Beware this man. His name is Lee Clarke and he rapes kids.

Monday 5th October 2015

NEWS

NATO are issuing warnings to Russia about its bombing of targets in Syria. So, that'll do it then, won't it? The bombing will stop immediately.

Why don't NATO tell ISIS to stop being dicks? That'll stop them, won't it? In fact, I can't believe they haven't done it already. How many lives could they have saved if they had?

While they're at it, NATO could tell people in America to stop shooting each other. How about them telling rich people to pay their taxes?

Just think about it - if NATO opened their gob more often the world would be a much better place.

George Osborne has said that the Tories should extend a hand to those who feel abandoned by Labour. He was making a speech at the party conference in Manchester, and claimed the Tories had created "a new centre ground", and were "the true party of labour".

And he can say those things. Because the Labour Party are just handing the political reins of power to the Tories. It's like every day, some member of the Labour Party (usually the leader, Jeremy Corbyn) says or does something that makes them even more unelectable. I honestly don't know if it's sheer arrogance on Labour's part, or if the party is just certifiably stupid.

Edward Snowden reckons security services can take control of smart-phones. Yep, the US whistleblower has gone all David Icke and said agencies like GCHQ and NSA can hack into phones if they so wish.

Why? Why bother?

All they're going to get from people I know are a series of nob and fart jokes and the occasional picture of somebody's arse. It's hardly the Ipcress File, is it?

I don't actually own any kind of mobile phone myself. I have no use to them thanks to my disability and sedentary lifestyle. But if I did, I really wouldn't give a shit if they hacked into my phone. If they're that desperate to stick their nose into the banality of my life then good luck to them. The only time I'd complain is if they used up my minutes.

My two penn'orth

So, are we drawing near to nuclear holocaust? Is the situation in Syria going to escalate into full-scale war between east and west?

I can tell you with full authority that it will not. The world is not going to end.

"How do you know?" I hear you ask. Well, the answer's simple - I haven't won the Lottery yet.

The world will end exactly 24 hours after the Lottery money is paid into my bank account. That'll give me just enough time to get excited about it but no chance to spend the fucker.

I'll be sure to let you all know when it happens so you'll all have time to kiss your families goodbye.

Facebook Funnies

I often get funny things on my Facebook timeline:

Saturday 12th September 2015

NEWS

The migrant crisis continues. There have been reports of chaotic scenes at a Hungary migrant camp. The migrants have been complaining about their treatment.

I think these people need to be a bit more grateful and reasonable. The people working on the ground there are doing their best to cope with the flood of humanity facing them every day. They want everybody to get food and water; not just the strongest.

MPs are debating the Assisted Dying Bill in Parliament. If passed, the Bill will allow people with less than six months to live to be prescribed a lethal dose of drugs that they will have to take themselves. Essentially, it will legalise euthanasia.

This is a good thing. People should be allowed to end their lives if they're suffering and there's no hope of a cure. Some would rather die with dignity; at home; surrounded by their loved ones, and I think nobody has the right to stop them.

My Two Penn'orth

I'm not happy about the refugee crisis. The whole thing stinks.

There are a substantial number of people moving with that tide of humanity who are not actually refugees. There are many men who are looking to set themselves up and then send for their wives and children. That makes them economic migrants, not refugees. If they were genuine refugees they would have brought their family with them.

These people are supposed to be fleeing war-zones. They're seeking asylum and safety. If they were genuine then they wouldn't be choosing the country they want to go to. They'd be grateful to be in any country where they're safe. But, no - they're choosing the wealthier countries, because the reality is that they're economic migrants. If not, then why don't they flee to Poland or Romania?

How dare the European Union tell us that we have to take a certain number of "refugees". We are a sovereign nation, and the majority of voters in this sovereign nation don't want an influx of supposed asylum seekers. We having enough trouble coping with the EU migrants we've got.

Why are the mega-rich Arab nations not helping? Why are these migrants not going there? They will be safe. They will have escaped whatever perilous war-zone they fled. Again, as far as I'm concerned this is just further proof that these people are economic migrants.

And that's about it for me. No doubt I'll think of more things that bother me about it soon enough.

Facebook Funnies

I often get funny things on my Facebook timeline:

French Open 2015

So, Andy Murray is up against Joao Sousa in the 2^nd Round of the French Open. There’s scope for optimism since 44^th seed Sousa has lost all 5 of his previous matches against our British No. 1.

Murray has already beaten Sousa once this year, at the Australian Open in January. That was a straight sets victory. However; it will be interesting to see how it pans out today, since this will be the first time they have met on clay.

Andy beat Facundo Arguello in straight sets to reach the 2^nd Round. Joao Sousa overcame Vasek Pospisil.

My favourite Serbian female player, Jelena Jankovic (25), lost by straight sets in the 1^st Round to Bulgarian, Sesil Karatantcheva (106). That’s the second Grand Slam this year she’s been eliminated in the 1^st Round, having lost to Timea Bacsinszky (24) in straight sets at the Australian Open in January.

It’s amazing to me that this former World No. 1 has never won a Grand Slam Singles title. She’s only even reached 1 final, at the US Open in 2008 where she lost in straight sets to Serena Williams (1).

She did win the Wimbledon Mixed Doubles title in 2007. Her partner was Andy Murray’s younger brother, Jamie. However, I still hold out hope that she will eventually win the Singles title, because she’s a great player and very entertaining to watch.

She still has time. The oldest ever winner of the Women’s Singles title at Wimbledon was Charlotte Cooper-Sterry. She was 37 when she won the title way back in 1908. Jelena, born on 28^th February 1985, is only 30 years old, so she still has time.

You Fat Bastard

I’m reading Royston Vasey’s autobiography at the moment. Most people will probably know him by his stage name, Roy “Chubby” Brown.

Now, I’m actually a fan of Chubby. I used to listen to his shows on bootleg tapes as a kid in the seventies and eighties. Yeah, his language is foul; his humour can be bordering on the racist, homophobic and misogynistic at times. However, that’s all it is; humour, and there are times when Chubby is very funny.

Although I’m only a few chapters into the book, I have to confess to a few misgivings with it. The first is how he starts every chapter by talking about his battle with throat cancer. I watched my dad die of that horrible disease, so I’d never dream of trivialising it or understanding the devastating effect it can have on people’s lives. But by reminding us about it at the start of every chapter, it feels like a desperate attempt to garner sympathy before he tells us more tales of what a little shit he was. There’s no link between the cancer stuff and the chapter that follows. I’ve tried to make up my own, but these attempts have been tenuous at best, and required viewing the language used in its broadest terms.

The names of the chapters themselves don’t really fit either. For example, the one called “mother love”, has precious little about his mother in it. It just starts with a bit about the cancer again, then a few passages about his mother and how she walked out on her family before we get more tales about what a profoundly unpleasant kid he was.

