Wednesday, 22 March 2017

AN IRA PRESS STATEMENT

 THE ARMED STRUGGLE RETURNS.

 

Speaking from his coffin, Tony Blair's great friend, Marty PsychoKiller, 

Hey, youse, youse out there, can youse hear me?


said that it was unacceptable, so it was, utterly unacceptable for people to bomb parliamentarians like himself, going about their lawful business, so it was.  

BRIGHTON ROCKS.
ONE OF MARTY'S GREATEST HITS.

We, in the Provisional IRA utterly condemn acts of terrorism against unarmed people 
 
AND THE HYDE PARK GIDDY-UP
ANOTHER FROM THE MARTY SONGBOOK.
and those responsible should be hunted down and punished to the full extent of the law, so they should, and they should definitely not be classed as political prisoners, because they're just common criminals, so they are, and they most definitely should not be allowed out of jail and put in government. 
That's just madness, so it is and a total affront to those people who've lost their limbs and lives and families in such a cowardly attack as this, I mean, putting mass murderers in parliament, well, it's just taking the piss, so it is, and we condemn it utterly. 


In Scotland, First Minister, Wee Gnasher, 


screwed-up her wee rodent's arse of a face and said that this was exactly why Scotland needed millions more immigrants to come and settle in her country, just not English ones. It also proved, she continued, that Donald Trump's policy of excluding immigrants from certain countries until they had been thoroughly screened was just pure mental. If millions a terrorists come tae Scoatland, which, I would remind people, is the sovereign will of the Scoattish people, well, any a they ones who have ambitions tae blow people tae fuck will just be able tae walk doon tae England and do it there.  No, I wouldnae tolerate a border between England and Scoatland.  No way, Jose.

Tuesday, 21 March 2017

A DEATH TOO KIND

When I was a small child we were still hanging people; you'd hear about it in those Recieved Pronunciation voices on the BBC wireless, on the Home Service, even on the Light Programme, then the equivalents, respectively, of Radio Four and  Radio Two, sop, then as now, for both the so-called thinking middle class, alive to the issues of the day, and the whistling working class. The John Humphries of the day, or the Jeremy Vine, would solemnly broadcast the news that at eight o' clock that morning some hapless neck had been snapped like a twig and then go on to say that there had been protests outside the nick. 
Quite right, too. 

Used to make my infant blood run cold, it did, them topping people, just down the road, and I have been a Death Penalty Abolitionist all my life. I can't even watch a fictionalised execution without flinching and the real thing almost makes me pass-out. I have managed to avoid seeing the hanging of Saddam Hussein, one of New Labour's great achievements and the Caecescus being gunned down, which I have seen, was at least swift and  brutish, unpretentious, no simpering vicars, and lacking the nauseating pseudo-formality of the Death Row and its grisly sergeants.

One of the reasons I so hated Marty Kneecaps was that he shook my belief, threatened my resolute opposition to state murder;  I had only to see him - or his comrade, Gerry the Nonce - to reflect that, well, maybe some people do deserve a necktie party; maybe it is the only way to protect Decency from cruel Vice, or if not protect, at least avenge, and future-protect. 

 There has only ever been the one execution which I can watch.  I don't make a habit of it or anything, I think I've seen it twice, on the Nazi shows; it is the hanging, on his own gallows, of the former commandant of Auschwitz, a man so dreadful that his despatch seemed almost merciful, but even if it wasn't it seemed entirely, unequivocally appropriate.  
 And so would it have been with Marty, a man who, from his earliest,


 youthful photograph 
until his last, bitter, dying image 

 oozed a sinister, sadistic and utilitarian cruelty from every pore;  his were the mindset and the practice of the SS. 
 Peace Proh-cess be damned, if ever the world needed a man to be hanged, Marty Kneecaps was the prime candidate.

I had hoped, in these latter years of his miserable, obnoxious life,  that someone might shoot him on the street, like the mad dog he was, and maybe just cripple him, as he had crippled so many, leaving him in a painful half-life; death by heart disease seems so very kind an end for one so vile, we must hope that he was as frightened at his end as were the very many children whose limbs he treated to a Black and Decker mutilation;  teenagers pulled from the streets by Marty's nancyboy sadists, the Hard Men, as they call themselves, and savaged by Provisional IRA lawnforcement. I mean,  when we look at some of the members of the Northern Ireland Assembly I can't help but think that we gotta lotta nerve to take-on so, about Islamic State; there is no difference between the headchoppers and the authors of the Birmingham 'pub bombings, the Enniskillen Remembrance Day massacre, the Warrington bombing or countless other murderous attacks on defenceless civilian groups, no difference whatsoever.
War on terror? 
It's not too late for bringing it all back home.

