THOSE NORWAY CELEBRITIES.

Hello, Norway und Heil Hitler. Seckatry Kissinger here,

butcher of Laos und Cambodia und Vietnam 

und Father Confessor to asshole president, TrickyDicky Nixon und all-around sex god.

I just vant to say sank you all vunce again for giving me ze Nobel Peace Prize und a million dollars of cash.  

 

Giving zat award to a person like me goes to show zat ze committee truly has its hand on the pulse of global whatchamacallit und it also spelled the end of satire in Amerka because all ze funny men said zat zis was so shit zat it was beyond satire, zat zey couldn't make up shit like this. Und I vood say to ze Norwegian peoples zat a good way to purge zis unhappiness is to take a few ragheads up in ze helicopter and throw zem to fuck out.  It wuz srategy like zis vot helped me secure my historic victory in SouthEast Asia.  Zat vill be twenty sousand dollars, bitte. Oh, und don't forget zat I brought peace in the Middle East,too, und so can I have anudder prize?

The Mayor of London, seeking to milk the Norway business for all it's worth, has offered the entire Metropolitan Police Service to Oslo, at a knockdown price.


They're jolly good chaps, what, blustered the albino charlatan, and if the Norwegians want stuff covered-up, want evidence ignored and if they want an investigative team which will spend it's time on freebie piss-ups with international criminals then there is no better body of professional, dedicated law enforcement officers anywhere in the world. Any faults they may have are of course due to my good friend the unelected prime minister and not to me; you know me, good old Boris, never one to take things too seriously, especially when they're codswallop. Not, of course that an island full of dead sardineheads is codswallop, or even sardineswallop,  but as we say in showbusiness, there's no such thing as bad publicity and anything which diverts attention from my accomplishments in policing has to be simply spiffing,,So come on you Olympics-hungry Londoners, let's all stand together with the Oslovians in forgetting all about Sir Paul Gob and that other cove, wotsisname; see, I've forgotten him already. And so should you. And so, if he knows what's good for him, should  Assistant Commissioner Yates.

My fellow Nordic motherfuckers. I join with you tonight, in sorrow, and Michelle and I, and our two robokids, sit here in the White House, eating sardines on toast, out of a sense of solidarity, yes and kinship. It's not widely known but my great grandfather, Sven Obamasensen, sailed those icy Northern waters all the way across the Atlantic and founded Amerka, the greatest and most indebted nation on Earth. So, your loss is my loss and if you want some of Amerka's peace-loving, democracy-loving, crewcut, psychobastard, mommasboy, gangraping troubleshooters to come over there, wherever the fuck it is, and kick some ass then all you need to do is ask and we'll come and set up some secret bases and secret prisons and surveillance systems and make you pay for them.  Just like we do with our British subjects, I mean friends. No, I don't, I mean subjects. Those Brits, they can be subjects of Europe and Amerka, why the fuck not?

And let me thank you, once again, motherfuckers, for my Nobel Peace Prize, which you sensitive, caring Norwegians so kindly gave me for stopping the wars and shutting down Camp Freedom, or Camp Guantanamo, as it has been known.  I will be doing these things, of course, just not now, because   in the meantime we have some other wars to start, regimes to change and suspects to torture.  Never forget that the price of Freedom and Peace is a police state and permanent,  total warfare. Thank you and God bless Amerka.

THE PEACE PROCESSEERS

Aye, that's right, so it is. And as First Minister of Northern Ireland I know that I speak for  my fellow Mick, Father Blair and my good friend Mr Gerry Nonce, when I say that we deplore acts of violence against civilians, anywhere and anytime;  they are totally unjustified, so they are.  Unless it's us who's doing them, But in this case it wasn't, so it wasn't, and so I say to the people of Norway:  If this slaughter leads to the release from prison of hundreds of murdering scum,   like me,  then it's a price worth paying in what we call conflict resolution terms, so we do.  And by the way, we took a dim view, me and Gerry, so we did, of youse pofaced Presbyterians giving the Nobel Peace Prize to that Davy Trimble and not us, so we did. And youse better remember that I haven't put my Black and Decker beyond reach, so I haven't.  Next time youse're giving out a Peace Prize, bear that in mind.

SLOW TRAIN COMING.

