Tuesday, 30 December 2008

Calfy with Ellenore yesterday

Having gone off on one yesterday (deleted post) I thought I would post a happy picture of My Girl and her cow.




Yes, I know that's not the usual spelling of Eleanor, but that is what DEFRA know her as. Ellenore is a South Devon, without the horns. Her babies taste delicious.

Sunday, 28 December 2008

Live from Iraq



Hat tip to http://savageminds.org/

Sunday, 21 December 2008

Is this man fit to be a leader of our Police?



Mr Quick initially alleged in an interview with the Press Association that the "Tory machinery and their press friends" were opposing the investigation "in a wholly corrupt way" but later issued a retraction.

Have you noticed how fat people get when they are at the top of the public servant pile? He even looks like Jacqui Smith. That is the face of a man who has little regard for his body except when it comes to his mouth. (Update, lest my dear readers think I am fattist...I don't mind if people are fat and/or can't be bothered with their bodies..I just object to paying for it..). At least the Beast of Clerkenwell supports his own massive girth with flogging what he can to whomsoever he can...

Looks like Boris was right and the politicisation has gone viral.

Gorgeous blues posted below if you need cheering.



Update: Comment from Ranter on Iain Dale

ranter said...

'Fat Bob' is a prime example of over promotion.
A good Ds and DI maybe a DCI but from then on a few Bramshill Courses, an attachment to the FBI, a degree or MA paid for in 'The Jobs' time, then a bit of butterflying from force to force, rank to rank and they actually believe their own publicity. Programmed robots who leave their own common sense and experience behind as they crawl and grovel up the ladder. They all speak like programmed clones. They are all the same. 'Fat Bob, 'Cress', the hierarchy at the Yard spend all their time chasing the next rank and discuss who is going after what job or appointment. They should actually spend some time being good at their bloody jobs. In fact there really is no need to have all these senior ranks at all. Most of the operational front line work is done by DCI's downwards. What on earth do the Met need all those DAC's and Commanders, and chief supers and supers for? We really do need a Royal Commission into policing, let alone all these separate cries for various independant public enquiries for the ever growing and seemingly continuous cock-ups! Trouble is I'm not sure the climate is right for a Royal Commission - who would set the agenda?
Quick should at least ask to be reassigned before being moved by the perma-tanned Sir Paul Stephenson. He should also carefully consider his future - might be a good time to retire and take over the car business.

Some proper blues from New Orleans

This is Grandpa Elliot. He is my favourite Father Christmas lookalike. Check out the harmonica action.

Thursday, 18 December 2008

My latest window sticker


Unfortunately I can't remember where I saw the original..probably a link on Guido. It looks great in the back window of my car.

Thursday, 11 December 2008

Who are these "Police" ?

I should really let Calfy blog this because it is about her friend. I just feel I should warn people what is actually going on.

A friend of hers, a sweet, gentle young man was walking home at 1am. He was only a couple of hundred yards from his home in leafy Barnes (Yes, BARNES) when he noticed a car with blacked out windows crawling along near him. He was alarmed and increased his pace. Three burly men dressed head to toe in black lept out of the car and one said " 'Ear, we wan a wurd wiv you!" Thinking he was about to be set upon by gangsters the lad began to run. The men in black caught him up and threw him to the concrete. At this point they identified themselves as Police. They took him to the station, where he remained for three hours where they queried £60 cash as the most incriminating item he was carrying. The suspicious behaviour that justified their arrest of him was that he ran away from them.

Now, like you, like anyone, this lad would have stopped immediately had they opened the car door and said "Stop, Police!", with their identification held up for him to see. But he thought he was about to be mugged. He WAS in effect mugged. Who are these Police and why are they on our streets unidentifiable as Police, and why are they picking on middle class white kids walking home at night?

Does this remind anyone of Jean Charles de Menezes last moments?

Saturday, 6 December 2008

Tax costs/benefits evaluated

It is official, hard working families to support unemployed families....

Times article here


For Better or Worse

Effects of Labour's tax and benefit changes, 1997-2012

Worse off

Both earning, no children £2,208

Single earning couple, no

children £1,684

Both earning, plus children £1,466

Single, employed £1,281

Multiple benefit households,

no children £976

No earning couple, no

children £543

Single, unemployed £297

Better off

No earning couple, children £2,901

Lone parent, unemployed £2,491

Lone parent, employed £2,066

Single pensioner £1,148

Couple pensioner £350

Multiple benefit households, children £220

Single-earner couple, children £180


I am sorry Kev, looks like you will be contributing a great deal more towards your brother's life style....
Source: IFS

This is just TOO cute

Here

Tuesday, 2 December 2008

I had no idea!

After discovering that E-K has released an album of country songs and is quite a star over in LA....


.....I discover there is something David is not telling us!

Monday, 24 November 2008

Ordinary people living ordinary lives

Mr and Mrs Normal.



My poor boy has component failure. The orthopaedic surgeon gets to him on Thursday. As he will need to learn to walk again I won't have much time to blog so if I am not about it is because I am nursing my gorgeous man/having to cook my own tea.

Friday, 21 November 2008

BBC Illiterati

"The BBC understands Mr Darling will have to borrow large over the next two years - equivalent to at least 8% of GDP which adds up to more than £110bn per year."

Is this what passes for standard English these days? Is this statement "borrow large" meant to distract the reader from the sums involved?

Article here

Thursday, 20 November 2008

Police love an easy target: cheers Jacquie!

A friend of a friend (FF)was driving home at around 11pm on Sunday night. He had had his customary pint and a half with a mate, left the pub and rang his wife to say he was picking up a takeaway and on his way home. His journey home took him across the edge of the red light district (Cowley Road, Oxford). As he turned into a side road to transfer to the Iffley Road a woman with loads of bags ran towards the vehicle and into the front of it. FF was going very slowly, negotiating the cars parked either side of the narrow side street so she wasn't hurt. In a flash she was round to his passenger door and into the vehicle, bags, stench, insane burblings and all. "Drive" she says.

