Genocide Gold Medal
The Bronze goes to everyone's favourite for the title, with 20million dead, A. Hitler.
2nd place and it's good old Unky Joe with 35m 'Premature Deaths', most of them from his own people. Joseph Stalin managed to kill on his own more than the invading most brutal racist army of all time, the Nazis.
1st place goes to a man who would never wash under his foreskin; it was for the Women of the Revolution to enjoy. Think about it Blur's babes with your wishy washy thinking.
Chairperson Mao still managed to whack an unprecedented 40m of his countrymen for some reason or other.
Anyone spot the pattern:
Bronze: National Socialism
Silver: Communism
Gold: Communism
So there we have it: Socialism kills all known citizens dead!
If there is a God I hope you have the most suitable hell for this Triumvirate of Criminals.
6.0 ABV - My up and coming new novel - exclusive extract
Scheduled for late '05, my latest novel, 6.0 ABV, tells the tale of two self employed government workers, Bruce and JPH, who develop a Lager Concept that is free of the strictures of civilization. Union Jack lager takes the country by storm by sponsoring such events as: In Pub Boxing Rings, the Drink and Drive Grand Prix and Live Lesbian floor shows in your Local.In this exclusive extract ONLY available in specialbrewrants we take a look at the advertising strategy used to promote the U-J brand.The scene setter clearly shows the famous BBC flagship program that claimed to offer a balanced view of politics, but subtly promoted a leftist/feminist/greeny pinko view of the world. The density of dungareed fuckers in the audience immediately makes it clear. You can almost smell the bum gland fluid soaked into trouser material smell of crusties just from the image alone.
“And it’s on to the next question to the girl with purple hair and the double nose ring…” drones the actor playing Dimblebore.
Pluta, spitroast champion, had demanded her acting break in recompense for services rendered.
“How do the panel feel about the demand that householders should have the right to kill burglars who enter their homes?”
"Over to Hilary Heston of the Lobor Party, one of the latest intake of Blur’s Babes."
“I actually find burglars quite sexy. Rough and ready men like them who don’t mind taking a risk turn me on. I kind of imagine him with a little goatee beard and a stripey shirt. If I found one in my nightie on the stairs - well, I can think of something else I’d rather do than shoot him."
The focus switches to a new harridan. It is clearly meant to be the Wicked Witch, Toby’s bitch, with her squiggle lipped mouth.
“It’s a question that needs to be resolved at vast taxpayer’s expense by the European Law Lords. My firm does a great deal of this kind of work and my advice to any burglar out there who’s suffered at the hands of a householder is to apply for legal aid and give my offices a call the number is on the BBC website.”
“…and what do you think JPH?”
JPH takes another swig of U-J Gold.
“I’ll tell you what I ferkin’ think.”
A hand held camera follows JPH as he traipses his way out of the ‘Time for a Question’ studio, down brick lined corridors. The fire door is pushed open to let in the daylight. Bruce is waiting outside at the controls of a Harrier Jump Jet drinking a chilled can of U-J.
JPH straps himself into the weapons officer position. They exchange a look that says there is no reasoning with these bitches. Finger meets button and the whirr of the jet engines is heard.
Back to the panel: they are interrupted in mid flow of bullshit as the Harrier crashes through the roof and hovers in front of the panel.
“Sorry to do this, but I’m probably a misunderstood product of my environment.” JPH muses, as he pushes the trigger.
The Gatling gun spat lines of death into the panel. The amount of special effects blood bags used must have been at an all time high. The whirring gun head spat out spent cartridges a la Matrix, but they were all painted to look like mini cans of U-J Gold.
The camera lingered as the Wicked Witch is butchered by the onslaught into stew sized chunks of meat.
JPH is not sure that would be enough. He devoutly wished that the electrons be removed from the nuclei of her atoms in the hope that evolution would never come up with such a monstrosity ever again.
Bruce span the Harrier on its nozzle jets. JPH took out the top row with the gun.
“This whole shelf seems suspect” he surmised a la Falling Down.
Falling Down was a great film, but the producers had lacked the guts to provide the ending that it warranted. The Michael Douglas character should have drilled the fuckin’ whore who divorced him through the brain before walking off into the sunset with his daughter. Bruce and JPH’s huge pile of cash had made sure the director of this commercial would never violate his sense of artistic integrity in the same way.
JPH readies the finger over the firing button for another burst, but Bruce flies up and away.
A whole row of NHS manageresses heave a collective sigh of relief as they are reprieved. Every one of the them was that kind of Bossy bitch who couldn’t wait to sue when they became pregnant, though why anyone would want to make them pregnant was another question.
Bruce has emergency boosted the Harrier to 30,000 feet. He corrects JPH.
“I think this whole city looks suspect.”
The mushroom burst took the entire city out a la Sodom and Gomorrah.
Cut to end scene
“Cheers mate.”
Shot of an arm handing JPH a pint of U-J, nicely chilled. Pan backwards. It is a severed arm in a nuclear wasteland.