It is a rather scrawny sacred cow, the one  that says we we don't do deals with terrorists,  for  acts of terrorism against British forces and citizens have resulted in the deals which led to the  creation of the state of Israel, to the getting out of jail free of hundreds of Ulster terrorists,  the abolition of the provincial police force and the eventual reunification of Ireland.  The Stern Gang and the Irgun didn't fuck about, happily hanging British soldiers and attacking US warships but the hardmen batallions  of Gerry Adams and Marty Kneecaps were more equivocal  on their targeting strategy, maybe because they were funded mainly by East Coast US citizens; if they had really wanted to win their war swiftly they need only have wandered into one of those May Balls in the quadrangles of Oxbridge and Cambridge and slaughtered a few dozen of the children of the rich and powerful, a Bullingdon Club membership, perhaps, and they'd have been dancing down Belfast's Royal Avenue, waving the Tricolour faster than you could say SinnFein Rules, OK? They had a go, of course, with the attack on Mountbatten's boat but he wasn't quite a civilian, was he, and though he was of the elite,  he didn't have a father in the cabinet or an uncle who was a permanent seckatry of this or that mandarinate. Had Kneecaps & Co blitzed Kings College or Balliol perhaps the struggle, as they called it, would have been foreshortened.  It may well be the case, of course, that even in this dirtiest of wars there was a gentlemen's agreement between the senior participants, not to kill each other's families; so whilst it was terror, Jim, it was not as we now know it

And imagine the reaction if, after bombing the buses and trains in the seven/seven attack, whoever perpetrated it  also placed a few guys in white coats at the hospitals receiving the injured, and imagine these guys, in the confusion, entering the triage stations and the operating theatres and   detonating some of those  suicide waistcoats among the injured and the medical staff.  And then imagine, a week later, some more suicide bombers joining the mourners at the funeral, or just on the streets, as the hearses went by and blowing up themselves and a coffin or two, a funeral limo full of grieving relatives, maybe;  that would be proper terror, fuck me, wouldn't it just, an attack on civilians, an attack on the hospitals in which they were being treated and then an attack on the funerals. Way to go, Ahmed.

It seems that the first proper, rational terrorist of the modern age, though, is not a Marxist Irish Republican, not a muslem Jihadist, but a Norwegian, a white man, a Christian and a Freeemason. I know that McVeigh, of the Omaha bombing  was a WASP and everything but his was the archetypal one-bang attack,.Anders Breivik's one-man blitzkrieg was altogether more comprehensive - firstly, an attack on govament buildings, then a systematic, broad daylight  culling of the young elite and finally a calm as you like surrender to the cops;  no cathartic execution by marksmen, no Allah-bound suicide, just a Here we are, chaps, whaddaya gonna do, now? It was an Insider's Mayhem he wrought, no language problems, no visa or passport issues, no borders across which to ship his explosives.  And surrendering alive, native and to the manor born he keeps his preoccupation front and centre for the foreseeable future. Unless they mysteriously kill him.

It  was a brilliant achievement, as these things go - Norway, bizarrely, in news ratings terms,  outguns Somalia, Washington, Afghanistan, Libya, Murdoch  and even druggy chanteuse Amy and her ghastly father; all this the work of just one man   and who knows where it will lead?  I don't know about anyone else but I have swiftly grown irritated by the mannered, patient, reasonable know-it-allism of the SardineHeads, giving reasonable, worthy   interviews, in their wretched,  quizzical English. Such a pain in the arse are they that you can see why matey would get pissed at them as, in his mind's eye, he saw Saladin and a scimitar-waving host sailing up the fiords and sacking Oslo,  and everybody smirking about the place, in their neat suits, being fucking reasonable and tolerant.

In the corridors of sleaze the worry must be that  these events set a new temper  for the countless millions, all across the white world, quietly, permanently  enraged by what Mad Melanie Phillips calls  the Londonistan phenomenon.  Indeed, Sarkozy the dwarf pimp, has already responded to this constituency by launching one of those sneaky, Frog pogroms, against the Romany, to start with, but as Madamoiselle le Pen gains in stature, who knows which group he will attack next?

