Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Getting Away From The Rat-Race

Right, as noted I'm off on a well earned holiday.

Rather than leave you a witty and well constructed post, I've hauled out some old rope for your entertainment, below.

For newcomers, it's a good introduction to the intellectual level of this particular blogger, and seasoned veterans may find that they suddenly recall why they thought I was such an arse in the first place.

Time to go pack, and I promise with my hand on my heart that I won't bore you stupid with inept pictures of Dutch landmarks on my return.


18th June, 2006

My Dating Disasters

Via Sir Harold Hutton of the Cavalry, I note that ladies can now avail themselves of the services of, which allows them to alert other fair maidens to the cads and bounders in their midst.

About time too, although I am glad to note that there is no link to Flying Rodent, Mr., which is a sure sign that I have been a considerate and gentlemanly beau to my countless conquests.

All of which made me wonder whether I should use my page to alert my fellow men to any women I have courted who failed to meet my standards of civility.

I'll start with Ann, pictured, who I courted for a short while in Connecticut, US, in 2004.

As you can see, she looks comely enough, but her fair exterior hides a heart as black as night and a soul as dead as Adolf Eichmann. She ruined many a pleasant evening in the local bistros by overindulging in Chardonnay and spraying spittle upon the waitresses, while loudly castigating me as a traitor, a terrorist and a liberal fascist.

All that, and she has tits like spaniel's ears and a snatch that looks like a stamped bat breathing it's last, which came as a shock. I know us British gents aren't supposed to kiss and tell, but I think Hugh Grant neatly blew that one out of the water.

June 25th, 2006

Obedience Class

If I've seemed a tad tetchy lately, it's because recent world events have rather caused me to lose touch with my true passion, which is inanity.

In this spirit, I notice that Zinedine Zidane's misbehaviour during the World Cup final has inspired imitators - this is jockey Paul O'Neill adjusting the attitude of his horse, City Affair.

The troublesome nag had apparently been "very unruly" leaving the parade ring, and Mr. O'Neill, losing his cool, headbutted it. City Affair's owner has also described the beast as "a very unruly character".

I can only sympathise - it seems rather cruel and unnecessary to city folks, but I was born and bred in the country and fully appreciate the need to take a firm hand with such wilful beasts. When your steed won't heed your needs, you need to put the heid on your steed.

In rural parts, he is not a man who would shrink from karate-chopping a weasel, throttling a goat or poking a parrot in the eye, should the situation require it.

I remember once chokeslamming a badger through a fold-out table. It wouldn't have been necessary if it had taken the hint and stopped burrowing about my 9-hole golf course, but I have no regrets.

I would, however, refrain from punching a donkey in the testicles. It is a fine line between disciplining an animal and bestiality, and it is a line I refuse to cross.

Anyone who doubts the veracity of the horse headbutt can see the whole unsavoury incident here.

July 13th, 2006

Witness the dreaded Pub Poker Crackdown.

I understand why the authorities would do this - I started out playing for kicks with friends, low stakes, just an excuse to get the guys round. It soon rampaged out of control. Before I knew where I was, I'd been pulled into a world of seedy backroom card sharps and racketeers, ready to fleece me for every red cent I had.

I remember vividly one night in Stockbridge throwing down pocket bullets, only to see there were five aces in play. They nailed my head to the table of course, which was only fair, since I was cheating like a bastard.

It would've been easier to deal with if we hadn't been playing for matchsticks, but Edinburgh is a hard town full of hard men.

August 22nd, 2006

Bush Rejects Iraq “Withdrawal Method”

Reuters, Tuesday
August 22, 2006

(Reuters) – President George W. Bush voiced hope on Monday that Iraq could avoid a civil war and build a “culture of life”, but angrily reiterated that the US would not resort to the "withdrawal method".

“We must plant the seed of democracy in the Middle East, and we will not pull out until that goal is accomplished,” the President stated. “We’ll stay the course and soon we shall witness the birth of a new Middle East.”

Bush shrugged off questions about his limp approval ratings and angrily asserted that the US would continue to hammer home the message that good would triumph. “If America were to suddenly withdraw we run the risk of leaving the Iraqi President covered in shame.”

“There’s a lot of people, good, decent people, saying withdraw now. I understand that, but at this moment when passions are inflamed, when we’re face-to-face with the enemy, we have to show that we’re not going to pull out and leave the Iraqi government to clean up the mess. We’re not finished until the shooting stops.”

Bush’s comments came as the US continued to pound Iraq day and night, grappling with a seemingly unquenchable opponent. As the US campaign has deteriorated into a series of protracted, dirty encounters in back alleys and even houses, domestic opinion has hardened.

Washington insiders hailed the President’s resolve on this politically charged issue. “At the moment, it’s difficult to see who’s going to come out on top,” said a senior Bush administration official who declined to be identified because of the negative nature of his comments.

Iraq is a big, fat mess right now, but it isn’t completely screwed.”

Defence Secretary Donald Rumsfeld hailed the President’s comments, stating that the US had to show it had the stamina to also take on Iran if necessary.

Former US ambassador to Israel and Egypt, Ned Walker, disagreed with the President. “If we are going to go into Iran, then you need to have the ability to pull back from there (Iraq),” Walker said.

The press conference was brought to a premature end when several reporters had to be removed from the White House press room following what Admin Spokesman Tony Snow described as "disgraceful, childlike conduct - sniggering like schoolboys."

Reports that the incident started when NBC News Chief and White House correspondent David "Stretch" Gregory asked the President whether the US could "nipple the insurgency in the butt" remain unconfirmed.

August 22nd, 2006

Edinburgh, City of Culture etc...

... and fucking Sea Gulls.

Millions of them, festooning every square foot of grass, perched on every lamp-post, giving you the beady eye every time you sit down for lunch with a sandwich. Malignant, squawking, pigeon-eating, flapping balls of unrepentant hate, every last one of them.

