Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Johann Hari - A Life In Letters

February 20th 2003

In amongst the debates over the rights and wrongs of freeing the leopard, it is vital that we understand that the leopard can be a force for good in the world.

All of us can point to the past misdeeds of the leopard, which has at times been vicious, savage and selfish - that has no bearing on its future conduct.

Let us look upon the uncompromising, ugly face of the leopard in the past...

We can all agree that the leopard was a wild, uncontrollable beast seeking self-fulfillment.

But, alas, there are worse things than leopards in the world - lions, tigers and bears! Crocodiles, sharks and piranha!

Do you really want to defend these terrible animals? Surely, nobody prefers lions and tigers to leopards.

And for all of those who say that the leopard will simply rampage across town, attacking people and scrabbling in rubbish bins, I implore you to look at the dramatic change that September 11th has wrought upon it's spots.

I say that we should support the leopard in its bid for freedom - open that cage, then allow it to roam free.

Update!: July 2007 - It has recently been brought to my attention that the leopard has indeed rampaged about town, attacking people and rummaging in rubbish bins.

Further, I now realise that this leopard's coat remains substantially similar to its previous patterning. What I mistook for a decisive change in its appearance was merely a crudely tacked-on sign reading "I Ams a Nice Lepard Now."

On reflection, it seems that it would have been wiser to have left the cage locked.

I apologise for any confusion my previous comments may have caused.

Monday, July 30, 2007

BBC "Institutionally Biased"
Independent Group Criticises Corporation's World Cup Coverage
"Deep-seated Cultural Marxism"
The Times, 30th July 2007

An independent study group has heavily criticised the BBC for what it calls "Anti-English bias" in its coverage of the 2006 football World Cup.

Media Bias Watch, a privately funded organisation dedicated to scrutinising the Corporation, cited numerous instances in which the national team was unfairly denigrated, while the faults of other nations were glossed over.

"Time and time again, the BBC's commentators referred to England's performances as 'lacklustre', 'workmanlike' and 'half-hearted'," said Sir Richard Starke-Staring, Chairman of the group. "And yet they had nothing but praise for teams such as Italy, Brazil and Germany."

"The BBC refused to balance its coverage, displaying bias in its treatment of foreign teams. Argentina, for instance, were lavished with praise for their 6-0 defeat of Serbia and Montenegro - their play was described as 'poetic, balletic and brilliant', featuring 'one of the best goals ever scored at international level."

"But where was the praise for England's triumphant defeat of Trinidad and Tobago?"

"It is precisely this kind of contempt for Englishness and pandering to foreign nations that exposes the Corporation's fundamental lack of trustworthiness."

The BBC has recently come under fire for gross distortions in its broadcasting, and this report comes as the public is increasingly critical of the Corporation.

As for the treatment of the U.S.A. national team, the report states that the commentators spilled over into overt anti-American hatred - Gary Lineker was heard to state that "the Americans aren't very keen on football - sorry, soccer," and pundits Alan Hansen and Peter Schmeichel both laughed at the prospect of an American triumph in the competition.

"Would they have laughed at the suggestion that Brazil might win the trophy?" asks the report. "Of course not, because the Brazilians are not a symbol of international capitalism."

Sir Richard was adamant that the BBC was not providing its viewers with accurate reporting.

"Perhaps the brie-eating, latte-slurping classes of Hampstead enjoy hearing praise for the cheating divers of Italy, but the good, honest, hard-working British man doesn't need to hear his heroes being described as 'over-paid' and 'over-rated'."

The report recommends a complete restructuring of the BBC, allowing for privatisation and foreign ownership.

"We've seen how private ownership has helped American media with their truth and accuracy," he said. "The liberal-leftist culture of the BBC has so tainted their reporting that only a mandatory purchase by, for example, News International can bring balance to sport coverage."