If you wanted to put a positive spin on it, you might say that at least he’s honest. He’s giving it to us, warts and all, even if it does paint him in a poor light.

But I’m not sure I believe everything he says. There seem to be discrepancies – like saying he lived in a 2-bedroom house, and when his dad moved his girlfriend and her 5 kids in, the kids had his room, and he had the box room. So, where did his dad and his girlfriend sleep? He talks about “honour among thieves”, and “fair game”, and then tells us how he systematically stole from one of his friends. Also, he seemed to squeeze a lot into his fifteenth year, such as trying to join the army, running away from home, getting and losing at least half a dozen jobs, buying a car with his friend and driving it to Redcar; and when the car ran out of petrol they left it, saying they would go back the next door with a can of petrol and pick it up again. We’re then supposed to believe they didn’t know that they’d left it on a railway track. Also that year he ended up in a children’s home; got a job driving a dump truck around a building site; driving an old ambulance with which he ferried workers around another site. I could go on and on, and I’m not even halfway through the book yet.

As I said, I’m a fan of Chubby Brown. But that Royston Vasey bloke seems a right twat; and a bullshit artist as well.

Cameron's Feeling Confident

A shiver ran down my spine today. I read that David Cameron’s feeling confident. I know it was about negotiating a “better” deal for the UK in Europe; but I just can’t help myself. Every time that man feels confident I imagine a load of poor or disabled people dying.

Seriously; I can’t stop myself anymore. It’s gone beyond simple hatred to a kind of psychotic Tourette’s Syndrome. Every time I see his – or George Osbourne’s – face, I instinctively start shouting “tosser” at the television screen. Then I start getting progressively angrier as they avoid questions and refuse to give straight answers.

Maybe I should talk to my doctor about this.

Le Cercle

I’ve recently been doing some research online for a story I’m planning to write. The story concerns mind control, and – aside from the MK Ultra program – one of the most common organisations my searches are bringing up is Le Cercle; or Cercle Pinay.

I decided to look into this organisation, and I’ll write more when I’ve done more research. In the meantime, I recommend, if you have a few spare minutes, that you have at look at this lot yourself.

Ostensibly, Le Cercle is a foreign policy think-tank that specialises in international security. But time and time again I find allegations of connections with the CIA. The former Conservative MP, Alan Clark, actually wrote in his diaries that the organisation was funded by them. Of course, these charges may be false; but if they’re true, then I would regard that as a vested interest and would wonder about Le Cercle’s objectivity.

Le Cercle was established in the 1950s by Antoine Pinay, the former French Prime Minister; and Jean Violet, a French Intelligence agent. At that time, it was known by the name, Cercle Pinay.

The group has members from 25 countries, and meets bi-annually in Washington DC, United States. For some time now, Britain has held the Chairmanship. Some leading British members were: Anthony Cavendish, an ex-MI6 officer; Julian Amery, another former Conservative MP; and Brian Crozier, writer and founder of the Institute for the Study of Conflict.

In the 80s, influential German news magazine Der Spiegel mentioned Le Cercle in connection with regular attendee Franz Josef Strauss. Strauss had been the German Federal Minister of Defence until he was forced to resign in 1962 over a scandal involving the illegal detention of Rudolf Augstein, the magazine’s then owner and editor-in-chief.

The 90s saw the group come to public attention again. Jonathan Aitken, another former Tory MP and then Chairman of the group, was convicted for Perjury and jailed for 18 months. Reporters from a number of newspapers contacted Le Cercle members but they all refused to answer any questions.

Jumping ahead to today, the current group Chairman is yet another former Tory MP. This one is Norman Lamont, the former Chancellor of the Exchequer.

My natural loathing of politicians immediately conjures up shady goings-on because of the numerous ex-Tory MPs involved, and the questions it raises about them being involved with an allegedly CIA-backed organisation. However, I will keep these to one side until I’ve researched more.

I’ll write again when I have more to tell you.

More Facebook Fears

I have a profile on Facebook. I check my timelines regularly and comment two or three times a week. I’m careful to not give away anything too personal.

This so-called “social networking site” is in its 11^th year now, having been launched on 4^th February 2004. Amazingly, as of 2014, it had assets in excess of US$40 billion. Let me write that again: As of 2014, FACEBOOK HAD ASSETS IN EXCESS OF US$40 BILLION.

I’m not knocking it. Used carefully it can be an entertaining and useful tool. It can bring together people who haven’t seen each other for years; I’m sure there’ve been countless school reunions made possible by Facebook groups. It allows celebrities to connect with their fans. What I like best is the way it allows people to share photos from our common past.

My reservations with Facebook come from a problem as old as time. There’s always someone who will seek to abuse it and use it for nefarious purposes. Nowhere is this more clear and chilling than in the tragic case of Ashleigh Hall.

Ashleigh, from Darlington, County Durham, was the oldest of four daughters. She was 17, and in her final year of a child care course when she was raped and murdered by Peter Chapman. Her body was then dumped in a field near a Little Chef restaurant on the outskirts of Sedgefield, County Durham.

Chapman was born in Darlington in 1977. His grandparents raised him in nearby Stockton-on-Tees, where he was first investigated by police aged just 15. Four years later he was sentenced to 7 years in prison for raping two prostitutes at knifepoint.

In 2009, attracted to the bare-chested photos on his profile, Ashleigh “friended” what she thought was a 19 year old named Peter Cartwright. Unfortunately for her, this boy was, in fact, 33 year old Peter Chapman.

He persuaded Ashleigh to meet, and on 25^th October 2009, she left her home for the last time. Chapman arrived at their meeting place claiming to be young Peter’s father, and that he’d been asked to pick her up. What happened next really doesn’t bear thinking about.

I guess it would be easy to say Ashleigh was stupid for getting into that car. After all, her mother, Andrea, raised her not to talk to strangers. But I think that would be unfair on Ashleigh, because one of the most prevalent characteristics of true psychopaths is that they appear just as normal as anybody else, and can be exceptionally persuasive.

I cite this horrifying cautionary tale because it highlights the dangers – not just of Facebook – but of the entire internet. Unless you know them beforehand, you have no idea who that person is you might find yourself talking to online. That’s because online you can be anybody you want to be. For instance, I could create a profile portraying me as an athletic, teenage male model and youth player for Manchester United. Sadly, my reality is that I’m a middle-aged fat man who genuinely gets out of breath walking the ten feet or so to my toilet. But it’s so easy to do. There are no checks carried out on the people creating these profiles, and there’s a plethora of photos online they can upload and claim as their own.

Here’s a true story for you: A friend of mine went on one of those internet dating sites. He came to see me one day, excited about the woman he was exchanging emails with from that site. So excited was he, that he used my computer to log on to the site and show me the photo on her profile. I took absolutely no pleasure in telling him that the picture on that profile was, in fact, an old picture of none other than the singer, Lily Allen. Oh yes – this woman was that stupid.