Don't get me wrong, I like birds. Pigeons, even manky city pigeons, are really rather pleasant - I find their cooing quite soothing, although they look a little undignified fighting beak-and-claw over a half-eaten burger. I'm starting to think that there's a real gap in the evolutionary chain begging to be filled in Edinburgh.

Imagine some kind of abnormally large lizard that burrows into pavements, has a rapacious hunger for beaks and feathers, and, most importantly, can disguise itself as a doner kebab. It'd be top of the food chain in days, glutted on pigeon, ferocious exterminator of the vile Sea Gull.

Mind you, then we'd have to think of something to cull a plague of kebab-lizards, not to mention the hike in Council Tax due to knackered pavements and law suits - perhaps a super-intelligent species of kebab-eating eagles.

An inelegant solution, I'll admit, but at least the noble eagle has a little more grace than fucking Sea Gulls.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Sorry, Honey, I'm Under a Lot of Stress at Work - We Can Try Again in Five Minutes

Okay, I admit it. That last post was about as funny as accidentally sitting on your bollocks, but I've been too preoccupied to cruise news sites for amusing stories.

I'm throwing myself on your mercy here - I'm off to Amsterdam on Thursday and I've been so busy working and thinking up bullshit to entertain bored strangers that I haven't bothered to think of anything to do when I get there.

And before anyone says it, a man can only spend so many hours a day out of his mind on hallucinogenic drugs and having depraved sex with prostitutes.

Anyone know anything good to do in Holland at about 10.30 a.m.?

History Repeating As Tragedy, Then As Arse

I read an article this afternoon at the BBC's Scotland page documenting an upsurge in anti-semitic incidents (verbal abuse and spitting) in Scotland. Such occurrences have increased by 30%, from ten incidents in 2004/05 to thirteen this year.

The BBC have yanked it, in a move which will give Melanie Philips and the rest her selectively-outraged ilk another excuse to bleat plaintively about media bias, fat teardrops streaming down their whiny faces as they boo-hoo interminably.

It's always surprised me how easily they can switch from ferocious denunciations of the racism of their political opponents to foam-flecked rants about the scheming, swarthy hordes threatening to destroy western civ.*

Having spent some time working in the judicial system, I'm amazed there are so few - there are more physical racist attacks on other minority groups in Scottish cities in the average month.

Nonetheless, it's always depressing when faced with evidence of such small-mindedness in my own country. Given that the overwhelming majority of racist attacks in Scotland are on non-white people, I've been giving some thought to what could cause such repulsive behaviour.

Could it be that Scotland's neds are convulsed with rage over the recent war in Lebanon? Or is it simply that the dark stain of European anti-semitism is insidiously returning to the nation?

On reflection, I've thought of a far more likely suspect.

Okay, Mr. Gibson hasn't been seen here for ten years, but let's not underestimate the effect his famous history-mangling movie had upon the simple-minded. From such tiny seeds do mighty oaks grow.

*Call me a totalitarian, but anybody who uses the phrase "western civ" in seriousness is surely too stupid to spell the word "civilisation", and thus ill-equipped to lecture us upon its meaning.

Just in case anyone thinks this was a feeble ruse, made up so I could put the boot into bullshit anti-racists, I'll post a link to the story if the Beeb puts the story back up.

Monday, September 25, 2006

El Grupo Libro De Caracas

It seems that President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela has been encouraging the people to open their minds to the wonder of literature again, following his gift of millions of free copies of Cervantes' Don Quixote to the citizenry.

This time he's recommending Noam Chomsky's Hegemonia o Sobrevivencia.

Frankly, I have to disagree with my hermano Chavez. I bought it yesterday and I thought that the characters were two-dimensional, the dialogue stilted and the sex scenes rather forced. I prefer books with more huge explosions and cool special effects.

Plus, it was all written in fucking Spanish, and my diccionario Espanol de Oxford hangs in tatters. 3/10.

Chavez, saviour of the poor? That's £8.99 I won't see again in a hurry, I can tell you.

Dead, Again

Given all the recent speculation over reports that Osama Bin Laden has died again, I wonder why the old man of the mountain doesn't prove that he's alive by congratulating Europe's golfers on their Ryder Cup triumph over the Great Satan?

Mind you, maybe his opinion of golf is similar to mine.

If he wants to prove he's alive, he should probably comment on something less predictable, such as the creation of hypoallergenic zombie kittens, or right-wing apoplexy over 9/11 memorials designed to resemble the shape that hates America.

Arizona Memorial - The Latest In a Long Line of Commemorative Islamic Imagery, Apparently

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Why Ya Gotta Guzzle Pills And Vodka?

Because she wants to, obviously.

I'm sure readers will be as distressed as I am with the news that Dalek-battling, chav-pop warbler Billie Piper contemplated suicide as a teenager due to the pressures of fame.

"She considered a drug overdose while alone in a US hotel room, aged 16, before phoning her parents to ask to come home."

The mere thought of Billie doing herself in fills me with dread, and it's just as well she didn't make a failed attempt - after all, given where she was, she could've wound up facing a charge of engaging in an attempted act of asymmetric warfare against the United States.

Thankfully, her longing for the embrace of sweet oblivion amounted to nothing, and Ms. Piper went on to a successful career cracking knob gags on childrens' TV.

This news article does prompt the question "Which celebrities would you most like to see attempting brutal self-murder, and how?".

I'll start the ball rolling - I'd like to see Courtney Love attempt to beat herself to death with a hair drier, and I'd also enjoy watching Adam Sandler try to repeatedly run himself over with a tractor.

Any suggestions yourself? Perhaps you'd like to witness Morrissey maniacally throttling himself into the next world, or have an urge to goad on Lucy Liu as she despairingly hurls herself into a pit filled with live tigers.

I'm predicting many votes for Paris Hilton, on her hands and knees, repeatedly slamming her forehead into the pavement in an attempt to dash her tiny brain out for the centre pages of Hello! magazine.

