Zippy for mayor!

The comments section in the online Daily Mail is often worth a chuckle.

Today has been no exception with the news that the UK is about to get its first BNP mayor.

The worst rated comment on the story reads as follows:

What a disgrace. People should not be allowed to vote for fascist parties. The UK is a democracy not a Nazi state.

– Rainbow, Hackney, 12/4/2011 13:30

I don’t think Rainbow quite gets this democracy stuff…

It lives!

After 3 months without internet access at all, and the previous 8 months being a miserable crawl using a 3G dongle that made the days of 56K dialup seem almost fucking halcyon in comparison, we now have broadband here in the deepest wilds of the Mayenne.

Sure, it’s only 2MB, but it’s a very reliable and consistent 2MB and comes as part of an Orange ADSL package that gives us the interwebs, unlimited national and international VOIP phone calls and French TV for a reasonable price.

We finally moved into our house last Friday and this coming Friday marks the beginning of our second year here.

We can’t decide whether the past year has flown by or we’ve been here forever.

Regrets about leaving the UK?

Absolutely fucking none.

The hardest thing is leaving the people we love behind – family and friends – but we’ve been back to the UK twice, are going at least twice this year and have had visitors with more to come.

The continued existence of this blog was never in question and, rest assured, it will be regularly updated with the usual mixture of comment, music reviews and reports from France on what we’re up to.

I’d thought about creating separate blogs for these categories but decided against it as I’d rather put my energies into the writing rather than organise several blogs.

I’m back.

‘English Nationalist’ outed

Regular readers of this blog may recall that about 18 months ago, a highly disturbed individual calling himself ‘English Nationalist’ left many abusive comments in response to some of my articles about the English Democrats.

Here are a couple of examples of English Nationalist’s ’wit’:

Steve No wonder, you are so angry, I guess it’s a long time since you got laid !!!!!
I guess you have to make do with the Hand Shandies
Who do you shopping with to get those clothes
David Blunkett ?
What a loser

and

You look like a Cunt and write like a Cunt

Email notifications from WordPress showed that the comments were sent from an EDP mail account and a specific IP address:

Author : English Nationalist (IP: 81.2.97.151 , mail.engdemmail.org)
E-mail : England@EngDem.org
URL    : http://www.EngDem.org
Whois  : http://ws.arin.net/cgi-bin/whois.pl?queryinput=81.2.97.151

Now, here’s some interesting information obtained from a domain lookup site:

Domain ID:D134828206-LROR
Domain Name:ENGDEMMAIL.ORG
Created On:11-Dec-2006 16:58:24 UTC
Last Updated On:11-Dec-2009 12:33:45 UTC
Expiration Date:11-Dec-2010 16:58:24 UTC
Sponsoring Registrar:BB Online UK Limited (R20-LROR)
Status:CLIENT TRANSFER PROHIBITED
Registrant ID:1165856300o89536
Registrant Name:Steven Uncles
Registrant Organization:D****** and*********** ***
Registrant Street1:***** *****
Registrant Street2:
Registrant Street3:
Registrant City:**********************
Registrant State/Province:D*******
Registrant Postal Code:D** ***
Registrant Country:GB
Registrant Phone:+44.7*********
Registrant Phone Ext.:
Registrant FAX:+44.7*********
Registrant FAX Ext.:
Registrant Email: steven.uncles@d******-*****.co.uk

(The asterisks are all mine as I wouldn’t want anyone’s personal details disclosed on this blog. I’m also not giving the URL for the above domain information for the same reasons.)

Anyway, there we have it.

Steven Uncles and ‘English Nationalist’, who both use the same mail server at Engdem.org – and which is registered to Uncles, are one and the same person.

This comes as absolutely no surprise to me as English Nationalist’s and Uncles’ writing styles were identical. I didn’t say so at the time, because I didn’t want the hassle for personal reasons.

Now, however, I now have no hesitation in exposing ‘English Nationalist’ and condemning Uncles as an inept, ignorant, arrogant, devious, sick fat fuck who hasn’t got the balls to post comments here under his real name.