As my shell-shocked friend looked on, I did a search and showed him the picture in its original home. It showed the young Ms Allen at a music festival.

My friend was furious. How dare she do such a thing? It was like false advertising or something. I then pointed out that, while the picture on his profile was genuine, in all fairness, it was more than 5 years old.

But that’s the way it is. The internet affords us an anonymity we don’t have in everyday social situations, and it allows us to project an image of ourselves that can range from slightly misleading to downright false.

I’ve written about this before. But I’m talking about it again now because there’s been another serious incident connected with Facebook.

This time, it was two sisters; Amy and Nicole Rice, aged 21 and 19 respectively. These girls, from Dublin, met up with two men they had been chatting to on Facebook. The men picked them up from a bus stop and took them to an apartment in Newbridge, County Kildare. Once there, things went bad fairly quickly. The men became aggressive, and when Nicole got up to leave, they pushed her to the ground and kicked her repeatedly in the head. Both sisters were tied up and had rags shoved in their mouths prior to suffering a beating so savage that at one point Nicole passed out; the men panicked, thinking she was dead, and started calling friends, saying they needed to dig holes in the Wicklow mountains because they didn’t know what to do with the girls.

Thankfully, the girls survived this ordeal. The men eventually let them go; threatening to kill them and their family if they reported the incident to the authorities.

So, my point is one that I’ve made before: Be careful about the people you meet online – especially you ladies. The man you’re arranging to meet could be not so much Brad Pitt as cess-pit.

United States of Hegemony

Henry Luce, the American magazine magnate, imagined the United States achieving world hegemony. In 1941, he declared that the twentieth century would be the “American century”.

I find this arrogance offensive. It engenders an image of a school bully striding into a playground and announcing that he owns the place.

I know Yank-bashing is the trend in some circles. It’s a big target, and has done little to improve its image over the years. However, until recently I have resisted the wave of derision aimed at what certain factions in Iran have called The Great Satan. After all; they’ve given us a lot of good things: Hollywood movies; Richard Pryor; McDonald’s; Coca-cola; Pizza Hut; Motown; I could go on all day – they have made many positive contributions to the world.

But...they’ve also done a shitload of damage. They’ve manipulated, bullied, threatened and destroyed in a seemingly perpetual quest for world domination. They’ve also tried to take credit for things they had no right to.

The biggest of these is their chest-beating over the Second World War. How many times have we Brits been told by Americans, ‘If it wasn’t for us you’d all be speaking German’?

Well, the truth is that it’s Russia we should be thanking for bringing down the industrial killing machine that was Nazi Germany. It was they who halted their eastward march and then pushed them back. It was they who began to break down Germany’s military might.

Russia was crying out for the US and allied forces to attack Germany from the west and force them to fight a war on two fronts. In typical fashion, the US made noises but failed to act. In 1941, President Roosevelt promised to aid Russia with raw materials, as well as financially. The New York Times reported that US shipments fell “far, far short” of what they promised. In fact, they delivered less than half.

Following the attack on Pearl Harbour, the US finally entered the war which had already been raging for more than two years. As 1941 rolled on to 1942 the Russians continued their plea to the Allies to establish a second front in the west. In July 1942 there was still plenty of American talk with no action to back it up. The Russians continued the fight with little help from those who would later take credit for winning the war. In a letter to British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, President Roosevelt admitted that “the Russians are killing more Germans and destroying more equipment than you and I put together.”

Despite promises; public support and even rallies calling for the second front, British and US forces went off to North Africa, leaving Russia to carry on doing most of the work in vanquishing Hitler’s armies. By the time Churchill and Roosevelt met in Casablanca in January 1943, Russia had turned the tide and was driving the Germans back west.

Although at great cost, the Red Army marched forward, pushing the Germans back so that by the time the second front was finally established with the Normandy landings beginning 6^th June 1944 (a year and a half later than promised) Russia already occupied much of Central Europe, and the Germans were nothing like as strong as they were before. The war in Europe ended less than a year later, and America took the credit and snatched all the glory. However, that’s like somebody getting into the ring with Floyd Mayweather and beating him to the point where he can barely defend himself, and then I go in and knock him down and call myself world champion.

So, America, it’s not thanks to you that I don’t speak German. It’s actually thanks to Russia. So, spasibo, and auf wiedersehen.

The Election - My Two Penn'orth

God help us.

There are some dark times ahead for this country. The army of darkness has pulled off an unlikely victory and now they’re really going to have at us lowly plebs. I’m genuinely frightened.

So how the fuck did it all go wrong? Where’s the hung Parliament and the progressive coalition we thought we were going to get? How the fuck did the pollsters get it so wrong and how the fuck did David Cameron and his posh bastards not only get to stay in power, but also to win a majority?

Let’s start with the easy one first: Little Nicky Clegg and his Lib Dems. They’re saying that they went into that coalition with the Tory bully boys because it was best for this country. Bullshit. They went into that coalition because they wanted a taste of power; they wanted to feel relevant; and they were prepared to betray everyone who trusted them and to sell all their values like a cheap whore to do it. Yesterday they paid the price. David Cameron fucked them all ways till Sunday. Yesterday was the money for a taxi left on the bedside table.

Ed Milliband: Fucking hell; where do I start? First – his campaign wasn’t quite as bad as everybody expected. Most of us thought he was going to come across as an awkward geek; clumsy in word and deed. Apart from his little stumble on Question Time he proved us wrong. He actually made a pretty good fist of the campaign; coming across as confident, passionate, and maybe – and I emphasise maybe – a viable alternative to the evil henchmen of the Tory party. There really wasn’t a lot wrong with how he said it; the problem was what he said.

Going back briefly to that Question Time appearance, he drove a stake through the heart of his campaign when he said Labour hadn’t overspent when they were last in power. Frankly, that was a fucking stupid thing to say. Of course they overspent. Gordon Brown was so desperate to be considered worthy of the office of Prime Minister that he would have spent his kids’ pocket money if he thought it would help. As it was, he sold off our gold reserves as if from the boot of his car. Of course they overspent.

Then there was the EU referendum. That was the one that really killed off his chances of becoming Prime Minister. The people of this country want a referendum, and who is he to say they can’t have one? The idea of voting for a candidate is that you’re voting for someone who’ll do what you want. Why would you vote for somebody who’s definitely not going to carry out your wishes?

The British people don’t want to be part of some European Federation. When they voted in the 1972 referendum they were voting to join the common market, not a European super-state. But like every good idea – put it in the hands of the politicians and they’ll always screw it up. It’s just about the only thing you can be sure of with them. Immigration is another one: Fantastic idea – it has enriched this country beyond measure. But, again, the politicians got hold of it and messed it up. They had an open-door policy, but they didn’t bother to build up the country’s infrastructure to cope with the influx. So now, rather than seeing foreign nationals as a valuable addition to our culture, many regard them with resentment, and even open hostility, because they feel the country can’t cope.

