Gurgle gurgle glug!

What a relief beer is.
An Irish prostitute has three clients in her parlour; she says:
"Whichever of you men can tell me where he's from without stuttering gets it for free."
The first man speaks.
"I'm from D...dd..dd.Dublin!"
The second man tries.
"I'm from C....c...c....c.....Cork!"
Finally the third man laughs.
"I'm from London!"

The prostitute smiles and takes him by the hand.
In her bedroom she makes him lie down and removes his clothes.
"Derry!"

Silly.

They're at it again.
A bloke in the 'good' pub tells me where he lives. I don't fall for the possible Co-Dependent eqiuvalence.
He doesn't have a phone.(He always has before).Where's the phone box?
I finish my beer.
I walk back to my mum's house, but outside the bad guy's pub I see the bloke again, this time holding a mobile.
No problem.

I walk up an alley and get to the house without being seen or followed.
The wrong way, of course, so they still don't know the address.
But it is interesting; my bolshy neighbour has been quiet for two days.

I wasn't surprised, except by their stupidity in insisting on digging a bigger and bigger hole for themselves.
Talk about flies and shit?

Most Triumphant, Dudes

'Dude' is a word invented by Oscar Wilde;the car in the picture was invented by Triumph Motors in the mid sixties.
They built a complete new engine plant in '65 just to build the straight six 2 and 2.5 litre engines for the Triumph 2000 Saloon.

It had all-round independent suspension and adjustable everything.
Unfortunately Triumph became part of BLMC, and when the 'Saloon finally became obsolete(after soldiering on into the late 70's),they simply shut down production and that was that.

Canadian Conquest.

Intelligence has often suggested the existence of 'fairly secret armies' in England.
I believe I am seeing a pattern in Canada too.

The Canadian pattern of subornment is somewhat different from the British model; the Canadian model is overtly aggressive, relying on 'shock and awe' in the breaching of normal civilities to overwhelm the victim; the victim is then left alone for a while, before being tempted out of his or her misery and into the newly civil social circuits being closed by the agent.

This was first tried on me by a (demented) Canadian in England in 1987.
I clocked him one.
What?
I gobbed him.
Pardon?
Yeah, I give 'im a smack in the teeth.

He shut up and went away looking as though he had failed at something.
He seemed to be following a plan.
It didn't happen again, but I have noticed that the Canadian pattern is applied in the absence of appropriate social responses in Canada(ie politeness is no response when you need to clock him one.
What?
Gob him, give him a fat lip.)

So anyway, I conclude that the conspiracy is trans-national, but the Canadian Pattern is tinged with nationalism in that this 'fairly secret army' sees itself as honour-bound to save young Canadians from themselves, like a bear protecting her cubs.
Doubtless for this reason, it is fawningly indulged by the Canadian Establishment;but it is also the reason why so many millions of Canadians have been co-opted into supporting the Liberal status quo.

In fact this non-official organisation is probably intertwined with many government officials, police, civil servants and so on, as well as many other groups.

The dead giveaway is the pattern of the technique-as always and everywhere, fake passion leads to sudden(and jarring) reason, and this is the obvious product of deliberate calculation.

Sweet dreams, Canada.

It's Space Travel, Jim...

...but not as we know it.

In this month's issue there are a couple of pages devoted to Warp Science.
Apparently 'negative energy' would form a bubble around a space-ship which would then compress space in front and expand space behind.
How they would do this is unknown.
How they would produce an effect outside the bubble is unknown.

Frankly I think that essentially moving the universe is a non-starter.

But it made me think; space can expand 'faster' than light(as there is nothing, null, to which it is relative).

So what you do is create a plug of space behind the ship while removing a plug from in front.

This could be done discretely, or else 'in a limit' so that smooth motion is achieved.

This would not require all the energy in the universe, and would not alter space except locally.

Creating and destroying space around the ship would probably require a greater understanding of gravity, since the only naturally occuring localised destruction of space that I know of is in a 'Black Hole'.