(OK, I may be ‘SteveShark’ here, but anyone with half a working brain cell could discover my real name.)

Not only that, but he’s done the same thing many times elsewhere under a variety of aliases using the same domain mail server.

No wonder the EDP remains unelectable whilst it has such a total liability funding and publicising the party. 

An English Democrat gets his wish

Well, he must have his own private fucking genii because the moronic EDP motherfucker who seemed to want to see a bit more ‘get up and go’ in evidence on the streets of the UK certainly got his wish today.

School pupils as young as 14 decided to take the day off school and protest against the hike in student tuition fees and the involvement of the Lib Dems in all of this.

Fortunately, most of the protests passed off peacefully, although as I’ve just seen on the local London BBC regional news program tonight, it got a bit fraught in the capital – particularly around Whitehall. Indeed, as I write this, I’ve just seen a report from a ‘kettled’ area where a bus shelter has been set on fire. Earlier, steel barriers were thrown at police lines and an isolated police vehicle was cut off by protesters and vandalised.

Even worse, I’ve just seen Lenny Henry – surely one of the most overrated UK comedians of all time – on the One Show cracking a joke that the protests at least meant that students had stopped eating Doritos, put their trousers on, turned off Trisha and gone out to do something.

So what about the 14 year old school kids kettled in Whitehall while you’re in a nice cosy studio, Lenny? Pleased to see them go out and do something instead of that boring old schoolwork – like bunking off school and getting kettled, perhaps?

Cunt.

And speaking of cunts…

Who knows, perhaps the EDP shithead who wanted to see a bit more UK street action has a son or daughter kettled at this very moment in Whitehall!

It’s possible, as I understand that the party has a bit of a presence in Kent, and in its towns such as Dartford, so it must be easy enough to nip up to the capital’s streets where ‘guts were being displayed’ today.

Although it’s easy enough to mobilise large numbers of people – mobile phones, Twitter, Facebook, etc – when the various groups of school pupils got to the protest, many of them interviewed seemed upset that what they had intended to be a 100% non-violent event had been hijacked by certain elements who were intent on violence.

And there’s the danger.

When you’re 14, 15, 16, you’re not always aware that you might be being manipulated and your enthusiasms subverted by people whose aims are rather different to yours. That’s not a criticism, it’s just part of being young, and manipulation is manipulation, whether it’s by anarchists or record company executives. To many people, the young are fair game.

They certainly were today.

I’m not totally without sympathy with the broad thrust of the protesters today. After all, I benefited from a cheap degree with no tuition fees, but then I’ve also seen a blind dogmatic rush towards degrees for everybody at any cost by the last three Labour governments. This created an unsustainable demand on public money for cheap university education which we now simply cannot afford. And that’s another inevitable and inherent problem with being 14 or 15; a failure to appreciate that money will only stretch so far (after all, you don’t have to earn the fucking stuff), such as when you ask your parents for a new pair of £100 trainers. 

So, Mr Englsih (sic) Democrat, I don’t know whether your child’s shivering its arse off inside a police kettle in Whitehall at this very moment, but someone’s child certainly is.

Quite a few of them in fact.

Maybe you should be more careful what you wish for…

Che’s dead

Here in strike-torn France the whole situation seems rather bizarre.

Out here in the sticks we obviously don’t get any mobs of disaffected students torching cars but we are seeing a few signs of the strike action biting.

I managed to fill the car up last Friday and a good job too, as when we went shopping yesterday the filling station at the Pouance Super U supermarket (our nearest source of fuel and groceries) seemed to be closed when it’s usually open.

With rural areas here being large and empty, it’s a 10km drive to Pouance so merely driving there to see if there’s any petrol is a gamble with a 20km round trip – a few of those and you soon get through what’s in the tank. So, we’re keeping driving to a minimum which is why we went panic buying shopping yesterday.

We’re now pretty well stocked up for about a fortnight or so and bread (nearest baker’s is a 5km drive away) isn’t even a problem as we have plenty of flour and yeast for the breadmaker.