Which brings me neatly onto UKIP: To quote Bruce Forsythe – didn’t they do well? But that was to be expected, because they were able to capitalise on a growing nationalist sentiment in this country and portray themselves as the party that was listening to the fears of the British public on immigration. And if we had a fairer voting system, they would be a formidable force in Parliament.

I watched the BBC coverage until six this morning, and the thing that annoyed me was that they never mentioned – even in passing – the massive swing to UKIP in the context of people voting against David Cameron. It’s like UKIP are the Lord Voldemort of British politics, and we dare not speak their name in case people think we’re racist.

A massive amount of people voted against David Cameron yesterday. More than 3 million people saw UKIP as the party they wanted to represent them in the House of Commons. How many of those people would have voted Labour if UKIP hadn’t been standing? I would argue that the political map would be a hell of a lot different today, and we might be looking at a new Prime Minister.

The British people don’t want David Cameron in charge of this country. They made that very clear yesterday. Unfortunately, they also made clear that they weren’t too keen on Ed Milliband either. What a tragedy that by voting the way they did, they got the very thing they were voting against.

True Colours

Five years ago, I begged the British public not to allow Dickhead-Dave Cameron and his posh bastard friends into Downing Street. I warned you that he was as false as Jordan’s old tits. On this very blog, I said it; I told you all. But nobody listens to me. Nobody ever listens to me. I might as well be an Eliza Doolittle album.

Now, we’re all seeing the real David Cameron. He’s not having his photo taken on the tube anymore, is he? Where’s his bike? Where’s the bombastic, loud-mouthed tosser demanding live TV debates so he can get his smug, smarmy, lip-less face on television? Have there been any pictures of he and Sam in the Easyjet departure lounge lately? Where’s the “call me Dave”, “ordinary bloke”, “all in this together” man of the people gone?

There’s a simple answer to all those questions: That David Cameron never existed. He was just a PR Frankenstein’s monster put together for the sole purpose of luring the electorate into not voting for the other parties. We didn’t vote Conservative either, but that minor detail doesn’t matter when you’re rich; surrounded by rich people; and have the moral compass of a Mediterranean people smuggler. You can just lie, cheat, bargain and sleaze your way into power. That’s exactly what the posh bastards have done.

They have spent the last five years enacting laws to maintain their position of usurped power and improving the already privileged lives of their posh friends. They have openly, and without shame, bullied, victimised and waged war on the most vulnerable in our society. They’ve laughed their expensive socks off as they played their game of “let’s see how many different ways we can hurt the people who can’t fight back”. They’ve grinned like Cheshire Cats as they abused their positions and bestowed all sorts of largesse on their cronies while all the time looking down their noses at the rest of us “plebs”. They’ve overseen and promoted the biggest growing chain on the High Street – Food Banks; while at the same time ignoring their existence and the growing need for them.

Now they hide like the cowards they are; keeping their heads below the parapets. What makes that worse is that they’re the kind of people who can actually afford homes which have parapets.

Cameron is being accused of being detached from this election campaign. Some say he’s disinterested and distant, that he’s not really fighting. Well, of course he’s not interested. He’s already in Number 10, isn’t he? He’s already established his squatter’s rights; and when the election’s over he will just deal, lie and cheat his way into keeping his affluent, undeserving arse on the Number 10 sofa. Then, when he grows tired of lording it over us, he will hand the crown over to George; or Boris; maybe even Lord Janner, or any of the other alleged paedophiles the posh establishment is protecting. Who cares if it’s immoral, illegal, abominable, insulting to the rest of us? Cameron and his posh bastards can do whatever they like; they have the key to the statute book and can just legislate whatever they want, and if we don’t like it? Well that’s just tough shit, isn’t it; because even though we didn’t vote them into office and give them a mandate, they just put their heads together with other posh bastards and take the office anyway.

We’ve already seen the posh bastards’ shameless, brazen law-making of convenience, when Cameron announced he was enacting a law forcing governments to serve a full five-year term before calling another election. Well, wasn’t that fucking noble of him. And he even had the bare-faced cheek to say it meant “the electorate had more power”. Seriously????? Fucking WTF seriously, Cameron, you almighty, pompous prick???? Why didn’t you just come out with the truth??? Why didn’t you just say, “I and my rich spoilt bastard friends are better than you. Furthermore, we all think you are dumb, brainless peasants who belong working in the fields on our country estates. Now shut up; go back to watching the X-Factor while you dribble mindlessly into your Pot Noodles, and we’ll do our very best to return the country to the Feudalism ideal that is our ultimate goal.

Of course it wasn’t done to give us more power. It was done to make sure he got the full five years in charge, so he could continue to rest his upper-class, definitely-buggered posterior on the Number 10 porcelain and wipe his flabby arse on the poor and disabled.

I do not like David Cameron and his ilk. I hope I didn’t come across too strong on that.

Please make sure you vote next month and get the bastards out.

The Paedophile Hunter

Why are the press so down on Stinson Hunter and others of his ilk?

They’re doing a bloody good job. They work hard, admirably, hunting down the seemingly growing number of paedophiles grooming children online.

What could possibly be wrong with that?

It’s not like they’re entrapping these people. They make it clear that the character they’ve created is under-age, so these paedophiles honestly believe they are grooming people under the age of consent for sex, knowing that it’s wrong, and it’s illegal.

So, the answer for these predators is, if you don’t want to be exposed as a paedophile, then don’t be one. It’s really that simple. You wouldn’t jump into a tiger enclosure and expect not to be attacked, so why expect to act like a filthy piece of shit and not get called on it?

As a survivor of child sex abuse myself, I welcome Stinson Hunter and the work he does. I have donated to his cause, and will continue to do so when I can afford it.

We live in a time in which more and more people are being exposed as paedophiles. There are people we admired in our youth that are now turning out to be nonces. There are politicians; people in power, who have been committing terrible crimes on an industrial scale and then covering it up.

Who can we call on to do something about this? Our police forces are stretched to their limit and beyond, and our corrupt, in-bred overlords are making it worse with their cuts and the sheer amount of administrative bollocks they keep piling on to them. They need help, because the government are stifling them, which is why I feel sad when I see police officers denouncing Mr Hunter as a vigilante and saying what he’s doing is wrong. I’m sure it’s only a party line; and that in private they actually support what he does. I hope so.

I haven’t come to terms with the abuse I suffered yet, although I am working on it. That means I still have a lot of anger, which when added to my already considerable bile and hatred means I’m a bit of a powder keg on the issue.

As far as I’m concerned, Stinson Hunter and his like don’t go far enough. If I had my way they would be stringing these monsters up and castrating them with a rusty butter-knife.

I’m sure Mr Hunter wouldn’t condone this. He seems like someone who has his own particular demons under control and is using his experiences constructively.

