For the Englishman who thinks he has everything.....
there is this classy number
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Justice for England – Team Blair sign up…..
Tuesday, May 30th, London, England.
At great expense to the taxpayer, King Tony and his lovely consort, Queen Cherie have broken into their freebie holiday in Tuscany, grabbed a passing ‘plane from the Queen’s Flight and flown back to grey old Blighty to publicly support the Justice for England campaign. As Queen Cherie so succinctly explained, “It was the least we could do, the cause is just and noble – and anyway, it tops up our ‘Air miles’ portfolio…… by the way, are there any fees for this engagement?”….
With great ceremony, gravitas and bravura, King Tony wafted his hands around a lot, overloaded on pregnant pauses, wiped a tear from his eye and declared that if England were a foreign country then he would be tempted to invade it in order to restore democracy. A journalist politely pointed out that as he was in fact a Scot, England was therefore a country foreign to him. He had therefore already invaded and occupied – along with the rest of the Scottish Rajanistas, but had singularly failed to restore any sort of democracy - except for the undemocratic kind.
King Tony flatly denied he was a Scot “Och nooo, Jimmy. I can absolutely say with utter Anglo Saxon absolution that I am not a Scot, just an ordinary kinda English guy….Why, even now I can remember hearing the sound of Bow Bells ringing from the Newcastle Town Hall when I was born. Pearly Kings, whelks, jellied haggis……. I’m a true cockernee-geordie sparrer-magpie geezer and no mistake, gavnor. Gor blimey I can still remember my childhood baggy-shorted England football heroes striding out on the green, black and white sward of Wembley - Stanley Matthews, Tommy Lawton, ‘W’or’ Jocky Wilson, Prezza the midfield terrier, Mel Gibson, Wee Willie Wallace, Jackie & Bobby Krankie, Lobby Ludd, Robbie Fowler…..er, Nobbie Burns…. Bobby Bruce …. and that great Newcastle United forward line of Charles, Rennie and McIntosh…. Poetry in motion…. Away the lads and all that!”..…..
Unfortunately for the campaign coffers, King Tony, citizen number 1 declined to divvy up the necessary coinage for the ribbons - giving the excuse that he’d left his purse on a balcony in a Tuscany villa. Cherie couldn’t help either – she never discusses money, only fees. By way of a diversionary tactic, Queen Cherie, citizen number 2 suddenly declared that everyone should pray for England. With great aplomb, and showing rare resolve in managing for once not to look like a corpse, Queen Cherie put her hands together and said “Repeat after me…….
God help England”…..
Amen to that, Missus.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Billy Bragg meets a hand wringer….
My mate John went to a B.B. gig in Manchester recently. In between songs, during one of his little political speechettes, Billy got hold of a St George’s Flag and held it aloft. He told the audience how important it was to celebrate the forthcoming St George’s Day, toast the country’s Saint, celebrate Englishness – and generally have a good time. He also said that if everyone in England took ownership of the flag, it would be safeguarded from any hijacking from the far right.
Just then, a woman from the audience stood up and shouted "But Billy, I cannot accept the St George’s Flag……. It’s just too ‘white’. There’s no black or brown on it"……
Bragg, thought for a moment and screamed…. "For f*cks sake, do you see what I’m up against"…
Bill, I really, really do.
Just then, a woman from the audience stood up and shouted "But Billy, I cannot accept the St George’s Flag……. It’s just too ‘white’. There’s no black or brown on it"……
Bragg, thought for a moment and screamed…. "For f*cks sake, do you see what I’m up against"…
Bill, I really, really do.
Who’d have thought it…
You know, I just never thought I’d see the headline, ‘Fat, lazy, incompetent, small willied dullard DPM knows the rules of croquet - shock’
In defence of the patriotic white van man…..
I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed a bit of a journalistic vendetta lately against drivers of white vans sporting those little St George’s flags out of their windows. Readers of the Guardian will know that their reporters have been condescendingly rubbishing White van man, Mondeo Man and VW man – any damn man with a car, a window and a St George’s flag sticking out of it for weeks now. Independent guest columnist, Janet Street Porter has also been pouring particular vitriol upon WVM and their flag waving brethren. I doubt these pampered illiberal liberals have ever met any 'white van men' – save for the bloke struggling into their home-counties houses carrying a new freezer. I myself only know one – he wears the regulation WVM white T-shirt, he has a shaven head, he has tattoos on his arms and a flag dangling out of his van window – as well as a a St George’s flag air freshener. He also happens to be a member of Mensa. Does that therefore mean all white van men have an IQ of over 150? Do you think he should paint his white van to 'grey matter' colour?
And that’s the nub really. Fascists like Brooker, Harker and the woman who can open bin lids with her teeth are content to earn their crusts rolling out clichés by the bucket load. Sneering elitism from a liberal cabal, worried that those below stairs may be getting just a little bit uppity by publicly expressing an afinity. Why do they appear to have such a big problem with the manifestation of a specifically English nationalism? Why do they ALWAYS equate it to low brow Neanderthal behaviour, knuckle draggers and divs? Why cannot we be allowed to celebrate OUR own national identity like everyone else does without some liberal Islington bigot from the Guardian crying 'far right'?
If a man in a white van sticks a flag out of his van window - big deal, it's his business and no one else's, ain't it?. It's his decision alone. My advice to the Indy and Guardian hand wringing brigade, why don’t you just mind your own bleeding business, or better still, why don’t you fly off to the USA for the duration. You will find ‘old glory’ flying from most public buildings, in every single classroom and on a hell of a lot of American lawns….. but Janet, if you do go there, don’t diss their flag, they’ll lock you up for it.
Do you think Brooker, Street Porter and co will be writing such hand-wringing articles just prior to 2012 - London Olympics when the Union flag will be pasted on anything that moves?
