On his show today, Andrew asks the hard questions:
Who are these people and why do they matter?
Answering myself - well, it is so much more satisfactory than listening to you people, we have:
Lady Macbeth, up in her flat, pounding away on her What'sApp, Allegra I'maJohnstonTory Stratton and the lad's club: Well, I think I've explained that pretty thoroughly this morning, so now I'll turn to goading former Prime Minister, Mr. Ruiner. Start talking, Mr. Ruiner: There were 27,000 cases yesterday and 500 deaths and we've got all these Factions: look
what's been happening in Downing Street. There's more factions in this
country than there are former prime ministers. North wanting more money against the South wanting cuts. Health libertarians against er, er communitarians. Hard
against Soft Brexiteers. Devolution against Centralisation. We need a root and branch constitutional review. And a war on America. Or a War on Europe. We have to choose.
Well,
now, Mr Ruiner, how would you save the economy, given that last time
you got your hands on the nation's wealth, back in 2008, you burned all the money? Thank you, Andrew, the economy, Andrew, is fucked.
We're in a recession. Unemployment is high and will be higher. It has to
be paid for. I don't know how. Last time we were in a recession, we
tried Austerity. What we need now is Growth, but we're in the middle of a
global pandemic. The death count is rising. There is massive debt. It has to be paid for. How do we pay down this massive debt? Fucked if I know.
Well, now, Mr McRuiner, you're Scootisch, wouldn't you like to lead
Scotland out of the dark and into the light? Your leader, Sir Keir Starmer, is suggesting that Scotland could have a referendum next year. It is not a question of Could, Andrew. It is Should. As in Should not. We are in the middle of massive economic damage and a global pandemic. We need healing for our debt-laden world. We don't need a divisive, conflicting referendum, but we could have less of a centralised unitary state. The economy is
fuckedy fucked. The death count is rising. The UK is dysfunctional. What we need now is healing.
Scotland needs healing. We're doomed, I tell you, doomed.
Thank you, former PrimeMinister Mr. McRuiner, on a sunny morning in Fife, it is a case of After You Claude.
............................................................
Honest, not invent. He said that. Had to look it up. It was the catch phrase of the courtly odd-job men Cecil and Claude ("After you, Claude—no, after you, Cecil") in ITMA, a radio show that ran from 1939 to 1949. How old is Andrew Marr?I felt quite sorry for the Ruiner in the end. Someone had dressed him up nicely for the camera, got him to memorise the Covid stats, combed his hair (they've
toned down the blue rinse effect, after my last advice to him), neatly
tied his tie, instructed him not to pick his nose, masturbate like a
monkey and not do the dry-wank jaw drop thing or the clunking fist of
doom. He
did slip his left hand into his trouser pocket a few times, before he
remembered his instructions, and he did do a Tony Blair air thing with his
hands,
but, overall, he looked quite presentable.
But - only quite sorry for him. Really don't want him elder statesmanning around the place, let alone getting his hands on the levers of power in Scotland, even if it is just in the Kingdom of Fife. That's what they call it. Kingdom. Honest, not invent.
In
July, 2008, Gordon Brown flew in to Tel Aviv on a previously
unannounced visit to Israel and the West Bank, his first since taking
over as Prime Minister. Fortunately, our roving reporter, stanislav, was
there to give us the following exclusive:
stanislav, a young polish plumber said... LATE NEWS
On his fund-raising tour of the Middle East, UK prime
minister Gordon ben Brown addressed the Knesset. From The Jerusalem
Herald and the Tel Aviv Daily Mirror.(ed. Toilets Maguirestein)
"My
fellow Hebes and motherfuckers, as a son of the Scotch synagogue I say
to you Shalom and thank you all for inviting me to preach in your
parliament and borrow some money.
You have always been most
accommodating in this area, especially in the Twelfth century back home
in York, although I believe there was a bit of a communication
difficulty in the easy repayments plan.
If Labour had been in
charge then I would of course have taken the Hebe moneylenders into
public ownership and only driven them into the sea as a very last resort
- or if they refused a reasonable offer of work, down at the job
centre, as we are now proposing to do in our own Final Solution.
The
poor and the workshy deny lebensraum to the very hard-working and
relatively poorly-paid wealth creators in the banks, the Party and the
non tax-paying Russian underworld.
It is my policy, which I am
sure you will all support, that we have eine Reich, eine Volk in which
the poor, if they can no longer work for the rich or pay taxes, become
worthless, so into the sea they must go; it is what we in the Party call
compassionate Nazism. A bit like you with the neighbours up in Lebanon.
Y'know,
when I was a wee boy my father was a Scotch Rabbi and so I am very much
a Hebe motherfucker myself. And proud of it, only not in Palestine of
course. Or South America. And I scarcely mention it with Frau Merkel.