Watching France 24 – an English-speaking satellite TV channel – I’m struck by how many students and also just kids seem to be just pitching in during the rioting and just generally behaving badly.

The main problems here, however, lie with workers at the fuel depots, ports and refineries, as well as the lorry drivers and it’s quite a shock to see militant socialism manifesting itself here after living in the UK and watching it decline dramatically to almost zero.

All the protests and industrial action are aimed at Sarkozy and the current action in resisting the increase of the retirement age here from 60 to 62 just seems an excuse to test him and his government. No-one really seems to like him and I’ve just heard that 71% of the French people support the strike action.

My position?

Fuck it.

I can’t say that I’m too fussed about it. It’s not really my quarrel after all, although I do admit to feeling mildly annoyed when I watch protestors carrying banners with the image of Che Guevara.

Tell you what, live for a year in North Korea and come back feeling positive about socialism and I’ll buy a Che t-shirt…

Socialism doesn’t fucking work and Che Guevara is dead.

End of.

The success of failure…the failure of success

Language is an amazing thing…

…whether it’s your own with all the expressive power and beauty that you can summon up in order to communicate or a foreign language that you’re trying to come to grips with.

After 7 months here in France, it’s getting slowly but steadily easier to both understand spoken French and to speak it ourselves.

I find the whole French language ‘experience’ very rewarding and today was great, with an hour-long chat with our neighbour, totally in French, and then arranging a delivery of firewood with M. Thireau at Renaze when I also had to give him directions to our place, again all in French.

Obviously, I’m still exposed to English (we’re not so immersed in the culture that we’re conversing in French at home, and the Sky Box carries all the usual English-speaking channels) and the few ex-pats that we have dealings with – we didn’t move here to get involved in some sort of British enclave – give us a chance to chat in our Mother Tongue from time to time.

However, after intermittently watching British TV here for a few months, I feel forced to ask, what the FUCK has happened to the English language?

In particular, what the FUCK is it with all this ‘heart and soul’ and ‘with passion/passionate about’ shite?

It seems that almost everyone who does anything has done, is doing or will do whatever it is with all their ‘heart and soul’ or that they’re ‘passionate’ about it.

It doesn’t matter what it is, there’s always this self-promoting, self-justifying cack which really doesn’t mean anything after even superficial analysis.

I’ve even heard it justifying total failure where it’s used as some sort of excuse – ‘well, I was really passionate about it’ – as if simply wanting to do something was some sort of key to success. What about skill, talent, practice or self-discipline, for fuck’s sake? 

Everyone, from an X-Factor contestant to a Commonwealth Games competitor, puts their ‘heart and soul’ into their efforts and says so with monotonous regularity  – but how else should they approach their endeavours if they’re serious about gaining success?

But it’s not just that these once valid but sparingly-used expressions of supreme effort and mental dedication have lapsed into cliché – they’re now used to justify lacklustre and mediocre achievement and even abject failure.

Fuck me…I can just about tolerate these expressions from people who clearly make an effort – it’s just lazy speech – but when it’s some obviously talentless twat in a TV talent show then it’s a bit more than just linguistic sloppiness – it’s self-delusion, as they clearly mean it.

Personally, I find it somehow emblematic of a generation, sapped of ambition through a culture of tolerance towards the average and mediocre, which now believes that merely stating that an effort has been made is the same as actually making an effort.

Increasingly low expectations in society  have robbed people of the ability to self-criticise and self-evaluate, with the result that even complete failure can be judged as some sort of success as long as the ‘passion’ was there or that one’s ‘heart and soul’ were in it.

I can clearly remember being told by my parents and teachers that as long as I did my best then it was no shame if I failed, but it seems that today it’s sufficient just to state that you did your best, even though no real effort was made. Thus the individual is taught to deceive himself in a misguided attempt to insulate him from failure.

But it goes even deeper than this.

Decades of deception on the part of successive governments and education experts have created a myth – the myth that no matter what background and/or intellectual capacity an individual has, he or she can be equipped to transcend these specific and often fixed limits and become enabled to achieve success. In essence, it’s a very laudable aim – but impossible to attain unless you lower your sights and redefine success.

