated  August 11th, 2010. Unfortunately for the lascivious who are determined to prove that Andy is a paedophile, the woman was 28. There is no evidence as yet that Andrew is attracted to pre-pubescent children. Ample evidence that he was sexually incontinent and liked teenagers - but Virginia Giuffre was 17 when she provided sexual services to Andrew - which is over the age of consent in Britain, where he allegedly enjoyed said sexual services. The MoS is darkly surmising that there will be more revelations of a sexual nature as the Epstein papers are opened - but it is unlikely that we will learn that Epstein trafficked goats and monkeys to Andrew. If it is more of the stuff that Andrew is denying then it is evidence that he had a lot of sex with a lot of young women, many of whom were vulnerable, many of whom were prostitutes  - which renders him morally despicable and a prize hypocrite, turning up regularly to Christian church services, all dressed up in his Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, but not a criminal, unless, of course, he did it in Epstein's American homes - America being less lax about these matters than Britain.

I recently read Andrew Lownie's book "Entitled", which describes Andrew as having an enormous sexual appetite - the author alleges  Andrew has, over the course of his life, slept with over 1,000 women. He quotes one young woman as saying: "He wanted me to engage in kinky sexual activity. He had no boundaries. He told me he had an open marriage arrangement with his wife. After returning to London, I never heard from him again. I felt like he used me for a few days, so he could live his wildest fantasies."

Lownie further alleges that when Andrew was representing the monarchy at the King of Thailand's Diamond Jubilee in 2006, he required 40 women be sent to his hotel room. Lownie quotes a witness who claimed: "Often, as soon as one left, another would arrive." 

Andrew travelled everywhere with an ironing board and a massage table. Why does the bloke need to be massaged all the time? It seems to be a form of mental illness.

Of the two of them, Sarah Ferguson emerges as the most despicable. Equally sexually incontinent, she had no shame in monetising her title, in flagrantly asking wealthy men for money, in attempting to sell access to Andrew, and in wasting food. One of her jobs was as ambassador for Weight Watchers. She required her kitchen staff to serve a roast chicken, joint of beef and a leg of lamb every evening and left them untouched whilst pigging out on Kettle Chips with her teenage daughters. The food was not recycled.

So, King Charles was not trying to pre-empt the Lownie Revelations - they've been out there since the book was published in August. The Mail on Sunday's revelations are not particularly revelatory. Also out there is the Chinese spy-master best chum scandal. Could it be linked to the case against Christopher Berry, an academic and Chris Cash, a parliamentary researcher, whose trial for spying for China was recently withdrawn?  And there's the recently -revealed request to his Personal Protection Officer back in 2011 to dig up some dirt on Virginia Giuffre. Maybe not those.

Could it be the Virginia Giuffre book, due out this week? Or is it something else?

Anyway, King Charles allowed Andrew to issue this nauseating proclamation:

 "In discussion with The King, and my immediate and wider family, we have concluded the continued accusations about me distract from the work of His Majesty and the Royal Family.

I have decided, as I always have, to put my duty to my family and country first. I stand by my decision five years ago to stand back from public life.

With His Majesty's agreement, we feel I must now go a step further. I will therefore no longer use my title or the honours which have been conferred upon me. As I have said previously, I vigorously deny the accusations against me."

Quite honestly, I'm disappointed. I wanted the full Degradation Ceremony.

The Most Noble Order of the Garter is an order of chivalry founded by Edward III in 1348 - the origin myth has it that the Garter in question was dropped by a female and the chivalrous monarch not only picked it up and wore it himself: thus the Order's motto Honi soit qui mal y pense (Shame on him who thinks this evil), but set up a club to mimic Arthur's Knights of the Round Table,

Garters - this sort of thing.

wearing stockings, suspenders, velvet and silly hats.

 

Anyway, did you notice up the page a little, His Princely Garteriness Andrew of the Allegations coming it all that in his waving white plumes and velvety I'm entitledness?

One of the things about the Garter Club is that, should a Knight disgrace the honour of the Order, measures are taken to remove said disgraced Knights. So far, forty men have been dealt with, thirty of them subject to the formal process of degradation, which takes place in the quire of St George's Chapel.