My theory doesn't have much in common with those of the Physicists, but then I'm one of those dreadfully impractical practical people.

I'd love to hear thoughts on this.

Happy Day,Falu Falay!

Spotted this classic car on the way to Skipton.
It's French, a Citroen 2CV, first prototyped in 1939 and hidden from the Nazis all through the occupation.
Renault, on the other hand, gave aid to Germany and was nationalised for its trouble after the Liberation.

The 2 CV was in production right up to the 90s, and the car was a favourite of Greenies, even though it was finally stopped because it couldn't meet modern emissions standards.

Its toughness was legendary, with air-cooled engines and torsion-bar suspension that maximised wheel travel while occupying next-to-no volume.

Also a good day, because I have finally found a newsagent who can get me Popular Science.
Great magazine.
Now for some R&R in the world of the extropic enthusiasts of the scientific frontier.
And yes.
Some of the science comes from the UK.

The Virtue Of Talent

The virtue of talent is the name I give to that indispensable moral filament which exists simultaneously in the mind and the heart.
It is a virtue which is the root of all usefulness in the artefacts with which we surround ourselves.
The continuing existence of this virtue may be judged from the usefulness of these products and our ability to derive pleasure from them.

What the vampire wants (see the picture), is the talent without the virtue.
This scum thinks that by turning us into stunted little units of 'usefulness', as if talent could be divorced from consciousness, it will inherit a garden of approximate harmony which continues to grow those things it requires for its miserable power-plays.

Be they neighbourly apartments or neighbourly Nation States.

Metaphysically, this talent is grown and nurtured by productive work.
Experimentally, they try to control it, by applying a moral throttle to our virtuous emotions, as if they believe they can hide us from ourselves.

British Socialists think that metaphysical virtue is the preserve of the 'Working Class heroes', to be jealously guarded as the 'birthright' of their clients, while other groups see it as a threat to hegemony in society.
This is why the paternalists and socialists of all sides united in their hatred of Margaret Thatcher.
This is why they claim that they are indispensible as only they can get along and 'govern by concensus'.
In fact they are united against freedom, but oh, so subtly.
No free man must be allowed to succeed.
But if they like him even a little, they will only apply their techniques in scientific subtlety.
(For his 'own good',of course).

So he will only be tortured for an hour each day after returning from work, that unpredictable crucible of underground virtues, until he forgets. Then they will leave him in peace (under threat?) for another day.

Trouble is, if he works in the torture chamber as well he might recognise the pattern.
The real 'experiment' in Blairista Britain is how much control can be exerted on the working man; they really intend to marry micromanagement models to demand economics, even if they have to destroy every mind in the country.
And I didn't mean that we would all suffer a collapse into delusional insanity-I meant that the Virtue of Talent would be eradicated in the quest to control it.


They will fail.

Is This The Beginning of the End?

Or merely the end of the beginning?
The picture is of one Mark Collett, a member of the British National Party who is standing for council in Leeds.

When I got home today, I found a BNP leaflet in my letterbox.
The leaflet was the usual, glossy colour brochure telling us why a vote for them was a vote for common sense(isn't it always?).

I went back out to get my beer.
Across the street were three sharp, gel-haired young suited yobs, still leafletting.
I paid them no heed.
Then one of them who was most definitely not looking at me called his friend a 'twat'.

Now I've been around, and I know what this sort of behaviour ius supposed to do.
Loud, non-specific insults like that are a moral 'Agent Orange', designed to defoliate the civil norms and make 'ordinary' people keep their heads down.

On the way back from the beer-shop, I crossed to their side to take a closer look, expecting to observe a couple of young thugs who didn't amount to much.

The face I saw was far greater than that.
It was the sort of face I'd seen in 'upside-down' people in London.
In other words, a Wise-Guy.

There was no heed apparently paid to me.Apparently.

