Friday, August 29, 2008

Acronym masterclass...

A shite logo, earlier today.

Courtesy of one of my must-reads, The Daily Mash.

A suggestion of irresistible merit...

Roy Hobbs, a recently blind person, said: "In my experience NICE aren't really very nice at all.

"They should change their name to the Clinical Unit for Not Treating the Sick."

What more could one possibly add?

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Symbolism on the doorstep...

A culprit, earlier today. NB 'H' is played by a stuntcat.

Little H is one of my cats. For various reasons, she has an interesting habit of gorging, and then throwing up. Copiously. She doesn't do it too often fortunately, and over the last ten years has gradually yielded to my cajolings to take her activities outside.

So it was that on Monday night, she popped outside and everted herself mightily over the patio.

A few hours later, I nipped out to check the lamps in the garden. It was raining and that brought out lots of these things...

An alfresco diner, earlier today.

They'd located H's little delivery, and were indulging themselves accordingly. Quite, quite repellent.

Slugs, gorging on vomit. Slugs, gorging on vomit. Where else does that happen?

Oh yes. I remember.

Proudly serving the slug community since the 12th Century.

And is there honey still for tea?

The 'extended police family' earlier today.

For those of us who thought PCSO's weren't the greatest idea ever.

I found this crap in The Telegraph this morning, and the redoubtable Longrider wasn't slow to pick up on it. He has pinpointed the essential bits with his customary concision, including the creepy parallel with the French revolutionary Committee of Public Safety; reknowned forever for delivering anything but.

Personally I see a closer resemblance between this repulsive, shambolic idea and the Blockleiteren.

What I find particularly loathsome about all this, is Labour's need to dress up their filthy, secretive oppressions in the wholesome language of hearth and home, to wit:

Accredited Persons* have a key role to play in the delivery of Neighbourhood Policing and are an important part of the extended police family.

"the extended police family". I love that. I really love that. Does that mean there's a Daddy Policeman, a Mummy Policeman, an apple-cheeked Grandad and Granny Policeman and hordes of little laughing Baby Policemen?

No. It fucking doesn't. It means hordes of jumped-up, little cockslots rampaging around with powers they're neither trained nor equipped (mentally or psychologically) to use, arse-reaming us for the benefit of shit-shyster backstreet businesses and local councils.

This one is really going to end in tears.

Baby Policeman tried the big nasty robber, but that was much too dangerous, so Baby Policeman tried the gang of teenagers, but they just told Baby Policeman to go and fuck himself up the socket; then Baby policeman tried a little old lady whose Westie had dumped on the pavement, and she was just right.

*akkreditiertensleute anybody? Shit.

A Song for Europe...

A popular crooner, earlier today.

The chorus popped into my head unbidden last night, and the rest just followed. I may tinker around with it over the coming days, as I want it to be just right for notre cher colleagues...

Once there was a country,
Where freedom was The Word,
It wound up yoked to Brussels,
And then the lines were blurred,
It’s liberty was stolen,
It’s culture watered down,
It’s nationhood was bartered,
By a traitor they called Brown.

Get yourselves a backbone,
We can stand alone,
We don’t need their bloody union,
We’ve got one of our own!
Got one of our own!

At Nice as well as Maastricht,
They forged their filthy chains,
They set them round our nation,
Looking only to their gains,
The people never noticed,
For no one told them true,
The dirty lie of Lisbon,
Though their so-called leaders knew.

Get yourselves a backbone,
We can stand alone,
We don’t need their bloody union,
We’ve got one of our own!
Got one of our own!

The Irish showed their mettle,
Telling Brussels where to go,
The Czechs they saw the truth of it,
And struck another blow,
Both nations know the frailty,
Of freedom left to wane,
And wouldn’t let their liberty,
Pour away down history’s drain.

Get yourselves a backbone,
We can stand alone,
We don’t need their bloody union,
We’ve got one of our own!
Got one of our own!

They promised referendum,
They promised us a choice,
They gave no referendum,
They will not hear Our Voice,
Listen well you bloody liars,
You filthy traitors all,
Better listen to the British,
Or we will cause your fall.

Get yourselves a backbone,
We can stand alone,
We don’t need their bloody union,
We’ve got one of our own!
Got one of our own!

© Copyright Resistance is Useless! 2008 All rights reserved.