Related articles:

William Rees-Mogg - Why the BBC needs to be defrocked and defenestrated, p22

Daniel Finkelstein - This Corporation should be bound and fucked to death, p23

Matthew Paris - There's all kinds of good things on satellite TV these days, p23

Friday, July 27, 2007

A Shout Out To My Brothers Who's Incarcerated

I missed it earlier this week, but I gots a shout goin' out to Ja Rule and Lil Wayne, who have both been busted by tha pigs for carrying illegal firearms.

As tha realest hip hop badass on Blogger, I've long considered Mr. Rule to be a comedy caricature of tha American capitalist dream - a talentless Dress-Me Bling-Doll who keeps a phalanx of paid goons to do his pimping and bitchslapping for him,while he gets his nails done and watches Oprah on tha motherfucking television.

Well, taken in conjunction with Mr. The Game's arrest on similar charges, they have clearly stated their intention to take hip hop back to tha streets. In recent years, it's all been more Cristal and Courvoisier than Crystal Meth and tha Chronic.

How glad I am to see hip hop getting back to its rootz within tha community, i.e. shooting policemen, drive-bys and running up on a fool then blasting his punk-ass with a twelve-gauge.

When I'm cruising through tha hood with my bitches tonight, I'll raise a blunt to tha homeboys keeping it real up in tha State Pen.


Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Point Of Order

It seems like everybody's queueing up to put the boot into George Galloway these days.

Personally, I've always regarded him as a shameless, self-promoting opportunist with no more a sense of morality than an alleycat, attributes that he has found endlessly useful in politics.

In fairness though, he's skyrocketed in my estimation after becoming the first Member of Parliament to speak the phrase "Spunk-Loving Sluts" in the House, an act that could only have been more amusing had he thrown a few copies of that publication down to the front bench for Cabinet perusal.

This is surely a momentous occasion in British political history - not since Lord Palmerston described Sir Robert Peel as a Flat-footed, furry cockbag full of fat fuck-all has such poetic oratory been heard within the hallowed hall.

Nor can Lloyd George's famed meditation upon the Kaiser's parentage, sexual proclivities and the uses to which he put his withered left arm compete for shock value in this liberal age.

And Ramsey MacDonald's denunciation of the Daily Mail as a Rat-fucking gang of rancid, bollock-sucking necrophiliacs, while true to this day, is now all but forgotten.

So, it's hats off to Galloway, whose inappropriate conduct is only beaten for comedic value by Her Majesty's Government - their decision to accept substantial contributions from the publishers of Spunk-Loving Sluts has kept us all laughing for years.

And, on a personal note, I'd like to add - Mum, you'd better cover your eyes before you read this post.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Who's That Fat Man, Daddy, And Why Is He Sitting On That Pile Of Skulls?

Ach, a musician friend once told me that if you can't crack a song out of a catchy riff within twenty minutes, it's best to admit defeat - polish as you might, no amount of Mr. Sheen is going to buff up that turd.

That's kind of how I feel about my response to this screed by Christopher Hitchens, the pickled Posidonius of the Pax Americana. It's without doubt his most flatulent blast of triumphalism so far, as he daubs himself in the blood of his anti-war foes, their torn bodies lying prostrate at his feet.

No doubt George Galloway's skull will make for a fine goblet, from which to sup the sweet wine of victory while a manacled and bedraggled Jacques Chirac plays the Star-Spangled Banner on a xylophone made from Schroeder's ribcage.

I tried envisioning Hitchens as King Pyrrhus, casting a blazing eye over his shattered army and proclaiming his lordship over all Italy, but it just didn't do justice to his small-mindedness.

Then I imagined him as Voltaire amongst the aftershocks in a shattered Lisbon, singing newfound hosannas to the glory of God.

That one was just a bit too wanky, and didn't convey the appropriate level of smug satisfaction.

Finally, I tried to imagine him as a faded Parisian hooker, the last vestiges of soft beauty finally callused by hard cynicism and rough gin, cackling over the downfall of a younger rival.

But ultimately I had to admit defeat - grope as I might, I'll never find the appropriate metaphor to encapsulate such an inappropriate display of schadenfreude. Hundreds of words glorying in the defeat of his adversaries, and not a single mention of the catastrophe that has befallen Hitch's vision of a free, democratic Iraq.