Do you think he will be saying we MUST drag the Union flag back from the BNP?
Somehow, I doubt it.
And that’s the nub really. Fascists like Brooker, Harker and the woman who can open bin lids with her teeth are content to earn their crusts rolling out clichés by the bucket load. Sneering elitism from a liberal cabal, worried that those below stairs may be getting just a little bit uppity by publicly expressing an afinity. Why do they appear to have such a big problem with the manifestation of a specifically English nationalism? Why do they ALWAYS equate it to low brow Neanderthal behaviour, knuckle draggers and divs? Why cannot we be allowed to celebrate OUR own national identity like everyone else does without some liberal Islington bigot from the Guardian crying 'far right'?
If a man in a white van sticks a flag out of his van window - big deal, it's his business and no one else's, ain't it?. It's his decision alone. My advice to the Indy and Guardian hand wringing brigade, why don’t you just mind your own bleeding business, or better still, why don’t you fly off to the USA for the duration. You will find ‘old glory’ flying from most public buildings, in every single classroom and on a hell of a lot of American lawns….. but Janet, if you do go there, don’t diss their flag, they’ll lock you up for it.
Do you think Brooker, Street Porter and co will be writing such hand-wringing articles just prior to 2012 - London Olympics when the Union flag will be pasted on anything that moves?
Do you think he will be saying we MUST drag the Union flag back from the BNP?
Somehow, I doubt it.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Eeee 'eck there's brass in sleaze tha' knows....
Blimey, looks like it's sleazaamundo overload any day now as Iain and Guido's The Little Red Book of New Labour Sleaze hits the bookshops in the coming week.
Bloggers, united in their common loathing for NuLabour's Caligula Blair, Chippolata Johnny, Mad dog bite yer legs Reidy, and Gordon, the boy with the charisma bypass, have all contributed to the book.... including myself.
And I have to say, it was truly aNuLabour of love writing the pieces....
Anyone interested in getting a copy while it's hot, hot, hot, click the link on the right....
Bloggers, united in their common loathing for NuLabour's Caligula Blair, Chippolata Johnny, Mad dog bite yer legs Reidy, and Gordon, the boy with the charisma bypass, have all contributed to the book.... including myself.
And I have to say, it was truly aNuLabour of love writing the pieces....
Anyone interested in getting a copy while it's hot, hot, hot, click the link on the right....
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
When Alfie met Scilla and Christine…..
Last Thursday, me, myself and my second oldest son cruised the 100 or so miles up a fluid M6 to the noble English town of Penrith, Cumbria.
We breezed all the way up at around 85, it was a bloody perfect warm blue sky evening, hardly any traffic on the road, everyone seemed happy apart from the suicidal insects totalling themselves on my windscreen.
We pulled into the Penrith Rugby Union Club car park at around 7:25 – just five minutes to go to the start of the meet. Walking toward the club-house we looked westward across the pitch, the brooding peaks of the Lake District punctured the sky. Saddleback and Skiddaw, cathedrals in stone dominated the horizon as we stood routed in admiration at this fantastic display. A setting Sun and a palette load of subtle hues seemed to rubber stamp our very reason for being there….. this was England, cradle of the democratic process, giant of culture, research and progress – and it was damn well worth fighting for.
We strolled into the hall, there were about 50 people in there – and I have to be honest, most of them were crusties (and I include myself in that category) which was a little disappointing – where were all the young ‘uns? We sought out the bar, bought a couple of scoops and a raffle ticket - and meandered back to the hall. I greeted Christine Constable, speaker for the English Democrats. We’ve met quite a few times before – and no doubt will be meeting her a lot more in the future as more and more of my time is dedicated to furthering ‘the cause’….. Just then, a woman came up to me and said "Are you Alfie?"
And I was.
Scilla Cullen from the CEP had just introduced herself. She seems a very nice lady – and she was first up with her talk, which was basically about the just cause for an English Parliament. She was then followed by Christine, who gave a more political slant to proceedings and expanded the discussion to other issues including Europe etc.
The BBC was there, doing a report for last Sunday’s Politics Show. Obnoxious reporter, Max ‘hair dye by L’oreal’ Cotton swanned around wearing a beige safari suit with built in designer creasage - honestly, it was straight out of the John Noakes workwear wardrobe. He prowled around, privately rubbishing the arguments here, attempting to belittle us there…… "I mean, if a Scottish Nationalist stood in Chester, would you vote for him?"…… He threw that one to me and my mate Ed whilst he was having a fag break outside…… What the hell did that mean – is he on summat or what?"
Fortunately, we didn’t have to ask him what drugs he might be on - the fittest girl in the entire Universe had just sashayed past us. She had just come out of the adjoining gym and wasn’t so much wearing clothes as parading in spray-on paints…..
Just then, Max had to rush off to attend to something or other, sort of near to where the girl was walking……
Back to politics. The evening was a great success – and I have to say was reasonably reported by Max on Sunday, although I was a little disappointed that the only part of my anatomy to get on the telly was my right foot.
Still, I managed to win a bottle of red wine in the raffle….
And when I came out of the meeting with dusk gathering all around we climbed into the car, a new kind of determination sort of grew out of me. I resolved to double my efforts - to fight for the cause, to shout as loud as I could to let the good folk of England know what is going on in their country…….
It’s the least they deserve.
We breezed all the way up at around 85, it was a bloody perfect warm blue sky evening, hardly any traffic on the road, everyone seemed happy apart from the suicidal insects totalling themselves on my windscreen.
