Give me another cigarette!


“When you think of someone who smokes Benson and Hedges or Marlboro, there are very different images – the sophisticate versus the cowboy. Take that away and you don’t have people expressing identity through cigarette brands.”

Patronising cocksores.

“I’ve not had a drink today, officer.”

Pisshead ex-judge Bruce ‘Sober as a judge’ Macmillan is in the news again.

A little closer to a prison term (not that he’ll get one, he used to be a judge) but neatly exposed for the cunt that he undoubtedly is:

Prosecutor Adrian Hollanby told the court that when officers stopped Macmillan they found the vodka and an empty can of an energy drink in the passenger footwell of his car.

The policeman then asked Macmillan if he had drunk alcohol in the last 20 minutes and he denied it, adding: “I’ve not had a drink today, officer.”

A roadside breath test proved positive, and when the judge was tested again at Leyland police station the reading was 111 micrograms in 100 millilitres of breath.

The legal limit is 35 micrograms.

Of course, such a case has other ramifications for a public figure such as Bruce ‘Bucky’ Macmillan, who’s been done for drink-driving before:

The Ministry of Justice said today he had resigned as a circuit judge with immediate effect.

Very commendable.

Well, it is until you read this…

By stepping down he loses his £128,000-a-year salary, but avoids the shame of being disrobed by the Lord Chief Justice and Lord Chancellor.

Even if Bruce ‘Mine’s a treble vodka and Red Bull’ Macmillan escapes being some 6’6″ sweaty con’s ‘best friend’ in prison he still gets to escape real shame.

Is there nothing these cunts can’t get away with?

Banning the tanning

It beats me why some people hold having a tan in such high regard, but if someone wants to look like a giant fucking satsuma with legs then good luck to them.

Now, however, if you get a suntan artificially it looks as if you’re soon going to find your options restricted.

The Welsh Assembly looks set to ban sunbed sessions for under 18s and also coin-operated sunbeds.

I can see the wisdom in some sort of restrictions on sunbeds for reasons such as this…

Over the Easter holidays, a 10-year-old girl from Port Talbot suffered 70% burns after putting £8 into a coin-operated sunbed and spent 16 minutes on the bed.

…and, one has to ask, where the fuck were her parents in all of this, but it’s not a good thing to happen no matter what the various causes were.

Surely, however, we can restrict use to a reasonable age – say 16? – by making unsupervised beds payable only with a debit or credit card.

Then, if you decide that you want your thighs ‘au point’ or your arse flesh falling off the bone then you’re over 16 and it’s your fucking decision and not some pasty-faced fuck with nothing better to do than interfere with your right to be an orange fucktard…

There’s no such thing as a Freeview lunch

If you have a Freeview box and you watch TV through it then, unless you’ve been living in a fucking cave for the last week, you’ll be aware that you have to rescan it today to continue receiving the stations you’re used to.

If you don’t, then  a plague of little transistorised insects will emerge from the screen and eat their way into your cerebral cortex, shit in your dead eye sockets and then lay eggs in your colon before tearing their way through your arsehole and escaping you’ll probably not be able to receive Five any longer (boo cunting hoo) and your box won’t be able to accommodate the new HD multiplexes.

We all have to rescan today after lunchtime.

Excuse me, but when precisely the fuck is lunchtime?

Could be midday for some…1pm…2pm…er…could be anytime within a two or three hour period.

So, here’s an idea…

Why didn’t the people in charge of this just allow a sufficient length of time to heat up the soldering irons, throw the right switches, deal with a few fuck ups, have a cup of tea and a Bourbon biscuit, take all the dead rats out of the wiring conduits, sort all their shit out and then say – ‘rescan from 4pm onwards’?

I predict absolute fucking chaos.

It’s ‘cos they is black, innit?

Phone beats gun? Yes, but only if you have the ‘iBust a cap in yo ass’ app…

I had a rough night last night.

A combination of coughing up the odd lung or two in the aftermath of the ‘cold from hell’, and our two Maine Coons wanting to play with their feathery sticks at 4am conspired to keep snatching me from the arms of Morpheus.

Consequently, I was aware of this news item quite early this morning as we always have the unfailingly soporific Radio 5 Live on during the night.

Young women are being warned not to hide guns for their boyfriends, brothers or male friends in a new campaign by the Metropolitan police.

