Monday, 15 June 2009

One fewer Conservative voter.

I have never voted Conservative in my life, but in spite of this my friends think I am "right wing" (I come out slightly right of Ghandi). I was all geared up to support the gorgeous Annunziata



at the next general election when I read this.

I think this is the pronouncement that lost her my vote.
"I don't think anybody in Europe … is in the mood for any more tedious debates about treaties, which have gone on for far too long, which is why this needs to be resolved."

Thanks Ken, I was nearly a Conservative voter for a moment back there.

37 comments:

Blue Eyes said...

In this rather puerile, dumbed down "politics" we suffer from in Britain, mere constitutional issues of "who runs Britain" are deemed too boring, too complicated for the plebs to understand or be interested in.

That is the way it goes, and has gone for so long, which is how we ended up in this mess in the first place.

I simply cannot stand the "patrician" thread of Toryism.

idle said...

Never more patrician, blue, than in the Wee Smog household.

Imagine what their mealtimes must have been like - William, editor of the Times and ascetic Roman Catholic; Jacob, sitting there overheating in his three-piece tweeds and flannel shirt; Annunziata all earnest and me-too. I wonder if the mother was the much-needed drop of levity.

Anonymous said...

ah, yes. Of course, Labour's leadership feels much the same way about this. As do the governing parties all over Europe. All of them, the opliticians that make up the european establishment, are comrades in arms in their struggle against democracy...

Better find yourself a small, obscure party to vote for. Unless you want to be their accomplice?

lilith said...

The funny one is Charlotte, Idle. I knew her at school. Very dry, a lefty and insurgent. Not quite got to beating matron with a broom but got asked to leave nonetheless.

lilith said...

Anon, that seems to be how it is.

idle said...

Anon@16:36 - I was wondering what "opliticians" were, then it struck me that they must be short-sighted lawmakers.

Good term. I may use it myself, if that's alright.

idle said...

One of these days you might meet Mama Idle, lil. Promise me you won't let on that I told you about the incident with matron.

lilith said...

Her secret is safe Idle ;-)

Calfy dyed her host family's cat pink the other day.

Philipa said...

You can't make it up.

Is it me? Obviously not just me who is astonished. Nope, I won't be voting Conservative either, Lil and I too am just right of Ghandi, apparently.

The thought of Idle with Matron is quite distressing.

But the thought of calfy dying the cat pink is excellent :-)))

idle said...

Was the cat-dying a biology class for Calfy's pupils? Or was it a sports afternoon?

lilith said...

I think Matron would be quite safe with Idle, Pip.

The cat enhancing project was a spontaneous happening.

Ha ha ha I think it was Art.

Anonymous said...

Good post, shame about the title.

I don't know which posh girls' school you were at with the Rees-Sprogg, but surely they taught you the difference between "less" and "fewer"?

Sigh.

We pedants have such a hard time these days.

And no, I won't be voting Tory either, for similar reasons. Haven't done, in fact, since 1987, and for similar reasons every time.

call me ishmael said...

Dear Mr one of the anonymati

Last time one of your lot came round here nit-picking and cheese-paring like a fucking good for fuck all Tory fucking lawyerbastard in a pinstripe fucking suit and never done a decent day's work in his poncy life he developed a fucking hunchback, every bastard hated his fucking guts and he was last seen hanging, disconsolate and friendless, from a belltower in some shithole village in the Home fucking Counties, lamenting his God-visited, mis-shapen ugliness.

My young friend, stanislav the Polish plumber has waxed vituperative about your kind, damning you all as apostrophe jihadists and cautioning that in your haste to stifle debate and comment by the over-rigourous enforcement of grammar and shit like that you do the Oppressor's work for him, voluntarily, gratis, just because you are good for fuck all else.

If I was you mate, I would fuck off out of here and go over to Mrs Dale, full of wankers there, it is.

When I, incidentally, was a practicing grammar school totalitarianiste nouvelle I would never, as do you, follow a comma with a conjunction. So there, bollocks.

lilith said...

Anony, whilst I am grateful for the free top-up to my expensive education, I prefer to be corrected by someone with a persona.

I should put a dyslexia rider on the top of the blog.

lilith said...

Mr Ish, you are so articulate. I do believe Bunty loved Dennis. Very much.

Doris W-B said...

Dearest Bunts!

Now you're talking; you gorgeous bundle of Soave-loving bananas you!
'Ishy' has this way with prose you know, never dropping one, always there for the end-game...

When we were down on the estate, he'd come round with some sort of goatskin bag, and claimed he'd worn it at Knebworth when the Soft Machine were celebrating being alive for the umpteenth year! It contained a concoction which tasted rather like 'Flit', but without the soft undertones of caramel and ivory satin.

If I were you Bunts, I'd get the old Aldis lamp out again and try and get Dennis to 'up his dander', because it's going to be a bleak old midsummer without the herbals and the chutney surprise!