We pulled into the Penrith Rugby Union Club car park at around 7:25 – just five minutes to go to the start of the meet. Walking toward the club-house we looked westward across the pitch, the brooding peaks of the Lake District punctured the sky. Saddleback and Skiddaw, cathedrals in stone dominated the horizon as we stood routed in admiration at this fantastic display. A setting Sun and a palette load of subtle hues seemed to rubber stamp our very reason for being there….. this was England, cradle of the democratic process, giant of culture, research and progress – and it was damn well worth fighting for.
We strolled into the hall, there were about 50 people in there – and I have to be honest, most of them were crusties (and I include myself in that category) which was a little disappointing – where were all the young ‘uns? We sought out the bar, bought a couple of scoops and a raffle ticket - and meandered back to the hall. I greeted Christine Constable, speaker for the English Democrats. We’ve met quite a few times before – and no doubt will be meeting her a lot more in the future as more and more of my time is dedicated to furthering ‘the cause’….. Just then, a woman came up to me and said "Are you Alfie?"
And I was.
Scilla Cullen from the CEP had just introduced herself. She seems a very nice lady – and she was first up with her talk, which was basically about the just cause for an English Parliament. She was then followed by Christine, who gave a more political slant to proceedings and expanded the discussion to other issues including Europe etc.
The BBC was there, doing a report for last Sunday’s Politics Show. Obnoxious reporter, Max ‘hair dye by L’oreal’ Cotton swanned around wearing a beige safari suit with built in designer creasage - honestly, it was straight out of the John Noakes workwear wardrobe. He prowled around, privately rubbishing the arguments here, attempting to belittle us there…… "I mean, if a Scottish Nationalist stood in Chester, would you vote for him?"…… He threw that one to me and my mate Ed whilst he was having a fag break outside…… What the hell did that mean – is he on summat or what?"
Fortunately, we didn’t have to ask him what drugs he might be on - the fittest girl in the entire Universe had just sashayed past us. She had just come out of the adjoining gym and wasn’t so much wearing clothes as parading in spray-on paints…..
Just then, Max had to rush off to attend to something or other, sort of near to where the girl was walking……
Back to politics. The evening was a great success – and I have to say was reasonably reported by Max on Sunday, although I was a little disappointed that the only part of my anatomy to get on the telly was my right foot.
Still, I managed to win a bottle of red wine in the raffle….
And when I came out of the meeting with dusk gathering all around we climbed into the car, a new kind of determination sort of grew out of me. I resolved to double my efforts - to fight for the cause, to shout as loud as I could to let the good folk of England know what is going on in their country…….
It’s the least they deserve.
Democracy - what is it good for?
Lord Falconer is having an invitation only 'public meeting' at the Palace of Westminster today, all about the 'Renewal of Democracy' (whatever that means).....
My spies tell me not all the attendees are quite as 'on-side' as the NuLabour's rentaclack crew might at first believe..... so to speak..... if you see what I mean. Apparently, there are a few brave souls there who are actually going to ask some awkward questions..... Watch out for the heavies boys!
I have a feeling Charlie boy is going to have a surprisingly rough day today.
My spies tell me not all the attendees are quite as 'on-side' as the NuLabour's rentaclack crew might at first believe..... so to speak..... if you see what I mean. Apparently, there are a few brave souls there who are actually going to ask some awkward questions..... Watch out for the heavies boys!
I have a feeling Charlie boy is going to have a surprisingly rough day today.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Priorities…..
Sorry, I’ve been away doing me veg’, planting out me toms, spring onions, lettuce - and having yet another go at growing Fennel – it is definitly ‘Verdant City’ in my humble strip of England at the moment. ….. BTW, we’ve just come into the asparagus season. East of England asparagus is the finest in the world, bar none – and it’s as cheap as chips and as tasty as anything. Get it while you can!
You can just never find an English person when you really want one can you?
Letter to the BBC complaints office…..
‘Talking Politics’, broadcast on Radio 4 - Sat 15 Apr - 11:00.
’I wish to make a very strong complaint regarding this programme. It was discussing devolution and the 'English question'. The show host was Scottish, she talked to Magnus Linklater, a Scottish journalist, then to Mr Campbell Bannerman, Scottish chair of UKIP and finally, Prof Robert Hazell - head of 'The Constitutional Unit'. (Mr Hazell is a Blair poodle, obsessed with driving through NuLabour's vision of English regionalisation - so he spent the entire show rubbishing the prospectus of an English Parliament).
Mr Hazell proceeding to quote research that was years out of date - he affirmed several times that there was absolutely no demand for an English Parliament. He is totally wrong with that statement. Surveys taken in the last 2 years amongst the English population in fact shows a rapidly rising demand for an English Parliament.
Why were there so many Scottish people on, discussing something that is none of their business? Why didn't you have someone on from 'The Campaign for an English Parliament' or Robin Tilbrook, leader of the English Democrats? Or Roger Scruton, well known champion of an English Parliament? Who knows - maybe they weren't Scottish enough?
It just seems so arrogant that the BBC (motto: Nation speaks unto Nation...) should be discussing a nation's destiny WITHOUT any of the representatives of the other side of the argument being invited. Campbell Bannerman is UKIP - so is obsessed with the union, Linklater was as anxious as ever to give a Scottish slant to it - and Hazell - he's merely a mouthpiece of NuLabour.
I always thought that having a debate meant having opinions from ALL SIDES OF THE ARGUMENT, not stuffed with McHomers and yes men....
A SUGGESTION - to redress the balance, why not have a section in this week's programme giving THE OTHER SIDE? Honestly, the sooner the BBC stop being such an emasculated poodle to NuLabour, the better, whatever happened to democratic discussion?’
Reply from Mr Fudge, Waffle Office, Jobsworth Division, BBC –
’I understand you were disappointed with a discussion about an English Parliament on 'Talking Politics' on Radio 4 on 15 April. I note you were unhappy with the number of Scottish people involved in this discussion.