Now, you and I might have demanded she get out. Or we might, like FF be shocked and compassionate, and think "It's late, she's off her head on the street, she looks messed up, perhaps I should take her where she needs to go". He takes her a few hundred yards, during which it becomes apparent that she is a crack whore. He demands she gets out. When he stops to get her out there are policemen right there. His passenger is known to them. Next thing he knows he has been arrested for persistent soliciting. I am sure it must be dropped as he has not "persistently solicited" and the police have no evidence that he has. But ghastly experience all the same.

Gentlemen, lock your doors when driving home late at night.

Sunday, 16 November 2008

Saturday, 15 November 2008

Wrong Kind of Social Worker and buck passing

Perhaps what is needed in Harringey is a Social Service made up of enormous, burly, stongly paternal blokes, minimum height 6'6". Instead we have stringy, nervous exhausted women with absurd case loads.

I heard a social worker on the radio yesterday saying that a boy in his care was being left in the family home (where he has witnessed rapes, where there are drugs and violence every day). The SW said in his opinion this was wrong and dangerous. Because the child is a ward of court the SW has to "sign off" the "Care Plan" to present to the judge. However this SW was not prepared to do this as he didn't agree that the boy was safe being left at home. His line manager was not prepared to either, and so it went on up the chain until the Head of Service has to sign off the Care Plan. The Head of Service is happy to do this because what the boy "needs" ie. residential therapeutic care, costs £5k a week and Head of Service doesn't have the budget.

Someone signed off Peter Connolly's care plan. Someone made the wrong decision. Someone should lose their job.

This whole nightmare begs the question: Why do we need Contact Point? "Early Intervention" is one of the supposed aims. The children who are at risk are KNOWN to the "authorities" as Gordon Brown likes to call them, and are not helped with the resources already available.

Wednesday, 12 November 2008

Meeting Bloggers, and random Brown Haters.

The first was not achieved. I blame E-K. I spent the morning sandwiched in a train, stuck in a valley getting claustrophobic because of an incident. When I finally, 3 and a half hours after leaving home, reached Bath Spa ( a distance of 13 miles) I had had enough of trains and caught a bus home again. So, I was sorry I didn't get to meet up but I think it was Electro Kevin's evil plan.

The second, "random Brown Haters" was encountered by Elby when walking Pig.

As he commented on Guido:

Elby the Beserk said...

So I'm walking the dog this morning, and meet a runner I occasionally see on this our regular walk. Woods, river, beautiful Somerset.

Usually he runs past and we exchange hellos. This morning, he stops, and says to me

"Do you hate Gordon Brown?"

Like that. Out of the blue.

"Yes", sez I, "indeed, I loath the man and and wish him all manner of ill".

He laughs and says "It's not particular his politics. It's HIM".

Spot on mate. You, me, and much of the rest of the country. That's why all these opinion polls make me laugh - they completely miss the point.

Gordon. Just stop breathing, mate, and do us all a favour.

Word ver : "murbrie"

Scottish for not being able to extract your head from your arse.

E.G. "I'm in a right murbrie today"

Sunday, 9 November 2008

Thursday, 6 November 2008

Lilith's Movie Recommendations #1 in a very occasional series

Stumbled across this movie trailer, for an EXCELLENT film, The Petrified Forest. The trailer is good in it's own right but it doesn't do the film justice. It really is griping stuff. Recommended for a long winter night.

Tuesday, 4 November 2008

Dedicated to Old Holborn and people who like to walk

I cleared some of my junk from my Dad's flat that he had hauled from the roof of his house before selling it last year...I found lots of (mostly) embarrassing singles and some mildewed clothes. Amongst the singles was this. It made me think of Old Holborn, partly because he was an '80s group keyboardist and partly because it seemed so apt.

Wednesday, 29 October 2008

Thursday, 23 October 2008

The Roof is Caving in.

What a metaphor for our times! Just been in my roof with a nice local roofer, who kindly pointed out the sky in many places, and small lakes in some others. I have a weird roof that is mezzanine so hard to get very far into...Gordon, can I have some money for a new roof please? I am a hard working family, honest. I had a full structural survey done when I bought the place and the surveyor went into the loft too because he describes the insulation. He didn't look upwards or he surveyed the place at night because there are unplanned skylights all over the place. My insurance doesn't cover it because it is a "pre existing condition". D'oh! At least I will be preserving a couple of local jobs for a few days longer...

I am a little down in the dumps because blooging seems to have given me RSI in my right shoulder, so I have to learn to mouse with my left hand....

Sunday, 19 October 2008

Suicide Bomber

This made me laugh

Saturday, 18 October 2008

Soundtrack to my life. Scratch that.

I have always had varied musical appetites, and these days listen to a lot of bluegrass, the ever present Grateful Dead, and because I live with an old gadgee, a fair amount of the more recent Bob Dylan.

The Dead has always been there, since I was 18 anyway, and it seems, so too was Madonna. I first heard her when I was a proto feminist, and my mates were lesbian separatists or Film and Lit winos. I was a closet fan until firstly, a friend I deemed really cool admitted his affection for her dance tunes, and secondly, until I heard a sixteen year old siouxie soux lookalike scream "this is my song" and rush onto the dancefloor as Like a Virgin started up. I always was a bit of a feminist-in-fishnets myself, and although I did the really really short hair and doc martens I never did the dungarees.

I loved to dance and bought everything she did until her "Music" album which was a bit crap. Someone gave me the one after that but I played it once. Ray of Light was a treat. She should have packed it all in then.