Miranda sends her love, like she seems to do with most people these days, although I take exception to the new milkman, he's got far too much up top! Mannerings says it compensates for what he's not got down the other end, and this is a men's shower story no doubt!

Don't worry about the Ishmael man, he's a rabbit in the headlights!

Snifter tomoz? 'The Bells', 12.00noon?

Doris xxxx

ps Seen Felicity ever? Darned girl seems to have an endless stream of hormones to pack away, God knows where!

Bunty Binstock said...

Doris darling, I dream of a snifter with you, but Dennis and I are in Panama. Don't tell his wife.

So much to tell you.

Buzzxxxx

call me ishmael said...

He seems to have fucked off, eh; just these old bagladies, now, come slithering out of the woodwork at the thought of sex with a cripple. Jesus. Is this post feminism?

I mean, nothing wrong with hunchbacks having sex, Kirsty Wark does it but you know, it wasn't just his hump, Dennis had a face like a bad case of piles.

I loved it when he wrote all that stuff about being happily unrequited after forty years, like a deformed Loudon Wainwright but you can carry this equal opps stuff too far; having the hots for a hunchback is a sign of post-menopausal dementia. And of being a dirty filthy old slag.

You should clean this blog up. Or decent people will stop coming. And you'll be stuck with the old cxripple-fucking slappers. And if you don't mind my saying so, there are better places than this on the internet for looking at dirty old slappers. Ones with moving pictures. Ask Mr Elby, he will confirm it. Or any bloke.

Fuck me, if it keeps on raining, the levee gonna break.

lilith said...

Its amazing isn't it Mr Ish, the way Dennis could pull. Puts me in mind of James Blunt.

I have been concerned about the levee for some time now.

Polly Cottonsox (Ms) said...

Mr Ishmael: "....decent people will stop coming. And you'll be stuck with the old cxripple-fucking [sic] slappers..."

Just what are you incinerating? An exceptionally sniffy letter is on the way from my solicitors Gobslot, Ginger and Harpic.

How many times do I have to tell you that despite (possibly) being a c-f-s, WE LIBRARIANS NONETHELESS HAVE STANDARDS.

PS: You want details of my personal website?

Blue Eyes said...

Just wanted to say that reading your blog has, once again, brought a smile to my fat pudgy face. Thank you, Lilith.

Elby the Beserk said...

Never mind the levee, Ishmael - where are my fucking boots and shooooooooes?

Elby the Beserk said...

Talking of pink cats, I took Pig through the long grass in the fields I'm walking him in at the moment; he likes it, as he has to bounce up and down to see where he is going, and I like it as that makes me laugh.

Grass was just letting its pollen go. Not only did he therefore look like a miniature steam train, with "smoke" blowing behind him, but when we got out of the long grass, the whole of his head, barring his ears was coated in grey powder.

It looked as though he was wearing a Noh mask. Kinda freaky. Sadly I didn't have the camera with me. Happily we didn't meet any other dog walkers before he got his swim and the worst of it came of.

Didn't seem to bother him in the slightest, I will add.

As for the Smogs, Miss A was rather scrummy, and I have always enjoyed her father's measured old-fashioned prose, even when I've disagreed with him.

Fuck I'm old ;->

fuchsia groan said...

No point in voting for any of them. We are in a post-democratic age don'tcha know. Mandy said so.

stanislav, a young polish plumber said...

Dear mr Elby

Fuck Old is one thing. Fuck old and having Fuck Birthday, all at same as once is Big Fuck. Just like with Mr ishmael, innit; poor old bastard expected is to be Fuck Happy as fuck at passing of another year and one foot or maybe both of foot is closer at stepping in fucking grave. And not fucking coming back being is and instead is worm crawl in and out from nostril, eh, innit, and brain dribbling out is from ear.

So, be happy is not to have birthfucking day and memento of mori.

On bright side of whatever it is of, anyway, Mr Ish given is big fuck-off effecting pedal for battered old guitar, not worth fuck all and can't hardly play anyhow only bad-tempered song of dead blind bastard, all coming is from Mississippi, is blind Willie this and Blind Joe such-and-such and Blind fucking Lemon, honest and not invent, Blind fucking Lemon something and fuck me, Mr eBay, must have been epifuckingdemic of blindness in Mississippi in 1900 and everybastard caught it and spend life stumble about sawing at guitar with bits off from broken fucking bottles, is fucking worse place than in Midsomer murder and whole village strangled and battered and slash to fucking death is while Inspector Plod is dinner eating with sourface scrawny old bastard Mrs call Joyce and kid, called Scully and must scouse be, from Liverpool, best part of Jamaica.

Still, look on the bright side, not hunchback is and get pester by oldbagladyslappers from Lilith Stuff. And Home fucking County.

Doris W-B said...

My Dear, Dear Mr Sanistalav!

What a pleasure to read how you and his Mehmne Sahibness, The Great Clintistoriable of West Wellow, have always been afficianados of the great 'Porcupine'!