Let me assure you that the BBC remains committed to its policy of impartiality across its entire output and all reporters and presenters are well aware of this. However, I am sure you can appreciate it is not always possible or practical to reflect all the different opinions on a subject within individual programmes. Editors are charged to ensure that, over a reasonable period, they reflect the range of significant views, opinions and trends in their subject area.
I can assure you that the BBC does not seek to denigrate or to promote any view. It seeks rather to identify all significant views, and to test them rigorously and fairly on behalf of the audience. Among other evidence,audience research indicates widespread confidence in the impartiality of the BBC's reporting.
Nevertheless, I appreciate that you feel strongly about this issue. Therefore, I would like to assure you that your e-mail has been registered and has contributed to our daily log which will be made available to the 'Talking Politics' production team and BBC senior management. Comments such as yours can help us in the future’.
‘Talking Politics’, broadcast on Radio 4 - Sat 15 Apr - 11:00.
’I wish to make a very strong complaint regarding this programme. It was discussing devolution and the 'English question'. The show host was Scottish, she talked to Magnus Linklater, a Scottish journalist, then to Mr Campbell Bannerman, Scottish chair of UKIP and finally, Prof Robert Hazell - head of 'The Constitutional Unit'. (Mr Hazell is a Blair poodle, obsessed with driving through NuLabour's vision of English regionalisation - so he spent the entire show rubbishing the prospectus of an English Parliament).
Mr Hazell proceeding to quote research that was years out of date - he affirmed several times that there was absolutely no demand for an English Parliament. He is totally wrong with that statement. Surveys taken in the last 2 years amongst the English population in fact shows a rapidly rising demand for an English Parliament.
Why were there so many Scottish people on, discussing something that is none of their business? Why didn't you have someone on from 'The Campaign for an English Parliament' or Robin Tilbrook, leader of the English Democrats? Or Roger Scruton, well known champion of an English Parliament? Who knows - maybe they weren't Scottish enough?
It just seems so arrogant that the BBC (motto: Nation speaks unto Nation...) should be discussing a nation's destiny WITHOUT any of the representatives of the other side of the argument being invited. Campbell Bannerman is UKIP - so is obsessed with the union, Linklater was as anxious as ever to give a Scottish slant to it - and Hazell - he's merely a mouthpiece of NuLabour.
I always thought that having a debate meant having opinions from ALL SIDES OF THE ARGUMENT, not stuffed with McHomers and yes men....
A SUGGESTION - to redress the balance, why not have a section in this week's programme giving THE OTHER SIDE? Honestly, the sooner the BBC stop being such an emasculated poodle to NuLabour, the better, whatever happened to democratic discussion?’
Reply from Mr Fudge, Waffle Office, Jobsworth Division, BBC –
’I understand you were disappointed with a discussion about an English Parliament on 'Talking Politics' on Radio 4 on 15 April. I note you were unhappy with the number of Scottish people involved in this discussion.
Let me assure you that the BBC remains committed to its policy of impartiality across its entire output and all reporters and presenters are well aware of this. However, I am sure you can appreciate it is not always possible or practical to reflect all the different opinions on a subject within individual programmes. Editors are charged to ensure that, over a reasonable period, they reflect the range of significant views, opinions and trends in their subject area.
I can assure you that the BBC does not seek to denigrate or to promote any view. It seeks rather to identify all significant views, and to test them rigorously and fairly on behalf of the audience. Among other evidence,audience research indicates widespread confidence in the impartiality of the BBC's reporting.
Nevertheless, I appreciate that you feel strongly about this issue. Therefore, I would like to assure you that your e-mail has been registered and has contributed to our daily log which will be made available to the 'Talking Politics' production team and BBC senior management. Comments such as yours can help us in the future’.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Reshuffling (the deck chairs on the Titanic)
Just how happy will Condy Rice be at not meeting the Man of Straw any more over a Lancashire Hot Pot in Blackburn, Lancashire? More to the point, how thrilled will she be when she has to metaphorically share her Airforce 2 bed with new Foreign Secretary and Arthur Scargill's twin sister, Margaret Beckett?.... Jealously is a terrible thing - and as soon as it was known that Jack had a thing going with Condy - and hence just might be more popular with the Bush administration than the Blairy man, his fate was sealed. Who can forget Mo Mowlem's standing ovation at the Labour Party Conference? Blair smiled through gritted teeth as she received a standing ovation. He then calmly gave her the push....... nice.
John Prescott's, lost his marriage, his bit of skirt, his ample supply of OPDM monogrammed underpants, the Governmental truss to keep the heaving Prescott gut in check, the grace & favour supply of Viagra, his marbles - and now he's lost his Minstry Portfolio. Today is a very good day. It could have been much, muchbetter though, unfortunately for us, he's still Deputy PM - so it doesn't mean he's lost Dorneywood, or the fleet of limos, or the Admiralty Arch flat, or the generous pork pie allowance.... and he's still allowed to commit GBH on the English language...
On Wednesday afternoon, Blair declared to the House that 'Chunky Charlie' Clarke was absolutely vital to continue the good work being done at the Home Office. Today he's gone, but not before throwing his toys out of the pram. There you go Charlie, 36 hours is a long time in politics - Indispensible on Wednesday afternoon, kneed in the groin on Friday..... . Chunky Charlie' has now become 'Chippy Charlie' - you'd better watch your back Tone.
His replacement, old Scottish attack dog and closet collector of 'trinkets made from Cannabis resin' John 'Glasgow Kiss' Reid is back bossing the English population as only he can. I smell a Blighty backlash for the new Home Secretary......