Cue Slogan:
NO U-J. NO ANYTHING.
Politics on the Piss
By the time you're reading this Toby Blair will be the high and dry winner of the 2005 election. In the words of the Bard, Michael Howard had no chance.
" There is a tide in the affairs of men. Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries "In other words for you illiterates out there, the circumstances out there were never right for him. If you had Winston Churchill, Disraeli or Maggie in charge, they would have never beaten Blair, because politics mirrors life in an important way.
Labour is the party when you're on the lash and having a good time. The Tories are the party for you, if you have a massive hangover and want to sober up and straighten your life up.
I don't know about you but my life is:
1. God I feel so terrible I'm never going to drink again. I'll work hard and get things sorted out. After a few days... I don't feel too bad now. I've worked so hard and its about time I had some fun.
2. One little beer that couldn't hurt me. Oh this buzz is great I am living life to the full why did I waste time on all that boring rubbish. Nothing can hurt me and my good buddies.
Goto 1.
In 2005 we are about at the "I'll have a drink to stop the pain that I know I'm going to face, if I sober up" stage. It hasn't got quite so Winter of Discontent that the pain is enough to stop the party.
Let's face we don't want Michael Howard, that tight fisted Shylock at our party; well it's possible: Pigs might fly. I'm not taken in by any of Alistair Campboil's propaganda at all, but I would not want to be waking up to ugly Michael in the morning as the poster says.
Mind you, I'd rather wake up with my cock up the Tory leader's ringpiece than with the labia lipped trollope Tony Blair is going to be waking up with in the morn. Its a tribute to the man's ability to lie to himself that he can boast about going five rounds with the Wicked Witch in the night. As for myself, if I had drunk the 20 pints necessary to give it one, I would still take the additional precaution of going to bed with a chainsaw to hack the cuddling arm off it in the morning.
It's not that it's that ugly, her half sister is worth the full 2 minutes, but there is something rotten in the state of Cherie Blair. Tony is a sunshine kind of guy, but Cherie and Grodon are walking storm clouds waiting to rain on anyone who comes near. Oh, I forgot, and she steals money from childrens' charities to pay the mortgage on her, otherwise European Commission of Human Rights funded property empire.
To return to the subject: that we are on the piss explains all our present problems:
The Asylum Chrisis:You're my fuckin' best mate you are. Come in to my place and have some drinks. No stay the night. [To sober person] Don't worry he is n't going to steal anything, or shit on the toilet seat. He's like a brother, he is.
Tax and SpendCome on! Trebles all around. The Drinks are on him. He's got loads of cash.
Violent CrimeYou looking at my bird? Whack!
You would think the British people would be smart enough to stay sober and progress their lives.
It makes complete sense, but then I examine my conduct, and I would be a complete hypocrite to be telling you that.
Zimbabwe offers to oversee Rigging of UK Elections
Robert Mugabe saw no need for Tony Blair to be worried about the Election outcome."Into each voting booth we would place a Warrior with a fully loaded Kalashnikov. The voters will be sure to vote for the correct party.
"In return we ask you avail us of the services of your wonderful actor, Michael Caine. The state film company, Zanavision, wish to remake that famous film, Zulu, only this time we win. "
The Tonester was reticent but diplomatic about the offer."There's no way we could let you have Michael, possibly we could stretch to Jude Law. I've seen the remake of 'Alfie' and it's nowhere near as bad as the critics make out.
"As for your quaint African notion of Polling Booths, things have moved on in the first world. There is a new custom; we call it the postal ballot. There is no need for the voter to put his life at risk. He simply gives his ballot to the party worker, who then votes for the correct party."
Chancellor gunning for ‘MC Rover’ Executives
Gordon Brown was most direct as he tore into the executives responsible for creaming off £40 million from Rover.
Stay oaf ma turf. If anyone’s going to raid a pension fund and steal the workers’ money to fund their gang, there’s only one name on the list, and that’s me.
The chancellor was the epitome of una-browed menace as he warned off the competition in an exclusive audience granted to this blog.
They call their self the Phoenix Four, but there’s going to be no coming back to life when a’ve finished with them. They’ll be deed and they’ll stey deed.
Earlier I had been picked up in a sinister black jaguar . Sat in the back was Blair’s Oddjob, Prezza, who blindfolded me. Amidst the intense secrecy necessary to avoid public scrutiny, I was taken to a location known only as ‘Number 11’.
As I interviewed him in ‘Number 11’, Brown went on to criticize Patricia Hewett’s role in the affair.
That was an inside Job. Naming no names, but that Trish Hewett will be going doon. She gets me to put in £500 million by telling me the name of the company is MC ROVER, I ask you. Then they get to purchase it for a tenner. Well ma darlin’, enjoy your cut for the short time you have left.
The Chancellor also criticized the Chinese rescue plan.