Something really bad has happened to her. She is making crap albums. She is slagging off Guy publicly. And frankly, she does look like a granny in a leotard in spite of all the working out and surgery. Why wouldn't she? Many women are long since grannies at 50. It's not a bad thing to be. She is divorcing the last person on earth prepared to tell her the truth.



Scary Momma gonna take your kids to New York so suck on that Guy. Her albums are all going onto Amazon today, (if Elby hasn't put them on already).

Friday, 17 October 2008

Unbelievable

Can anybody tell me the point of a helicopter in a war zone that does not come equipped with a winch?

RIP Corporal Wright

This is why the government wants inquests in private. To hide their shame.

Monday, 13 October 2008

What is Going On?

I have a few question marks:


Banks are writing to small businesses, putting their loan interest rates up by 70%. These letters are arriving as banks have been told to lend at 2007 rates by The Master. Will they bring these rates down again?

How do chairmen of banks manage to keep a decent pension pot, when everyone else's has gone to shit?

Luckily, after a sleepless night (no, not worry) I was able to learn what "Churning" is from the comments on CIF.

Masticator said at 12.29

dratkins

A period of deflation with taxpayer support for good banks as bad banks are euthanased and their assets taken over, is what is required. The last Depression got bad because good banks went to the wall. That is what must be avoided.

That's exactly what needs to happen but it isn't going to. Far too many of the ultra rich will suffer personal ruin.

Another poster asked how the CDS market could be worth 60 trillion, a sum larger than the planets GDP. Well let me introduce you to the concept of churning. A banker writes a CDS to insure a bond, he then offsets his risk to other parties, i.e. he re-insures, and they in turn offset their risk and so on and so on. Now this sounds OK(ish) so far, however please bear in mind that CDS are not really what they appear. They're advertised as a form of insurance to reduce counter party risk, in reality they're a form of speculative investment which have morphed into an alternative currency. The more churn or turnover in this crap the more the bankers could cream off the top as fees and the bigger their crimbo bonuses (huzzah!). So to put it mildly they had a bit if incentive to ensure that their clients were lured into buying this stuff and sucked in as many counter parties as possible. A million dollars worth of CDOs could well end up as a hundred million in CDS spread over thousands of investors.

Now for the scary bit. As the US housing market collapsed some of these CDS obligations were called in, and hey guess what? It turned out that many of the individuals and companies who wrote these 'policies' had neither the means or inclination to meet their calls. Who would have thought that in a completely unregulated market people might fib about their ability to pay? And so the demand to pay these IOUs has been marching up the chain. This is what's causing the equity markets to go into meltdown as everybody desperately tries to go liquid to pay off this crap, that and blind panic obviously. And the ultimate suckers holding the pile of steaming shit when the music stops? Well the banks of course.

So what's the final bill? No idea, but lets grab a number out off thin air, 10 trillion US net. It might be 5 trillion or 20 or even a hundred squillion for all anybody knows. But if the guesstimates on the size of the market are correct the net exposure will be a lot less for reasons I've explained. But it's still a bloody big number and growing all the time as the economy heads down the toilet.

So what about dratkins point? Why aren't governments organising a clear out and unwinding the banks holding this stuff? Well to do so would be to admit that the trillions in derivatives held by some of the worlds wealthiest and most powerful are actually worthless. Instead we are seeing a more gradual unwinding as counter party risk is transfered to the good old tax payer allowing our elites to enjoy a fun packed retirement in the Bahamas or to wait until the market bottoms and make a killing. Why do you think there is almost no debate or analysis over the central cause of the economic melt down in our media? Coincidence? lol


But things are not all bad...there's plenty of construction work , here Scroll down the article for incredible pics, both actual and projected.

Saturday, 11 October 2008

My Dad Says


My Dad has been saying for 18 months "It's going to get bad, very, very bad."

He has been saying that Iceland is a fuckup for as long. Last year he was saying for the first time in his life "Cash, not property" He sold his house last November and paid off his debts and developers knocked it down and are trying to sell the rebuild, poor things.

But I spoke to him today and he says the stock market will pick up in 6 to 9 months and the economy six months to a year after that. So that's not so bad eh? We just gotta get through the next couple of years....

I love my Dad.

Update: It's alright! We're off back to the '70s. Relax. Smile. Enjoy

Saturday, 4 October 2008

Is Kate recoiling in horror in this picture?

Warning for the delicate of digestion, do not click on this link.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

Friday, 3 October 2008

Great headlines that deserve a reprise

See here

The surreal expression "Gay Feud" clinches it for me as an award winner.

Having popped over to here I think the appointment of Mandy may be an act of revenge from our PM.

Wednesday, 1 October 2008

My faith restored

I went up to London Town with My Girl to see her solicitor. On the way we changed tubes at Leicester Square and sat on the platform waiting for the next train. My Girl bemoaned the lack of rubbish bins in order to dispose of her double chocolate mocha frappe container. AT THAT MOMENT..a TFL employee approached my daughter with a paper shopping bag and asked her if she had any refuse he could collect from her....Boris is making a HUGE difference!!!

Monday, 29 September 2008

Thursday, 25 September 2008

My Baby got charged today.

They are set on criminalising My Girl. And I am premenstrual. Don't fuck with me.

Sunday, 21 September 2008

Gordon Brown's Hands



These are not the hands of a confident, competent individual. They are just not.

Saturday, 20 September 2008

Some Cheese Show Pics for Idle

I don't have very many and these were taken on my phone, all except the auld gadgee looking at the cheese exhibit, which I borrowed from the Show website. You will see there's lots for the boys there, from just the few I have posted...





Sturm und Drang


A Jedi tractor




Thursday, 18 September 2008

Picture post (updated)

Before medication



After medication



Self medication

Sunday, 14 September 2008

Stan's Sunday News Round up

Lifted from Guido's comments


stanislav, a young polish plumber said...