A prime example of this can be found in the well-documented practice by some primary schools a couple of decades ago of banishing the competitive element from events like sports day. All participants were considered achievers and given a certificate regardless of whether they’d come first or last.

No-one lost.

But no-one won.

Those who came first were deprived of any sense of achievement and those who came last were deceived into thinking that they’d achieved equal placing with the winners.

Given that these children then entered a competitive society upon leaving school, many of them were ill-equipped to deal with competitiveness in the wider arena of work and other social situations.

(Nowadays, of course, we’re doing the same thing but with university students and Media Studies degrees…)

With educationalists seemingly given carte blanche over the last 50 years or so and government attempts at social engineering (admitted by those responsible in the last three Labour governments of the last 13 years) seeking to introduce equality across the socio-economic strata defined by ethnicity, gender, religion, race, income, environment and education, the British public was sold a monstrous lie – the lie that everyone could be a winner. In purely Darwinian terms this is a patent impossibility and, within the complex social structures of human society, pure fantasy.

Yes, equality of opportunity is a worthy goal, but only within very broad limits. Taking a metaphor from the school sports day example above, you can produce equal placings in a 100 yard dash if you handicap the faster runners with a time or distance penalty, but would those results have any real meaning either to the runners themselves or the doting parents?

Indeed, you could just dispense with entering potential winners in the race and thus ensure that some of the potential losers won – and that’s just what happened when the concept of ‘positive discrimination’ began to manifest itself in job selection, and shortlists and quotas began to specify that only certain groups of people would be considered for certain posts. Thus, those with a proven track record of success or obvious potential were often denied access to certain positions. So, once again, success was left unrewarded and the mediocre – and occasionally the failures – elevated to jobs beyond their skill sets.

Even within government itself, failure appears to be rewarded, with serial incompetents such as David Blunkett and Lord Fondlebum being given new cabinet posts after serious lapses of judgement and after a suitable period of time. Lesser figures in national and local government, finance, the Civil Service and a wide variety of public services seem to be able to escape accountability with impunity and, even when they are unable to continue in their job, often benefit from substantial severance payments and generous pension deals.

Naturally, the media plays a part in this celebration of the mediocre…

On one TV channel you can watch a documentary about the British airmen who fought in the Battle of Britain who really did put their ‘heart and soul’ into what they did, and often lost their lives in the process. Although I don’t doubt that their mental state must have been in turmoil, to say the least, prior to scrambling, nevertheless they just went ahead and flew off to an uncertain fate and possible death.

However, on another channel you can watch the day to day work of a haulage company, Eddie Stobart. I’ve just seen an extract involving the trucking of a load of cream cakes to Tesco in Didcot with the driver nervously saying what a difficult load it was. Now, whilst I have the greatest respect for truckers – with the exception of those fuckers who overtake their colleagues on the motorway with only a 1 mph speed advantage – it’s not exactly a matter of national defence or a process which might well result in death.

So, we celebrate the mundane in the same terms as we celebrate the heroic with few of us aware of the absurdity of it all.

Meanwhile, the absurdity formed after years of social manipulation and the drive for equality at all costs sits like a tumour at the heart of our society – success is largely derided unless it’s approved by a celebrity TV jury and failure is accepted as an inevitable consequence of equality.

Indeed, at times, I’m hard-pressed to tell the difference between success and failure… 

Hornets and a Wasp

I’ve posted quite a lot about the number of strange (to us) creatures we’ve seen since we’ve been living in the Mayenne and it’s been a fantastic experience  observing the French flora and fauna but – as with most pleasures – there’s a downside…

According to one of our future neighbours, the west of France has a major wasp problem.

Although I can’t find anything to confirm this on the interwebs, anecdotal evidence here seems to confirm it, with another of our future neighbours regularly complaining about the effect they have on his bees. He has several hives and his honey production is suffering.

But it’s not only the wasps, it’s the hornets – les frelons. This is a new word in my French vocabulary and one I wish I didn’t know.