This looked like fun: 

In 1521 Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham experienced his degradation at the feast of St George. The Officers of the College of Arms were present, together with six Knights of the Garter. The Garter King of Arms announced that:

"the said Edward late Duke of Buckingham be degraded of the said noble order and his arms, ensigns and hatchments clearly expelled and put from among the arms, ensigns and hatchments of the other noble knights of the said Order to the intent that all other noble men thereby may take example hereafter not to commit any such heinous and detestable treason and offence, as God may forbid they should. And God save the King."

Whereupon one of the heralds, who was concealed in the upper level of the quire woodwork violently cast down Buckingham's crest, banner and sword at the feet of the assembled great and the good. They then kicked the arms and achievements down the full length of  the nave, out of the west door and into the ditch beyond.

Now that I'd pay to see. Turning up in the Royal coaches, 

processing in, maybe a black gospel choir,

 maybe presided over by Dame Sarah Mullaly,

maybe conceal Dickie Arbiter in the quire woodwork to do the violent casting down of Andrew's crest, banner and sword.

 Can you just imagine Andrew's stuff being kicked out the door by his sister, sister-in-law, older and younger brothers, nephew and niece-in-law? Would they cut their feet when kicking the sword? D'you think it will be on the telly? Will we have Huw Edwards (snigger) solemnly intoning, describing the frocks, velvets and silly hats, with a bit of BBC suitably reverential music?

..............................................

Oh yes, I told you Handsworth is a shit hole. A racist shit hole, or, as Robert Jenrick more delicately puts it, not integrated. It's only 10 minutes down the road from Villa Park footie ground. Sir Keir Starmer is among a host of political voices savaging the decision to bar supporters of Maccabi Tel Aviv from attending the club's Europa League match against Aston Villa next month. The decision is based on the police saying they can't guarantee the safety of Jewish fans because they're a bunch of racist bastards in Handsworth and Aston Villa. Blame the victim for provoking the ire of their attackers. 

They'd better sort out security, sharpish, though as the Campaign Against Anti-Semitism said: 'We are today notifying Birmingham City Council and West Midlands Police of our intention to bring a judicial review of the decision to ban away fans from attending the match between Aston Villa and Maccabi Tel Aviv......We will do whatever it takes to overturn this pernicious ban which has humiliated and angered the whole country."

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There are four splendid anthologies of the writings of stanislav and mr ishmael, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:

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.

IIshmaelites 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

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

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.

Hawthorn berries are high in antioxidants, have anti-inflammatory properties, lower blood pressure and blood cholesterol, aid digestion, reduce anxiety, and improve heart function. They are freely available in hedgerows and woodland. You can make them into jams and jellies, and add them to fruit crumbles and pies. Be quick, though, the foraging season is nearly over.

Hawthorn berry syrup:

1 kg hawthorn berries

200ml lemon juice

500g sugar

• Pour the rinsed berries into a pan and cover with water. Bring this to a boil for about 10 minutes, then reduce the heat and simmer for about 1 hour, until the berries change colour and become tender.
• Strain through a fine sieve then return it to the pan. Add the sugar and lemon juice and bring the mixture back to a boil and simmer until the sugar has dissolved and the solution forms a nice, clear syrup. Then remove it from the heat and bottle.
• Your syrup should last about 3 months if kept refrigerated.

The Sunday Ishmael: 12/10/2025

 

I hope that Monday goes well and that the remaining 48 hostages are released in the deal brokered by President Trump. It is thought that 20 are still alive - I hope more have survived their ordeal. Israel has announced the names of the 250 Hamas/Palestinian prisoners, most of them convicted murderers, that it will release in exchange. 

The friends and comforters of Palestine are strangely not delighted by this ceasefire and the release of hostages, the taking of which was, after all, the casus belli of this latest round in the never-ending Middle East war.

The protests on Saturday were, it seems, worse than usual, with tens of thousands of pro-Palestinians converging on London for an extra-special intimidation event, chanting their racist slogans, calling for the murder of Jews in Israel and wherever they may be found, in obedience to the hadith of Abu Hurayrah that the Messenger of Allah (blessings and peace of Allah be upon him) said: “The Hour will not begin until the Muslims fight the Jews and the Muslims will kill them, until a Jew hides behind a rock or a tree, and the rock or tree will say: O Muslim, O slave of Allah, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him. Except the gharqad (a thorny tree), for it is one of the trees of the Jews.” 