Update! I've just thought of the perfect present for Governator Schwarzenegger, for the day he decides that this cruel world has nothing left to offer him.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Christmas Cards

Once more, with feeling this time .
Warsaw to Elect Statue of Reagan as Mayor
"Morning" in Poland
BBC News, 21st September 2006

Polish admirers of Ronald Reagan say they will elect a statue of the late US president in Warsaw as mayor to thank him for helping to end communist rule.

The statue has promised to immediately begin the task of imbuing Warsawians with joyful optimism for the future, fierce civic pride in their city and emptying Warsaw's treasury into the pockets of its business associates and financial backers.

"This is a great city, a prosperous city of hard working people", said Janus Dorosiewicz, the businessman behind the statue's campaign for mayor. "We want the people of Warsaw to look at the stars and dream."

"That way they won't notice when we pick their pockets and hand their hard earned cash to arms manufacturers and electricity conglomerates."

Reagan's statue laid out its plan to slash government spending on public services and programmes, thus allowing the people of Warsaw to spend their own money as they saw fit.

His ambitious plan involves cutting municipal outlay by -25%, a measure which has so far proved very popular. President Reagan's statue's aides assured the public that he would preside over a decade of poor growth, while overseeing a massive redistribution of wealth to the top 2% of earners.

The appeal of President Reagan's statue is widespread, and it has earned the full support of the Warsaw elite. "We are confident that this statue of President Reagan will keep as firm a grip on the city's purse-strings as the Gipper himself did in the United States", agreed one local stockbroker.

Aides played down recent newspaper articles alleging that the statue had engaged in illicit arms deals with criminal gangs in Lodz, stating that rumours were being peddled with the aim of tarnishing the statue's image.

An official statement from the statue's camp read "President Reagan's likeness is on record as saying that he has no memory of any such activity, and that should be enough for the media to stop their hounding of an honest, hardworking man."

San Diego's Tribute to the Gipper

President Reagan's statue cost around 140,000 Euros, or £94,000, roughly 23.5 times the average annual salary of Poles.

"It's what he would have wanted", sniffed a tearful Dorosiewicz.

Update!: Since I'm harshing on the memory of the Gipper, I might as well have a crack at the Back To The Gilded Age Brigade's current White House sock puppet-

"Bush on Democrats - "They Will Raise Your Taxes"

"If they get control of the House of Representatives, they'll raise your taxes. It'll hurt our economy. And that's why we're not going to let them get control of the House of Representatives," Bush said.

Now, the Americans are free to elect whoever they like, for whatever reasons they like, and I don't have any ground to criticise them for doing so. I'm no lover of the Democratic party either, and given the uncontrollable shitstorm Bush has led the US into, I don't see how significant gains for Dems is going to ameliorate the situation.

All I'm saying is that an Administration that has presided over a skyrocketing deficit, a slump in real wages for the majority of the populace, two disastrous wars, massive cuts in public education, the astonishing nosedive of American prestige around the world and which is now pushing for the legalisation of torture is perhaps not fit to lead the nation of Jefferson and Washington.

But since when did anyone listen to bloggers? If the public are more alarmed by higher taxes than they are by today's UN report by the special rapporteur on torture and the prospect of another disastrous war with Iran, then they'll get what they vote for, and best of luck to them.

They're going to need it.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

I Got The Poison - I Got The Remedy

Since my last post has probably provoked the ire of nationalists throughout the country, I thought I'd assuage the rage with a critique of the government's much-touted immigrant-detecting masterplan - ID cards.

I'll keep it brief - this is a scheme whereby the population of Britain, and anyone applying for residency or asylum, will be issued a card which will hold details of their retinal scans and fingerprints.

Call me cynical, but can anyone explain how this would assist in tracking down terrorist enablers like Abu Hamza?

Abu Hamza al-Masri - The Egyptian Candyman

This brings the whole ID card programme into question. If Britain's leading Islamist can escape detection so easily, it defies logic to continue to throw good money after bad.

I've never understood why we had so many problems catching Hamza in the first place - surely it would've been simpler to forcefeed a clock to a crocodile and have it chase him all over Finsbury Park.

It's political correctness gone mad, I tell you.

(All gags courtesy of Viz magazine, circa 2004).

Why I Like Immigrants

It feels like one can hardly take a bus these days without hearing some public transport pundit* opine forcefully that immigrants are ruining the country.

The chief thorn in their sides appears to be an influx of young Polish jobseekers who are alledgedly driving down wages.

My main experience of Polish immigration is the plethora of six-foot blondes and friendly brunettes who sell me coffee, newspapers and pints of lager, so I don't particularly understand this dreadful demographic disaster.

This is surely because I don't see the havoc wreaked by Polish razor gangs from the balconies of my ivory tower.

I just can't imagine where the bus pundits are getting this idea, and I almost feel sorry for the poor lost souls, so forlorn do they look. They seem genuinely at a loss for a solution to this terrible crisis.

I often hear exasperated speeches about how the country has "gone to the dogs", and every "Have Your Say", "your-vitriolic-opinion-here" column in Scotland echoes to the yowls of such unfortunates.

"We're looking to emigrate", they confide to one another, although one would be pushed to find a whiter country than this. But, being a smartarse blogger, I have a suggestion.

Bugger off.

Go on, beat it.

If Britain has become such a foul pit of degradation, filled with whores, drunks and foreigners, what self-respecting Brit could bear to watch the demise of our great nation? Best to take off for warmer climes, where you can remember Britannia as she was, ruler of the waves, envy of the world.

That this situation would likely leave me one of the few men in a country filled with attractive Polish girls is neither here nor there - I am prepared to selflessly do my part to maintain our traditions.

Even at the end, when I am engulfed by an unstoppable tide of athletic, flaxen-haired Polish maidens, you can be sure that at there will be one corner of this sceptred isle, this other Eden, that is forever Scotland.