Stinson’s real name is Kieren Parsons; he’s 33 years old and has been hunting paedophiles for over four years. I’ve watched videos which show how he works, and it’s clear to me that he approaches his work responsibly, without trying to entrap anyone. He makes it clear to the people he communicates with that they are chatting to an under-age child. The fact that they’re not really is beside the point; they have what the law calls mens rea – guilty mind. In their minds, they are grooming a child for sex, and I have no doubt that had a child turned up at the meeting instead of Mr Hunter, they would have had sex with them.

Stinson’s latest triumph is securing the conviction of a Shropshire Bookmaker named Martin Currier. 51-year-old Currier thought he had groomed and was meeting a 13 year old girl for sex. But that “13 year old girl” turned out to be the paedophile hunter, and thanks to him, Mr Currier will now be sentenced at Shrewsbury Crown Court on 26^th March.

How can that possibly be wrong?

Currier’s lucky I wasn’t the one who turned up that day. I would have killed him. No messing; no beatings; just a steak-knife in the throat. That’s real justice.

So, rather than condemning Stinson Hunter, we should be congratulating and thanking him. He’s going about it the right way, when it could be a lot worse.

I’m sure there are fewer people grooming children online because of Mr Hunter. These predators will surely have that little doubt running through the back of their filthy, evil minds; that the child they are grooming might turn out to be Stinson Hunter, and that can only be a good thing.

Afroman's Latest Hit

In 2001, “Afroman”, real name Joseph Foreman, blamed everything he did on the fact that he “got high”. But that was all light-hearted fun, wasn’t it? You know – he was going to clean his room; go to work; go to court; eat your pussy; pay his child support – but he got high.

His new excuse is “a completely involuntary reflex reaction to people infringing on his stage space”. Yeah, I know it’s not quite as catchy, but he’s not singing it this time; he’s using it to defend punching a female fan in the face so hard that he knocked her flat on her back.

The video of the incident is quite shocking. It shows him performing a guitar solo when a female fan gets on stage and starts dancing next to him. Then he spins around and lands a fucking haymaker on her that Mike Tyson would have been proud of. And that was an “involuntary reflex reaction”…????!!!! Fucking hell – what’s he like when he really wants to hit someone?

But when you get down to it, the whole thing is just a chicken-shit act by a tosser with more ego than record sales. Hitting anybody is bad enough, but hitting a woman…? That’s just too wrong. I’m not being sexist when I say that. It’s just a fact that the majority of men are physically stronger than women, so they definitely shouldn’t be throwing punches at them. I’m well aware that Ronda Rousey would beat the living shit out of me without even breathing heavy. In fact, that’s what should happen; they should put Afroman in an MMA ring with Ronda and see how big a man he is then. I’m sure she’d be happy to oblige.

The fact is, I’m a fat bloke, and although I’m disabled I’m still fairly solid. But that punch would have floored me. It was just so vicious. There’s absolutely no excusing it. If he didn’t want her “infringing on his stage space” he could move away. I’m sure although his audience could fit in a phone box, the stage was a bit bigger than that; he surely could have moved. Then if she followed, he could be forgiven for just pushing her to the side a bit so she didn’t ruin the solo. But landing a fuck-ball like that on her…he should do time for that.

Fuck you, Afroman, you one-hit wonder. You’re a coward. Now I know why you made all those chicken noises on that one hit you had 14 years ago.

Terrorism - Who's Really Winning?

Joseph Conrad, in his book, The Secret Agent, said, “An attempt upon a crowned head or a president is sensational enough in a way, but not so much as it used to be. It has entered into the general conception of the existence of all chiefs of state…Now let us take an outrage upon –say – a church. Horrible enough at first sight no doubt, and yet not so effective as a person of ordinary mind might think. No matter how revolutionary and anarchist in inception, there would be fools enough to give such an outrage the character of religious manifestation. And that would detract from the especial alarming significance we wish to give the act…You can’t count upon their emotions either of pity or fear for very long. A bomb outrage to have any influence on public opinion must go beyond the intention of vengeance or terrorism. It must be purely destructive.”

He wrote this in 1907, and now, over a hundred years later, much of it still rings true. He’s right when he says terrorism has nothing to do with religion. There’s no religion in the world that encourages or even condones murder and destruction. But I don’t think we can still say that terrorism is purely about destruction anymore. In recent years it seems to have taken a different, more basely savage turn.

The 9/11 attacks and London Tube bombings could be described as purely destructive. On that score, the terrorists could chalk up a huge victory for themselves. But, like all terrorist victories, it was short-lived, and we all dusted ourselves off, rebuilt, and life went on.

They tried a few more large-scale attacks, but these were unsuccessful. See the attack on Glasgow airport and the shoe bomber.

So, I imagine the terrorist board of directors gathered in a cave and sat around a rock to discuss how they should move forward. This resulted in the new, more low-tech, less ambitious but far more savage and shocking campaign we now find ourselves subjected to.

It started with horrific videos appearing on the internet showing hostages being beheaded in stomach-churning detail. Frankly, that scared the shit out of me. I’ve always loved gory horror films; but I knew they were all faked. Knowing that those beheadings were real sent cold chills through me, scaring me more than any movie ever has.

The Mumbai attack sent shockwaves around the world. Every right-thinking person on the planet shuddered when Lee Rigby was slaughtered on a London street. Just weeks ago there was the hostage crisis in Sydney, and now, just a few days ago, a video appears showing a Jordanian pilot being burned alive; a video I simply don’t have the stomach to watch.

These attacks are not about pure destruction. These are far more sinister, and rather than the large, blockbuster attacks which have us agape with shock and awe, these are aimed directly at our psyche; intended to bring fear right to our homes and our daily lives. They’re intended to make us frightened to go about our daily lives; make us think we’re not safe anywhere, and can meet with a violent, brutal death just going to the shops, or grabbing a coffee on the way to work.

This brings a whole new dimension to the terrorist threat. Now we have to look over our shoulders, peer closely at the shadows in case the Bogeyman is lurking there. We regard anyone we imagine to be even vaguely Muslim with suspicion and trepidation.

The terrorists have brought Captain Paranoia to our streets. They’ve made the monster in the closet real. All those childish fears our parents allayed now walk the streets in mockery of every comforting word they ever said.

We thought we were winning the war on terror. We also used to believe in Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy…

Streets of Rage

I’ve got a daughter who’s at the age where she goes out to pubs and clubs, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared for her safety. She went to a club with her friend last night, and I couldn’t go to bed until she called me to say she got home safely.

It seems like going out these days is like living on a knife edge. Violence could break out at any moment. Just looking in someone’s general direction these days could wind up with a gang of feral youths beating the living shit out of you.

But it’s not just a beating anymore. It’s like they’re not satisfied unless they leave you with brain damage or serious injury. There’s also the knife problem that seems to be getting worse every year.

Knife crime is turning our streets into a war zone. Our kids are taking their lives in their hands every time they go out there.