Hard to see, by the same token, why we are so hard on Jimmy Savile, whilst eulogising Martin McGuinness;  Sir James, after all, never actually killed anyone, let alone thousands of people, and he  raised large sums of money for other people's use, whereas McGuinness cost us incalculable sums, mind-boggling - the cost of an army, the costs of endlessly rebuilding city and town centres; the costs of drastically expanded emergency services, of prolonged medical and psychiatric treatments, of bereavements, of army and police and civilian widows' pensions, of massively increased police, intelligence and security services; of lost businesses, of courts and trials and incarcerations; of investigations and interdictions at home and abroad.  The harm and expense caused by Savile's behaviours and by subsequent enquiries into them is as a drop in the ocean compared with the ongoing burden caused by Marty's dark fantasies.
And yet Savile - relative to McGuinness a petty offender - is a byword for infamy, while McGuinness himself lies rotting and surely putrid on a fraudulent hero's bier.
Blessed are the peacemakers, eh?
Fuck me, Jesus, it's enough to make the Saviour spit.


Sunday, 5 February 2017

THE FAKE FAKE NEWS NEWS


Good evening and this is Huw Welshman with the Fake Fake News News. That's like, well, it's like Fake News about Fake News  - the Fake Fake News News.

And tonight's Fake Fake News Alert relates to a groundless story circulating widely, although not here, obviously, at the PBC, where we deal only in facts, facts as defined by the LGBTQ Coalitio  Against Anything Normal, by the rump of NewLabour and by Mr Nick Clegg.

Although I must say that he did make a bit of a cunt of himself, yesterday, did Nick, look you, isn't it, having a William Hague moment, he was, in the House of Commons.  
 
 T'trouble with you lot, 'ere, at't Tory confrunce, like,
 is that you're all right old. 
The mutant child and the future Lord Miscarriages speaks his mind.
Christ on a fucking rope, just look a his horrid, spiteful, I-Know-Best little face.

 
You're all old, you lot, on the front bench. 
And we, the young people, we wanna stay wotsanameing, in Europe.

And 73% of young voters - he meant 73% of young people who voted, did Nick - 73% of young people voted to stay in Europe, you should listen to them, proclaimed Nick, before raising the old grandchildren spectre -what will they think of us?  
I don't give a fuck, Nick, and nor does anyone in their right minds.
I'll be dead, they can think what they want.

It is an interesting thought, that one, that the younger you are the more important, the more weighted should be your vote - that because a tiny handful of younger people voted to Remain  the legislators should ignore the democratically expressed view of seventeen million grown-ups; but then, the man's an utter cunt, Clegg, everybody knows that. 
And the other thing about Nick's 73% figure is that actually only 36% of young people - 18-24 years old - bothered to vote at all in the EU referendum, so what Cleggy is saying is that 28% of young people, not 73%, voted to stay in the EU, and the rest of the young people, by default, voted to leave. 
Bit of a Fake News story itself, that. 
Bit like the pledge not to raise student fees,
not to raise VAT,
not to instigate a top-down fuck-up of the NHS,
bit like the Coalition Govament, in fact,
one big Fake News story -
George Osborne's Fake News strategy of blaming disabled people for the bankers' crimes.

Cunts, all of them.

And since people seem to be marching at the drop of a fucking hat, why aren't they marching about this cunt, Osborne, not even waiting five minutes before showering himself with retrospective bankers' bribes.Makes a changhe from sperm, I suppose
But that Clegg, Jesus fucking wept; I report on some right cunts here, on this show, 
but he's in a class of his own.
I tell you what, look you, isn't it, let's just see what he and Susan Farron have to say about the kicking they get off that gay bloke, from UKIP, up in Stoke, see what they say then about young people, and about the dogshooters, all eight of them, being the official opposition.

 
Dunno about you, viewers, but I saw the apparently brilliant lawyer, Mrs Clegg, or, to give her her proper name Senora Miriam Gonzalez SantaMaria Domingo Teresa Paella Tortillos  de los Liberales Democratos Molesteros Des Infantes on the Andy Neil Show and she made a right cunt of herself, too, thick as two short planks, if you ask me, isn't it. 