It is aimed at the growing number of teenage girls in London who, the Met says, are being persuaded to store weapons for male gang members.

Police are primarily targeting black girls aged between 15 and 19.

In fact, I heard it in the news bulletins about half a dozen times in all and it gradually changed in a very interesting manner.

It started off in a very similar way to the extract I’ve quoted above from the BBC News web page.

However, very gradually, the description of its targeting – black teenage girls – moved down the item until I actually heard one bulletin where ‘black’ wasn’t mentioned at all.

There’s absolutely no question of anyone else being targeted – the Met’s page on the initiative by Trident here makes it totally clear:

Under the strap line “Hide his gun and you help commit the crime” the campaign features radio, cinema and billboard advertisements aimed at 15 to 19 year old young women of African and African Caribbean heritage.

So why the increasing coyness of the BBC?

Surely if you’re reporting a story that has to do with a specific group – be it black teenage girls, Jewish greengrocers or lesbian climate change activists – then you mention that early on in your story so that the pertinent facts get out to your audience as immediately as they can.

You’d also be helping alert the people you were targeting as soon as possible so that it grabbed their attention and then they knew it concerned them.

All I can think is that there has been some severely misguided attempt to avoid singling out a particular group by a public broadcaster paid for by the public.

I can’t think why they would do this, as the ‘thought police’ in charge of human rights and minorities equality must have been through Operation Trident’s publicity materials and press releases with a thoroughness that would border on OCD.

I’m guessing that it was to avoid offending a particular group.

It’s ‘cos they is black, innit?

Shortsighted doesn’t even begin to describe this latest example of BBC righteousness.

Another BBC fail.

And yet one more reason why the whole matter of a licence fee needs reviewing as a matter of the utmost urgency.

How to get fucked in Brighton

‘Maggie. I really am fucked this time, aren’t I?’

‘Just wave, you cunt.’

Well, it’s the day after the Labour Conference’s ‘Big Day’ – Gordon’s speech – and the aftermath looks like the political equivalent of a Trident nuclear missile scoring a direct hit on a sewage farm.

There’s SHIT everywhere.

Of course, Labour stalwarts are saying that there’s a renewed fire in their bellies and that a Labour defeat isn’t inevitable next year, but the consensus of opinion seems to contradict that rather limp prediction.

Simply put, Brown is just 12 years too late.

If New Labour had actually tackled the problems he outlines when they came to power, and which were all there in one form or another back in 1997 – had anyone had the nouse to actually look at the possible impact of lack of fiscal restraint and removal of self-responsibility – then we might be looking at a fourth Labour term.

However, yesterday’s speech was a predictable mixture of populist proposals – hostels for teenage mothers – climbdowns – no compulsory ID cards – and public spending recklessness – family intervention initiatives.

In other words, the mixture as before – kneejerk reactions to public concerns backed up by hasty planning and with no regard for efficacy or cost.

And now, even the Sun doesn’t like Labour.

Labour really are fucked.

More fucked than a fucker being fucked by some other fuckers during a fucking fuck fest.

More Stephen Pound stretching…

Media whore Pound

I’ve just found this.

Yes, Stephen Pound MP again.

But once you’ve got a cunt hooked, best not to let him go, eh?

He was against the smoking ban:

I’ll admit that there was a bit of the Jeremy Clarkson in my protest as the anti-smokers were, in the main, a po-faced bunch who seemed bent on banning tobacco smoking as the first step on a prohibitive road.

Oops…almost a bit of Libertarianism creeping out there…

Having said that, the Freedom for Fagsmokers crews were well staffed by moon-howlers who seemed to want to do away with speed limits and any drugs control.

False alarm!

Smoking is so antisocial that it should be banned – and this time I will trust the better instincts of the people and vote for health over libertarianism.

Healthy but firmly under state control – that’s the ticket, Stephen.

I do hope he’s in a marginal seat…

A very marginal one.

Stephen Pound speaks – yet again

Makes you want to blow chunks, doesn’t it?

Stephen Pound MP – that well-known media whore shrinking violet – was on Radio 5 Live last night on the Nolan phone-in show.

He referred to:

The foul foetid reeking swamp of the blogosphere

I guess I might well be part of that due to articles like this.

I fucking hope so.

Strange, isn’t it, how the Left really doesn’t like blogs, blogging or bloggers?