'Buff' 'Holiday' Hoon has landed on his feet becoming 'Minister for Europe' - or is he? No one, least of all Buff really knows, but never mind...... Geoff will no doubt be exploring just how he can expand his annual holiday portfolio. Even now he is ringing his calendar - making sure, as a good European that he celebrates every known Saint's day from every single EU country..... Starting on Monday with Poland's little known St Prescottonia, the patron Saint of crap government ministers...... If anyone wants him, Geoff will be found sunning himself at the seaside.
Ruth 'growler' Kelly has gone from Education, replaced by former Trades Union uber-gob, Alan Johnson. Ruth may now have the time to devote to her first love of being a Paul Robeson impersonator........ That old man river, that old man river, he don't say nuthin', he just keeps rollin' along......
John Prescott's, lost his marriage, his bit of skirt, his ample supply of OPDM monogrammed underpants, the Governmental truss to keep the heaving Prescott gut in check, the grace & favour supply of Viagra, his marbles - and now he's lost his Minstry Portfolio. Today is a very good day. It could have been much, muchbetter though, unfortunately for us, he's still Deputy PM - so it doesn't mean he's lost Dorneywood, or the fleet of limos, or the Admiralty Arch flat, or the generous pork pie allowance.... and he's still allowed to commit GBH on the English language...
On Wednesday afternoon, Blair declared to the House that 'Chunky Charlie' Clarke was absolutely vital to continue the good work being done at the Home Office. Today he's gone, but not before throwing his toys out of the pram. There you go Charlie, 36 hours is a long time in politics - Indispensible on Wednesday afternoon, kneed in the groin on Friday..... . Chunky Charlie' has now become 'Chippy Charlie' - you'd better watch your back Tone.
His replacement, old Scottish attack dog and closet collector of 'trinkets made from Cannabis resin' John 'Glasgow Kiss' Reid is back bossing the English population as only he can. I smell a Blighty backlash for the new Home Secretary......
'Buff' 'Holiday' Hoon has landed on his feet becoming 'Minister for Europe' - or is he? No one, least of all Buff really knows, but never mind...... Geoff will no doubt be exploring just how he can expand his annual holiday portfolio. Even now he is ringing his calendar - making sure, as a good European that he celebrates every known Saint's day from every single EU country..... Starting on Monday with Poland's little known St Prescottonia, the patron Saint of crap government ministers...... If anyone wants him, Geoff will be found sunning himself at the seaside.
Ruth 'growler' Kelly has gone from Education, replaced by former Trades Union uber-gob, Alan Johnson. Ruth may now have the time to devote to her first love of being a Paul Robeson impersonator........ That old man river, that old man river, he don't say nuthin', he just keeps rollin' along......
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
'X' marks the spot.......
Tomorrow, I shall be exercising my hard won democratic right to vote in the English local elections. The problem is, who to vote for? Which local busy body is deserving of my precious endorsement?
I've scanned the lists and it looks like wall to wall mediocrity. Grey yes people, prepared to defend the indefensible at all costs. The trouble is, when I look at the candidates, I don't see people espousing local issues, I see duplicitous national politics, I see arrogant gravy trainers, I see Blair and his biblical fundamentalist zeal, I see fat twins Clarke and Prescott sweating for different reasons. I see 'Call me Dave' Cameron reinventing himself from 'Nasty Manifesto Writing Dave' to cuddly, fluffy, 'Call me Green Dave 'cos I've got a pair of green wellies in the boot of my Range Rover Vogue'....
I couldn't vote LibDems, I just couldn't - I don't like Hush Puppies and I don't wear any tank top jumpers........
So it looks like Mr Noneoftheabove' will be given a chance to restore my faith in British politics then.....
I've scanned the lists and it looks like wall to wall mediocrity. Grey yes people, prepared to defend the indefensible at all costs. The trouble is, when I look at the candidates, I don't see people espousing local issues, I see duplicitous national politics, I see arrogant gravy trainers, I see Blair and his biblical fundamentalist zeal, I see fat twins Clarke and Prescott sweating for different reasons. I see 'Call me Dave' Cameron reinventing himself from 'Nasty Manifesto Writing Dave' to cuddly, fluffy, 'Call me Green Dave 'cos I've got a pair of green wellies in the boot of my Range Rover Vogue'....
I couldn't vote LibDems, I just couldn't - I don't like Hush Puppies and I don't wear any tank top jumpers........
So it looks like Mr Noneoftheabove' will be given a chance to restore my faith in British politics then.....
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Sometimes, the English language just isn’t expansive enough…
Over the holiday weekend I’ve been trying to have a go at a bit of Prescott bashing. It really is a superb subject to wax lyrical about – and the main man himself is a solid gold prattinski if ever I saw one. So constructing a post about a vain, stupid, power mad nutter and his wandering willy should have been a five minute cinch…… Or so I thought. I mean, how hard can it be to describe the sexual athlete that is John ‘groper’ Prescott?....
Well quite hard actually. Every day brought more seediness, more depths of depravity – even the Bishop of Bath and Wells and his red hot poker would have been disgusted…..
Oral sex in the ODPM’s office, gropes in lifts, upskirt thrills, touchy feely Johnny doing what comes naturally to him. With pneumatic regularity, Prescott’s white flabby Gluttonous Maximus has left its pimply sweaty imprint on various bits of departmental office furniture. Thwack, thwack, thwacking on the walnut veneer and intricate leather chase work, french polished surfaces sprayed with various bodily fluids, steamy windows with letters drawn upon ‘J loves himself’ – true. Half mast pinstripe trousers, languishing around swollen sweating ankles and straining sinews that have not seen such stress since Prezza called the school bully a right big nancy boy. Great glottal Hullish expletives resound from the plasterwork as the white elephant wobbles to climax in his Whitehall office…
Nah, that’s rubbish, it reads like something Barbara Cartland on a bad day might have written….