Katarzyna Weronika Borowitz, Miss Poland 2005

*Can anyone think of a blogger who calls themselves "anything-pundit" who isn't a staggeringly hateful arse? All suggestions accepted.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Bush to UN - World Cries Out For Freedom, Torture

BBC News, 19th September 2006

President George W. Bush has outlined a vision of a world yearning for freedom, human rights and the opportunity to be electrocuted in its collective scrotum.

Speaking at the chamber of the United Nations, Bush directly addressed the oppressed peoples of the Arab world, offering a vision of -

"... A world beyond terror where the extremists are marginalised by the peaceful majority, thanks to some judicious nutsack-zapping."

"We liberated the people of Iraq from a brutal tyranny that offered them only torture. It is America's mission to make sure that all the world is safe for liberty, security and arbitrary detentions and beatings."

President Bush called upon US politicians to put aside their differences and support his program of "torture reform".

"America is a beacon of freedom for the oppressed of the world, and we cannot allow partisan politics to distract us from the great calling of applying 10,000 volts of pure, static liberty to the testicles of anyone we feel like interrogating."

"ZAP!" he shouted, thrusting at an imaginary pair of pendulous testes. "POW!"

In other remarks, Bush also blasted the Iranian regime for wasting the wealth of their nation on nuclear technology and weapons systems, prompting an outbreak of furious coughing and hiding behind breifcases from the assembled diplomats.

"Your nation's leaders have chosen to deny you liberty and to use your nation's resources to fund terrorism and fuel extremism and pursue nuclear weapons," Bush told Iranians...

Monday, September 18, 2006

Rooney in Loony Moony at Sunni...

Beck's Text Sex Tex-Mex Hex...

17th September 2006


"Tired" Pope Slams Uppitty Foreigners

An "emotional" Pope Benedict XVI has lashed out at protesting heathens in a shocking four-letter rant.

The emotional pontiff, addressing a crowd of forty thousand in Vatican City, pronounced himself "Sick to the fucking tits" following protests in Muslim countries over his recent, entirely reasonable comments on Islam.

Onlookers were astonished as Pope Benedict let rip with an x-rated rant.

Shaking his fist in the air, the Pope turned the air blue, exhorting protesting Muslims to "fuck right off" and urging them to "Come and have a go, if you've got the bollocks".

But His Holiness wasn't finished there - shocked onlookers gasped as...(see page 3 for details)


Pope declares Islam "A Load Of Old Wank"

Judaism: "Religion of Arse"

Protestants: "Thick as a Bull's Dick"

The Papal Posterior, Bared Towards Mecca in Defiance

Also today in your soaraway Sun - Jodie Marsh in threesome with Prescott, Polar Bear...

Frank Lampard vs. Vinnie Jones in teabagging Olympiad...

Littlejohn caught "Looking For Badgers" with Norton...

Bloody Immigrants, Coming Over Here, Taking Our Jobs, Looking Funny at My Wife, Nicking My Bike, Goosing My Tortoise (cont. pg 5)

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Liberte, Egalite et Stupidite

From a recent edition of the International Herald-Tribune...

"Far-right politicians criticized France soccer players Lillian Thuram and Patrick Viera for inviting evicted squatters to watch Wednesday's European Championship qualifying game against Italy.

"Why don't they go even further and invite these illegal immigrants to stay in their homes?" said Philippe de Villiers, a far right presidential hopeful... "It's always interesting to see billionaires give lessons to society."

"Thuram has defended the team in the past against accusations by extreme right leaders that its players are not "French" enough."

People like Philipe De Villiers always put me in a difficult position, morally speaking.

After all, I detest them because they are very racist, and I deplore all forms of bigotry. It's alarming to see public figures making such statements.

On the other hand, I also hate French Nazis because they're a bunch of brie-eating Froggy bastards.

I think I'll side with the footballers, just to be on the safe side.

Thuram - Has never been mocked to his face for being called "Lillian".

Update!: It's just occurred to me that you always hear blowhards on the TV and on the bus complaining about bogus asylum seekers, but you never hear them mentioning the "radical" or "bodacious" immigrants.

I don't know what to lament first, the kneejerk racism of my fellow man or the Americanisation of the Scots tongue.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Attention Children of New Zealand!

Curiosity overcomes me - fully 12% of the traffic on my page comes from New Zealanders, while 10% comes from the US and an amazing 0% comes from Australia, despite the obvious disparity in population.

Please, New Zealanders, announce yourselves! Are you a nation of internet addicts, or is there some kind of strange Scottish/NZ humour crossover of which I was previously unaware?

It surely can't be entirely because of my great affection for the estimable Sonic and Greywolf at Hitchens Watch, much as I enjoy their work.

Habeus Napalm

I haven't summoned up the mental strength to check, but something tells me that one of today's big stories in the virtual playground of lunacy is going to be the protests against the Pope by a shower of uncomprehending arsewits. I predict, without peeking, that thousands of furious keyboard warriors are decrying the intolerence of Islam.

For those not in the know (and I apologise for clueing you in to this rather mundane story), the Pope has succesfully offended the entire Muslim world by quoting a Byzantine Emperor.

I'm right behind the Pope on this, of course - anything that offends God botherers, whatever their creed, is entirely my cup of tea. I saw Jerry Springer - The Opera seventeen times, just so that I could walk out of the theater past the Christian Voice crowd, laughing like a drain whilst miming my own crucifixion.

One day, I'll post a picture of my Mohammed cartoon tattoo - it's a hoot. It's a smash hit every time I bare my right buttock down at the local brothel.

They love it at the synagogue too, although my Ariel Sharon impersonation seems to bomb every time.

All joking aside, the Pope has every right to say whatever he likes without a gaggle of Koran thumpers giving him grief about it.

I'm sure the Pope would gladly die for my right to call him a football-headed, Uncle Fester-impersonating ex-Nazi, just as he'd join in laughing at the Protestants and their made-up religion.

You're not a religion 'til you're at least 700, if you ask me.

the ghost of the deceased Roman Empire, sitting crowned upon the grave thereof.