Mind you, when you read something like this then you soon realise why.

It’s because they’re just no fucking good at it.

The mole, the MoD and the maggot

Need a piss?…get in the fucking queue…

Being a cynical cunt sort of chap I’ve never thought that the Daily Telegraph was motivated by anything other than the prospect of boosting its circulation figures when it broke and covered the story of MPs’ expenses earlier this year.

But the paper’s cluster wanking isn’t over yet.

No, the journalistic jizz lobbers are still flinging it about.

There’s a new book published today by the journalists who helped to break the story and Andrew Pierce – the Telegraph’s assistant editor – has been out doing interviews and whetting the public’s appetite for this tome with an insight into where the whole series of revelations began – the original source…

The mole in the Ministry.

(You really can’t make this shit up, can you?)

According to the Telegraph:

The mole who leaked details of MPs’ expenses says he was partly motivated by anger at inadequate equipment for UK troops, the Daily Telegraph reported.

It says staff sorting through MPs’ receipts were guarded by servicemen on leave moonlighting to earn extra money.

The mole said their stories “helped tip the balance” in the decision to leak details – the Telegraph has confirmed it paid £110,000 for the information.

So, we have a group of civil servants working on the redaction of MPs’ expenses claims who hear their guards’ stories, contrast these with the outlandish claims for things like duck houses and moat cleaning and then one of them feels such outrage that he decides to make the whole thing public.

As Pierce says:

…servicemen had overheard staff working on MPs’ receipts: “As civil servants were redacting, or censoring, or covering up, or Tippexing out up the difficult details, they were exclaiming out loud to each other… ‘Oh my god, can you see what they’ve claimed for?'”

Fair enough, but that £110 000 niggles a bit.

So, this shitweasel Pierce has to dress it up a little by calling the payment of a considerable sum of money, in return for possibly the biggest scoop of the present century, an ‘insurance’ policy.

(He) told the BBC the payment to the source of the leak was an “insurance policy” for the mole, as that person would lose their job if the government discovered their identity. He also said it was “cheap at the price” as MPs had already repaid hundreds of thousands of pounds.

He said: “We paid £110,000 to the source. And let me just say, so far the taxpayer has been reimbursed by MPs £500,000, and there will be more; we have got a much better Commons as a result of it.”

As I said above, I’m a cynical sort and whilst I don’t question the right of the mole to feel outrage, leak the information and then cover his own pinstriped arse financially, it’s just as much chequebook journalism as Jordan’s gynaecologist getting paid by the News of the World for revealing what sort of furniture and decor she has up her lady crack.

Pierce then goes on to try and make the £110K sound insignificant by contrasting it with the paltry £500 000 the MPs have paid back so far.

Then he completely fucking loses it and tells us we have a better Commons.

We do?

Well, I didn’t fucking notice it.

When the cunting fuck did that happen?

I’m not saying that the Telegraph didn’t ultimately do us all a favour by exposing the MPs’ troughing, but the way that Pierce talks, you’d think his paper did it out of some sense of altruism.

Increased circulation figures…higher advertising revenues…money, cash, dosh, moolah, readies, folding.

That’s all the Telegraph as a player in the MSM fucking cares about.

And as for that cash-in book…Constantly Furious expresses my opinions precisely.

But the story doesn’t end here.

The other ‘interested parties’ get to have their say.

The MoD itself:

Sources at the Ministry of Defence (MoD) have cast doubt on whether serving soldiers would be allowed, or have the time, to moonlight as security guards. But Mr Pierce said the newspaper had “clear evidence” some were doing extra work to buy equipment.


The MoD says its top priority is to get the “best equipment” for troops.

OK, maybe the MoD are right (who knows? It could happen) and servicemen haven’t been moonlighting to buy extra vital equipment, but it’s a fact that servicemen have had to buy their own equipment due to a combination of MoD inefficiency, negligence and downright incompetence.

Of course, our dear Prime Minister Gordon Brown now gets a chance to answer questions about this affair.

Asked on Sky News if he understood the motivation for the expenses leak, Prime Minister Gordon Brown said: “I don’t think so.”

What the fuck?

Firm, decisive, unequivocal, isn’t he?


He added: “MPs have got to live in two places at once – that is a big problem.