Mrs de los Cleggos, Liz Harpy, Dame Michaela and some showbiz junky waster discuss the issues of the day, what's good for us, and what really needs to happen. 
And doing it at our expense.
And while we're on the subject of expense, just how many fucking railway programmes can there be; is there no limit to the number of vehicles which the PBC can create for this useless, gibbering peacock, Portillo?  Looks like  we're going to be paying him until he drops dead; great railway journeys on the fucking Moon, I shouldn't wonder.


Mrs Clegg, anyway, spoke entitlementista English like a Somali beggar, she did, Miriam.  
I mean, I know she's a Dago and everything, but even so. 
If we Welsh can manage it then why not her?


Students, disabled people, old people?
 Fuck 'em all.
 Two efugees from Truth and |Decency, 
making better life, no? 

But no,  Mr Clegg, the right honourable pledge-maker, and his gobby doxy, that isn't the real Fake Fake News Story. No, not by a long way. 

This is it, the Fake News that winners of the coveted Best Parents In The World Award, 


Gerry and Cilla McCann,
 have suffered a setback in the Dago Supreme Court of Justice, 
where a bunch of corrupt Portugeezers have ruled,


perversely in the view of MediaMinster, 
 that it is actually OK to speak the truth



 about the brave Gerry and his fragrant partner in sorrow, Cilla.  


And isn't she beautiful, even in adversity? 
Far too beautiful to be guilty of anything,
if by beautiful you mean repulsive,
ugly as fucking Sin.
The both of them, look you,
 one as poisonous looking as the other.


 That's right, that's today's  real Fake News story which you won't hear about in the Mainstream Media, simply because it cannot possibly be true. 
No decent court in the real world could fail to award Gerry and Cilla unlimited damages against anyone who questions their  - it must be said, utterly incredible - account of events ten years ago, in Portugal. 
The facts of the matter, viewers, are that in 'phoning the PBC's Kirsty Crow, 


No, no, by contacting me ii Edinburgh, before contacting the local plods to report their kid missing, Gerry'n'Cilla did entirely the right thing, what any media-savvy arsehole would do;  get your retaliation in first.

long before they notified the police about their daughter's  apparent disappearance, and by reporting it, without any evidence - as did Kirsty and the PBC -  as an abduction, Dr and Dr McCann were only doing what any good parent would do - protecting themselves from honest inquiry. And by failing to cover their recent reversal in the Portuguese Supreme Court, that is exactly what we, responsible journalists at the PBC are also doing.
I mean, doesn't the Portuguese Supreme Court realise that - what with it being the tenth anniversary of their notoriety - the McCanns certainly don't need to be mistreated in this way, having courts rule against them.

And you wouldn't expect anything less from us, would you, isn't it?
But what the Fake News story alleges, is that there was this copper, right, called Alfonso or some shit greaseball name like that,



 and what he did, right, isn't it, was write a whole fucking book, actually tormenting the McCanns,
yes, like this, below


Tormented.

 by basically saying that he didn't believe a fucking word they'd said, that their 
 behaviour was shockingly bad and that their story had more holes in it than a bastard colander, look you.
Anyway, first off, they took him to court, like they do everybody, and were awarded half a million pounds in damages, which was all well and good and a piece of Real News.
But now some irresponsible people are saying that  he, Alfonso, then took them  to the Portugues Supreme Court which overturned the first, proper, decision, and substitued a second, improper one which should not be reported on because it could never happen, even though it has.
The upshot of the Court Ruling That Never Happened is that Gerry'n'Cilla now face  a legal bill of over half a million pounds - not to mention becoming open season targets, again - whereas the Fighting Fund, which they set-up to cover their own living and legal expenses, is down, now,  to just three hundred thousand pounds. So, as the Fake News story goes, not only has the Court rejected their claim but they might also forfeit their, what would you call it, ill-gotten gains.
 So, viewers, you know what needs to happen. 
Yes, right first time, the great caring British public needs to put its hand in its pocket in order to help these poor unfortunates, who have never done anything wrong, help them stay in their modest little home, praying for the return of their little girl, Wotsaname, and touring the world telling lies and threatening people with libel actions.

 
It is true that successive govaments - ie taxpayers - from Snotty through Cameron and  Askey, have helped-out the McCanns to the tune of over thirteen fucking  million pounds, ten million of it spent by holidaying plods from the Met, pissing about in Portugal.  But that doesn't mean we shouildn't have another national whip-round to help these poor people maintain their public profile as cruelly wronged innocents, even though they are not.