I've posted this before, but I always split my sides at The Passion of the Christ - the Benny Hill Years.

Be warned that Jesus can see you laughing, and even though he's the forgiving type, it's still going to be an awkward moment when you bump into him at the canteen in Heaven.

Update!: I was thinking about this nonsensical rumpus today and recalled that one of the Pope's first ideas on becoming God's representative on Earth was to do away with the notion of "limbo". If I recall correctly, he proposed this because limbo "has always been only a theological hypothesis".

Presumably the existence of Heaven, Hell, Angels, Satan and the Lord himself are not affected by this, being scientifically proven facts rather than theological hypotheses.

The Adventures of the Man With No Penis

Put your hands together and pray for the PBF.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Political Correctness Gone Mad

"A fish at a Scottish museum has undergone surgery after visitors complained it was too ugly.

A harmless but unsightly growth was removed from the goldfish, which was on show at the Royal Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh."

This is unbelievable yet entirely predictable, a sure sign of our refusal to face up to the realities of the War on Seafood. Even as fish menace us, slaying our most popular TV personalities, viciously choking diners in restaurants and taunting us with their gaping, moronic faces, the taxpayer is paying for their cosmetic surgery!

It is shocking that we are not only allowing these fish into our country, we are coddling them with benefits and free healthcare. Multispeciesism has been foisted on us by liberal do-gooders and its results are clear to see. If fish cannot integrate into British society, they should return to their own seas and rivers - this misguided policy of welcoming unlimited numbers of fish into the country and giving them more rights than hard working British citizens will end in rivers of caviar.

I believe I have made my feelings on this matter clear.

Now, can anyone tell me how one would perform surgery on a fish? Does the vet operate in a fishtank on a table, or do they get the snorkel on and get up close and personal?

And more to the point, will this fish now score with all those hot, scaly minxes that formerly rejected his advances?

The Laughter Died In My Throat When I Realised You Were a Communist

Apologies for the brief hiatus, the bevvy is a siren whose plaintive song is too powerful to resist. Particularly after having my night ruined by Lius bloody Saha.

Still, I arrive back to discover a marked uptick in hits at my page thanks to links from various bloggers. One in particular is Mr. Eugenides, a fellow Scot who pronounces my politics "deeply suspect".

Understandable, since my posts are strewn with fascist imagery. Still, this is a great excuse to break out some of my favourite nuttiness from around the internet, on one of my favourite subjects - the impossibility of enjoying the artistic works of the politically radioactive.

I imagine many readers will be familiar with the movie 28 Days Later, an above average British zombie shocker from 2002. Nothing particularly innovative about it, beyond some excellent super 8 photography.

Nonetheless, the movie provoked the ire of sensitive souls. David Hogberg at Blogcritics was aghast at the shoddy treatment the film gave to the military, who are depicted as being little better than the zombies themselves...

"Alas, as is so often the case in the film industry, the military just can't be a force for good. The soldiers set up the broadcast in the hopes of luring some women for a bit of nooky, the forced kind...

...Chances are it probably fit their stereotypes of the military. A bunch of thuggish soldiers willing to engage in rape given their just desserts by a scrawny geek--what could be more fitting?

28 Days Later might have been a great horror film had Boyle and Garland worked harder to come up with a fitting ending. Instead, they let their political views ruin it."

I must confess that this subtext, while obvious, eluded me on my first viewing. It's also eluded me when watching movies such as Saving Private Ryan, Big Red One, Black Hawk Down, Hamburger Hill or any other non-Vietnam war movie I've ever seen.

Suburban dad and general disapprover of modernity James Lileks was irked by the absence of guns from the movie...

"I wondered why our heroes were defending themselves against the zombies with baseball bats - guys, why don’t you just shoot them? Oh - right. England. Well, this’ll learn you. Never give up your guns. There might be zombies about."

I imagine that Lileks is kidding us on here, although I wonder why this thought occurred to him and not to me.

Finally, I decided to seek out the opinion of Jesus on the matter. The Lord, as it turns out, is unamused...

"There is a strong message delivered through this work, a message that "people kill people... and always have"... I strongly urge any Christian with a tender heart to avoid this film... The scriptures tell us to "guard your heart with all diligence" and I say use this as a measuring stick for this or an other film."

Other reviewers on the page urge similar caution, noting that the movie is "spoiled by humanist elements". Dale, 19, warns us to "Avoid this work of the Devil".

Christians, of course, have an excuse for allowing their ideology to ruin their enjoyment of artistic endeavours, as they have the approval of the Lord to do so. Secular types, on the other hand, cannot point to such lofty principles in their defence.

Cillian Murphy - Scion of the Evil One

All of which is apropos of absolutely nothing, but in the spirit of reciprocity I'd like to point you to the pages of the savagely humorous Larry Teabag, the sober and considered Definition Britain, the sharp political musings of Europhobia, the fragrant Not Saussure, the aptly named Devil's Kitchen and the deeply misguided David Duff.

From the remaining dregs of my nationalism, I'll link to anyone from Scotland who has a blog and alerts me to the fact, provided there are no obvious swastikas or shrines to Osama on your site.

That kind of thing is rampant in the land of the thistle.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

A Call To Arms

I am sure you will recall how TV's intrepid Steve Irwin met his nemesis recently, eaten by a stingray while trying to bring the wonder of the deep to the slack, mastocating couchbound.

Already, patriotic Australians have begun to fight back against these sea beasts and their implacable hatred, attacking stingrays in revenge for the death of the towering TV collossus.

With this the Australians have declared that the time for mourning is over, and that it is time to strike back hard at the aquatic menace that lurks within our seas, our rivers and even in the ponds near which our children play.

But the threat from these cold-blooded assassins of the deep does not begin and end with the ferocious predators, the sharks, the stingrays and the killer whales.

Would that that were the case, we might take some small comfort. Their catalogue of anti-human hate crimes is too long to list, but some of their more recent atrocities are enough to strike fear into the hearts of any mortal.