But now I'm beginning to wonder; the BNP is most definitely Nazi, an easy call since they sponsor Racial Preference as a government policy.

But in a world of Nazis(Labour, Liberal, even Conservative), they sound almost sensible.

Which is dangerous enough.
But I have to wonder; is MI5 aware of the highly probable link between the BNP and outright criminals?

This would be a far greater and more present danger than any political stance.

The Emasculation Of Virtue

What can I possibly mean by my title?
Surely the virtues are those qualities which are promoted in society in order to make every life better?

Well. All depends what you mean by 'virtue'.

It is quite common for people who wish to be 'bad'(that's their 'thing'), to be able to identify, hopefully, any person of 'virtue' and promptly apply their talents to causing suffering.
Trouble is they don't really have a very clear idea of what 'virtue' is; they just possess a collection of experiences which at some time in the past has revealed their apparent power over such people.
So these bums act more in hope than in knowledge, and they are likely to suffer a moral collapse as soon as their pool of suppositions is exhausted.
The virtuous target proves to be out of their reach.

On a more serious level, what do I mean by virtue?
Virtues are qualities, surely, that arise from the Human enaction of certain principles-principles that promote life.
These are what I regard as virtues.
I won't be more specific for now, but I will say that most of these exist on an underground level most of the time.
Like the song by the Police, 'Invisible Sun'.
For every comedian who thinks that they are 'bad', there are dozens of bad people who think they are 'good'.

And these are the seriously dangerous in the competition to emasculate virtue.
They understand that the mind is the source of virtue(Sunshine) which threatens their shadow-land 'existence'.
So they attack the mind at every opportunity.
Their one ambition is to be parasitically linked(like a weevil, a mite, a mosquito-or a neighbour) to some person of virtue, genuine or imagined, in order to refresh whatever muck is in their heads day to day, with the real-life person(who is supposed to be their real-life victim) being the repeat-violated victim for 'ever'.

This is the leit-motif of modern-day England.

Of course, in the effort to ignore the continual attacks on the mind(because action is not always immediate), we are forced 'out of our minds'.
We have walls of forgetfulness; the clouds are thrust into our souls to obscure the shining of our personal Suns.

The 'good' drag on in desperate hope of witnessing a reaction, a futile reaction, from behind their gated doors and walls of masonry.
Yes.
They would die.
They would die for their urges.
They would see us kill them, safe in the presumption that we could not be virtuous if we were 'murderers', or put in prison.
Then we would be 'no better than we ought'. Or a North American.
And they would consider it worthwhile.

Of course, we just consider them to be chronic disturbance, an irritating background noise that just doesn't seem to want to go away.
Whereas they need us for their chronic Gotterdamerung fantasy, we wait, patiently, for the time when appropriate civic action or inappropriate civic action or time will remove them from us or us from them.
British society is on the run.
Running to houses, investing in 'property', setting forth into internal exile and hoping never to have this analysis thrust upon them.

They get to their house, they sit down at long last in the quiet, and then they discover that they have been so effectively walled out of virtue for so long, that there is nothing left for them to see or do that they will ever be good at.
Except for those who learn young-but most of those were pushed, and they learn without knowing.

British society?
We are a nation of moral imbeciles, and we have the bastards who hate all life to thank for it.

It's Cold Up North.

This is a mosque.
You can see the minnarets and the crescents.
Judging by the enormous fence and the trees, it is huge.

You judged wrong.
The houses in the background are the famous 'back-to-backs' of industrial England, small houses with a couple of rooms on each floor.
The tree is a bush.
The fence is five feet high.

Apparently they built a 'mini-me' among mosques, a clone of the Middle Eastern giants, and like Mini Me, the mosque in the photo is neither imposing nor frightening.
What is puzzling, however, is why it is so small.
There is enough ground to build an imposing structure along traditional lines, but the local community must have been short of money. There are several large churches close by.