I mean, what are these guys doing getting the Shaghard Automotive Consortium involved. Every plastic gangster out there knows they’re a front for the Triads. They boys are heavy man. They’ll cut you into little pieces and serve you up for breakfast wi’ some soya sauce.
Unexpectedly the Longbridge workers came in for some stick.
This morning, six thousand workers all turned up to a mass rally. That’s five thousand more than would turn up to do some work. I looks at them and I thinks: serves youse right. Who’d ha’ the sense to hand their money to someone and expect it back forty years doon the line?
He eulogised over his own performance in office though.
Ah! You’se talking about The ’97 raid?
Git the idea fur Bobby Maxwell; there was a villain if ever I saw one. Nobody would notice the money had gone till they retired thirty years in the future, and he’d be long gone by then. He would have gotten away with it all, but he stopped paying anything to the big man, Tony, I mean.
That’s how you end up fish food.
Charitably he offered the Rover directors his professional advice.
They boys from the Towers Group should sit up an’ take note on how to pull off a really big pension raid.
The ’97 raid netted Fifty Billion from Pension Fund UK. Fifty Billion versus a wee little forty million from Mc Rover. So who’s the Pension Raider Daddy, eh?
The four hundred million losses they made might sound impressive, but you should see ma deficit. It’s huge!
Strangely Brown did not rule out the possibility of future co-operation.
I can mebe see them as Ocean’s Eleven Style young bloods, but it's going to be me pulling the strings. Ma gang, ma rules.
Unlike the rest of Britain, the Chancellor was looking forward to his own retirement.
Ma Pension fund is so big it takes me ten minutes to write out all the zeroes. And the best thing about it is: guess who’s paying (laughs)? The people whose pensions I stole.
A might do a late night spot on Channel Four to keep my profile out there. I hear that Roberta Kray does a good show.
(Apologies to Irving Walsh)
The Theft of Railtrack
Yesterday in the London Sunday Times, a leaked secret internal document revealed that Byers and the the rest of the criminal gang that is the Labour Cabinet let Railtrack go under. Like the Chinese with Rover, they wanted it on the cheap. What's more they were the ones to cause it to collapse after they had placed unreasonable demands to improve safety.
This is only the tip of the iceberg of what will eventually be revealed (probably in about 30 years time). This will probably be dismissed as a 'Conspiracy Theory' or the 'Ramblings of a Drunken Madman'. And they would be right on one of those points, but all evidence does point to a massive conspiracy by Bliar and his cronies.
Fact: Blair was in trouble at the time of the Hatfield crash. There were Petrol Protests (or more likely Diesel Demos, since it was a bunch of truckers) going on and the protesters had widespread public support as that blood sucking leech Grodon Brown tried to extract every last drop from these hard working people. It looked like a major crisis with nothing old smiley face could do about it.
Then along comes a Rail Accident, and surprise, surprise, the whole network is shut down (made unusuable). If the Petrol Protestors carry on with their actions then they would be criminals, seeing as the rest of the country have no other way of getting round. Being considerate people and not ruthless power grubbing nutters like the people they were dealing with, the protest melted away never to return. Game Set and Match to Mr Blair!
Now let's look at a few things surrounding the accident. It was a dreadful accident and naturally I would not wish anything like that on the victims, but it is a statistical inevitablity that eventually occur by chance simply because any form of high speed transportation is dangerous. (or was it by chance - see postscript below). They seized upon the opportunity and, how convenient, Railtrack a Private Company was to blame. They could now appeal their decision to shut down to the masses who have been brainwashed by years of Marxist ideology. It was those profiteering capitalists in their top hats who are to blame. Their persuit of profit had been made at the expense of the safety of the expendable proles who used their transport system.
So they placed an unreasonable financial burden on Railtrack forcing it to make thousands of unnecessary safety improvements. (This undermines another Tenet of Socialist thinking the economic concept of limited resources and marginal return on investment of resource are unknown to them). It goes under after no help is given from the government in the persuit of its unreasonable directive and the Fat Controllers get their company taken away from them in the interest of public safety.
Now here's a thing: the "safety" program has forced people back onto the roads (remember the railways were chaotic), but road travel is many times more dangerous than rail travel. So the extra people on the roads faced a bigger threat for the time the railway was out and statistically more of them died ENOUGH FOR SEVERAL HATFIELDS. I rest my case this was not about safety.
Of course as it turned out, the Fat Controllers were a bunch of ordinary shareholders like you and me. They have taken the government to court but believe me they won't stand a chance because the case will be dragged out by legal technicalities somewhere into the 2020's when people will have lost interest in what' s going on.
I feel like the Newscaster in Robocop giving encouragement to Clarence Bodigers latest victim.
GOOD LUCK RAILTRACKERS!
Postscript:
Now I have revealed the truth to the world, I can almost see it in my mind's eye: one of Tony's henchmen with a massive spanner in the dead of night unloostening that bolt. I can almost see him turning the handle himself - he's that greedy for power.