NEXT WEEK’S PLUMBING NEWS OF THE WORLD.



FROM THE NORTHERN OVAL OFFICE.

My fellow Eskimo motherfuckers. Just A Heartbeat Away President Eskimo Nell here, speaking to you from the Northern Oval Office on this here iceberg.

People say that Ice People are dumb assholes. And that may be true. Sure as shit is the case with my First Gentleman Eskimo, Wotsisname, to whom I done been hitched these past however many years it is, only he don’t go mis-spunkin’ as Hillary put it, over young ladies young enough to be his daughter only not so ugly as Chelsea or whatever the fuck her made-up name is and leaving me and the help to wash up all that jizz offa the Gubernatorial carpet. Don’t get the State Troopers crawling around the Alaska whorehouses getting him some Inuit pussy and smuggling it all back in here under my very nose, not that I cain’t smell fish or anything.

My first Gentleman Eskimo is vindicated in more ways than one this week. Not only is he not a bloated piecea cocaine-induced heart attack shit like President Spunky Bill but his dream of a gun-totin’, Creationist, communist America done come true; after all these yearsa him labour-agitating his sweet ass off, we done nationalised the banks, Lordamercy, and my first task as VeePee is to set up The House UnEskimo Activities Commission. Are you or have you ever been a capitalist, ’swhat I’m gonna say to all them Democrats. Was you a capitalist sympathiser ? Did you ever invest any money in the hope a making a profit ? And if you did we all gonna fry your ass…….Long live the communist revolution of America. Down with the running dogs of Frankie May and Ferdy Mac. Eskimos of the world unite, you got nothing to lose, the whole Goddamned place is melting anyhow and I’m up to my sweet Beauty Queen ass in slush round here. Them Goddamned capitalist sonsafuckinbitches done melted my whole world away. Property is theft. Only not mine.

God Bless The Soviet Union of American States.

Vote McCain-Eskimo Nell. Vote Communist.

--------------------------------------------------------------

JOCKLABOUR ELECTS ANOTHER TURNIP AS NEW LEADER.

Mr Ian Turnip was today elected leader of the Jock Labour party. Mr Turnip follows the liar, Wendy Alexander; the liar, adulterer and astonishing, national, cross-dressing embarrassment, Jock McConnell; the liar and thief, Henry McLeish, who should be in jail but instead receives a pension of a grand a week, the cunt, and the miserable fucking skinflint, Donald Dewar, whose Mrs was so fucked-off at being shackled to the horrible, stuttering, fuckpig bastard that she ran away with Lord Derry Wallpaper, Cupid to gay Tony Blair and his part-time Mrs, Imelda Gob. QC, and miserable old Donald had to content himself with fucking Scotland while Lord Irvine fucked his Mrs for him. Still, at least he had a meaningful relationship with Edinburgh’s most delectable transsexual, Mr Wark; if you call a cup of tea and some shortbread biscuits meaningful.

At a low-key, so called acceptance speech, Mr Turnip said Grrrrr, Aaargggh, Salmond, Grrrrrr, Aargggggh, Salmond, SeeYouJimmy, Grrrrr, Aaaarggggh.

Nobody cares. Apart from the US-owned Jock Herald, motto: Scotland; what the fuck is that all about ? Can we, daily, day after day, editorialise a fathomless sense of grievance a thousand years old ? Yes, we can. Cunts. All of them. Think Alan Arsebridger’s bad ? You should see Mark Douglas-Home. Anglo-Scot. Like that bastard Rifkind. Big brown shouty voice, that Rifkind, like His Excellency Field Marshal Max von Hastings, VC, of Canary Wharf, about whom the only good thing to be said is that he is not a Jock, even though he may as well be; miserable, money-grubbing cocksucker.

THE PRIME MINISTER IS SITTING-UP IN BED AND TAKING NOURISHMENT, SORRY, PUNISHMENT.

This is Kay Fright with you here at Sky MadeUpNewsAndFilth in the Afternoon.

Over now to our correspondent, Jane Totty, outside the Harold Wilson Hospital for Sick Prime Ministers. Adam, what can you tell us?

Thanks Kay and yes, doctors have issued a bulletin saying The patient is suffering from an untreatable variant of mad cunt disease and needs to be gagged, restrained and sedated for the foreseeable future; it is a scandal that he has not been formally diagnosed before this. That he is barking mad has been obvious for the past twenty years only nobody paid us enough money to say so. Now that Mr Murdoch has given me shares in his company the prime minister’s condition has become much clearer and Mr Dave Flashman will be appointed Mr Murdoch’s Viceroy in the UK.


Speaking through a leather gag and strapped to a wheelchair in the Dayroom, Gordon Brown had this to say: I am getting on with taking the right long-term decisions. For old people and poor people. And that’s what the country wants me to get on with doing the job of. Even though I never asked them. If you were to go around the country, as I do, listening to people telling me to For God’s Sake Fuck Off You Fucking Mad Bastard or Fuck Off Out Of It You Fucking Lunatic, then you would know that I am the only person capable of doing what needs to be done. And won’t do it. Fuck off, that is.

At an economic time when people in the country want me to hurry-up and Fuck Off, the best thing is to get on with doing the job and making-up the policies and having the visions and hearing the voices to make sure that the people charging the other people for the gas and stuff -which they say has gone up in wholesale cost but hasn’t really - get an opportunity to charge the people who already can’t afford to pay the first lot of more money a second lot of more money for the privilege of having a pair of clowns stuff their lofts with recycled lemonade bottles and fill their walls up with expanding super glue so’s the house can’t breath and the condensation makes the house fall down, thus kick-starting the building sector which has been terribly damaged, not by me being a mad cunt but by America abolishing capitalism and going communist, like it has, by nationalising without compensation the biggest financial institutions in the whole history of usury. And nobody says Boo!