Nero may have fiddled while Rome burned, but I imagine that when he finally laid down his bow he asked if anyone else smelled smoke.

And that's what this article leaves me with - the mental image of the pyromaniac, his handiwork done, laughing and wanking in the orange glow of the crackling flames.

In the end, I think that's the closest I'll ever get.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Too Distasteful... But Then It IS Friday Night

The BBC, no doubt intending to heap ridicule upon a respected figure of American conservatism, informs me that President George W. Bush is scheduled for a routine colonoscopy this week.

I imagine that many unprincipled and unfeeling types might succumb to the temptation to milk the maximum level of comedy from an unpleasant medical procedure that many of us will face in our dotage.

Therefore, like Pontius Pilate before me, I hereby wash my hands of the comments thread that follows this post.

I disown all responsibility for any puerile humour that may ensue when commenters offer suggestions as to what the proctologist in question might find lurking in the Presidential rectum.

I would also like to stress that any childish comparisons between the President's medical treatment his treatment of taxpayers in general are entirely beyond my control.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

It's The Taking Speed That Counts

Shock and consternation ripple through the tartan-trouserati as veteran golfer Gary Player reveals his insider knowledge...

"I know for a fact that some golfers are doing it... I would say there are 10 guys taking something. I might be way out. It's definitely not going to be lower, it might be a hell of a lot more."

Player, 71, says two players have told him personally they are taking drugs."

I'm inclined to take Mr. Player at his word - I've enjoyed his fine cigarettes for many years, and if you can't trust the honesty of a tobacconist, whose can you?

As for the allegations that leading golfers are on drugs, I'm not surprised in the slightest. I'd need to spend at least four hours smoking crack before I could sit through a single round on TV, let alone play the infernal game.

I'd certainly tune in if they made drug use compulsory, though. I can't imagine anything more entertaining than watching an unsteady Tiger Woods take fourteen swipes at every shot while a giggling Phil Mickelson tries and fails to place the ball on the tee.

And it's a terrible shame that Seve Ballesteros has retired, since I'd definitely cheer him on as he beat his caddy in a berserk, foul-mouthed bout of 'roid rage.

This could enliven all manner of sports -the FIA could ply Formula One drivers with opium before they line up on the grid, then we'd watch them pooter about the track at four miles an hour, gently bumping into each others' cars.

Or they could spike rugby players' isotonic drinks with ecstasy, and we could watch them run about hugging each other, waving their hands in front of their faces and staring agog at the amazing visuals on the advertising hoardings.

The evidence is right before us, even now... Witness how the decision to force Tour de France riders to stop taking drugs has already led to hilarious results, with cold turkey driving one rider to attempt suicide by throwing himself under an oncoming golden retriever.

So come on, stuffy sporting authorities - this is clearly the wave of the future.

If you don't do it, professional wrestling will.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Gluttony And Punishment

Max Hastings raises mordant chuckles from my cage today, as he feels compelled to begin his defence of military intervention by warding off the angry wasps of liberal disapproval with a burning newspaper...

"Committing western troops abroad can be a tremendously good thing. That sentence has immediately cost me the sympathy of maybe half those addressing this page..."

How presumptuous - just because the last five years have shown that our leaders are perfectly content to cast pious pixie-dust in our eyes while throwing darts at maps of Middle Eastern oilfields doesn't mean that we won't drop our trousers en masse the next time they cry Hitler.

Still, it's good to see the commentariat keeping their eyes on the prize. This war may have been a ruinous disaster launched upon a raft of feeble fabrications and half-truths, but Lo! Captain Hastings is on hand to join us in a cheery singsong while we watch the burning wreckage slip beneath the waves!

Chin up, old bean! he cries, clapping us chummily upon the back, Worse things happen at sea - there's always next time, what?

Of course, old Max is merely a well-intentioned harbinger of worse to come. Behind him lurk a fantastical pack of pantomime villains and goggle-eyed trolls, ready to steam forth roaring about democracy for the world's downtrodden at the sound of a stubbed toe in Tehran.