Not that I have anything to do with Germans.
In Scotland we
didn't have the windows broken and the Swastika daubed on the walls
thing but apart from that it was all quite Yiddish. Only we call it
Presbyterianish. And instead of chicken soup our mommas made us
nutritious and tasty chocolate bars fried in batter, a bit like Gefelte
Fish. Only quite different.
There is no God but God and Mohammed
is his prophet, as our Muslim friends say, not that we have any Muslim
friends making oil in Saudi Arabia. And yes, my fellow Hebe
motherfuckers, I do solemnly commit my armed forces to going in there in
Iran or wherever, in their rusty old LandRovers; I mean, of course,
trusty old LandRovers just as soon as a) you give me some money, only
not through Mr Abrahams this time and b) we borrow some ammunition off
Uncle Sam. This offer of course depends on enough of them
surviving the best efforts of the schwartzer goyim untermenschen in
Afghanistan and them all not coming home in tastefully flag-draped
coffins and sombre music to Brize Norton and giving me an arseache in
the fucking coroner's office.
As a way of recognising my own
Hebeness and the very great debt we shall all owe you once you give me
the money I propose to bring into government, alongside Obedience
minister, Mr Jack Torture, the right honourable member for Tel Aviv, Mr
Gerald Boys-Kauffman and the noble Lord Janner-Holocaust.
And if
it moves the deal along a bit we could have a Holocaust Day not just
once a year but once a week, maybe sing: On the Twelve Holocaust Days of
Christmas, my true love (Ed Balls) sent to me.....etc or even hold it
daily, along with the citizenship obedience prayer.
In fact I
could re-name the whole fucking country Holocaust Island, make everybody
wear skullcaps and eat anchovy sandwiches on that shit famine bread you
like so much.
It is the run up to the Olympic Games, just now,
and people all over the world ask me about the security implications,
might terrorists take hostages and even kill them? Right load of
bollocks is what I say, such a thing would never happen. It's like
saying there will be a return to Tory boom and bust which there won't be
even though there is. And in England, anyway, we can rely upon the
Chinese Secret Service, who have allowed me to put them in charge of the
Metropolitan police, under, of course, our magnificently uniformed
Commissionaire, Sir Iain Bendover and our security minister, Admiral
Lord Liberace-West and just for once, lets never mind what it says in
the Good Book about sodomites and fire and fucking brimstone; if you
fucking please, some, even most, perhaps all of my best friends are arse
burglars.
The former Chief Rabbi of the Northern
Ireland Hebes, Archbishop Professor the Right Reverend Lord ben Paisley
of Shankill Road ButchersRus, has recently resigned his office; with his
many doctorates - all of them properly purchased and invoiced from the
University of eBay - and his own private synagogue, his most
sticky-fingered Reverence Doctor Iain and his son, Dr Iain the Second,
have shown the Ulster Hebes how to do business in a modern plutocracy
and we shall not look on his like again, Oi vay, although his fellow
architect of Peace Through Torture, Mr Martin Kneecaps does have an
engaging twinkle in his roguish eye and I am sure a few of us here
wouldn't mind getting tied-up with him. My prudent stewardship of
the UK economy - burning all the money- has set us fair for weathering
the shitstorm which I have created. I have instructed the British people
to both borrow and spend like there's no tomorrow and, at the same
time, save every penny because there is an all too real tomorrow in
which they will all have no pensions, not from the state, because I have
aforementionedly, Mr Deputy Rabbi, burned all the money and not from
the private sector because the directors have used all that money to pay
themselves bonuses in order to attract the right kind of people.
A
simple, prudent strategy, inflate the only asset which people have,
encourage them to borrow and spend it in the High Street creating a
false boom and when the artificially high value of the asset deflates,
everybody gets fucked up the Khyber. It's called my no more boom and
bust strategy and it has worked very well. Up until now.
My
prudence will also have the effect of stimulating the pawnbroking sector
of the economy, probably the only sector I have not single-handedly
abolished.
What about the future, people ask. Well, my Hebe
motherfucking brethren in Christ, as a way of burning any future money
that people don't yet have their hands on. I have prudently written
massive sums of future PFI debt down in the back of my rough book, where
no-one can see them. This means that they won't have to be paid back
until long after I am dead and up in Heaven with my father and all the
other Rabbis.
It just goes to show that we in the UK have worked
out how to deal not only with the economy, which is why I am here with
the begging bowl, but also with with the terrorist threat, you just let
'em all out of jail and put them in government, whilst simultaneously
prudently burning all the money.
You can still learn a lot from
us, even though you have bought the Labour Party outright, just think
how much better and more inclusive it would have been if instead of
executing Mr Eichmann you had made him deputy prime minister, like we
do. Murdering psychobastards can make surprisingly effective political
campaigners. As I don't need to remind you.