Yes,  that bit is a bit rich, the Met, with a clear-up rate of less than seven per cent and an enviable record of shooting dead innocent citizens, 


that crew of fucking gangsters breezing over to Portugal and lording it over the Dago filth, 

like they were all Sherlock fucking Holmes.

But that sort of inversion, if you will, of reality, it's what makes the news, here, at the PBC, what it is. I mean, if the greatest investigative news gathering service in the world can't spot a thirty-year, serial child sex abuser working right in its own building, well, 
 you must conclude that, actually, it's good for fuck all. 
Still, when the dust settled, the Corporation did manage to lay all the blame for thousands of criminal offences, squarely where it rightly belonged, on Tony Blackburn.

So there it is, don't believe any Fake News stories, we, here in Lord Tony Hall's  spiritual home of paedophilia,  have set the record straight, once again, about Gerry'n'Cilla McCann, who are entirely innocent of everything, ever.  It was Donald Trump, working with the Russians and a hard core of Brexiteers and transphobics who abducted little Wostername -  I tend to forget the kid's name, because it's not really about her, is it, her parents being the real victims here.
Later, on Newsnight, Evan Giggler will be examining the new movement which has arisen after the terrible events at the Louvre, in Paris, as thousands of people march through London's streets, wearing tee-shirts with le motto de jour:

Je Suis Un Musee.
and former chancellor, Junky George Osborne will be explaining why museums, art galleries and libraries everywhere should be closed down and their contents given to rich people. 

On Fake News stations you can learn how Romanians have taken to the streets and overturned their government's plans to go easy on corrupt public officials, 
 
yes, plans to do what happened here, at the time of the MPs' widespread expenses frauds.  Seems like the Gippo govament wanted to pardon everybody - ie themselves - and let them keep the money and probably give them a thirty per cent pay rise, as happened here, in MediaMinster.  

 The people, though, weren't having it and promised their govament a Caesescu moment


unless it backed down.

Fancy that viewers, a nation holding its govament to account, pure fantasy, eh?

It's Jayne Tits now for you, with the sport
 or maybe the weather, 
or maybe all the latest news and gossip from Hollywood.
Real News. 
It's what we do.
Accept nothing less.







Wednesday, 1 February 2017

PETITION SHOCK. SIXTY-FIVE MILLION TRAITORS FAIL TO SIGN


Good evening, and this is me, Jon the Liberator Sox, with the truly shocking news - sensitive viewers may wish to turn away, now - that the overwhelming majority of people in this country have not signed some e-petition or other.  Seasoned observers, like myself, are saying that this is the single biggest betrayal since the EU Referendum and the Scottish Indy Ref before it, that this failure to participate is something which actively undermines the movement towards us all changing our gender, as we see fit, on the National Health.
 Yes, that's right, here was an opportunity for  the flashmourning community to step up to the plate and mourn, solidify and form a  community of Global Citizens Against Democracy. Not since Je Suis Charlie, has there been such an opportuniy for ill-informed, hysterical people  to click a button for a better world.  Just think, here was an opportunity, like none nefore, for ignorant people to parade smugly, saying Not In My Name, or Not My President or Not My Referendum Result. Here was nothing short of a golden  opportunity for men to use ladies' toilets without fear of  censure.
Some might say a golden shower opportunity. And so what, we are mature enough in our persecution of the Norm to be able to rejoice, should we enter a public convenience and see people urinating on each other.

And do you know what?
  I'll tell you what, cos that's my trade, my purpose, my craft, telling you what. It's why I was put here, to tell you what.
And the what in this instance is that the overwhelming, massive, unambiguous majority of you have failed to join in the democratic attempt to uinseat a democratically-elected US president. And by extension to revoke the EU Referendum result and substitute one more agreeable to the minority.


And I'll you something else.
When it comes to a failed audience,
It doesn't get much worse than that.
But even so, we in MediaMinster can claim victory over the forces of Reaction and Fascism. 
 There must now clearly be a re-run of both of the referenda and of the US election.  Mustn't there?  I mean. Clearly, there must be.  I mean. Just do the math. A million chumps have clicked a button and this must surely overrule any dated notions about what the fascists call representative democracy. I mean. How can it be representative if one of the greatest political figures of our time- or any other - Mrs Meryl Streep, doesn't agree with it 
 

Now, I love you all, all you little people, out there, watching me posing.
In awe of me, up here, collecting awards, 
as well as million dollar paychecks. 
And here's what I want you all to do.
Cos you love me, right? 