And as before, countless pie-eyed innocents will line the pews rapt in bliss, crying loud hosannas for freedom and justice while cackling goblins strip the lead from the church roof and shit brimstone into the collection plate.

Witness an earnest, if condescending, Decent who recently felt compelled to explain to me why the Coalition's decision to invade Iraq was such a good idea...

"How conveniently some people forget the results of previous interventions by the Western democracies which have had a considerably improving effect on local conditions, namely Germany, Japan, Korea, Malaya, the FRY, Northern Ireland..."

Forget the ludicrousness of including Malaya and Northern Ireland - the basic argument can be rendered thusly...

If the invasion of Germany was right and just, then invading Iraq was also right and just.

Or, to demonstrate using pictures...

History, it seems, is doomed to repeat itself.

Sadly, it seems that the lesson of recent years - that grubby money men are perfectly happy to waffle about democracy and human rights pour encourager les gullibles - has gone unlearnt in some quarters.

This being the case, perhaps we as a nation should apply the precautionary principle - no interventions larger than that required to rescue a particularly plaintive cat from an especially tall tree.

Or, to put it another way, if naughty little boys can't finish their vegetables, there won't be any ice cream and jelly for dessert.

It'll be a shame to confiscate all those snazzy military toys, but if certain children can't be trusted to play with them responsibly then they shan't be allowed to have any at all.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Think Your Way To Success!

As I slogged through the rain this morning, cursing a wet and miserable Monday, I was struck by a sudden insight - we live in an era in which every shop-front and bus stop screams buy this fantastic product, you handsome, cocksure man about town, you!

Every day, we're bombarded by blazing advertising campaigns, constantly marketed to and manipulated in a million ways we don't even notice. I stood transfixed as a billboard screamed in mega-decibel technicolour of how the act of spraying myself with their product would cause women to react as if I have an Aston Martin filled with designer shoes and twatty cocktails down my trousers.

Branding is all, I thought, as the cold rain trickled down my neck. Content is for losers - image is everything!

I need to take these lemons and turn them into lemonade!

So I christened my daily stop at the newsagent Operation Phantom Sabre, and immediately felt more pumped and manly.

I then re-named my walk to work Operation Roaring Blizzard, and found that the rain could not dull my steely resolve nor my grim sense of purpose.

Needless to say, Operation Blazing Hammer was a complete success, as I effortlessly made a cup of coffee and, emboldened, drank it.

You could try this yourself and witness the benefits - it certainly works for the American military, which has conducted hundreds of operations with names every bit as ludicrously overblown.

My favourites are Operation Iron Justice and Operation Centaur Rodeo, although it's difficult to distinguish the real ones from the Wiki-vandalism.

So my friends, next time you finally decide that jungle of a lawn needs mowing or feel intimidated by that huge pile of dishes, close your eyes and randomly pick from the panels below - a newer, more confident you is but a pointed finger away.

Do Not Collect £200

Associating oneself with the political left in Britain is a tiresome business these days.

It means sharing a platform with many holier-than-thou types whose chief political impulse appears to be banning cigarettes, fatty foods and petrol-guzzling automotive behemoths.

It means occupying the same space as pathological NIMBYs whose idea of how best to secure economic security for all is to protest against the opening of new Tesco stores.

It means being forced to pick over the twitching, smouldering corpse of New Labour, scouring for a trace of a progressive idea amongst the privatisations, illiberal laws and foreign policy disasters.

The outsider could be forgiven for imagining that such a political affiliation is a sure sign of masochistic tendencies, and sometimes I'm almost forced to agree.

And then I read a post by a man who is clearly having a big wank over the two 16 year old girls facing a decade in an African prison for drug smuggling.

This kind of thing scarcely validates any belief I hold, beyond the obvious fact that the political right contains a high proportion of vengeance-crazed sadists who enjoy twisting their own nipples while reading reports about Britain's ludicrously high incarceration rate.

Such things are an apt reminder that, while the left may be condescending and self-important, I rarely find myself in discussion with people whose lives are a continual struggle to conceal their compulsive vindictiveness.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Discount For Undercover Coppers...