And on top of that the people who are charging other people too much money for the gas are delighted, I must say, at the prospect of filling up peoples walls with superglue so that in the future, instead of freezing to death and starving they probably won’t need as much gas as what they already can’t afford – even without being saddled with superglue charges - and so profits will go down with the result of all the money being burnt again. As in the case of the runaway financial success that is Northern Rock. And all the other banks which we have failed to regulate and are now having to give poor people’s money to, only prudently, in tens of billions of pounds, with no hope of ever getting it back out of the directors’ pockets. Or noses.

Obviously, at a time like this when hard-working English families can’t afford to eat or keep their houses warm and its all they can do, in fact, to ensure the comfort of Chief Executives of energy companies and members of Parliament, the best way to get on with the job of helping them is by giving them a very generous paycut of somewhere between five and one hundred per cent.

And for this I am grateful to Lords Prentiss and Barber of the TUC for them giving me thirty million pounds of their members’ money which I don’t know anything about, just like the money I trousered from Mr Abrahams of the Tel Aviv branch of the Labour Party and of whom I have also never heard much less met at Labour functions and asked for money for my leadership election campaign which never happened because everyone is frightened of me. And my mighty rocking horse.


No, my links with Lord Barber and Lord Prentiss of the TUC are the right thing for the hard-working, freezing and starving people of the country and only I know that. They are perfectly open and above-board; they give me their members’ money and I give them peerages, jobs on Quangoes and ever-more repressive anti-union legislation. And everybody is happy; everybody who matters. And I am right and everybody else is wrong.

If you come back and see me tomorrow I’ll have some new policies, I am working on developing some self-igniting currency notes, no sooner do you get hold of them than they go away up in smoke.

I have decided, also, that the best thing I can do in getting on with the job that only I can do in the long-term interests of hard-working English presbyterian families is to nationalise them and everything they think they own; that way, you see, everything and everybody belongs to me and has to do exactly what I say.

I have my National Freedom Team, Frau Schmidt, Mr Jack Torture and Mr Angry Tony McNutter working on the implementation of this policy right now and they will be coming in here to my secret control room to brief me to-morrow, or maybe the next day. But they will be coming.

Seeing as how I’m trapped in this funny jacket and can’t get my hands out, do you think you could help me out with a quick J. Arthur. I wouldn’t ask only it’s been half an hour now and I’m getting desperate.

I am right and everybody else is wrong. I am the cleverest patient in the entire secure unit. Nurse says.

Well, thanks, Adam, for that, still putting on the pounds, I see…….. this just in on the wires, in a gesture of national healing, organised by Lady Imelda Gob, QC, the former First Freeloader and wife of his Holiness Cardinal Blair, it is being arranged for everyone in the country to be bussed to the Harold Wilson Hospital for Mad Prime Ministers, file past Mr Brown in his straitjacket and punch him, hard, in his mad, snot-gobbling face, are you getting that, Adam ?

Prudently kick him up the arse is what I’m hearing, Evan, but very definitely an act of national reconciliation centred on punishing Mrs Brown. We did hear that Lady Imelda was going to charge everyone in the country a pound a head because she felt that we hadn’t quite appreciated her efforts when she was joint prime minister with the Cardinal, the one who would never do anything wrong, and that sixty million pounds might go a little way towards satisfying her outrageous vanity, although it would do little for her greed, which is insatiable. The horrible Scouse slag.

Thanks, Adam, and I am joined here, as I stand up and stride around in the studio, in my black suit, like a preying fucking mantis, by Butcher Hoon, the acting prime minister.

I simply don’t accept that there’s a problem with energy prices. I simply don’t accept that. You may say that Kirsty. And you do. But I simply don’t accept that there are problems with energy prices. Even though there are. But not for me.

And as for those ungrateful Iraqi bitches, well I told them that one day they would thank me for blowing their brats to bits with illegal but legal-for-infants fragmentation bombs and it was a price worth them paying, although none of my own repellent children have ever been in harm’s way, fuck me, no, as we draw near to finding the weapons of mass destruction and so on ………..And do you know, Jeremy, the slags haven’t. Thanked me. These wog women. What are they like ? Not including you, of course, my fellow panellist, Yasmin Alibhai-Lard, speaking as a career, separatist muslim woman and sat here beside me reeking of cinnamon and garlic and mutton fat, the dirty, greasy fucking bastard, toes sticking out of her tights, lipstick applied with a fucking trowel, it’s her neighbours I feel sorry for. No, Jonathan, I agree with everybody else on the panel, only not Mr Hughes the dirty fucking degenerate, what is needed is a mature debate, and I want to have the debate, a mature informed debate on a package, a raft of long-term measures that are good for the country so we can draw a line in the sand even though the Devil as ever is in the details and I will take no lectures from those cunts opposite, but let’s not, with hindsight, get into a blame culture, what we need clearly is a safe pair of hands on a level playing field and ninety minutes more of Cuntspeak like that. Just as long as I don’t ever have to go back to working for a living I’ll sit here talking bollocks all night long. Like you. And your fat brother. Is he the shagger in the family? 'swhat I heard.

Oi agree, wiv wot moi mate Geoff the Butcher, from Wolver-Ampton, sez, said Troop Deaths Minister, Bob The Brummy Cunt Ainsworth, who, Like Butcher Hoon of Wolverhampton, has never attended a serviceperson’s funeral, the proime minister, the last one, loike, Gor-dun, wuz roight, an’ all; when them planes cum fallin’ out the bleedin’ sky cuz they’re fucked and leak petrol all over the shop like bleedin’ cullanders it ain’t my fault; ain’t the fault of none of us in govament, loike; it’s the poilots’ faults. What we need, loike, is lunger in office, show the great ’ard-workin’, freezin’, ’omeless, unemployed English people wot we can really achieve, loike, on their be’alfs. ‘Omes fit for ‘eroes; only they won’t have no money to ‘eat ‘em, loike. Just have to put a few more blankets over their wheelcairs, wot Oi supplied ‘em wiv, out the goodness a me own ‘eart.