If this faith had any desire to possess relevance to real life, they would have hired an architect to build something different, like the Jews and Christians of various sorts, with their many, different types of god-box.
Look at any number of 1960's churches, built in many styles(not unlike the church in the Simpsons), but look at mosques and you see this nonsensical, sentimental adherence to a culture which was close to alien in its own land only thirty years ago.

Perhaps this is a conscious 'renaissance', a mirror image of the Doric absurdity of so much Western architecture a hundred years ago.

If so, the Moslems are certainly making a statement.
Perhaps a statement of intent. Perhaps only a statement of intent to live in this way wherever they are, although some definitely proclaim sedition.
Architecture speaks too.

A Little Light Relief...

courtesy of one of the men at work.
He does a little stand up on the side.
A man visits Canada. He comes to a large lake. At the store he asks what he should see.
The storekeeper says, "See Joe the Indian. He's the best 'memory man' in the country."

So the man walks around the lake, and sees a tall, gaunt Indian standing by the shore.
"Hello. Are you Joe?"
"Yes."
"Can I ask you any question, and you'll give me the answer?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Who won the FA cup in 1937?"
"It was Bolton Wanderers, 1-0."
"Yes! That's amazing!"

The man went back to England, and didn't visit Canada again for ten years.
When he did, he went back to the lake.
"Does Joe the Indian still live around here?"
"Sure. Just walk around the lake."

So he does.
On the other side he sees Joe, sitting in his Tee-Pee smoking a long pipe.
He goes up to Joe, grins, holds his hand up and says, "How!"
Joe takes the pipe out of his mouth.
"They won on a penalty in the fifty-third minute."

There Is HOPE!

What, me ?Go to town on a Saturday night?
All those hideous memories of feeling an outsider;the vulgarity, the heat, the expense, the terrible noise!
And all so you could feel drunk, poor, stale, tired and deaf.

And yet....and yet, I would see impossibly glamorous girls going home in the mornings, and think that if only I could endure the bullshit I could end up with one.
Well I never gave it a second thought.

A Toronto jazz club on a Thursday night? A sophisticated cocktail bar at lunchtime in a place where people live at all hours, not just a Friday night?
That was what I thought was the scene for me.

Then I went to a colleague's leaving party in Leeds on a Saturday night.
This was the mainstream weekend booze hit, the place from which trouble got its name.

I went.

My friends and colleagues were all there, and the mood was happy and relaxed. True, the music was far too loud, but the tunes improved during the night.
The beer was acceptable, not too expensive and quenched thirst.

And the people?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Not a word, not a gesture, not a sound out of place.They had all decided to be civil.(Maybe the loudness of the DJ left them no choice?Good thing!).
The place started to fill up with women of all kinds, all attractive in different ways.

I'd got in with no problem, dressed as I was in an old Kangaroo leather jacket my dad gave me years ago, jeans, a psychedelic Paul Smith shirt and my new Kangol flat cap.
One girl was dancing, dressed as a 1920's Flapper in a short red silk dress, with garters and a long cigarette holder. She just talked and danced and sang and smiled with her 'gangster'-dressed friends.
Coming back from the bar for the last time(I was getting noise fatigue, I was tired and I needed fresh air),another girl nicked my hat and put it on.
There was a friendly exchange.
Me?
I'm not used to all this niceness.

But by God, now that I know where to find it, I'll be back.
I just wish I'd taken a camera.

It's Beginning To Look Quite Sophisticated

Whoever has installed or inspired my neighbours is reaching new heights of technique in the application of 'cracking'.
It's not unlikely that the perp is some sort of prison-fodder creep who just happens to have come to me. But.....
Maybe somebody somewhere has determined at long last that I mean what I say when I tell people I intend to leave;perhaps they see it as an 'interest' that my mind be castrated(to the miserable best of their ability and knowledge, like in the Ipcress File),so as to lose nothing of potential value from the national resource.