 I share  Andy's rage at the gobby, ineffective, cowardycustard middle class because that, for my sins,  is my own natural milieu but now and again I have drank and dined and ranted in different homes, places where people were never consulted about the multiculturalisation of their country, a drastic overhaul and reworking of their way of life which they never chose but had thrust upon them, by career moralists, by inverted racists and by  politically opportunistic shits like Jack Torture and  Roy Hatterjee.  The Race Relations Act was never going to resonate with Colin and his sons, Lee and Wayne and Scott,  they didn't give a fuck for all that shit;  they weren't deranged bigots or fascists, they just were very uncomfortable at being over-run and over-run by people who they  perceived as being wily, ill-mannered and over-indulged; Mosques and halal butchershops all over the inner ring road. Maybe they would have  worked towards assimilation, Colin and his family, if the newcomers had adapted, just a little bit, but they didn't, hardly at all. And it was no good me saying to Colin, Listen mate, you have to give these things a coupla generations to settle down, not when all he had, really, was his little bit of white working class culture or, as the clever  people  impudently  called it, his racism.

I remember, twenty years ago, driving through Washwood Heath in inner-city Birmingham and thinking, Christ, this is a different country, how has this happened?  It didn't matter much to me because I didn't live there or anywhere near there, but if I had I would've been aghast, estranged and frightened, living in an alien ghetto, garish, smelly and lawless, in my own city.

I know nothing about Andy, only what nincompoops like Jon Sopel say, on tne telly, and that's worthless, sensationalist, sentimental bollocks - did you think you were gonna die, did you text your familiy to say goodbye, d you think je should get more than the maximum sentence, more Sun than BBC, Sopel.  But I do know about Colin, an ordinary bloke,   unschooled, unread but like many of his generation and class, a bit of a Zen Master when it came  to his trade, no use for letters but  he could hone a chisel to laser sharpness, replicate a complex, ancient architrave moulding with his battery of moulding planes, his beady eye and his steady hand, Colin could insert a square foot of mahogany into a damaged tabletop and you'd never see the join - worth a hundred Darcus Howes, a hundred Trevor Phillipses and a thousand Boris Johnsons, an English tradesman, in  short, for forty years, now, further and further down the food chain, his neighbourhoods, his jobs, his schools, his assumptions, his country and his parliament demolished before his eyes;  the likes of Beardy Git, Robin Cook, telling him that the English National Dish is Chicken Tikka Masala;  the likes of CallHimDave cast-iron promising him a referendum and then reneging on his word, like a proper Etonian cunt.

And I know that in Colin's house and in millions of others, people will be saying about the Norwegian, Well, fair play to him, somebody has to stand up for whatever it is, else what's the point?

It is not for me to condone or condemn wotsisname -  I am with the anti-death penalty campaigners - you can't judge a person  on the basis of the worst act  he or she ever committed, such would see us all fucked, by God and man, alike, but I have lived through his genesis and his fertilisation, seen him, like a slow train, coming up around the bend, and said very little, frightened, like the Norwegians,  of giving offence to multiculturalism's lurking, vengeful, antagonistic watchmen.  

It is not possible or desireable to - what is it - repatriate, millions of non-indigenous people, nor is it right to attempt to treat any of us as second-class citizens; it must be possible, however, to engineer  some basic, inclusive standards of citizenship to which all must adhere;  the eternal cruelty inherent in all of the Abrahamic religions presents  a tougher problem, be it demonstrated by the Bible-Thumping Hangmen of the MidWest,  the  Zionist babykillers  banging their bearded heads on  Jerusalem's WailingWall   or the HeadChopping Ayatollahs of Saudi Arabia;  maybe we should hang a good mixed handful of the hateful bastards, or at the very least come down on them like a ton of bricks, bang 'em up for ninety-nine years, the very first time one of them calls for Jihad or Crusade  or the infinite expansion of the Holy Land.

Power doesn't  care to admit it but there will be many like Oslo's Bold Marauder, many of them armed, many of them with police or military training, none of them giving a flying fuck about the Newsnight/Question Time  phony sensibility. We do do deals with Terror, better that we do it now, whilst he slumbers, biding his time,  than see a platoon of tooled-up Aryans, marching across Bradford or Birmingham or London. Or Oxford,  Cambridge and le Sorbonne.