We're joined now by People's Prime Minister, Tony Blair, for his opinion on the Rise of the Barbarian Horde, in America.
Well, thanks, Jon,
 or Lord Sox as you would have been if Gordon hadn't ousted me.  And as a Christian, the first thing I should remind viewers of is simply Look, this is the time when Bill and Hillary Clinton should be uppermost in your thoughts and prayers, 
 
 as they are in mine. 
Yes and Imelda's. 
No, no we are not divorcing. 
Both catholics, y'see.

 
 No, we just live separately because that's where our work takes us. Yes, that's right, she has her property empire and a client roster of head-chopping despots and yes, I have mine. 
I mean, Jon, it's only what we deserve.

But no, Bill'n'Hillary are very close personal friends, in fact it was them who gave us the idea of a charitable foundation for funnelling bribes into, yes, from dictators.
But very, very  rich ones, mind.
Yes, thassright, rich with money stolen from their own citizens.
Yes, very much like the UK parliamatarians do every day of the week.
But on a more professional scale. 
And that's what really matters.  
So, yes the Presidents Clinton are very much in our thoughts.
Is that, Prime  Minister, because they are dying?
Fuck me,  Jon, no, 
 it's because they were robbed of a second eight years in the White House, after they'd spent all that money, well, alright, it wasn't their money but that's neither here nor there.
 I mean, I simply say, if bent money wasn't running politics then we'd all be fucked, wouldn't we? 
 But no, Jon, they should be in our thoughts, or at least mine and David Miliband's, because if they'd won we'd have been minted, special adviserships, envoyships, ambassadorships, just any kind of -ship which would have meant buckets of money for us. 
Money, Jon, it's like water to a thirsting man, you just can't get enough of it; well, I can't.
And nor, lemme tell you, can Lady Imelda.


 And Donald Trump, Prime Minister?

 
Well, I simply say that he is entirely mistaken, although as consigliere to much bigger criminals than him, I would be happy to serve his administration in any capacity, depending on the package, of course.


 Wrong how?



Well, as I said in my Chicago Gospel, in 1999,

 
 something now viewed, I should say, Jon,
 as being as influential, even moreso, than the Sermon on the Mount, what I said in that epic, ground-breaking declaration of principle is that when it comes to Muslims, we simply have to kill them, and regime-change them into the one True Faith of Mammon, 
 and its founding principles, Slavery, Greed, Pornography, Usury, Tax Avoidance and Arms Sales.  Y'know, Jon, it's what my entire Foundation's all about, 

Killing Muslims and earning vast sums by doing it.
 
I mean, I simply say to the peepul ov Brittun that excluding Muslims from America, even torturing them, as Jack Straw

The UK government is sending millions of our pounds trying to keep Jack Torture from facing charges over renditions and torture which allegedly approved

 and David Miliband so memorably did for both President Dubya Chimp and President Trousers, 
Don't you worry, Madam President Trousers, just you tell me who you want tortured and I'll see to it.
Oh David, you're such a good boy to Momma.

is simply not enough, we need to invade their countries, kill most of them, make the rest of them homeless, plunder their assets,  rape their children and litter their landscape with depleted uranium. 
Y'know Jon, banning a few ragheads from entry, I mean, there's no money in that. 


And  I think that so-called President Trump falls very far short of understanding - as do I and the Israeli govament of Benny the Bandit Netanyahu
 - that the only good Muslim is a dead Muslim,
 who, preferably, has been tortured first
.

While you're here, your Grace, I wonder if you'd share with us your view of the state of your former party, now that its current leader has been elected by an unprecedented number of votes cast by ordinary party members. 


Jon, I simply say, is that what you gotta do is anything in your power to prevent a party of the left being elected.
 At all costs you gotta prevent a Labour govament which represents poor people. 
It's what we're about,
betraying our voters.
Make 'em yearn, make 'em long,  make 'em dream,
but you never give 'em anything. 

That was people's prime minister, Tony Blair;  
 why hasn't he been made an earl, 
after all he's done for freedom,
 but then why haven't I? 
I am, after all, descended from David Lloyd George.
Yes, the whoremonger, that's him.