Why is it like that anyway? It wasn’t like that when I was young. When I was young and you got into a fight, only chicken-shits used any kind of weapon. It was strictly punching and kicking along with use of the knees and the occasional head-butt. And when your opponent went down and it didn’t look like he was going to get up, then the fight was over. You did not hit someone when they were down – again, only chicken-shits did it. Also, fights were one on one back then. If you needed your mates to help you fight, then you were a poof.

When I was 14, back in the mid-eighties, there was one case where a gang attacked one chap on his own. It was big news because it was a rare occurrence, and some of the kids in the gang came from our school. It was apparently a revenge attack because the poor kid had beaten up one of their friends. So, this gang of chicken-shit tossers went after the kid mob-handed. There were six of them against one of him. They beat him to the ground and then kicked him to death.

We were all appalled at this. What kind of cowards gang up on someone and kick that person to death?

One can only imagine the blood-bath if gangs back then carried knives like the modern ones. It makes me shudder.

My local Police and Crime Commissioner is heading up a campaign in which he’s saying that knife crime is not dividing the community as the news would have you think. He’s had eight weapon surrender bins installed across Birmingham.

I don’t want to impugn his efforts. In fact, his commitment to the project is admirable. However, the only people who are going to put knives into those bins are the kind that wouldn’t actually go so far as to stab anyone anyway.

In my opinion, the answer to the problem of knife crime is to hand down much tougher sentences on those convicted. Prison itself should also be much harsher. Only when these people are punished properly will we finally make some head-way into this nation’s growing crime problem.

A Life less Lived

I wrote a will when I was 34. I felt that I had to since I was on my second wife and I had two kids from my first matrimonial horror show.

One person in the billions all over the world might be particularly bored and might ask, why was I considering my own mortality at that age? Well, the answer is that I was about to fly for the first time – and I’m terrified of flying. I was convinced there was a 50/50 chance that I was going fall from the sky in a huge fireball, and I had responsibilities.

Before you start judging me, saying how silly I am for thinking I might die, I would ask that you look at the statistics. They show that the majority of people die over the age of 30. I was 34, so I was already living on borrowed time. Yeah – I don’t sound like such a poof now, do I? Fuckin’ ‘ave it.

Anyway, I didn’t need to put my new wife in the will because she was coming with me. It was her fault I was embarking on a 12-hour nightmare to Japan because I was going to meet her family before we got married.

So, everything I had was to be split evenly between my two daughters. Right then; pen in hand, I started a list of everything I owned. What bounty was I going to bestow upon my progeny following my demise?

A house…? No; it was rented.

A car…? No; it was a mobility car because I’m disabled.

Money in the bank; or life assurance…? Nope; I spent so much time overdrawn that my bank had started charging me for red ink.

I was actually beginning to sweat by now. I’d been on this planet for 34 years, and in that time, what had I accrued to provide a legacy for my children?

Er…I had a fairly decent home cinema system and a big telly. Every studio album Queen ever made. A VHS collection that was rapidly becoming worthless because DVDs were taking over. A burgeoning DVD collection. An obscenely large collection of books. A bit of furniture. A nice pocket watch that was more of sentimental value than financial. A (single) wardrobe full of mid-value clothes. Half a dozen stamps I’d bought for 20p each and which had doubled in value.

In real terms, I had fuck-all. Fuck-all to show for my 34 years meandering around this planet.

I was depressed. I felt like a failure. Then I thought about my kids. They grew up in a nice home where they were loved. They always had nice clothes and full stomachs. They had every toy or game they ever wanted; every video or DVD. They weren’t beaten or abused. They were encouraged and built up rather than knocked down. They asked for something and they got it; I spent all my money on them – I was never one for saving. I played with them, spent time with them; I was silly for them; strong for them; I comforted them when they needed it; left them alone when they wanted it.

I tried to be a good dad.

So, why do I still feel like a failure?

Tony Blair - Total Cock

July 2014: Ex-Prime Minister Tony Blair finally opens up about his post-PM career as a global prostitute raking in millions from selling his soul and anything else to anyone who can cough up the readies. He said he’s still motivated by the same “values” as when he sleazed his way to victory in the 1997 General Election.

‘I haven’t changed,’ he said, ‘despite people wanting to say that I have changed. The same thing that motivated me when I stood here as Labour leader 20 years ago motivates me today…’

That’s probably the most honest thing he’s ever said. It doesn’t take a genius to see he was, is, and always will be motivated by greed.

When you consider the kind of people he associates with, this should be obvious to anyone. He used to be bosom buddies with Rupert Murdoch – possibly the biggest megalomaniac on the planet. They will have shared many a private moment, and – if the rumours in the papers are to be believed – they will have shared Murdoch’s wife, Wendi Deng.

So, during his lifetime commitment to grubbing as much money as he possibly could, he led Britain into war against Iraq in 2003. This was despite the fact that the sovereign state of Iraq had never attacked Britain or even threatened to. The people responsible for the 9/11 atrocities were in Afghanistan, and had stronger ties to Saudi Arabia than Iraq.

There were accusations that Iraq harboured terrorists. Pakistan has been accused of the same; as has Russia. Then there’s North Korea – itself designated a terrorist state.

This evidence alone should make it clear that Iraq had no WMDs. If they did have them then Blair and Bush wouldn’t have invaded. They haven’t invaded Pakistan, Russia or North Korea. Why? Because they really do have WMDs that they could bring to bear on us all.

Iraq was an easy target. And better still – it had oil! Black Gold; Texas Tea. The pound signs must have been rolling in Blair’s eyes. He must have been champing at the bit to send our armies over there.

The Iraq invasion was the global equivalent of the school bully taking the smaller kids’ lunch money.

Now there’s the Chilcot Inquiry into the invasion of Iraq. Established in June 2009, it’s an investigation into the reasons why Britain decided to outrage and take a huge steaming dump on the concept of international law, decency and morality and embark on an illegal war that cost over 100,000 lives and displaced 4m people.

Nearly six years later, we’re still waiting for the Chilcot Report. That’s right – six fucking years; and even after all this time, John Chilcot still can’t say when it will be published. I wonder why that is.

Well, we know that the report will not reflect kindly on Blair. Some believe it will prove what most of us already know in our hearts – that Tony Blair is a sociopathic fortune-hunter and war-criminal and should share the same fate as the man whose country he shat on.

Get Well Soon, Ted Robbins

Ted Robbins collapsed on stage the other night and is now in hospital. According to reports, he's doing well, but he has to have a heart op.
I'm genuinely sending prayers and good wishes for Ted's speedy recovery. Although we've never met, I can say from my exchanges on Twitter that the Robbins family are lovely people, not to mention amazingly talented.
I grew up watching Ted and Kate Robbins on television. They were a big part of my childhood media consumption, and being a hopeless romantic and nostalgia buff, that means I have a special place in my heart for them.
So, get well soon, Ted. Love to you all.
x

Invisible Man

Inclusion is an illusion.