"Florida Rep. Robert "Bob" Allen, R-Merritt Island, was arrested this afternoon at Veteran's Memorial Park on East Broad Street for alleged solicitation for prostitution...

...Officers noticed Allen acting suspicious as he went in and out of the men’s restroom three times. Minutes later, he solicited an undercover male officer inside the restroom, offering to perform oral sex for $20."

And how many times have we seen this inspiring riches-to-rags-to-riches story?

Boy meets undercover policeman, boy offers to suck off undercover policeman, boy meets judge, boy returns to international pop stardom with a jokey music video set in a glam public toilet.

It does make me wonder what it is about political groups of pious blowhards that compels them to smoke crystal meth with rent boys, engage in sexy webchat with teenagers, indulge in freaky sex with hookers etc.

I'm the kind of libertine, devil-may-care type that would rile up the average Republican closet-case, but even I could probably take public office without immediately launching into a coke-fuelled rampage of torrid, al-fresco sex.

Maybe we should just offer politicians the chance to get it out of their systems. Say, as soon as they're elected, send them to Las Vegas with a fistful of cash and a leather thong. For one week, let them grind out their seedy desire on whatever animal, vegetable or mineral takes their fancy while shoving terrifying pharmaceutical concoctions up their backsides, or whatever.

It would surely be more dignified than this tediously common cycle of piety, perverted lust and penitence that characterises conservative political life.

Either that, or they could just lay off the condemnation, and no-one would care when they got caught nuts-deep in an inflatable sheep.

But then, where are the votes in that?

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Bush Praises Recruitment Of Iraqi Chickens
President "Optimistic" Of Success
BBC News, 12th July 2007

Speaking ahead of an important report assessing the "surge" of troops in Baghdad, President Bush praised the recruitment of 20,000 Iraqi chickens in the fight against terror.

"I'm confident that these chickens will be crucial in the fight against Al-Qaeda in Iraq," the President stated, adding that they would be deployed in two months.

"Once these chickens have left their boxes and engaged the enemy, I'm certain that they will prove their worth."

Democratic Senators have suggested that President Bush is "over-egging" recent progress in the Iraqi capital, accusing him of painting a rosy picture of a scrambled situation. The President shrugged off any such suggestions.

"I have no doubt that these are some hard-boiled chickens," he said. "They are an important part of the coalition against evil in the modern world."

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Just How Desperate Must Al-Qaeda Be?

That 21/7 failed bombing plot?

This guy was the brains of the operation.

That may explain the both the ineptitude of the operation (non-exploding bombs, running away, your underpant-clad capture being broadcast to the nation) and the stupidity of their defence in court (they were, like, joke bombs, your honour.)

Nonetheless, it does seem that Mr. Ibrahim (for it is he) has perfected the ultimate counter-intelligence weapon - disguise yourself as a lobotomised, donut-munching couch-beast, and MI5 will never believe that you could be a criminal mastermind.

I only hope, for Mr. Ibrahim's sake, that his oafish appearance also functions as a crude anti-bumrape device, or he's going to find the next forty years very, very tiresome.

In other twat-related news, I notice that cave-dwelling internet celebrity Ayman Al-Zawahiri has condemned Salman Rushdie's knighthood.

Everyone's a critic, eh?

I thought Fury was pretty weak too, but frankly it just smacks of jealousy on Al-Zawahiri's part.

I mean, have you ever read Knights Under the Prophet's Banner?

I'll summarise it for you - everything invented after 900 AD is bad, except for webcams and AK47s, and you must all crusade against x, y and z and live on a mountain with only goats to satisfy your sinful lusts and blah, blah, blah.

Actually, there's a lot more about goats than you'd initially expect.

Personally, I thought the characterisation was poor and the sex scenes felt rather forced, but there are some cracking gun battles.

Still, I imagine that he's not had much time to do publicity for his book, what with all the lurking in caves and burbling a load of apocalyptic drivel at a camera every now and then.