There is definitely no law about this, so we can only conclude that this, if real, would be some sort of fairly secret army;on the other hand, it may simply be more applied viciousness from the likes of Pinky and Perky, designed to neutralise me in the face of their ongoing celebration of other people's intellectual property.

Obviously, as I've said, I have suffered, mentally, before now, and been treated for it.(This is not the trivial 'therapy' of some Californian airhead who can't get it up, this is from the mean streets themselves).

Certainly Pinky is not above bribing a neighbour to produce mental degradation(rest assured, this will not happen),he is enough of a savage, but the techniques being practised are of another league, so I tend to infer that Pinky, if involved, has called for help from his criminal buddies in the 'establishment'.

Anyway, they might be in for a surprise.
Now, can anyone tell me why two of the wires on my phone junction box were wound into a coil of half an inch diameter and approximately twenty turns?
Let's face it, most of my traffic is VoIP and DSL, so inductive buggeration would be problematic n'est pas?
Needless to say I straightened it out.

I encountered these psychological techniques twenty years ago in London. It can't be coincidence that they are following the same format;for example, they 'know' that men feel better about themselves after a day at work, so they wait until they hear me come in then do all their door-slamming stuff for an hour.
Then as and when;a bit of stalking, they go to the toilet when I do etc, then it goes quiet, presuming that I have been 'pacified', so that they assume (in their inimitable lunatic way) that I am trying to recapture my spirit by engaging in pathetic offence against them, for example by turning up my stereo.
Naturally I don't, as this would simply destroy my ability to enjoy my music.

It's a balancing act, and I have a very fine sense of balance.

One more little technique for prison-like induction;I wake up seconds before my alarm most mornings.
Why?
Anyway, I let it ring just to be ornery.
Which leads to another possibility.
Maybe my new neighbours really have spent time in prison?

Regularity and the Desire For Regulation.

What? Are you a regular guy?
Regular?You know......someone who belongs.
Belongs to what?
To society!
What is society?
Er......


When they see us, they make their little grunting noises to do one of two things.
One is to keep us in our place if we are not one of them.
The other is, if we respond in kind, to establish that we are 'regular' guys, 'just like them'.

It is a value judgement based on the imposition of their value system forcibly over ours.

To do this, they must be passingly aware of at least two things; that their value system tolerates no contrast of any sort, and, that our value system is in conflict with this.

In other words, Fascism is not simply a historical political system; it is a living reality in a large commonality of British people, possibly most, and the lessons of history can be rapidly eroded at any time once we are out of the way.

Me?When I can be bothered, after some brave hero of the Fascista Order has pretended to grunt while walking behind my back, I mimick them in a way that makes them sound sad and pathetic.
I can almost guarantee that that is the way they feel, too.
But, as I have said, expressions of contempt are a poor substitute for civilisation.

One common strand that runs through the stream of this fascist persecution is that they attack when they can see that you are happy.When you smile at a child(grunt), when you enjoy your bike ride to work(grunting all along the route), when you enjoy getting your work done(grunt).

But don't get me wrong. There are a few good people too. Like the guy at the paper shop who broke into a broad smile when our eyes met, or the fellow in the street who said hello, without understanding why.


To summarise, their idea of 'normal' is to be some sort of quasi-murderous beast of cowardice, perpetually seeking to force other people to conform to their 'view' of reality, like a timid dictator who hasn't quite got the courage, honesty or integrity to commit real violence.
They are so ingrained it is almost futile fighting themm, since one would have to evince punishment on a scale that would make oneself into a virtual oppressor-unless of course, the laws were changed to do precisely this.
But the resultant outcry would probably be the same.

The fact is, the social environment of backwaters like Britain will best be changed when we all simply withdraw, physically, from any contact with the generality.

Co-Dependence And Social Cohesion

Social cohesion is one of those phrases used by the intellectually unscrupulous or non-rigorous to describe a fictional state of affairs that they wish to realise.
'Golden epochs' of history are dragged into reluctant exposure, reluctant because they can't stand too much of it, and for reasons of demonstration that should lead enough influental people into believing that Social Cohesion is a desirable good.