Yes, Gordon, it’s a big problem because those of us who pay tax have to pay for these useless troughers’ two homes and we’re fucking sick of being used like some sort of cash cow for the cunts to repeatedly yank at our money teats and cash udders.

“As far as the troops in Afghanistan are concerned, right throughout the period I have been chancellor and then prime minister, I have been determined to make sure that the troops that are serving our country are properly paid, that we make proper allowance for them, that we give them the best equipment, that we help them in every way possible.”

Which is just – and there’s really no other way to put this – a total fucking lie.

Then the MoD gets in on the act again.

The MoD said: “Since 2006, we have delivered equipment valued at more than £10bn to the armed forces. “Every soldier who deploys to Afghanistan receives Osprey body armour and a Mark 6a helmet.

“They also receive a black bag containing all their operational requirements. Valued at £3,500, it contains everything a soldier will need from boots and socks to camel backs.”

Camel backs…how appropriate…anyone got a fucking straw?

And black bags?

No shortage of those leaving Afghanistan, is there?

So, what do we have at the end of this rather tawdry and sordid bout of mutual masturbation by the Telegraph, the MoD and Gordon Brown?

Looks like everyone’s a winner at first glance…

  • The Telegraph maintains its image of crusading MSM seeker after truth and justice.
  • The mole trousers £110 000 and gets to keep his no doubt grossly-distended salary and his taxpayer-subsidised, inflation-proof, final salary pension.
  • The authors of the new book will probably sell shitloads rehashing old news – although we can always hope for their books to appear in the remainder bin in some discount book shop sometime next January.
  • The MoD gets to trot out its lies and false reassurances that our troops are properly equipped and again remains unchallenged.
  • Gordon Brown gets to wriggle off the hook again like the lying and dysfunctional fucking maggot that he is.

Yes, everyone manages to emerge from this stinking pile of shit smelling like fucking roses.

Everyone except the troops and the British public, that is…

They‘ still don’t get it, do they?

The cunts.

The utter fucking cunts.

One for the Count – Green on Red

This is for Count Druncula…

The Paisley Underground was pretty influential on what’s come to be known as alt-country and at the fringes of it was a band called Green on Red, who – like so many great US acts – were very successful here and in Europe but less so in Usania.

Green on Red weren’t quite as obviously country-influenced as their contemporaries like True West although they did get more country-inclined as their career drew to a close.

Anyway, for a while Green on Red – fronted by the slightly crazed Dan Stuart – made a few OKish albums, but then they got a new guitarist called Chuck Prophet who seemed to ignite something in the band that had been there for a while but not really come to the fore – a certain stoned and world-weary, almost suicidally dark, mood that was the perfect medium for Stuart’s vocals and Prophet’s guitar working together but in total contrast.

Stuart and Prophet made a few Green on Red albums, of which Here Come the Snakes, This Time Around and Scapegoats were the best and contain a mixture of sensitive but death-obsessed love songs and ballads and some really quite angry rockers which often sound ‘up’ but on closer examination appear to have been written after a handful of downers.

And bleak?

It’s three in the morning I can’t get to sleep
I know I’m in trouble, I’m in trouble deep oh no, oh no
The bankers have taken the Chevy away
It’s the only thing left around here anyway except you, except you
I can’t understand all of the things that I put you through

I hear a noise but it ain’t your car
You don’t complain ’bout the job at the bar anymore, anymore
You gave a vow to stay by my side
You were 14 when I made you my bride forever, amen
Don’t you know babe I would do it all over again

Good patient woman, you won’t have to wait for me anymore

Looking at pictures of you on the wall
Cutting the cake we were having a ball, that Sunday, way back when
We never had children as hard as we tried
Lately at night I hear you crying softly, alone in the dark
Dreaming of laughing and playing with kids in the park

Good patient woman, you won’t have to wait for me anymore

The sun is arisin’, I’m cleaning my gun,
This nightmare ain’t over I hope you had fun oh darling, my sweet little woman
Nothing’s forever but I got my doubts
I’m going upstairs, I’m gonna find out what’s waiting, for me now
Baby don’t miss me I was no good for you anyhow
Baby don’t miss me I was no good for you anyhow

Bleak doesn’t begin to describe some of their lyrics.

File under: Proto-Alt-Country.

Here’s a clip from the latter days of the band’s heyday.

London 1992, the Town & Country Club and Green on Red.