Cambodian teenager strangled by enraged fish.

Psychotic sea bass drowns diver.

Toddler twatted by sadistic sunfish.

And who can forget the unforgiveable crimes against humanity perpetrated by fishkind during World War II, when they allied themselves with the racist imperium of Hirohito?

This reign of piscine terror will not be ended by diplomacy, nor under the auspices of the UN. President Bush's assertion that "human beings and fish can coexist peacefully" has been proven to be a fantasy for those still stuck in a pre-Stevo-eating mindset.

We now need to fully grasp the situation - we find ourselves facing a threat the like of which we have never encountered. The fish will never stop, never engage in diplomacy, will never listen to appeals to reason. Their quest for hegemony of the seas must end.

Our resolve is firm, our purpose is clear. We will fight these aquatic totalitarians, and we will prevail.

Fish - Bastards.

Update!: Satire - even my ham-fisted attempts at it - is increasingly being made obsolete by the internet. I believe I may just have stumbled across the most flat-out fucking insane depiction of the old saw about single mothers and the decline of society ever recorded.

From Roy at Alicublog, whose ability to detect the scent of crazy on the virtual winds is approaching bloodhound levels.

No posts tomorrow (pub), and possibly not for many days after that as I try to cram my exploded brains back into my skull.

An Inspector Calls

I've been trying to cheer myself up after reading so many glowing tributes to President Bush's speech, as witnessing such debauched displays of witless onanism is wearying.

The relentless human capacity for self-deception appears undented by the countless head-on fender-benders reality has recently subjected our nations to.

Thankfully, I remembered a story I read on Reuters some time ago, and just a quick Google search later I was much cheerier.

Stubborn self-delusion is nothing compared to the cunning wiles of the Breast Inspector.

MIAMI (Reuters) - A 76-year-old man claiming to be a doctor went door-to-door in a Florida neighborhood offering free breast exams, and was charged with sexually assaulting two women who accepted the offer, police said on Thursday.

One woman became suspicious after the man asked her to remove all her clothes and began conducting a purported genital exam without donning rubber gloves, investigators said. The woman then phoned the Broward County Sheriff's Office and the suspect fled.

He was arrested at another woman's apartment in the same Lauderdale Lakes neighborhood on Wednesday, a sheriff's spokesman said. The white-haired suspect, Philip Winikoff, carried a black bag and claimed to be visiting on behalf of a local hospital.

"He told the woman that he was in the neighborhood offering free breast exams," sheriff's spokesman Hugh Graf said in a statement. At least two women, both in their 30s, let him into their homes and he fondled and sexually assaulted them, the investigators said.

Winikoff was not a doctor, Graf said. He worked as a shuttle driver for an auto dealership.

I know I shouldn't laugh at the misfortune of the victims of such assaults, but I can't help but wonder whether I should relocate to Florida and start a career as a wallet inspector.

Florida - America's Wang

The sooner this German chemist perfects his scientific breakthrough, the better off we'll all be - we certainly won't have to listen to bloggers like Vodkapundit tell us that the combined might of Iran, Osama Bin Laden, Syria and Hezbollah represent a more terrifying threat to mankind than the Soviet Union.

What would Stalin, Kruschev or Brezhnev say, if they could speak from beyond the grave?* Would they point to the Soviets' enormous nuclear arsenal, millions of men under arms and tens of thousands of tanks? Would they talk of the great ideological wars of the twentieth century?

Since all were enthusiastic employers of propaganda, we have to consider the foul possibility that they'd give him a job at Pravda.

*And if I could understand Russian, of course.

Monday, September 11, 2006

The War on Forever

Shorter Right-Wing Blogosphere...

What we need to save us from the planet-destroying fascist horror that threatens to overwhelm us all is this in the middle east...

But if the liberal terrorist-lovers won't allow that, we'll settle for plenty of this in the west.

I'm not going to post anything else today, the display of red-faced, furious cock-pounding over the 9/11 anniversary that I've witnessed on the biggest of the right wing blogs has made me feel a bit faint.

I don't think there's anything else I can say about inappropriate methods of commemorating the dead that I haven't already said here and here.

Update!: I can only heartily endorse John's comments at Konichiwa Bitches.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Commemorating September 11th

Some days always remain with you, their events burned indelibly upon your retinas. This can happen for all kinds of reasons, and September 11th 2001 is one such day for me. The events of that day taught me important lessons about the nature of humanity.

As the anniversary of September 11th 2001 looms large in our headlights, I thought I'd share some of my experiences from one of the worst days of my life.

It seemed like any other day as I opened my curtains onto a crisp autumn morning, and I was in a cheerful mood as I dressed and walked downstairs. All that would change after I turned on the television.

With the news on the TV, I walked into the kitchen, directly into a huge puddle of cold water that had issued from my washing machine and soaked through the carpet. As I would discover later, the water had seeped through into the flat downstairs and I was now liable for a two hundred pound repair bill. As if that wasn't bad enough, the Council had finally caught up with me and hit me with a tax bill for another four hundred quid, which put me six big ones down before I'd even opened my front door.

I had to call my boss and tell her that I wouldn't make it to the office until the afternoon, which prompted a foul-mouthed rant on my shortcomings as an employee. The repair guy, when he arrived, was surly and mean-spirited and he proceeded to leave grubby hand prints all over my bathroom.

Of course, the bus to Edinburgh broke down on the bypass and there was a fifty minute wait for a replacement, and the cash machine ate my bankcard as I tried to take out money for lunch. I had to take a detour and borrow twenty bucks off my girlfriend, who was pissed because I still hadn't paid up for our holiday that year.

Then, to cap it all, I get into the office and there's nobody there, just twenty phones ringing angrily, and I spent most of the afternoon dealing with vindictive lawyers.

A real human truth was revealed to me by September 11th - lawyers hate being put on hold. They hate it like fire.