I became invisible a few years ago. People stopped seeing me. They stopped hearing my voice. I became a non-person. Now I’m just a well-kept secret known only to my nearest and dearest.

Anyone stumbling across my little blog here might briefly wonder if I’m a scientist who has developed a new magical disappearing potion. Sadly, no; my disappearance wasn’t of my own making. Someone else imposed it upon me. It was a remarkable trick – I was rendered disabled by a drunk driver and this in turn made me disappear.

Fortunately for me, I’m happy to live in the shadows. I take comfort in my self-imposed exile and find solace in my disengagement from society. My home is now my sanctuary, and entry is by invitation only.

There’s nothing for me in the outside world anymore. I already spend my days racked with physical and emotional pain. Why seek to increase my misery?

When we’re born, we’re given a tank of energy for dealing with the trials of life. Some are bigger than others. Mine must have been huge, but now it’s empty, and it cannot be refilled. Therefore, I have no fight left in me. I no longer have the fuel to travel along life’s bumpy roads.

Some might say I can’t possibly be happy in my current situation. To them I say happiness is merely a point on the scale of human misery. When your life has been spent in a state of magnitude 10 on the scale, a move to magnitude 8 can be considered a marked improvement. So, in effect, I’m comparatively happy since my position on the scale has improved.

Nobody out there misses me. Why would they? I’m nothing to anyone and I’m in nobody’s debt. There’s absolutely no demand for my limited skills, and no one seeks an audience to engage me in some sparkling repartee.

Numerous prescription medicines help me to control my pain, and maintain at least some semblance of sanity. I have prescriptions which try to regulate a bodily system sent spiralling out of control by a disease few doctors have ever heard of and fewer still understand. Unfortunately for me, it is a tragic failing of our educated classes that their ignorance grows in line with their knowledge, and when they speak from the former it’s people like me who pay the price.

There is an irony about my medication that is not lost on me. I have always sworn to and maintained a policy of absolute abstinence regarding recreational drugs – even Cannabis – yet I now follow a daily medicinal regime wherein I take enough prescription drugs to drop a horse.

I’m going to stay here in the shadows where nobody can see me. I won’t invite you to join me because I have nothing to offer but misery, bile and hatred. But that’s my problem, and I won’t burden you with it.

Well, thank you very much for reading this nonsensical raving. I sincerely apologise if it has increased your misery score – that was not my intent.

Good luck to you, and come back soon if you’ve nothing better to do. I’ve always got more nonsense to impart.

It could be worse...

I consider myself to be generally one of life’s unlucky people. It seems no matter what’s happening to me; whatever can go wrong does go wrong.

But it could be worse. I could be one of the people below who have suffered bad luck on a mental scale.

The Desarmes family: These poor buggers lived in Haiti. In January 2010 a magnitude 7 earthquake hit the country, causing catastrophic damage and killing somewhere between 100,000 and 366,000 people.

The Desarmes were among the lucky ones. They survived this disaster. They must have thought God was watching over them that day.

But their home was in ruins. The earthquake had reduced many buildings to rubble.

So, they decided to get away from this nightmare. They went to stay with their son in Chile.

In March, there was a huge earthquake in Chile. It destroyed their son’s house and they all found themselves sleeping in his garden.

I can’t help thinking that when the ground started shaking that second time they must have looked at each other and said, “Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

Tsutomo Yamaguchi: 1945, Mr Yamaguchi visited Hiroshima. As he stepped off the tram, BOOM – an atomic bomb hit less than two miles away. Carnage ensued; death and destruction on a horrific scale. Yamaguchi-san suffered burst ear-drums and temporary blindness.

He spent the night in an air-raid shelter, and in the morning he went home. His home was in Nagasaki.

After taking a couple of days to recuperate from his ordeal, he went back to work. Sitting in his supervisor’s office, he regaled him with the terrible tale of his doomed business trip. His supervisor sat there, enthralled, as he told him all about the unholy super-weapon that had wrought such unimaginable devastation on Hiroshima.

Then he heard a horribly familiar noise as, just a couple of miles away, a second atomic bomb fell on Nagasaki. I’d like to think at that moment, he looked out the window and said, ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…’

I once thought a bird had it in for me because I was shat on in the same place, two days in a row. Yamaguchi’s tale kind of puts it into perspective.

He survived, by the way. But I bet everywhere he went after that, people would grab their stuff and bugger off out of town, just in case.

Perez Hilton - Twat

Who the fuck is Perez Hilton? More importantly – who the fuck does he think he is?

I’d only ever heard the name until this year’s Celebrity Big Brother. Now, as a result of me having been forced to watch that pap by my daughter, I learn that Perez Hilton is, in fact, a twat.

Like many celebrities these days, he is entirely without talent, purpose or relevance. He is simply famous for being a twat.

Perez Hilton’s not even his real name. It’s a “persona”; his real name is Mario Armando Lavandeira Jr. So, although he has no talent, and no right to be on any stage, he has given himself a stage-name. Twat.

He was a big fat cunt when he became famous. He was obviously bullied and unpopular, so he decided to use the internet to take it out on celebrities. He became a “celebrity blogger” – one of those sad little fucks so desperate for attention from famous people that he realises he can only get it by being a twat about them.

He’s lost weight now, and he looks even more freakish. He’s got a midget’s head on a normal body. I guess when you’re that ugly it can make you bitter. Also, like many fatties who became thin, he has gone from putting the chips into his big fat gob to having them on his shoulder instead. So watch out all you famous people: You have so many things that this freak wants but can never have so he’s going to piss on you instead. He’s like that kid at school who puts someone’s girlfriend down and calls her ugly just because she turned him down when he asked her out. Twat.

Now on Celebrity Big Brother he has attained new levels of twattery with his desperate attention-seeking and reprehensible behaviour. He’s been so bad; so annoying and so fucking vile that he’s got me cheering for Katie Hopkins.

Did you read that? This toss-bucket drama-fuck wank-crust is so bad that he’s got me liking, and cheering for, Katie Hopkins. KATIE HOPKINS!!!! The shit-spewing harridan who lives – and has gained celebrity – for being nasty and saying horrible things about everybody - this twat is actually worse than her!!!

I beg of you all; for the sake of my sanity and my television, vote this shit-nugget off that show so I can go back to never coming across his ugly fucking face except in my worst dreams.

He’s a twat.

Does Google work for the CIA?

When I first started using the internet, I used Yahoo when I wanted to search for anything. It fulfilled all my search-related needs; I typed in what I wanted and it came back with a list of pages pertaining to my search.

I didn’t really notice Google being launched in 1998. Why would I? It was just a search-engine, wasn’t it? And – as I’ve already pointed out – my search needs were already being fulfilled by Yahoo.