Whilst wasps don’t really bother me – live and let live, plus they kill garden pests – hornets are a different matter.

They seem bolder and more inquisitive than wasps and they also pack a very painful sting and although I’m quite a peaceful soul as regards pests (flies, mosquitoes and rats are fair game but I can tolerate most other creatures around me) hornets are rapidly becoming a nuisance and are now dealt with accordingly.

However, whilst a simple whack with a fly swat can at least stun a wasp long enough for you to really lamp the bugger with a handy shoe or other weighty object, should the need arise, it takes more than a swipe with the swat to bring down a hornet.

Jesus Christ, they’re tough bastards!

We recently bought a spray which seemed to be the most lethal on the market and specifically for guepes (wasps) and frelons.

Wasps don’t stand a fucking chance! It kills them immediately – and I’ve even used it on a nest which is now wasp Chernobyl. Hornets are a different matter though.

I trapped a hornet in between a window and a shutter at about 11 o’clock last night, gave the gap a good spray very quickly and left the pesticide to do its stuff.

When I opened the shutter to get the dead hornet out, sure enough, there it was on the floor…but it wasn’t dead…

It lay there, visibly twitching – untill I twatted the bugger with one of my steel toecapped work boots. It was one dead motherfucker then.

Although I can’t find anything recent about a plague of hornets in France, I did find this from 2007:

The French honey industry is under threat from hordes of bee-massacring oriental hornets, the Daily Telegraph reports.

The forests of Aquitaine, in south-west France, now play host to swarms of the the Asian Hornet, Vespa velutina, which is believed to have arrived there “from the Far East in a consignment of Chinese pottery in late 2004”.

Entomogist Jean Haxaire, who first eyeballed the invaders, said: “Their spread across French territory has been like lightning.”

Haxaire said he’s now counted 85 “football-shaped” nests across the 40 miles which separate the towns of Marmande and Podensac “in the Lot et Garonne department where the hornets were first spotted”.

The Asian Hornet can cause some serious damage to a human, “inflicting a bite which has been compared to a hot nail entering the body”. But that’s not the principal threat they pose. They can decimate a nest of 30,000 bees “in a couple of hours” in search of larvae on which to feed their young. This, unsurprisingly, gives local beekeepers serious cause for alarm.

470paul_sackey,0

Co-incidentally, another bunch of fucking pests, the EDP, seem to have lost a Wasp they’d rather have liked to have kept. Paul Sackey now plays for Toulon in France. This may well be old news, but it’s new to me. Sackey is one – perhaps the only one – of the party’s celebrity endorsers. I wonder how the party feels about him playing in France? Actually, scrap that – I really don’t give a flying fuck.

Maggot wriggles off hook

My heart fucking bleeds for the troughing cunt

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Former Home Secretary Jacqui Smith has been told to apologise in the House of Commons for breaching expenses rules.

Not content with ripping off the taxpayer, with the only ‘punishment’ for this a semi-public apology, this fucking trougher is still trotting out the same old tired fucking shit that she and her fellow sty members  have consistently used to justify their greed.

In a written response to the inquiry Ms Smith said: “I am disappointed that this process has not led to a fairer set of conclusions, based on objective and consistent application of the rules as they were at the time.”

She said the report, “appears to be heavily influenced by subjective judgements about my personal circumstances”.

No shame, no humility, no acknowledgment that she, along with the rest of the troughing cunts, fucked the taxpayer over for every last penny that she could screw us for.

We even paid for her husband’s wank films…

I urge everyone, don’t let this shit get buried.

Remember it – if you blog, blog it – just don’t let these cunts wriggle off the hook.

If we let these cockdrips get away with it, they’ll just buttfuck us all again.

That’s a big juicy one – oo-er, missus!

photo2

The only things that seem to grow in our garden are courgettes and these buggers.

It looks good but I’m not eating it.

Think I might make a Mandelson pumpkin head out of it, stick the bastard on a pole and just watch it rot.

Not as good as the real thing but should be mildly entertaining.

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.

Then:

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?

Er…no.

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.