Any LPUK or Witanagemot Club member who finds this useful can help themselves.

Now I need a tune. Not some folky, tankard on the belt beardy bollocks, but something that hammers like a diesel engine. Something that stirs the blood and sparks some righteous anger. Something along the lines of 'We will rock you' but with a bit more melody. All contributions welcome.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Where were the other two then?

Words fail me, earlier today.

What about the all-too-British over-enthusiastic amateurism as embodied by the Legz Akimbo-esque dance troop? It’s the quality we thought so charming when a gambolling New Labour introduced it in 1997. That was before they raised it to the terrible, twisted artform that left us neck-deep in the shit we find ourselves in today

And my favourite quote...

(Boris Johnson unable to control the flag while looking like he’d slept in his clothes was just the peanut in the poo.)

There's more of the same over at Chicken Yoghurt, the discerning misanthrope's ideal Sunday evening snack.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

I have seen the future! And it sucks...

Look what we have waiting for you

Hard on the heels of N-Power's outrageous co-opting of children to the greeny 'crusade', the outstanding Spiked! presents us with something even more egregious.

‘Imagine if every child in the country channelled their Pester Power in service of the Glorious Green Future.’

Yes, you read that correctly...

This is no idle dream. Greens seem determined to convert the nation’s children into environmentalist versions of Mao’s Red Guards, the blindly-revolutionary youths who spearheaded China’s disastrous Cultural Revolution.

It may sound like hyperbole, but it isn't. Some morally impoverished sack of shit by the name of James Russell has excreted something masquerading as a book, under the title How to Turn Your Parents Green. Well, it didn't work quite so well on me, as it only succeeded in turning me several shades of puce.

It seems that having failed spectacularly to pull the wool over the eyes of most sensible adults, the eco-comrades have legitimised targetting children for their filthy brainwashing techniques.

Lee Jones, the author of this excellant if enraging article, makes the predictable connection with Orwell's Spies but here the reference lacks the tinge of cliche and is grimly apt.

Kids should patrol for ‘poisons’, demand they be replaced with eco-friendly products, monitor the depths of baths and put time limits on showers; they should start ‘griping for organic carrots’ and clothing, insisting on walking instead of taking the car, ensuring taps aren’t running and toilets aren’t flushed (‘if it’s yellow, let it mellow…’). The list goes on, and an escalating system of fines is to be collected weekly from ‘transgressors’ of the children’s Glorious Green Charter.

Where to next I wonder? Incorrect thought? Incorrect philosophy? Reading material? Viewing habits? Oh yes, this sounds like the foundation of a happy home and a society comfortable with itself. Can't wait.

There is something simultaneously foul yet almost pathetically hilarious about these people. A brainless catastrophic misanthropy yoked to a mind that plainly functions, but in some warped parallel reality.

What to do with creatures like this? Individuals who want our children re-modelled along these lines...

James Russel's favourite masturbation fantasy perhaps?

...or this?

...or even this?

...I'm leaning towards force-pumping their rectums full of boiling concrete before flaying their hides and recycling them to make bog-roll for leper colonies.

They're eschewing half-measures. So should we.


Thursday, August 21, 2008

And now over to...

Warning! Fucked License-Fee Payers Ahead!

Grams: BBC Evening News theme

Poorly Connected BBC Frontman:

Good evening, now to Well Connected Suit, live in Beijing. Hello, Well Connected Suit...

On live feed from Beijing, with exotic backdrop of night sky, venues etc. etc.

Well Connected Suit:

Good evening, you shitty peasant...

Poorly Connected BBC Frontman:

Can you tell us how well Team BBC has done in the freestyle expenses events today?

Well Connected Suit:

Abso-fucking-lutely awesome! We have been hoovering it up
around the clock...

Poorly Connected BBC Frontman:

Sounds tremendous Well Connected Suit!

Well Connected Suit:

You don't know the half of it my son. I've got money literally,
literally, falling out of my arsehole! Holiday of a fucking

Poorly Connected BBC Frontman:

Any words for the viewing public at home?

Well Connected Suit:

Fuck the lot of you! Ah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-

Grams: "We're in the money"

The BBC. They can do this because of the unique way in which they're funded.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

For the avoidance of doubt...

Your result for The Perception Personality Image Test...