When Oi wuz a nipper, in Perry Barr, loike, we wuz so cold we ‘ad to set foire to the ‘ouses of the pakis and wogs movin’ in next door and stealin’ our jobs and fuckin’ our birds, loike, with their great big bendy knobs. Yasmin knows worramtalkin about, duncha, babe? Them West Indians wuz the worst. Oi ‘ate ‘em, Oi do. Specially that Keth fuckin’ Vaz. Set foire to a few immigrants, that’s the answer, when things are gooin’ all wrung, loike. You fuckers think Oi’m jokin’. But Oi int. You watch. Enoch Powell, now there wuz a real NewLabour MP.

Dimbleyby Question Time returns shortly, Any Dimbleby Questions returns shortly, followed tomorrow by Any Dimbleby Answers in which listeners can phone-in and compliment Jonathan; This Andrew Jock Week returns shortly, with Diane Lard and Michael Coward and guest appearances from Peter Stringpenis, a pimp and procurer and that stupid bald fucker, Kemp, off East Enders and the SAS. And in Scotland all those Jock programmes with ginger morons, they return shortly, too.


ONE FINAL PUSH TO POWER. OVER BY CHRISTMAS, SAYS TIELESS NICK KAMIKAZE.

At the Liberal Democrat conference the temporary leader, Mr Nick Haircut, will give his last speech as leader.

My fellow nasty, two-faced, double-dealing, back-stabbing, dog-murdering, shit-eating, alcoholic cocksuckers, If I ruled the world, you might ask me, would every day be the first day of Spring ? Would every heart have a new song to sing ? If you are asking me Would every head be held up high and would there be sunshine in everyone’s eye well then the answer, not that I am into answering, apart from when, as in this case I have asked myself the question, pretending that I am you, as well as me, is obviously – or, rather, are obviously - Yes, Yes and it depends, Jeremy, what you mean by sunshine, sunshine.

When I first became your Emperor I decided that when it came to interviews with pretend journalists I’d ask myself the questions and although that has worked to the extent that, under me and my policy of no ties at the weekend, just suits, we have nearly disappeared off the political radar, even the questions I ask myself can sometimes trap me. You can never be too suspicious of questions. Whaddathey really mean? And this will be a plank of my major new sinking raft of policy initiatives: The proposed Clegg Act, or, more fully, The What is the Place of The Question In Public Life, No, Better Not Answer That Act of 2009.

They can be the very Devil, can questions. For instance, y’know, as I travel round the country I walk down the street and say to voterpeople, Do you know who I am?

Wassup son, said one gentleman, don’t you know ? Never seen you before in my life. Are you off the telly ? Should have your name written on your clothes, that way if someone finds you, they can read it out and tell you. You look a bit like that Bob Monkhouse, only he’s toast, innee ? So you can’t be him; no, I give up, I’ll have to take you to the police station. Are you on medication? Only they’ll ask, down the copshop.

No, no, no, stupid voterperson, I do know who I am.

Well. Why are you asking me, then ? You think I have fuck all to do?

No. it’s not that. Of course I know who I am. I have known all along. Am I the right honourable Mr Nick Haircut, Leader of the Liberal Democrat party? Of course I am.

Is that right, son? And whaddathey do, then, is it like for kids birthday parties and that, clowns, pantomime; Oh yes, he’s the leader, Oh, no he isn’t; that sort of thing; Look out, Huhne’s behind you; I bet you’re good at that.

There is no point, comrades - as we march together in the sandals of proportional representation, tie-less at weekends but still in our suits - in false modesty and since we are all agreed that I am the best-ever leader of this great party, founded a huge twenty years ago in the mists of time by some vengeful but now doddery old people who are still whining in the House of Lords – Baroness Stupid of Crosby and Any Questions and Doctor BigHead Owen, foreign secretary for five minutes and Lord Dave Abort-Them-All-Now-This-Minute Steel et al - and that we must all get behind me as I release the handbrake and push the green char-a-banc of Liberal No Questions Democracy over the Cliff of Oblivion.

I need to hear you all singing at me, as I stand here, casual and handsome, without my tie, the Liberal Democrat Anthem; altogether now, after three, ah-one-two-three, sorry, that’s after four, ah-one-two-three-four:

(sprightly and with feeling)

Ying-tong, ying-tong, ying-tong, ying-tong
Ying-tong tiddle-i-pooh
Ying-tong tiddle-i-pooh
Ying-tong tiddle-i-pooh

Oooh

Ying-tong, ying-tong, ying-tong,ying-tong
Ying-tong tiddle-i-pooh
Ying-tong tiddle-i-pooh
Ying-tong tiddle-i-pooh.

Louder! I can’t hear you.

Up and over, lads; give it to the filthy swine; I’m right behind you. And Lieutenant Hughes, the straight choice, he’s right behind you, too. So you better run. Captain Kennedy, unfortunately, won’t be joining the assault as he has passed out from overwork and private Oaten is on latrine duty.

The upcoming contest for Mr Haircut’s job is likely to be won by the party’s youth spokesperson, Mr Brian Eno, 67. Respec’, innit?



AIR BEGORRAH CAN FLY THE ARSE OFF ALL OTHER AIRLINES. SO IT CAN.