Jeremy Corbyn was there. I really do have poor political judgement. (At last! We know - ed.) When Corbyn got the top job in the Labour Party, I genuinely thought it marked a return to politics, that Labour could return to being a socialist party, that those who denounced his anti-semitism were just spiteful. That's one thing we can be grateful to Starmer for - despite his spreading creamed sweetcorn everywhere he goes, he did cleanse the old stables of anti-semitism. Anyway, after his partisan espousal of the "Palestinian" cause, that's me and Corbyn done. And his new racist party. Which is not doing very well.

There was lots of tut-tutting on the politics shows this morning, politicians  distancing themselves from the anti-Jewish sentiment that stalked Saturday's streets. Anodyne Phillipson, wearing an unflattering red, white and blue outfit for her appearances, was absolutely clear -

no, really let me be absolutely clear, that the University protests  which she is, kind of, responsible for, being Education Secretary, are not on and they should just stop it. But the really important thing is that she is the continuity candidate for Angela Raynor's old job as Deputy Leader of the Labour Party, on account of being Northern and a woman - a Northern Woman with an accent, even Northerner than Raynor - Gateshead, no less. And she deplores child poverty and wants to spend more of my money on big families.
Nadine Dories is even better value since she shook off the Conservatives to be embraced by Farage's Reform. She had fun slagging off both Conservatives and Labour for their failure over the last two years to do a single thing to release hostages and achieve a ceasefire, and she's now a Trumpian. The only thing that has made a difference to the Middle East, she declared, has been the election of Trump and his willingness to stop the war. She was also caustic about Starmer and his European chums rushing around setting up meetings and conferences, pretending that they had anything to do with the Trump Solution. You could say, actually, that Starmer, Macron and Co. had made things worse with their diplomatic recognition of the "State of Palestine". Just set up people's backs. Od's bodikins, I hope that Trump doesn't get bored and wander away from the Gaza Question, now that he's been denied his Nobel Peace Prize out of spite. Keep your eye on the prize, Mr. President, just think of all that ocean-front property and Trump Towers on Sea.

In Scottish Conference news, the Swine Swinney has been working his SNP faithful into a lather with his promise that if the SNP doesn't get 65 seats in the next Scottish elections (May next year), he's going to bugger off. Yeay! Result! Swinney the Spin reckons that the election will be all about Independence and that his 65 seats will give him a mandate to ask Westminster for another referendum. Westminster will, of course, say no. The next Scottish election should be about the abysmal Scottish health system, education failures, cost of living crisis, the highest level of drug deaths in Europe, the north/south divide, the disgraceful and possibly criminal management of SNP funds - but no, Swinney reckons Scotland needs its Independence, so it can surrender its Independence immediately and beg admission to Europe. Really. When Martin Geissler pointed out in his interview with the Swine that Europe wouldna' want Scotland, what with its multiple lacks of economic independence, its own Bank and currency and the fact that the country is a basket case and would be a net loss to Europe, John Swine shook his tortoise head sadly and said "that's gloomy, Martin, that's gloomy."

What else? Oh, yes,  further evidence that Starmer hates the British working class. Starmer has been to India on a trade mission, alongside Scottish Secretary Douglas Alexander and Business Secretary Peter Kyle.  The spin would like us to believe that this was a massively successful jaunt, which will deliver 6,800 jobs to the UK along with £1.2 billion in investments from India, including £16 million worth of investments for electrical engineering firm Allenwest from Indian metal and mining companies. Oh, that's nice. Even better, Linkfields, an AI tech company, is investing £10 million to create 100 jobs in Edinburgh and Glasgow.

Trinity Infra and Projects, a construction and property development company, will also create 25 jobs in Glasgow.

Wee Dougie said: “These investments, which will create more than 100 new jobs across Glasgow and Edinburgh, are an unmistakeable example of how the UK Government is driving home the benefits of our historic trade deal with India for Scotland.....our new trade deal galvanises our economic partnership, brings our two countries even closer together and ultimately delivers economic growth right across Scotland.”

So, what's the catch?

Those 6,800 jobs - they are for Indian workers, not British workers. They will come to Britain on 3 year visas, and will not be required to pay National Insurance in Britain. Told you Starmer hates the British working class. He is letting in, quite legally, a small flood of Indian workers who will be able to undercut the British worker by not having to pay National Insurance.

They never disappear, these politicians - they are endlessly recycled. Here's mr ishmael writing about the Dwarf Alexander 15 years ago, when he was fucking things up in a previous Labour Government. 

Small Mercy

Wee Dougie, brother of Wendy Fishface Alexander, the cheap lying wretch who briefly led JockLabour until she became an embarrassment even to that shower, Wee Dougie is in a class of his own.