When my co-workers finally showed up in the office, it was to babble about some Jerry Bruckheimer movie they'd been watching in the tea room, grab their coats and make for the exits. Talk about unprofessional.

I didn't get out of the office until seven, and the staff at the cafe in which I ate my dinner were distracted and rude, watching TV and neglecting the customers. The only communication I got from the waitress was "terrible day". You don't know the half of it, sister.

I saw a woman on the TV the other night babbling about "how September 11th changed the world", and I know what she meant. She also said it had laid bare the potential for evil in the modern world, but I think that's a bit of a stretch.

It certainly laid bare the shortcomings in the British work ethic.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

Man in Coma 'Communicates'
BBC News,
7th September, 2006

A patient in a coma can communicate just using his thoughts, according to research.

Former Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, who has been in a coma since suffering a stroke, has been unable to communicate for many months.

By scanning his brain, a UK/Belgium team discovered that he could understand spoken commands and even imagine bombing Palestinians and Lebanese.

They said their findings were "startling", but cautioned that this could be a one-off case.

Five months after his stroke, the researchers used functional magnetic resonance imaging (FMRI) to record General Sharon's brain activity. Researchers attempted to enliven his mental processes by continuously playing him "Mars: The Bringer of War" from Holst's "Planets" suite.

While his brain was being mapped, the researchers asked him to imagine simple tasks, such as shelling heavily populated urban centres, allowing Christian death squads to run riot in civilian refugee camps or dismantling the social welfare programs of formerly egalitarian societies.

Lead scientist Dr Adrian Owen, a neuroscientist from the Medical Research Council's Cognition and Brain Sciences Unit in Cambridge, said "The tasks we chose are based on many years of brain imaging research that shows different areas of the brain are activated when we perform different kinds of tasks."

Extreme Violence

When the scientists compared his brain activity to that of healthy patients, who had been asked to carry out the same task, they discovered the patterns were "indistinguishable".

Dr Owen said "These are startling results. It tells us that he is able to perform simple tasks in his head, such as imagining bulldozing the homes of people he considers to be less than human."

"Despite being in a coma, it's clear that General Sharon's enthusiasm for slaughtering his enemies is undiminished."

In an accompanying article in the same journal, Lionel Naccache, of the Cognitive Neuroimaging Unit in France, said: "Despite Gen. Sharon's very poor behavioural status, the FMRI findings indicate this existence of a rich mental life of destroying Palestinian police stations and banks."

"It asks all manner of moral questions, such as 'would it be right to switch off the life support of a man whose mind is capable of imagining the crushing of subject peoples?."

General Sharon is 78 years old and has been feted as a "man of peace."

Blair v Brown - The Battle That's Gripped The Nation

Chancellor Gordon Brown finally made his play for Tony Blair's job this week, provoking much hand-wringing amongst commentators about who would make the better Prime Minister.

To me, it's a pretty open and shut case. Just look at the picture below...

As was pointed out in this month's Viz, Tony Blair is at least half an inch taller than Governor Schwarzenegger*, making him the finest Prime Minister we've ever had. What other nation can boast a premier taller than the Terminator?

Churchill seems puny by comparison.

And here we see Blair towering over leader of the free world, plus some shifty-looking foreign geezer who's probably there to serve the coffees.

And what of Gordon Brown, Chancellor of the Exchequer?

A clear inch, at least, shorter than the collossus Blair.

Only those who pray for the imminent victory of the Islamofascists could support the diminishing of Britain's stature in the world by allowing such a shortarse to occupy Number Ten. Blair's tremendous height is a testament to the superiority of the British social contract.

Plus, Brown is a Scotsman, and as the whole world knows, all Scotsmen are sexual tyrannosaurs. I believe such rampant masculinity would not play well to middle England, and could cost Labour the next election.

*Those words still give me a laugh every time.

Incidentally - this is my hundredth post, and I believe it is traditional to mark the occasion and offer reflections upon what I have learned in the past couple of months.

The chief lesson I have learned is that, if I want people to give me free money, it would be more efficient to take up mugging than blogging.

The other lesson I've learned is that, if blogging is a desperate plea for attention, I would be more succesful if I stripped naked, painted myself pink and ran through the streets shrieking "Stop me before I kill again".

The final lesson being that, if you want lots of visitors to your page, the quickest way to do it is to give it an obscene name and cover it with pictures of naked women.

The fact that I used the phrase "naked women" in the last sentence will probably double the traffic to my site for the coming week.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

"Ich Bin Ein Jihadi..."
Bush Slays Audience With All-New Material
Comedy Pouch, Little Rock, Arkansas,
5th September 2006

Say what you like about President George W. Bush, but there's no doubting his position as one of the leading stand-ups on the comedy circuit. By turns genial, frank and uncompromising, Bush's set was rapturously received by an audience privileged to witness his return to form.

Taking as his theme his recent career difficulties and the War on Terror, Bush's acerbic style was shot through with a sincerity that has been lacking on recent tours. He packed a nervous energy into his delivery that hasn't been seen since the now-infamous "With Us Or Against Us" skit he first performed in 2001.

Kicking off with some well-worn crowd pleasers - "Why is it that folks who believe in evolution look really over-evolved? Damn, Darwin, you gotta tell these folks when to stop with their evolvin' - I could land a jet on these guys' foreheads!" - Bush quickly hit his stride with his "Ich Bin Ein Jihadi" sketch.
From a rant on the War on Terror and "Folks who just don't get it", he segued neatly into a hilarious skit comparing Osama Bin Laden to Adolf Hitler, bringing the house down with his impersonation of a frustrated OBL struggling to pray towards Mecca while flinging fascist salutes.

"Schweinhund!" he imagined Bin Laden shouting in frustration, "Wer ist der third panzercorps? Wer ist mein Luftwaffe? Der march on America begins tomorrow!", then, "Gott in Himmel! Ich bin in eine shitty cave halfway up ein mountain in Pakistan!".