But really Ayman, sour grapes and all that.


The Ballad Of Chicken Licken

One day Chicken Licken sat in the barn snoozing,

When along came a rabble of chicks, all a-boozing.

They cursed and they shouted and woke up the barn,

Drank cider and Buckfast and raised much alarm.

"What's this?" cried Chick Licken, "While all of us slept,

They've panned in the windows and shat on the step!"

"I won't stand for this - by my beak or my wing,

I'll get on the phone and complain to the King!"

And so after waiting for a couple of hours,

He demanded the King use his punitive powers.

"We're scared to go out and we must have a saviour!

"I will," the King said, "And not before time-

I'll show the Kingdom who's toughest on crime!"

So the scribes set to work on some tough legislation,

Soon, order was brought to an unruly nation.

And then Chicken Licken, content as could be,

Slept the sleep of the just and content and carefree.

But the very next day came a knock at the door -

There stood PC Lurkey with a chicklet or four.

"They've been out," Lurkey said, in a gobbling way,

"Annoying the neighbours with their laughing and play."

"But these are MY chicklets!" cried Licken, aghast,

"They've only been playing and having a laugh!"

"Too fucking bad, mate," said Officer Lurkey,

"Someone complained, that's enough for this turkey!"

And so Chicken Licken once more called the King,

Complaining of PC gone mad and other such things.

But the king wasn't listening to Chick Licken's stories,

Saying "If I'm soft on crime then I'll lose to the Tories."

"You begged for an end to this criminal farce,

And you whinge when it's your chicks getting kicked up the arse?"

"Well, too bad, little Chicken - we may over-react,

But we've got all these cool powers and we won't give them back."

So Chick Lick learnt a lesson, much as he might regret it -

Beware what you ask for, because you might get it.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Book Review

The Blair Years
by Alistair Campbell
£25, Random House

As New Labour's Director of Communications and Strategy, Alistair Campbell was called many things.

Spin-meister, the tabloids whispered, and Doctor Spin. The Real Deputy Prime Minister. The Hammer of Tony, some admiringly called him.

Gilligan-Fucker and Fido the Hatchet-Faced Bullshit-Cannon, muttered others.

Surely, however, he has never before been called underwhelming. A man who could be by turns charming and psychotically aggressive, Campbell's much-anticipated book of extracts from his diaries desperately needs sexing-up.

The inside cover's promise that the author deploys explosive material within only forty-five minutes of reading falls apart upon closer inspection, and the opening chapters feel oddly detached from reality, leaving the reader with the impression that they could have been plagiarised from the ramblings of a post-graduate politics student.

Seeming to lack revealing insights, he resorts early to the use of dubious sources. One hopes that Campbell's research has been thorough, as misrepresenting such information could really fuck him in future.

From start to finish, the diary extracts are full of weak and inconclusive anecdotes. It's surprising that a man known for his ferocious outbursts could not retrospectively strengthen the tone of his entries.

How sad then that this once-formidable political chef is reduced serving up such thin gruel in order to excite the public - it feels for all the world like he knows that the facts are being fixed around his policy of self-aggrandisement and enrichment.

Disappointing, vague and in all likelihood criminally misleading, Mr. Campbell should stick to utilising his talents in public relations rather than publishing.

Update!: Following the result of a public inquiry (previously leaked to the press by persons unknown) Flying Rodent now accepts that Mr. Campbell acted properly in releasing his diaries.

Flying Rodent accepts that his mischaracterisations of Mr. Campbell's work were inaccurate, and regretfully announces his resignation as editor of this inane blog.

Flying Rodent further acknowledges Mr. Campbell's central role in making the world what it is today, and wishes him every success in future.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Who's Laughing Now?

I must apologise to readers - I'm busy at the moment and can't really find time for comical posts.

In lieu, I'll offer this -

"ONE OF THE RAPS ON THE UNITED STATES is that we're nicer to our enemies than to our allies. Sadly, there's a lot of truth to it, and it's one reason our foreign policy efforts aren't as successful as they should be." - Top five-rated blogger Glenn "More rubble, less trouble" Reynolds

Seriously, this is the kind of thing that keeps me laughing long into the night.