And we are moving now to our fellow resistance fighter, Emily Muscles, on our sister channel, the Paedophiles' Broadcasting Channel; no, no, we broadcasters are all in this fight together, yes, that's the one, the fight against representative democracy, yes, Brexit, yes, Trump. 
They may both have been voted for but that's not what voting's for.
And our comrade, Emily, a feminist icon, 

 is interviewing prominent Labour feminist thinker,  and potential party leader,
Jess Tits, MP for Birmingham Yardley.



Good evening to viewers joining us from Channel Sox News.


And in this time of tumult, as womens voices are blah blah blah blah, in order to help us examine the situation we are joined by


 Jess - all moi male constituents wanna rape me, no, no, really they do. 
Oi sin 'em, down Broad Street of a weekend. 
 And decent birds, loike meself, loike, carn't even stagger-about pissed wiv me tits'n'arse 'anging-out wivout bein' whistled-at, which as a ma''er a fact, is summat to which Oi'm opposed, root'n'pissin'branch, loike- 
 Tits, Jess Tits, MP for Birmingham, Yardley.

I was in Birmingham's Broad Street and Centenary Square on Millennium Night and many other nights and I never witnessed one sex attack.  

Jess Tits,  good evening and welcome to Newsnight.


Are you really Emmylou? 
Well, Oi'd just loike t'say that Oi love your records, all on 'em, but specially them ones with Dolly Parton on. 
I dunno whether to pinch meself 'r not,  bein' on the telly with Emmylou 'Arris. 
 An' I wonder if you'd just sing us a request, 'tint fer me, it's fer me Mum, she loves you an' all, loike. 
Could you do that one, Boulder to Berming-gum, cos, loike,  I'm the MP fer Berming-gum, well, one on 'em loike, there's a few on us. I know the song int about this Berming-gum, here,  in England, moi Berming-gum, what I 'ave the honour of representing on Have Oi Got News For You - well, it's grand a time, intit, Oi'd be mad not to - but one in Alabama -  is it? -  but even so, it'd mean a lot to me an' me Mum. I dunt see 'er as much as Oi'd loike too, loike, but what with me career tekkin' off, being down in the Smoke an' on the telly quite a lot, well, you'll understand, yer old parents 'ave to take second place, when it comes to wossaname, yes, social mobility, I mean, Oi didden get where Oi am today boi wurryin' about other people now, did Oi, no pissin' sense in that, is there?
 
An' anyroad up, she's only me Mum, 'snot as though we'm flesh an' blood or anythin', so you can't expect me t'look after 'er.
 I mean, that's a job for the taxpayer, int it? 
So, willya sing us a song, or wot?


 Well, actually, 
I'm not the country singer, EmmyLou 'Arris,
 I mean Harris.
I'm EmmyLou Maitliss.
I mean Emily Maitliss.
 
Wotchasay?  
You int Emmylou 'Arris?
 Emily Maitliss? 
And who the bleedin' 'ell's Emily pissin' Maitliss,
 when hers at home? 

A pissin' journalist? Well, Oi'll go to the foot of ower stairs, I will. Me thinkin' Oi was gonna meet Emmylou 'Arris, an 'ere Oi am sittin' wiv a bleedin' stick insect, 
 
wot looks like
 her's escaped from a bleedin' bondage parlour.



But what do you think, as a Labour MP, about Trump's plans to revive American industry;  he's met today with US trades union leaders and they are reportedly very impressed by his plans for massive infrastructure redevelopment programmes.  He has, after all, captured the Democrat's heartland, rather as the Tribesmen, up North, have captured what used to be safe Labour territory. Are there any lessons which Jeremy Corbyn's Labour party might take from Trump's appeal to workers disrespected and long locked out of spiv prosperity?

Well, the first thing t'say about that load of old cock is that Jeremy Corbyn is not moi leader.
Oi mean, just because the members voted for him overwhelmingly, and done it twoice, that dun't mean nothin.


That's just an old-fashioned view of democracy, that is.
Oi didn't come into politics to represent other people, people wot I dun't agree wiv, did I? 
 No pissin' sense in that.
May as well stand in the middle a the  bleedin' 'orseroad and rant like a soddin' nutter as do that representative democracy shite.
No, luv, that ain't the way t'get stuff done. You just gotta develop a media profile, is that the word, profile, and then wait for the offers to come rollin' in. 
I mean, that George Osborne, he's gettin paid six hundred grand - yeah, a bleedin' year - by some bleedin' banker, an' still sittin' in the 'ouse a commons pretendin' he's a pissin' MP. If it's good enough fer 'im, loike, I'm damn sure it's good enough fer me an' all.