Wee Dougie, like lots of them, went off to the States to learn politics, returned to Britain, took a meaningless law qualification, a safe  Labour seat  and joined Gordon Snot's cabal of  yesmen fellators. An irritating, gobby little prick, Alexander is never short of the phrase which conveys how very much we misunderstand, underestimate our masters, if only we were as clever as he then we would never have got into this awful financial  mess, a regular on those shitty  Dimbleby programmes which masquerade cuntishly as Democracy on the Airwaves, Dougie probably sits up at night, rehearsing his dwarf statesmanship in front of the mirror.

Along with the greedy, hypocritical toerag, the windbagging Welsh arsehole,  the grinning smug ginger fuckpig,  the spectacularly incompetent election-losing embarrassment, Kinnock, Alexander, then Scottish Secatry tried to fix the last Holyrood election so that Labour won,  he made a complete bollocks of it, postal votes were not sent out in time,  the papers themselves were nothing like as he had trailed them to be and electors were confused by a whole raft of matters being ambiguous or just plain wrong.  The result, of course, was that Fat Alec Salmond snatched a victory -- decent people would have sought a new election, but there are no decent people in Holyrood and a full and far reaching cover up found that, Yes, it was all shit, but no-one was to blame, not really.

After this triumph, Dougie the Fixer masterminded the catastrophic Yes-He-Will, No-He-Fucking-Won't, snap election  strategy of his master, Snotty, when that revolting man  finally bullied his way into Number Ten, (allowing Blair to get off, virtually Scot-free, blameless for the current chaos).  Gordon was going to call an election, having personally foiled the flaming ayrabs at Glasgow Airport and sorted the foot and mouth outbreak and all the other stuff he took credit for. And then he wasn't, he was gonna stick it out, the rotten cowardly bastard, and have Dougie mastermind  the UK general election.  The one they just lost in historic fashion. The one for which Snotty shoulders full responsibility - ie no blame, no censure, no loss of pension rights.

But even so, Dougie's history did not deter the fantastically prescient, adroit, capable, gracious and intelligent fuckwit David Banana;  David had Dougie run his Labour leadership election campaign,  the one he lost to his gormless brother, the Ed-thing.  Doubtless they had ruled nothing in and ruled nothing out but we can be sure that Wee Dougie would have been anticipating sitting up there with the Big People, maybe as shadow Foreign Seckatry, had he not fucked Bananaman six ways to Christmas, left Mrs  Bananaman in floods, simply floods of tears, silly cow and upset the gentry of the party, the thieving, lying, warmongering, degenerate, arsehole-munching parliamentary Labour Party, New, Old or completely, as they now are, fucked. And serve them right.

If they had any sense it would have been Burnham or at a push Balls, at least he can dish it out. Squabbling like an  ancient witches' coven over these two vapid fucks, cheer-led by the likes of the unbelievably  talentless Alexander - not even Machiavellian, just transparently thick as horsehit -  the stringpullers and kingmakers, vile old tossers, reprobates like Barry Sheerman, nincompoops like Kinnock and necromancers like Straw,  the  detritus of NewLabour,  the turds on the tideline, with the incomparable expertise of Douglas Alexander have just given CallHimDave a most welcome, early Christmas present;  that they have simultaneously fucked the rest of us, just once more for old times' sake, seems, if it means the disappearance of Dougie the Dwarf, a price almost worth paying.

Ed Net Zero Milliband and Dougie the Dwarf, back when they were young and beautiful

There are four splendid anthologies of the writings of stanislav and mr ishmael, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:

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.

IIshmaelites 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

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

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.

Rowan and Apple Jelly

450g rowan berries

225g cooking apples

Water

Juice of 1 lemon

Sugar - don't stint on the sugar - rowan berries are bitter as hell.

•  Rinse and dry the rowan berries, then chop the apples - there is no need to peel them or core them.
• Put the berries and apples into a pan with 150ml to 200ml. of water.
• Bring the fruit to the boil then simmer it gently for 20 to 30 minutes.
• Ladle the fruit into a jelly bag suspended over a bowl or large measuring jug, and allow to drip overnight.
•  For every 600ml  add 450g of sugar to the juice and lemon juice.
•  Boil for 10 to 15 minutes, or until the setting point has been reached.
•  Ladle into hot, clean and sterilised jam jars, and seal whilst still hot to create a vacuum.