I look forward to a
positive response to our loan application and assure you that your
money, like ours, will soon go up in smoke and you will never be
troubled by seeing it again. But then you're used to that.
I will close now, my fellow Hebe motherfuckers, with an old Yiddish song we used to sing at Highland Bar Mitvahs:
Al-laaahhh
Akhbar, Al-laaahhh Akhbar, Bismillah, No we will not let them go, not
for forty-two days, No no no no no no no, All the lassies say Och, Aye,
Donald where's yer foreskin ?
Thank you, thank you, no business
like showbusiness. Cheques or cash will do. But preferably cash. Thank
you. Shalom! Heil Hitler! And have a negilah day."
(Silence.)
And, a couple of years later, out of office, his party ousted from power, replaced by the Bullingdon Boys:
WHITHER HIS FEVERED BOMBAST, NOW? 23/6/2010
Where
is his fusilade of tractor statistics, his towering intellect, his
metronoming Claw of Doom punctuating each flight of bumptious, bullyboy
doggerel; where is his incisive, hot-housed mind, his grasp of detail,
his complete mastery, as they call it - the reptiles at
skymadeupnewsandfilth - of his brief; where is his Prudence, now; where
is his promised fighting for his party, for the poor and the sick,
where is his snotty, raging tumult of I-Know-Bestisms?
Why
was he not present as the SpivULikes, all dressed-up in their
SpivUlike suits and ties and SpivULike haircuts, a credit to their
SpivULike public schools, trashed not only his history but that of so
many wicked enough to work in the public sector, scorned their
miserable contribution to the nation, as though the dinner lady and the
probation officer wrote all these mad instruments of greed - or the
Credit Crunch, as SpivULike criminality is helpfully described - as
though the streetsweeper himself artificially inflated the value of his
home and, as for that bloke in the library, well, what a liberty, what
do people want with books, now they've got porn?
Chancellor Gideon Spiv got in one of what will be many neo-Nazi jibes,
as the poor become nigger, become Jew, become the enemy within - as you
walk off to work, he said, past the drawn blinds of your sleeping
benefits-dependant neighbour..... etc - but of Poverty's Champion there
was no sign; the Slayer of Boom and Bust had no platform, no word of
rebuttal, as war was declared on the weak; all his works, for which,
for so long, there was cross-party agreement, were dragged in the shit
and he did not lift a finger towards their extrication. So feeble was
the Opposition response to the budget that it may as well have been
delivered by carrier pigeon but Brown's absence, his failure to
comment, draped the Opposition benches in shame, their unelected
leader relieving himself of any responsibility whatsoever for defending
his policies and - and here's the rub - by his cowardice reinforcing the
SpivULike govament's Year Zero wholesale revision of recent history,
the one which makes clear that actually it wasn't the bankers' fault, or
the civil servants' fault, or the economists' fault or the journalists'
fault and fuck me, it wasn't the politicians' fault - the expenses crime
unpunished, scapegoated off to an ill-connected minority; no, it was
all the fault of the untermenschen; all the real culprits remain in
position, pampered and pensioned, the same crooks still running Wall
Street and the City, the think tanks of the New Blitzkrieg peopled by
those who wrought Ruin for so many.
Despite his awfulness, a little courage from Mr Snot might have redeemed
him somewhat in History's chill gaze and most importantly might have
challenged the smooth hypocrisy of the Coalition of the Unwholesome -
two down, the simpering dwarf Laws and the virtuous hypocrite, Huhne -
as it set about rabble-rousing, vandalising the lives of millions. If
he was so confident of his shit six weeks ago, why was here not there to
defend it?
The concert group of NewLabour, Blair, Mandelstein and that prick,
wotsisname, Campbell, have escaped, filthy rich and unscathed; to Brown,
virtually alone, falls the disgrace, the obliquoy, the scandal and to
judge by recent events - his only sighting being his sermonising a
bunch of, as usual, defenceless schoolchildren.
Rather
than standing up to a bit of parliamentary ragging and some beasting by
skymadeupnewsandfilth Brown quits the field, defeated, decried and
despised. Here was a moment, an opportunity he didn't really deserve to
redeem if not his lunatic conduct at least his moral fibre; rotten,
cowardly bully, he bottled it, his record one of Ruin, his legacy the
rise of SpivULike. Again.
..............................................................
The essays from the draft archive today have been:
WHITHER HIS FEVERED BOMBAST, NOW? drafted 23/6/2010
If you would like to read more from stanislav and mr ishmael, the anthology of essays by stanislav and ishmael is available from lulu.com. and it is now listed by both Blackwells and the Book Depository. 
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Honest, Not Invent is available in paperback or hardback.Link for Hard Back :
Link for Paper Back :
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...................................................