Perhaps only Prezza himself can do justice to his predicament. Yesterday, he was reported to be in a depressed state of mind. He’s worried that all the negative publicity over this past week has made him into a national laughing stock……
Well quite hard actually. Every day brought more seediness, more depths of depravity – even the Bishop of Bath and Wells and his red hot poker would have been disgusted…..
Oral sex in the ODPM’s office, gropes in lifts, upskirt thrills, touchy feely Johnny doing what comes naturally to him. With pneumatic regularity, Prescott’s white flabby Gluttonous Maximus has left its pimply sweaty imprint on various bits of departmental office furniture. Thwack, thwack, thwacking on the walnut veneer and intricate leather chase work, french polished surfaces sprayed with various bodily fluids, steamy windows with letters drawn upon ‘J loves himself’ – true. Half mast pinstripe trousers, languishing around swollen sweating ankles and straining sinews that have not seen such stress since Prezza called the school bully a right big nancy boy. Great glottal Hullish expletives resound from the plasterwork as the white elephant wobbles to climax in his Whitehall office…
Nah, that’s rubbish, it reads like something Barbara Cartland on a bad day might have written….
Perhaps only Prezza himself can do justice to his predicament. Yesterday, he was reported to be in a depressed state of mind. He’s worried that all the negative publicity over this past week has made him into a national laughing stock……
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Mea Culpa? Hmmmm, Is that an Aussie pop star?.
Another day, another nest of bumbling NuLabour Ministers trying to squirm their way out of the blame game for yet another ‘trifling oversight’. Just what does it take for a Minister from this shambolic administration to do a Carrington & Luce and fall on their swords?
For those too young to remember, Lord Carrington and Richard Luce, both from the Foreign Office were the last Government Ministers to admit a cock up, admit they’d made a mistake and insisted upon resignation. That’s right, bloody amazing isn’t it, Ministers actually owning up to a mistake then actually taking responsibility by resigning. Mind you that was 24 years ago in 1982 for God’s sake.
They weren’t hounded out by the media, they weren’t sacrificed by Margaret Thatcher, they just ‘went’…. As Lord Carrington said at the time, "I had to insist to Margaret (Thatcher) that she accept my resignation – I made a mistake, the Argentine Navy invaded the Falkland Islands. My department misread the signals and I as Foreign Secretary was head of that department - therefore it was my responsibility. I must do the honourable thing and insist on my resignation being accepted" Luce said much the same thing.
Since then, our Ministers have been just superb, apparently. And when they do make a small mistake, a simple declaration of responsibility will suffice – without the resignation obviously. Yesterday, we saw sweaty, Philsbury doughboy, Charles Clarke, stonewalling away for all he was worth on ‘freedlagsnotdeportedgate’. No, he didn’t think he should resign – and yes, he thought he should stay and ‘sort out the mess’….
His apprentice, the obnoxious Tony McNulty threw humility to the wind and declared he would not entertain resignation. Nutter McNulty got a bit tetchy when the interviewer asked him what he thought might actually warrant a resignation…..
Both Clarke and McNulty evidently reckon that having alien murderers, child molesters, rapists and drug traffickers strolling around the country is a real vote winner. Me? I’ll just put this little fiasco into my bumper big box of calamitous and incompetent acts committed by NuLabour Ministers. And when I say ‘bumper big’ I mean, ‘bumper big’…..
p.s. – Note to Doughboy and Tetchy McNutter….. taking ‘responsibility’ means not blaming underlings within the department and not looking for convenient scapegoats. On this occasion, ‘taking responsibility’ means doing the right thing, in the words of Lord Carrington, ‘the honourable thing’ and insist on resignation…. The trouble is, I don’t think you two guys, and the rest of the Cabinet knows what ‘honour’ means….
For those too young to remember, Lord Carrington and Richard Luce, both from the Foreign Office were the last Government Ministers to admit a cock up, admit they’d made a mistake and insisted upon resignation. That’s right, bloody amazing isn’t it, Ministers actually owning up to a mistake then actually taking responsibility by resigning. Mind you that was 24 years ago in 1982 for God’s sake.
They weren’t hounded out by the media, they weren’t sacrificed by Margaret Thatcher, they just ‘went’…. As Lord Carrington said at the time, "I had to insist to Margaret (Thatcher) that she accept my resignation – I made a mistake, the Argentine Navy invaded the Falkland Islands. My department misread the signals and I as Foreign Secretary was head of that department - therefore it was my responsibility. I must do the honourable thing and insist on my resignation being accepted" Luce said much the same thing.
Since then, our Ministers have been just superb, apparently. And when they do make a small mistake, a simple declaration of responsibility will suffice – without the resignation obviously. Yesterday, we saw sweaty, Philsbury doughboy, Charles Clarke, stonewalling away for all he was worth on ‘freedlagsnotdeportedgate’. No, he didn’t think he should resign – and yes, he thought he should stay and ‘sort out the mess’….
His apprentice, the obnoxious Tony McNulty threw humility to the wind and declared he would not entertain resignation. Nutter McNulty got a bit tetchy when the interviewer asked him what he thought might actually warrant a resignation…..
Both Clarke and McNulty evidently reckon that having alien murderers, child molesters, rapists and drug traffickers strolling around the country is a real vote winner. Me? I’ll just put this little fiasco into my bumper big box of calamitous and incompetent acts committed by NuLabour Ministers. And when I say ‘bumper big’ I mean, ‘bumper big’…..
p.s. – Note to Doughboy and Tetchy McNutter….. taking ‘responsibility’ means not blaming underlings within the department and not looking for convenient scapegoats. On this occasion, ‘taking responsibility’ means doing the right thing, in the words of Lord Carrington, ‘the honourable thing’ and insist on resignation…. The trouble is, I don’t think you two guys, and the rest of the Cabinet knows what ‘honour’ means….