Back Saturday.

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Terror Level Downgraded
Threat-Pants Reduced To "Skidmarked"
Lowering of Pants Eases National Tension
BBC News, 5th July 2007

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Flying Rodent Rendered Obsolete

Regular readers will know that I keep harping on about a connection between Britain's constant backlash against modernity and our problems with crazy fundamentalists.

Open a newspaper on any given day and you'd think that the country was drowning in crime, moral decay and degradation. Given a soapbox from which to denounce their compatriots, the average Brit seems to transform into a sainted martyr, decrying the drunkenness, depravity and villainy of the nation.

You may also recall that I've noted how useful the backlash is for extremists of all stripes, serving as a primer in the black arts of victimhood, tortured nobility and righteous vengeance.

Well, I no longer need to satirise - geriatric crank Peregrine Worsthorne has drop-kicked me into the dustbin of history.

"So far, however, as a nation we have shied away from even trying to make Britain more lovable for the Muslim majority, out of fear that this might seem to involve pandering to the terrorists. But is this necessarily so?"

I urge you to read the whole thing - it's a classic of the genre, incorporating disdain for the depravity of modern Britain, with its immodest public displays, and the firm conviction that something must be done.

Isn't it a coincidence that previously foiled Jihadists were planning attacks on chav hangouts like the Bluewater Shopping Centre or the "dancing slags" at the Ministry of Sound? We shouldn't be taken aback at this week's slapstick attack on binge-drink bar Tiger Tiger.

They certainly wouldn't have to surf extremist websites to be told that such places are an abomination when they could pick up the same message at any newsagent in the land.

Of Memes And Memory

Ah, when stuck for something to say you can always count on a nice meme - thanks, then, to John Bitches for this open goal.

Eight random facts about me, plus one that's utterly fictional...

1. I once had to make a sharp exit from that guy out of Snow Patrol's house after a mate of mine bled all over his bathroom and puked in his hallway.

2. I can drive but I've never bothered to get a licence.

3. In 1998 I narrowly avoided being run over by then-Rangers manager Dick Advocaat.

4. I've made one dirty movie, but my career was cut short because I splashed the leading lady with the wrong body fluids.

5. The photograph in the top right hand corner was taken at half past six in the morning after a drinking binge that started at seven the previous evening.

6. I was once detained by the police on suspicion of arson.

7. I once went for a swim in Walden Pond, Massachusetts with a naked woman who described herself as a Jewish Pagan.

8. I'm one of the few Scots to receive a classical education in a state school - typically, though, I've forgotten how to read Latin but could take you through a blow-by-blow account of the battle of Cannae from memory.

9. Despite being from Scotland, I've only ever seen one person being stabbed.

Heads up - The Ill Man, Clairwil, Binty, Philip and Shuggy.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

UK General - War On Tetrism "May Be Unwinnable"
BBC News, 1st July 2007

In a move certain to cause controversy, Gen. Sir Richard Dannatt has said that the war on Tetrism may be unwinnable.

"Our operations are having no visible effect upon the will of the Tetrists to oppose us," said General Dannatt in a candid interview.

"No sooner have we cleared one line than we find ourselves confronted by a new threat. These falling blocks seem to be endless, and their commitment seemingly cannot be thwarted."

Britain has been involved in counter-Tetrism operations since 2003, when Prime Minister Tony Blair gave the order to conduct an offensive against rapidly descending coloured blocks.

"Frankly, I believe that this situation is unsustainable," General Dannatt said.

"We are forced to fight harder and harder just to stay in the same place, and I have no doubt that the point will come when incoming blocks are moving at such a pace that we will be overwhelmed."

"I have recommended to the Prime Minister that we should consider pausing our operations to rethink our strategy - the scourge of Tetrism must be fought with precision, not firepower."
Glasgow Terror Attacks - Police Issue Photograph of Suspected Accomplices
Yakety-Sax Bombers Burn Selves
A Nation Laughs