Those things (as Mannerings will tell you, after several imbibements of the Extra Violent measure, which we keep locked up in the serious knife cupboard), will - as it were - "stick you from behind, and wound the improbables...".

I'm not at all sure what on earth he's rabbiting on with, but there were many, if not hundreds of 'rituals', that he used to tell me about, when the Bombay Sapphire was only a third full...

When you first met Bunts, did you ever discuss the situation about the photographs, which she keeps under her Scandinavian quilt in the spare annex?

As you clearly emanate from those climes, we would be delighted if we could communicate further, either in a saloon of your mention, or better, round at The Estate, where we can really get the old war wound stories going, and perhaps coax Miranda out of her delirium!

By the way, there's a few plumbing jobs round here if you need the cash...All comestibles provided!

Can't wait,

Doris x

Doris W-B said...

Bunts...BUNTS...B...u...n...t...s...WHO..IS..THIS GUY.?

Does he really have a big blowlamp?

Bunty Binstock said...

Doris Darling,

I do believe Mr Sanilav is a fine plumber although he has never actually inspected my pipes. (His friend Mr Ishmael should not knock it till he's tried it.)

We are having frightful problems with the electricity which makes commenting and posting difficult as I get cut off half wa

lilith said...

I love all those blind gadgies Stan. They bang and scrape away and you can't help but dance.

lilith said...

Glad the blog makes you smile Blue Eyes. My delightful visitors make me weep with laughter.

Fuchsia Hi! We need a none of the above option.

lilith said...

Ms Cottonsox, Librarians are cool. As are libraries. Don't mind Mr Ishmael. Think Jonathan Swift. Think pamphlets. Think dancing a haka in front of parliament...

stanislav, a young polish plumber said...

Yes is good stuff. Would a hundred mile of Eric Clapton records walk over to reach one by Mr Blind Willie McTell.

Is all to fuck out from tune and everything and guitar is made from shit compare with now and probably not have no security team and lawyerbastard on tap and limo and LearJet full of drug and groupies but fuck me, no bastard can sing the blues like Blind Willie McTell. Anyway, is great to craic but is enough time off now for stanislav and back to proper job is of plumbing and bringing down government of Mr Snot, horrible fucking bastard and lunatic also, best thing is put one-eyed gibbering, clunking, snot-eating, bed-wetting, innumerate, nail-biting, mad bastard motherfucker up against the wall. And then the Jock nutter with the stutter can sing Dead ScotsMan Blues: ah one-two-three-four Didnae wake up this mornin'.....

Elby the Beserk said...

@Polly Cottonsox (Ms)

(Ms) Polly. Well acquainted with librarians am I, having for nearly half a lifetime it seems worked for a company doing library systems. Got eaten alive by a private equity company and spat me out. Geac was there name (Gets Everyone Angry & Cross an old-timer mate of mine in Canada where Geac haled from, told me, which was about the sum of it).

Notice on the wall above the System Librarian's desk in Suffolk CC Library HQ

Librarianship is a morbid disease

Quite so.

Oddly, I have just applied for a part-time job as Librarian in a preps school not far from here. I adore libraries :-)

Elby the Beserk said...

Lord Stan of Caledonia,

Yes the bangers and scratchers piss on their followers. If you have a fancy for some old time white man's blues, check out Dock Boggs and his tales of blood and love. And the mighty Bascom Lamar Lunsford, one of the prophets of that old time religion

PC (Ms) said...

Mr Elby: I hope you get all the necessary anti-pervert clearances which appear to be de rigueur these days to venture within five nautical miles of anybody under the age of 16. I am sure you will have lots of fun with the kids.

I have been interested to read the outpourings on the subject of jazz and blues musicians. I have a substanial collection of same dating from the early part of the last century. All/most rejiggered of course to improve listening quality, but those guys and girls could really do it. I wonder if they would sound the same if the recording techniques we have today had been available way back then. Would the raw unvarnished twangy hollow sounds they made be the same? Would that certain "magic" soulfulness and evident despair have been captured or missed completely?

PC (Ms) said...

Lilith: I always did enjoy those hakas, which are even better when seen live (but coming from that neck of the woods I don't need to tell you that!). Anybody visiting NZ should take the time to go to the Maori village at Rotarua. Now, if we could get a couple of hundred Pacific Islanders like that lot in the clip, plus a couple of hundred Gurkhas, we could really create a bit of serious mayhem in Parliament Square. We could even get some Scotch bloke to pluck his instrument in support!

lilith said...

Ms Cottonsox

I remember a friend wondering back in 1983 if the cd would eventually change the type of music he liked because of the production quality. It is the energy of the music though which is important. For years in the early 90s I listened to appalling copies of tapes of Grateful Dead concerts, audience recordings, and just LOVED them. Now there are soundboard quality recordings of many of the shows and my tape collection has been dispersed.

I think I would still love these old guys if the production was better.

I can just see the Haka being done in such a way...