Mr Michael O’Looney, owner of AirBegorrah said that at a time like this, sure, - when hundreds, t’ousands of people who should have flown Air Begorrah, had been stranded by some other cowboy operators in the arsehole of nowhere, sweating their bollocks off, so they are, worried about getting home – all a man could do was gloat, so he could.

Air Begorrah has never stranded no-one nowhere, so it hadn’t. And I blame that eejit, Branson, for this debacle which frankly could have been avoided if everybody had flown, three to a seat, one on top of the other, like, with my company, which only ever abandons sick, disabled or fat fuckers, so it does, on the grounds that they are too much trouble, so they are, and take up too much room, so they do. No, Willy Walsh, that fucking leprechaun in charge of BA, only not very, if Terminal Foive is anything to judge by, he’s welcome to them. See how much money he can make hauling great fucking hulking lardarse bastards and cripples with half a fucking ton of wheelchairs and fucking life support systems and fucking drips and stretchers and Jesus only fucking knows, so He does, what else these fucking parasites expect me to shift for them on a ten pound fucking ticket. And on top of that, so there is, is the prospects of one of these sickly bastards dying mid-flight and his manky corpse having to be jettisoned overboard, so it would and frightening the Bejasus out of decent able-bodied passengers, or having seizures and jerking about sending everything flying all round the fucking aircraft. Who the fuck wants to carry them bastards all over the shop. They should stay at home, and pray, so they should.

Air Begorrah will be doing all we can to help the customers of other failed operators. That is to say, fuck all, so it is. Ha ha ha and top o’ the morning’ to you, so it is.

Talking to SkyMadeUpNewsAndFilth, Jason and Chardonnay Burberry, who are stranded in Greece, said some self-pitying drivel about being totally and absolutely gutted and totally devastated at this little bit of inconvenience which has totally and utterly so just ruined their lives. Which must have been shit anyway. Cunts.
September 14, 2008 8:26 AM

Friday, 12 September 2008

Bloody Hilarious. Milibland gets put back in his place.


link: See here

Is is just me or does Miliband look like one of those Mormon types who go round terrorising peaceloving hardworking families?

Wednesday, 10 September 2008

History as understood by an 8 year old.

My Girl was babysitting when she should have been revising for A levels and her 8 year old charge was studying the same period in history...World War 2. They were discussing it and the lad asserted that the "war only ended when the Americans dropped a Nougat bomb and Poland was completely obliterated".... :-)

Monday, 8 September 2008

Deeply incompetent government fiddling about causing chaos

My pa is a solicitor, mainly conveyancing, and he should've retired at least 10 years ago but his pension got stuffed and he likes his job. I admire him hugely not least because he has had three successful careers, one in New Zealand, where he had reached the top by 33, one in the City, from which he retired 21 years ago, taking a nice lump sum with him, and subsequently, when my mother divorced him, and he lost everything on the stock market simultaneously, he started up again with a failing firm that he got for nothing and avoided bankrupcy. Now, in spite of the housing market's current state he is still managing to pay his staff and has enough to see him through in relative comfort unless the £ does a Zim.

He told me that he wrote to Yvette Cooper, not for the first time, about HIPS. He always has charged more for conveyancing flats than houses because questions need to be raised of the landlord/freeholder, and this has usually been about an extra £100. But recently a landlord charged £450 to answer a few questions associated with the requirements of HIPS. His point for Ms Cooper was that Landlords charges due to HIPs requirements were making flat sales/purchases even more prohibitive and expensive as the Landlord's costs have to be born by the seller.

Eventually one of Ms Cooper's flunkies replied stating that there were no proposals to limit the amout Landlords could charge for giving replies as the Leasholder could have access to a Tribunal to dispute these costs.

How smart is that? Wait six months for a Tribunal to decide that your Landlord's charges are reasonable? Pay legal costs for same? Oh yes, they are smart these people.

Dad has forward the correspondence to the Law Society for their edification.

Wednesday, 3 September 2008

Elby is Chirpy

Warning: this post concerns Premiership Football. Some of you may want to look away now.


Poor Elby, in some things he has had it tough. Like being a Manchester City supporter. That is, until now. He keeps chuckling about how pissed off Alex Fergusson must be, and about how Man City is now the richest football club in the world by a factor of 10. Semi-disbelief with moments of great glee.


The delectable Robinho


Funny

Thursday, 28 August 2008

The Bunker responds



I have heard from Jonah Brown's people. They are going to get the Treasury people to respond. Splendid. Still no word from the Tax Credit people.



I also wonder: This is from the Downing Street Direct Communications Unit. Obviously short staffed and underfunded compared to the Indirect Communications Unit.

Saturday, 23 August 2008

Olympic compulsive viewing.

Weight Lifting

This sport is an Olympic gem. The clip is 12 minutes long. All I can say is that I laughed a lot and ended up with tears in my eyes. Splendid, and not a little insane. The guy lifts something like 39 stone. It's not right. You have to see the very end to see why I got tearful.

Saturday, 16 August 2008

Replies to my letter ref Tax Credit debacle

So, having sent my reply to the unfathomable and erroneous Tax Credit Repayment Demand to a number of people (5) I have had the following replies. I have yet to hear from Gordon Brown or the Tax Credit people themselves.







What I want to know is which of the respondents was self- medicating?

Thursday, 14 August 2008

Shit, I just deleted my link list

I am a Keeg. That is Geek spelt backwards. Damn Damn Damn.

I should live in an assisted computing facility

Tuesday, 12 August 2008

Ok, there is NO end to this government's treachery.

Russia invading Georgia, the Olympics, Maddy "spotted" in Belgium, what a fantastic time to announce THIS

Only the Times seems to mention it. Not really big news, eh?

Update: A few hours later, a post from Guido on the subject and The Times has taken this article off the online front page. It is not even on the front page of the "Business" section, to which it apparently belongs! Hush hush...the little people are not meant to know.