In contemptuous denial of parliamentary rules, Austerity Chancellor and Bankers' Bukkake Boy, 
George Osborne, is expected to make a million pouds a year from his post-sacking City bung.

Well, we've established, Jess Tits,  that you're just a mouthy cow, in it for yourself. 
A sort of back-street Annie Soubrey. 
Any thoughts on the industrial matters I mentioned earlier, Trump's plans?


Well woduz'eknow, he's a bleedin businessman.
What you need to sort them things is a very able politican, someone who's spent his life smoking dope, talkin' bleedin' nonsense and then can't believe his soddin' luck when Tony Blair makes him Seckaterry of state for factories, or woddever.

No, it was NewLabour, in the form of Steven Byers, 

 'oo 'ad the right industrial strategy, cuz, loike, y'know, he smoked an awful lotta dope in his toime, and it give 'im, insight, yeah, insight, into selling them factories off to the bleedin' Jerries for a tenner a time, loike what they did wiv the Ostin.  That Jeremy Clarkson, he's roight, y'know, it were all the faulta the unions, what happened in the motor industry. An' so them got to be punished, 'sonly right, intit?


I mean who'd want all them pissin' jobs back at the Leyland and Lucases and Triumph and unlop and Smiths Instruments an' all them lot,  trainin' apprentices an' employin' skilled blokes, loike, an' on good money;  they 'ad jobs as fitters an' toolmakers, stuff loike that. 

 
That ain't the koinda Labour party I signed up to,  I mean, who'd wanna do them kinda jobs, when they can work in McDonalds. Yeah, an' in call centres. 
 If that bloke Trump thinks that people want so-called proper jobs, not to mention so-called proper wages, when, under my lot, they can do shit jobs, on zero hours contracts,  for way less than the livin' wage, and 'ave all the benfits a bein' in the Common Wossaname, Market is it, well all as I can say is that he's talkin' out of his bleedin' arse loike, and his arse is out the pissin' window.

 
 An' I tellyawot, Emily whoever ya pissin' are, if 'e comes up Brummagem when I'm around, Trumpy, he'll get a roight good bleedin' bollocking.


Well, thanks for that, Emily, and if I'm not very much mistaken I think we have just seen a future leader of the Labour party, staking her claim

So, to summarise, for those of you have just joined me,  there it is, the Brits, who have seen their manufacturing and skills base trashed by venal and incompetent  politicians of every  stripe, quite rightly rage at a US President trying, he says, to restore his own country's industry. 

A nation which has waged illegal wars
 



and committed atrocities all over the world

Tommy interrogating Ahmed

very properly damns a man who would make peace with Russia. 

NewLabour enthusiastically collaborated in kidnap and torture and yet hysterical numpties take to the streets over a man who talks of it but says he will let his commanders - who are opposed to it - decide on its use. I mean, what more could we ask for, here in the post-democratic world. Just do the math for yourself, the numbers just don't add up, well, not as they should, anyway

IRA beast, Martin McGuinness 

bombed British cities,  tortured, maimed and killed tens of thousands of our fellow citizens and yet none marched in protest at his invitation to Buckingham Palace.
 





And you can't say fairer than that, can you?

Nor at their invitations,  no petitions against them,

repulsive women stoners, floggers and  rapists.

this,
this
is what you call 
disrespecting women,
its perpetrators welcome at Queen Brenda's table, as Trump, apparently, should not be. 



No-one marches at the greedy impertinence of Junky George Osborne - the man who blamed the disabled for the bankers' criminality - and his paymasters, shitting in our faces; Trump, though, who made a cruel and uncouth joke about a disabled journalist, well, his planned visit brings thousands to the streets and attaches their virtuous thumbs to an e-petition. 

This then, is the New, Compassionate, Caring Britain, its citizens heedless of real male chauvinism, real horror, real racism, real crime, vocalising, instead, about imagined slight, trivia, around which they can get their tiny minds, whilst Ruin mocks their pitiable, infantile simplicity.

And I'll tell you what, all you have to do, in order to be part of this great exercise in caring community values is, when something is voted for by a majority and you don't like it, just take to the streets and shout at people, call them names, until they change their minds. 

Yes, that's right, exactly like the Nazis did.