Then Google took over the world. It made it easier for us to find any information we wanted. It gave us satellite images of places; street-level views of roads and buildings. It provided instant, rough translations of web pages from any language into another. It was so successful that it actually became a verb.

So, how did it become so huge so quickly? Well, according to Pravda[1], Google has been a key participant in US Military and CIA operations. These have involved torture, as well as subversion of foreign governments. There’s also been US Military aggression in countries like Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan.

The Washington Post[2] reported that Google provided customised core search technology for Intellipedia, a highly-secure online system enabling 37,000 US spies and other related personnel to share information. Launched in 2006, it grew rapidly so that within just three years, it had more than 100,000 user accounts editing 900,000 pages at a rate of 15,000 edits per day.

The company had also been linked, through Google Earth, to US spy and military systems. The technology for the software was originally developed by Keyhole Inc, which was funded by a venture-capital firm called Q-Tel, which itself is openly funded and operated on the CIA’s behalf. Google acquired Keyhole Inc in 2004.

If these reports are accurate, then there is a real connection between Google and the US Military and CIA. This poses questions about just how private our online activities are. There have long been concerns and accusations about Google monitoring us and sharing our information. These take on added significance in light of the company’s connections with one of the world’s biggest military and spying organisations.

Big Brother is, indeed, watching. Privacy has become a fond memory we try to kid ourselves that we still have. Our lives have become files on a network server. How long before these files control our lives? How long before they can be manipulated to profoundly affect our lives?

Scared…? I guess I would be if I gave a shit.

---

[1] http://english.pravda.ru/opinion/columnists/17-06-2013/124841-google_cia_nsa-0/

[2] http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/08/26/AR2009082603606.html

Posh Twat

Admit it – just from the title, you knew this was about David Cameron, didn’t you? Even without knowledge of my deep-seated, absolute hatred of the man, you will have read the title and his would have been the first name to pop into your mind.

How do I know this? Am I psychic?

Well; no, is the honest answer. It’s a simple matter of universal truths really. David Cameron is posh, and he’s a twat; so if somebody puts those two words together, his face is going to pop into your head quicker than a fat aunty running at a wedding buffet.

Even his name – David William Donald Cameron – cries out, “I’m a silver-spooned posh bastard. I’m better than you; and that’s all you plebs need to know. Now lick the shit off my shoes and be off with you before I get the Naughty Paddle.”

He really has got one of those faces just made for punching. It’s perfect; and it’s even the right shape to allow maximum contact between fist and face. That jogger missed a trick when he ran into him and just pushed him out of the way. He should have nutted the smarmy bastard.

The utter nob, even now, still tries to make out he’s just “a normal guy”, and a man of the people. His dad, Ian Donald Cameron, was a stockbroker; mine was an electrician. His mom was the daughter of a baronet; mine spent her days lying on her bed in her nightie, scratching her arse while she watched television and ate Jacobs’ Cream Crackers. So, how dare he compare himself to me?

David went to an independent school whose alumni included Princes Andrew and Edward. I went to a school where the cloakroom always stank of piss, and if you could actually identify that day’s dinner they gave you a certificate and suggested you take up forensic science in later life since even the grumpy old buggers who served it didn’t know what it was.

In many desperate attempts to look normal, he has had himself photographed on public transport; or in a departure lounge with his wife, Samantha. Strangely, both – usually crushed with people – were conspicuously empty. You just knew he had an entire entourage behind the camera who had arranged a thorough clean of the seats and who burned his clothes afterwards. Public transport for us normal folk involves taking your life into your own hands. There are gangs on our buses, who will attack you if they even think you might have glanced in their direction. There are old women who stink of piss on our buses, and they always sit next to you. The same with the shit-smelling drunks who spill their cheap beer on you as they drop onto their seat, then spend the rest of the journey talking loudly and incoherently at you and spraying you with a mixture of saliva and cheap booze.

Anyway; I almost forgot why I started writing this. It’s because I read today that Cameron is saying there will be “chaos” if the country changes economic direction. As if it wasn’t chaos already, with public services stretched beyond reasonable limits and a welfare system in crisis thanks to the bumbling, vengeful, spiteful little bastard that is Iain Duncan Smith and his nasty little war against all those masses who wouldn’t take him seriously as the leader of the Conservative Party and who wouldn’t vote for him.

Cameron has his eyes fixed solidly on the General Election in May. He wants a second term in office, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he resorted to anything to get it. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to change the law, citing that he needs to stay in power until the economic system is fixed, and thus puts back the election while all the time telling us that it’s us who are in control and who have the power.

Just as I did in 2010, I implore the people of Britain to go out and vote. And when you do, then vote for anybody; even the Monster Raving Loonys; but for the love of God, please don’t vote for the Tories or Lib-Dems.

What Really Happened to David Kelly?

The first words out of my mouth when I heard David Kelly was dead were, “He was assassinated.” His death was too convenient.

David Kelly was a weapons inspector in Iraq who famously cast doubt on the British Government’s reason for invading the sovereign nation that had never harmed or even threatened harm to us. He knew about the infamous “sexed up” document claiming Saddam Hussein had Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMDs) and told a reporter it simply wasn’t true.

Now, that was a bit inconvenient for Tony Blair. You see, little Tony had his nose halfway up George “Dubya” Bush’s arse. And, one night, while Dubya was sticking it hard to our criminal cunt of a Prime Minister, he told him that he must do whatever it takes to justify invading a sovereign nation or he was going to get a spanking.

So, like any good little bitch, Tony did as he was told. He lied and cheated and forced Britain into an illegal war.

But, hey – what did he care? He had one eye on the tens of millions he was going to make very soon. I don’t know how; or where the money comes from. All I know is that Tony Blair’s bank balance has benefitted hugely from his time as the leader of our nation. And they say altruism is dead…

Anyway; David Kelly was potentially a black eye in waiting for little Tony and his ambitions of hegemony. So, it was a good job he died, wasn’t it? It was nice of him to kill himself right then, eh…? Very convenient…

He was found slumped against a tree at the edge of a wood near his home in Oxfordshire. There was a bloody pruning knife on the ground beside him; and blister packs that had held 30 Co-Proxamol tablets, with only one left. There was also a bloody Evian bottle.

So, he committed suicide then. All the evidence is there. He had cuts on his arms; there were the empty blister packs; and the water.

The problem is, there were no fingerprints on the knife – David’s or anybody else’s. There were none on the blister packs or the bottle either. He wasn’t wearing gloves and there were none found nearby.

So, David cut himself just a bit. Then he took all those pills except one…I guess he was full. Finally, before falling softly into death’s cold arms, he wiped all his dabs off the knife, blister packs and bottle. Of course – he wouldn’t want people to think he’d killed himself, did he? He might get in trouble for that. Hmm…

So, what really happened to David Kelly? Who really killed him – because I don’t believe he killed himself? Answers on a postcard, please.