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Ding dong, NuLabour calling…..
Isn’t it always the way. You’re just tucking into the TV dinner, something interesting is on the telly……. Then the door-bell goes. The dog went mental barking his head off. He’s obviously a very good judge of character as I just made out Mr Creep through the glass as I walk towards the front door.
"Hello, can I leave this leaflet with you? It explains just what the Labour Party are doing for you in this area and….…"
"Whoa there matey. Who are you representing?"
"The local candidate for the Labour Party"
"No, who’s your head honcho – Tony Blair?"
"Well, yes"
"OK, firstly, you can take this leaflet, fold it up into a big pointy painful shape and post it where the Sun don’t shine. Then you can tell me why I had to pay for 2 prescriptions I’ve just picked up from the Chemist, when not 20 miles down the road in Wales they’re already under a fiver – and from next year they’ll be free, gratis and for nothing for every single one of them!!!!"
"Errrr, OK, so you’re not a fan of Tony then?"
"Not a fan? Not a ‘kin fan? The man’s a war criminal, a fraud, a serial liar, a control freak, a fantasist and a rubbish excuse for a man. The man wouldn't look out of place wearing a full length Gestapo leather coat and whistling Lily Marlene as he plans another invasion into another country as designated by Dubbya Bush. Blair is a bloody disgrace - he should be put down along with his Scottish mate in number 11"….
Sensing my vote may not be going to the local NuLabour candidate, Mr Creep started to back away down the path.
I trawled him back - a rabbit in my headlights, and anyway, my 15 year old son was walking up the path behind him… Manna from heaven. I grabbed him as he tried to squeeze past me.
"And what about this kid? He wants to go to Uni’ – but how the hell can he afford it – do you think it’s right that an English teenager should be lumbering himself with thousands of pounds worth of debt? But not to worry, not to sodding well worry because just a hundred miles up the M6, in Tony ‘kin Blair’s home country, it’s all ‘kin paid for, for their kids, no debt for them, courtesy of me and people like me down here paying for it all"…..
It was at that moment, I realised I had more than just a tight grip on my Son’s arm. It was going purple.
It was at that moment, I realised I had advanced down the path and was shouting and swearing and glottaling about an inch from this annoying little NuLabour man’s face.
It was at that moment, I realised why I had got the two prescriptions earlier that day. A wicked infection in my lungs leaving me with a ton of phlegm havering up and down inside me every time I breathed.
But not any more. The wheezing had gone, the phlegm had all but been expectorated to atmosphere….. and all over Mr Creep’s dripping features…
As he sloped away with his damp leaflets for Mrs Dull, my NuLabour poodle candidate in his hand, I helpfully reminded him that the impending virulent infection I had just passed onto him was going to cost him the neck end of 13 quid to get shut of….
So there you have it. Next time you feel a bit wheezy, just go and find yourself a NuLabour foot soldier to have a go at. It works better than antibiotics – and it saves on Kleenex and the prescription fee as well…. Unless you live in Wales and Scotland though, obviously……
"Hello, can I leave this leaflet with you? It explains just what the Labour Party are doing for you in this area and….…"
"Whoa there matey. Who are you representing?"
"The local candidate for the Labour Party"
"No, who’s your head honcho – Tony Blair?"
"Well, yes"
"OK, firstly, you can take this leaflet, fold it up into a big pointy painful shape and post it where the Sun don’t shine. Then you can tell me why I had to pay for 2 prescriptions I’ve just picked up from the Chemist, when not 20 miles down the road in Wales they’re already under a fiver – and from next year they’ll be free, gratis and for nothing for every single one of them!!!!"
"Errrr, OK, so you’re not a fan of Tony then?"
"Not a fan? Not a ‘kin fan? The man’s a war criminal, a fraud, a serial liar, a control freak, a fantasist and a rubbish excuse for a man. The man wouldn't look out of place wearing a full length Gestapo leather coat and whistling Lily Marlene as he plans another invasion into another country as designated by Dubbya Bush. Blair is a bloody disgrace - he should be put down along with his Scottish mate in number 11"….
Sensing my vote may not be going to the local NuLabour candidate, Mr Creep started to back away down the path.
I trawled him back - a rabbit in my headlights, and anyway, my 15 year old son was walking up the path behind him… Manna from heaven. I grabbed him as he tried to squeeze past me.
"And what about this kid? He wants to go to Uni’ – but how the hell can he afford it – do you think it’s right that an English teenager should be lumbering himself with thousands of pounds worth of debt? But not to worry, not to sodding well worry because just a hundred miles up the M6, in Tony ‘kin Blair’s home country, it’s all ‘kin paid for, for their kids, no debt for them, courtesy of me and people like me down here paying for it all"…..
It was at that moment, I realised I had more than just a tight grip on my Son’s arm. It was going purple.
It was at that moment, I realised I had advanced down the path and was shouting and swearing and glottaling about an inch from this annoying little NuLabour man’s face.
It was at that moment, I realised why I had got the two prescriptions earlier that day. A wicked infection in my lungs leaving me with a ton of phlegm havering up and down inside me every time I breathed.
But not any more. The wheezing had gone, the phlegm had all but been expectorated to atmosphere….. and all over Mr Creep’s dripping features…
As he sloped away with his damp leaflets for Mrs Dull, my NuLabour poodle candidate in his hand, I helpfully reminded him that the impending virulent infection I had just passed onto him was going to cost him the neck end of 13 quid to get shut of….