The audience were quick to join in, shouting "Achtung, Achtung!" as he impersonated Bin Laden desperately trying to recall what he'd done with his millions of well-armed and trained stormtroopers, shouting "Scheiss, I had them just ein minute ago!", while miming a search under the sofa cushions.

Expanding on the theme, he became Ayman Al-Zawahiri, shrieking "Ich bin ein naughty boy!" and goosestepping across the stage. Turning serious, he admonished the crowd for their laughter. He said that the world had ignored the writings of Lenin and Hitler and "paid a terrible price".

"I mean, can you imagine how many crapped panties there were in Paris when the Wehrmacht rolled in? Now that's a dry-cleaning bill I wouldn't wanna get landed with!"

Hecklers would be dealt with curtly, as one young woman in the crowd found to her cost - after mocking a previous putdown with the words "Nice comeback, Mr. President!" Bush fixed her with a steely eye and growled in a low voice, "Missy, when I want my come back, I'll wipe it off your face."

Milking the laughter for a moment, he added "And give it a good Christian burial."

"What's with these pro-abortion people?" he asked, closing his set. "My friends just can't agree where they stand on this debate, it's just so charged and divisive, the arguments just won't stop. I mean, what motivates them? Are they annoying idiots?".

Then, with a grin, "Or are they evil fucks?". The audience, shocked out of the palm of Bush's hand, exploded with laughter and applause.

This was Bush back at the height of his powers, whimsical, biting and raw. Watch out for him on a TV near you - on this kind of form, it doesn't look like there's any stopping him.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


Glad to alert you to this story from Reuters, which describes a psychological study aimed at assessing the psychic powers of the human race.

"Each person in the trials was asked to give researchers names and phone numbers of four relatives or friends. These were then called at random and told to ring the subject who had to identify the caller before answering the phone.

"The hit rate was 45 percent, well above the 25 percent you would have expected," he told the annual meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science. "The odds against this being a chance effect are 1,000 billion to one."

He said he found the same result with people being asked to name one of four people sending them an e-mail before it had landed."

I'm no statistician, and it may just be an amazing coincidence, but I was scratching my bollocks at the exact second I clicked on that link.

Such a stark confluence of pre-emptive thought and scientific praxis cannot be overlooked.

In Which Flying Rodent Demonstates the Enormous Power of the Blogosphere

Patient readers who have persevered with this page in the hope that comedy will eventually ensue may be interested to know what became of my appeal for bloggers to support Isobel Campbell's "Ballad of the Broken Seas" for the Mercury Music Prize.

As you might imagine, the novel paradigm created by the advent of the new journalism caused my campaign to catch on like wildfire and a mass grassroots movement formed to pressure the judges into endorsing my choice.

Which is why the Arctic Monkeys strolled off as comfortable winners, despite my previous statement that " it would make their mums really proud if they won, but we live in a world where the hopes of wide-eyed children are often cruelly dashed."

How this can have happened I am unsure - I was led to believe that bloggers represented the great mass of humanity and that stridency was the sure key to the triumph of citizen journalism. It appears that I have been misled.

Nonetheless, in the aftermath of the ceremony, I am alarmed to notice that the BBC's website has been attacked by cackling gremlins convinced that the Arctic Monkeys are "the best band since Oasis" and that their album is "the best since Definitely Maybe".

I believe this is what American Republicans refer to as "the soft bigotry of low expectations". Referring to any band as being the "best since Oasis" is a bit like saying the film you just saw is "the best since Anaconda" or that the book you just finished was the best you've read since "A Time To Kill" by John Grisham.

I'll keep it brief - Oasis are deeply shit. If you like albums where almost all of the songs are in the same tempo and key and display the same utter contempt for the art of writing lyrics, this is the band for you. If you hate surprises, sudden shifts in tone, artistic progression and creativity, you need look no further.

They are the artistic equivalent that poster of the tennis player scratching her arse.

n.b. Normal posts resume tomorrow - social commitments have kept me from paying proper attention to this page.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Textspeak - The Nail In The Coffin Of The English Language

I'm not a fan of textspeak, whether it's the mobile phone version or the supremely lazy internet "RAOTFLMAO" variety.

I understand that the English language evolves to suit the needs of those who use it, but I cannot for the life of me understand all those "r u gonna"s, ";)"s and "LOL"s.

Speaking of which, I have it on very good authority that, thirty years from now, humans will show amusement purely by saying "LOL" in a flat monotone while their faces remain completely slack and devoid of mirth.

Stand-up comics will become entirely more physical as they will spend much of their gigs miming shocked faces using O's and colons, drawing "smileys" in the air while the audience drone "LOL, LOL, LOL" at the stage.

I'm told it will be almost impossible to communicate in words that do not involve "2"s or "u"s, which I blame entirely on Sinead O'Connor.

Nonetheless, I've just received this text from an old friend in London, whom I have not spoken to in many a long year. Sadly, I can't decipher the text-code it's written in, so I must appeal for your assistance...

"Cnt tk n e mr, ths c t s doin my hed in. at wts end, kilin myslf only way out

:( gdby crl wrld."

I'm assuming he's having a ball, since he never seems to find time to call these days.

Update!: In another exciting development, I read in the comments section of an entirely funnier blog than this one that, by the year 2030, all human beings will be known by their first initial followed by the word "Dogg".

Gospel, since you heard if from the F-Dogg.

Also In Memoriam

It occurs to me that this might be a more expressive way of explaining the situation to those with sensory disabilities.

A sad loss to the world of zoology and entertainment. Turn on your TV right now and you'll see some joyous arse who entirely merits meeting his or her end at the barb of a stingray, but they will live to be 90.

Only the good die young. Good snake-handlers and crocodile-wranglers particularly.

In Memoriam

It occurs to me that some people, such as the deaf or those who have reading difficulties, may be unaware of today's tragic events.

I've taken the liberty of posting a pictorial representation, so that such people can be kept abreast of events.

Our thoughts must be with the family at this sad time.