HBDS - The Commander

Humanity, Background, Detail, and Shape

You perceive the world with particular attention to humanity. You focus on the hidden treasures of life (the background) and how that is affected by the details of life. You are also particularly drawn towards the shapes around you. Because of the value you place on humanity, you tend to seek out other people and get energized by being around others. You like to ponder ideas and imagine the many possibilities of your life without worrying about the details or specifics. You are highly focused on specific goals or tasks and find meaning in life by pursuing those goals. You prefer a structured environment within which to live and you like things to be predictable.

The Perception Personality Types:


Take The Perception Personality Image Test at HelloQuizzy

My tanks to your lawn...

Monday, August 18, 2008

Oh, well that's OK then...

A Greater Manchester licensee has barred his local MP from drinking in his pub for voting for the smoking ban.

Stupid, bigoted NuLabour bastard earlier today.

Robinson's tenant Roger Hantulik has put up posters warning Labour MP David Heyes he is not welcome at the Prince of Orange in Ashton-under-Lyne.

"He took away my choice to have smokers in my pub, so I have taken away his choice to drink here," said Hantulik.

"Trade has halved here since the ban. The average age of our customers is 40 years old and up and they were good drinkers and good smokers. Now they have gone. They sit at home drinking cheap crates of beer from the supermarkets and smoking.

"The pub is dying and I am not sure how long I can hold on here."

Hantulik has been in the trade for 20 years and at the Prince of Orange for seven years.

But MP Heyes did not seem overly bothered claiming he had not been in the pub for about eight years.

"I think the majority of people object to smoky pubs. I would vote for a smoking ban again if I had to."

"I think the majority of people object to smoky pubs"

No, you silly disconnected cunt. The problem lies in the fact that you don't think at all.

Check out the widget to the right of this post. 2000+ pubs to the wall since this fucking ridiculous, illiberal farrago of a law was enacted.

But they're only small businesses aren't they? Who gives a fuck about them, eh?

He's on a roll...

An orange, earlier today.

The Nameless One rides again!

Anthony Burgess was by turns brilliant, prescient and a prize cunt. Some things however, he nailed to perfection. To wit...

But think - the State is only an instrument. Everything depends on who has control of that instrument, which can so easily be transformed into a weapon. It's unwise to assume, even with our heightened wariness of tyranny, a continuation of a tradition of liberalism.

Which is all I have to say to all these stupid, stupid unthinking fuckslots who parrot the line 'If you've nothing to hide, you've nothing to fear'.


Sunday, August 17, 2008

Is it? Or isn't it?

Yes, it's about him again.

I've mentioned the modern miracle that is Dirty European Socialist before, and I suspect I will do again.

The Nameless One weighs in, as this guy really is irresistible. When The Witanagemot Club blog awards announced the category 'Shouldn't be allowed to own a computer, let alone have a blog', my fingers assumed a life of their own as they danced across the keyboard, for credit where credit's due.

DES combines a writing style which suggests he wears a welding mask and types with a mallet in each hand, with thought processes implying a forced lobotomy at the hands of a drunken chimp armed with a lump-hammer, and yet, and yet...

You see, The Nameless One asked the key question; the one that sometimes crosses my mind where DES's concerned...

sometimes I think he is just a fuck ignorant dick. Other times I believe he must be a spoof - a piece of political performance art that is deliberately trying to be as outrageous and mindlessly cliched as possible

...and the reason he posed the question was this masterpiece of political insight...

The tories will not win. The evil slave trading tories must never win another election,. It is obviius to even the biggest fool, Thta if the tories win they will back slavery and kill all balcks

If it's the former, then he needs to be pickled in formaldehyde and studied. If the latter, he must be given a prime-time slot on BBC1 as he's clearly a comic genius of the first water.

In any event Comrades, the clarion call has been issued and none can shirk their duty. To the barricades! The balcks must be saved, even if it cost us our lisve!

Bordering on the truly magnificent...

Stuff like The X-Factor makes me want to either:

a) Retch
b) Die
c) Prise my own kneecaps off with a screwdriver

However, alerted by the (endless) trailers I tuned in last night, breaking the habit of a lifetime, to see if they told true.

They did. Self-delusion on an epic scale. I give you Ant & Seb.

Culture Corner...

The incomprehensible, earlier today.