So there you have it. Next time you feel a bit wheezy, just go and find yourself a NuLabour foot soldier to have a go at. It works better than antibiotics – and it saves on Kleenex and the prescription fee as well…. Unless you live in Wales and Scotland though, obviously……
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Looks like a job for Blairman and Gordin, the Boy Wonder....
Holy disaster!
Peugeot announced today that their English car plant at Ryton is to close in the ever so near future.
So what happens when an English car factory hits the buffers? Let’s look at the archives. Let’s look at what happened in April, last year when Longbridge, the Rover flagship suddenly found they had no money, no future – oh, and they owed the Taxman over 100 million quid.
Fear not, the dynamic duo, Blair and Brown were through those factory gates (using the Queen’s flight, obviously) faster than you could say ‘photo-opportunity’
Holy cow!
Cue jackets off and rolled up shirtsleeves, cue spray-on sweaty armpits, half drunk cups of coffee, half eaten BLTs and bottles of water. Tone and Gord are here and boy, do they mean business....
Splattt!
Gordon, the boy wonder, immediately writes off the hundred mill’ tax debt.
Kapow!
Tony sweats profusely as he feels the angst, he lives the agony that the Longbridge workers are going through.
Sorted!
Blairman, the caped crusader reaches into his Utility Belt and hands over a few more mill’ of Cherie's housekeeping in support and pledges super-hero brotherhood with the workforce forever, or until just after May 5th, whichever came first.
Epilogue!
Well, the 5th May came first, which just happened to be General Election day – Labour and the control freakery trolls won for a third term…. and Longbridge? Flogged off for a song, dismantled and re-erected near Shangai in China.
Peugeot announced today that their English car plant at Ryton is to close in the ever so near future.
So what happens when an English car factory hits the buffers? Let’s look at the archives. Let’s look at what happened in April, last year when Longbridge, the Rover flagship suddenly found they had no money, no future – oh, and they owed the Taxman over 100 million quid.
Fear not, the dynamic duo, Blair and Brown were through those factory gates (using the Queen’s flight, obviously) faster than you could say ‘photo-opportunity’
Holy cow!
Cue jackets off and rolled up shirtsleeves, cue spray-on sweaty armpits, half drunk cups of coffee, half eaten BLTs and bottles of water. Tone and Gord are here and boy, do they mean business....
Splattt!
Gordon, the boy wonder, immediately writes off the hundred mill’ tax debt.
Kapow!
Tony sweats profusely as he feels the angst, he lives the agony that the Longbridge workers are going through.
Sorted!
Blairman, the caped crusader reaches into his Utility Belt and hands over a few more mill’ of Cherie's housekeeping in support and pledges super-hero brotherhood with the workforce forever, or until just after May 5th, whichever came first.
Epilogue!
Well, the 5th May came first, which just happened to be General Election day – Labour and the control freakery trolls won for a third term…. and Longbridge? Flogged off for a song, dismantled and re-erected near Shangai in China.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Whispers, whispers, whispers.....
Is there any truth in the rumour that ’Boots the Chemists’ are to open up a new service on the high street? Apparently, they're responding to the demand from cancer suffering English women trying to get the wonder drug ‘Herceptin’ from a skint English NHS. The new service is to be rolled out as 'Boots the Lawyers’……
Union Flag – 400 years old today….
Happy birthday to younion flag, happy birthday to……
Sorry, but I don’t care. What we once had – a ‘Union’ we have now lost, courtesy of the Blairy-man. I no longer respect it – how can I when the values and aims of the Union have been so undermined and compromised by this awful Labour agenda……
A prediction – I doubt we will be celebrating its 425th birthday.
Sorry, but I don’t care. What we once had – a ‘Union’ we have now lost, courtesy of the Blairy-man. I no longer respect it – how can I when the values and aims of the Union have been so undermined and compromised by this awful Labour agenda……
A prediction – I doubt we will be celebrating its 425th birthday.
The Blairy man can......
His omnipotence, the St Tone of Sedgefield is, at this very moment having a pow-wow with Head Health Honchos at Number 10. The first miracle of the day will be performed over power croissants and holy water by St Tone - "Yea verily, let the NHS in England spend as much per head as it does in Wales and Scotland"…
Sorry, major plot loss there. It’s a miracle we want, not a flight of fantasy. No, the way to solve the English NHS problems are easy…… You gotta problemo? Can’t cope with the shelling outta 75 billion quid? Then call in the professional, St Tone to the rescue. He’ll give that old ‘trust me, I’m an ordinary sort of miracle worker’ smile. A wave of the hand, a dip into the bumper book of bullshit for a suitable quote – a promise of a Peerage or two and it’s ‘job done’…
Well, it has to be solved by 11 this morning doesn’t it? He’s got a busy diary ahead…… This afternoon he’s solving African debt. Over an early evening coffee he’s making Iraq a contented democracy and tonight he’s going to find the Holy Grail and re-examine whether there was actually another gunman on the grassy knoll…….
Tony Blair - 100% pure bullshit.
Sorry, major plot loss there. It’s a miracle we want, not a flight of fantasy. No, the way to solve the English NHS problems are easy…… You gotta problemo? Can’t cope with the shelling outta 75 billion quid? Then call in the professional, St Tone to the rescue. He’ll give that old ‘trust me, I’m an ordinary sort of miracle worker’ smile. A wave of the hand, a dip into the bumper book of bullshit for a suitable quote – a promise of a Peerage or two and it’s ‘job done’…
Well, it has to be solved by 11 this morning doesn’t it? He’s got a busy diary ahead…… This afternoon he’s solving African debt. Over an early evening coffee he’s making Iraq a contented democracy and tonight he’s going to find the Holy Grail and re-examine whether there was actually another gunman on the grassy knoll…….
Tony Blair - 100% pure bullshit.
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