Wednesday, 6 August 2008

This comment is worthy of its own post

Old Holborn said:

Dear Sir

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my cheque with which I endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three 'nanoseconds' must have elapsed between his presenting the cheque and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honour it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my Pension, an arrangement, which, I admit, has been in place for only thirty eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account £30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become. From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person.

My mortgage and loan payments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by cheque, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Solicitor, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.

In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modelled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press buttons as follows:

1 - To make an appointment to see me.
2 - To query a missing payment.
3 - To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4 - To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5 - To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6 - To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7 - To leave a message on my computer (a password to access my computer is required. A password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorised Contact.)
8 - To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through to 8.
9 - To make a general complaint or inquiry, the contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.

Your Humble Client

http://bastardoldholborn.blogspot.com/

Monday, 28 July 2008

Our Leader

I have been so mean to Gordon Brown I thought I would upload a few happy photos of him...

How about this for a statesman-like pout?


Here he is talking to young offenders, taking a tough line with them.


Here he is making Jacquie Smith laugh uproariously


Here he is encouraging us all to do more sport


Here he is reacting to the Glasgow East byelection result


Here he shows his love of the meek, and is mentoring a disadvantaged individual who can only manage half a NuLabour Smile.



This last shows Gordon as a happy child with father. Notice how Gordon's big brother ducks away from his spiritual and noble father. See what a relaxed little darling Gordon was, how excited he was to have his photo taken, pictured on the left.


Update H/T Lakelander

And here he is encouraging "Midnight Football" fnar, fnar


It is obvious what a great statesman we have running the country, he doesn't look a bit mad when he smiles.

Friday, 25 July 2008

Dog Years

This is a great little movie. I am afraid I talk for my dog all the time. A Johnny Morris habit I can't drop.

Wednesday, 23 July 2008

Yurt


Ok, I am a hippy. But Daisy has me thinking. You are right Daisy. My life will be a continuum of angry frustrated letters to massive organisations, followed by unsatisfactory outcomes, if I don't do something about it. Perhaps I need to embrace the inner hippy and just drop out of sight, keep what money I earn under the wood pile, and spend the rest of my life milking goats.

I love yurts. The first one I ever saw was on the northern most tip of the most western aspect of the British Isles. On Ardnamurchan. It was perched on this weather ravaged cliff, but because it was lined with seal skin it was extraordinarily still inside. You could have dropped a feather and it would have fallen straight downwards. It was simple but so very cosy inside. I love the idea of living in a round construction. Fantastic Feng shui.

Sunday, 20 July 2008

Today's angry letter.

I was sorting paperwork yesterday and started to divide my tasks, placing the paperwork pertaining to each task in a separate clear plastic folder.

There is the letter to Lloyds Bank, who not only charged me for non payment of a monthly standing order I had cancelled two months previously (they must have been presented with a request for payment) but also told me twice on the phone that I am not me as I failed to answer all their security questions correctly.
A letter to the manager at my branch elicited a proforma letter from a central complaints department saying they will respond within four, then eight weeks. Meanwhile I cannot phone my bank.

Then there is the letter to NPower who presented an electricity direct debit for £79 when they had agreed that £53 was an adequate payment. I am waiting for them to refund the £63 charges I incurred as a result of the resultant unauthorised exceeding of my overdraft (very closely watched as you can imagine!)

I am ignoring the TV people for now

Then there is the housing association that runs my estate, who in spite of my paying service charges (lighting, cleaning of paths etc) still write to the woman who owned the house four years ago.

My current bug is however, the Tax Credit people, who want £986.20 paid back to them. I don't owe it to them, but they have now sent me four bills of differing sums with no indication of how they worked out my debt to them. I stopped claiming in 2006 as it seemed pointless and complicated. I don't dare claim Tax Credit even though doing the Tax Credit Calculator suggests I am entitled to over £3k a year from them (filled it out today just to see).

So I have written a number of angry and enquiring letters, copied the bills and sent them back to the Tax Credit people with copies to David Cameron, David Heath (my MP), Nick Clegg and this last, copied below, to Gordon Brown.


Gordon Brown
House of Commons
SW1A 9AA





Dear Mr Brown

I am copying you my enquiry to the Tax Credit Debt Recovery Department. I thought you may be interested in how the Tax Credit system “helps” self employed mums
trying to stay off benefits.

It is hardly seems worth the trouble of working and training hard when I live around large happy families who all sign on. Perhaps I should give up working, have some IVF, put on 6 disabling stone, and spend my late 40s and 50s bringing up triplets?

I hope you find it enlightening, just how these things work in the real world. If you wonder about my demographic I am middle class white professional owner occupier of ex housing association property, mother of one.

I cannot afford the tax you are charging me, especially when you are going to spend it on legal challenges to Freedom of Information requests about MP’s expenses, or incredible six figure bonuses for heads of department who have lost my personal data, (when they should in fact have resigned on the spot, relinquishing pension rights.)

Yours sincerely




Lilith

Monday, 14 July 2008

Pig goes back to his roots

Today was a wonderful day. Pig, slightly belatedly, celebrated his first birthday by going back to the Somerset levels to meet his mum Daisy and sister Poppy. Although he hasn't seen them since he left in September they greeted with recognition, ease and joy.


Remember this little fella? This is Pig when we first met him, talking to his mum Daisy.

This was Pig today, greeting his sister Poppy, while his mum Daisy looks on.



This is Pig's sister Poppy



This is Pig, Poppy and Daisy, contemplating going for a stick..


This is Pig, being the bravest.


Pig, swimming with his little mum Daisy.



Pig, Daisy, and Poppy


Pig tries to impress but the bubblegum keeps bursting back on his nose....