Mr. E has something to say about being involuntarily immured in the Edinburgh festival.

Not if my dream of two clowns on unicycles playing table tennis with your severed nuts ever comes to fruition it won't be, you braying shagsack, so fuck off.

Do go and enjoy the whole thing.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Hang on a mo...

God, earlier today.

I tend to avoid CiF on the well-worn principle that there's only so much one man can stand. I avoid Julie Burchill for exactly the same reason, as with the exception of Polly Toynbee, she is the towering monument to how high a vapid know-nothing berk can rise in the MSM.

This however, I couldn't resist.

I believe, literally, in the God of the Old Testament, whom I understand as the Lord of the Jews and the Protestants. I'm a Christian Zionist, as well as a Christian feminist and a Christian socialist.

Now, I'm an atheist, and have been since before my balls dropped, but even I know that JC is conspicuously absent from the Old Testament. He pitched up for Bible II, in which his life is chronicled. That's where the christian bit comes in Julie. Get it? Christ? Christian?

If I remember correctly, the book of Isaiah actually injuncts people to 'consider not upon things past', and to 'behold, I am doing a new thing', which could be interpreted as meaning that the old instruction book goeth even unto The Bin.

But it's all a bit complicated for you isn't it Julie. You deeply stupid, fabulously, supernaturally ignorant anus.

HT Flying Rodent

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Bordering on lyrical...

A ludicrously nostalgic take, earlier today.

Ambush Predator has something to say about yet another egregious failure on the part of the Boys in Blue. As an organisation, the police must, must, must pull it's head out of it's collective arsehole.

It contains this analogy, which is about as neat, concise and apposite as you're likely to find anywhere.

But perhaps Mr Lawson now knows a little of how the general public feels when the guard dog they’ve kept, fed, trained and cleared up after all their lives (to the tune of hundreds of thousands of pounds of tax) turns on them instead of the burglar.

I definately couldn't have put it better myself.

The principle of policing by consent is now seriously under threat, and unless the link between the police and the law-abiding community is reforged as a matter of urgency it will collapse.

When that day comes, not all the body armour, tasers and glocks in the world will put humpty back together again.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

My gag-reflex is in overdrive...

Proud symbol of a dissident running from the secret police, earlier today

Wolfers nails it in spades...

'. . . and now dozens of small children, all dressed in scarlet, dance about in a representation of the blood escaping the anus of the Emperor Minge after a particularly bad attack of piles in the 8th Century. . .'


Too good to miss...

Alfred the Great, revolving at 3000 rpm earlier today.

The Anglo-Saxon Code

No crown but ours shall govern here,
No strangers rule with gold or fear,
No plow but ours may slough the loam,
No prow but ours slash the spume,
No hand but ours may bind our kin,
No gods but ours proclaim a sin,
No law but ours may stay a blow,
No hand but ours may draw a bow,
No men but ours may hunt the land,
No sons but ours bear sword in hand,
No word but ours shall we trust,
No flags be flown except of us,
No land but ours do we demand,
No more than what we have farmed,
No strangers slaving on our soil,
No man unpaid or forced to toil,
No heroes praised but ours alone,
No other kin but our blood and bone,
No strangers to tell us who we are,
No obedience to any foreign laws.

HT The Lone Voice.

Friday, August 08, 2008

Good evening, and welcome to Plugorama...

A plug, earlier today.

Two additions to the roll. The first, which I stumbled across by accident is Counting Cats in Zanzibar, an anglo-chainrattler with a nice line in Libertarian concision. Well worth a read.

The second, courtesy of DK is Obnoxio the Clown, lovely bloke, and from his photo he's approved by the British Dental Association too.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

He's a Little Yellow Something Alright...

A little yellow idol, earlier today.

This, I had to share:

There’s a one-eyed yellow Scotsman of a dour and sullen hue
There’s a stench of pious bullshit all around
There’s a broken-hearted woman dreams of socialism true
And the yellow Scot forever lets her down

He was known as Red McBroon, and he made the Party swoon
Though his cowardice had long begun to smell
But for all he was a wanker he was feted by the bankers
And Polly Toynbee smiled on him as well

Posted chez Mr. E by the remarkable Nick Drew.

I commend this gem of modern English literature in the highest possible terms. Please read the whole thing.