Social cohesion, the argument goes, is what allowed our ancestors/parents/grandparents(the apes?) to 'get along', in contrast with today's world of chaos and conflict.

They don't say that without social cohesion World Wars are now pub brawls, but never mind.

As a result of this illegitimate desire for social cohesion, the endemic climate of co-dependency in Europe(which does seem particularly to have identified people like us as its targets-funny, that), is something that these exponents look upon with a toleration approaching fondness.

This is because they know( and now we do too) that Co-Dependent conquest is the format of social cohesiveness that creates Empires out of common prejudices, and is the sort of throwback that may one day return us to the glory days(always tempered and sublimated, of course, by the 'lessons of history'.)
He who forgets is doomed to repeat! They like this one, because they can claim peace while laying the foundations of domination. It is also their way of saying "millions may die, but cohesion goes on !"

So, individually applied Co-dependent assault is a primary method; we have our 'sharp edges(identity) knocked off'.
We become 'more rounded'(like Jello molds).
We learn to get along(Unconditional surrender).

Eventually we take our place in the masses, like any lump of bio-mass.
And the structures of the independent mind, be they legal or social, are flattened and replaced by openly insurrective power-play; closed doors aren't necessary to hide this exploitation, becase they have already closed our minds.
The State?
A mere bagatelle.
At least in Britain it is. Because our 'constitution' is unwritten. So it has always been disposed by power play.
Only the nature of the players has changed.
Who needs a revolution when you can have a Velvet Putsch?

And what is there left to stand up to them?
Our rebels are conformists before they even get off the blocks.
They can't be frightened.
They can't be bought.
But after growing up in this culture, they can't be in any sense.
They don't know how.There are no signposts(taken down to confuse).
There are no social institutions which have not been swallowed up by the hordes of the co-dependent.

At least, that is what the manipulators hope for. In direct conflict with their avowed ambition of a 'commonality' of experience, and 'reasonably', outcome.
We'll see.

There are signs that the old beasts still have some teeth.We may be able to fight back.
But only if we know who, what and why.

The British Disease,Co-Dependency

...which is also known, most tellingly, as psychic invasion.
The great secret, to which nobody wishes to confess, is that it is practised between people who are not actually in any way 'mutual'.
The pracititioner imposes his psychosis on another, normal person, with the intention of establishing co-dependency.

This is the observational wisdom behind such advice as "don't retaliate, it only encourages them".
That would be co-dependent, but what they have to understand is that escalatory retaliation a la 'Untouchables' is sometimes the only form of countermeasure that can break the cycle.

What the instigator is relying on is that you, the victim, don't want to create conditions under which you could be accused of criminality, such as physical assault.

These bastard-faggots keep it up as long and as much as they can, in the hope that you will gradually(or suddenly) graduate toward behaviour out of your normal routine, or worse, obscure your legitimate interests by devoting them to co-dependent behaviour.

The 'British' part of this disease is the license given to such people by culture, by presumption of law, and by outcome.

This frequent miscarriage of the justice system is what has led to the sentimentality surrounding the criminal who is just a 'bit of a lad', a loveable rogue, someone who has been driven to it.

Of course, this only goes to reinforce the sickeningly complacent 'fortunate/unfortunate' dichotomy of the British bourgeoise, the people who sniff and revel in their superiority that they are not driven to such things.

The truly horrible part is that this 'disease' is not at all some unconscious, automated cycle, but is something understood fully and practised with full consciousness, while all the while the dwarves of mental health blinker their eyes so as not to see the intelligence at work or the moral aspect.

This is the talent at work in British Society; few of them know how to make a living out of devouring the innocent and healthy and good.
They are for the most part amateurs, and as we know, amateurs are obsessives.

When you find you are being played by an expert, then, and only then, is it worthwhile speculating as to the existence of organisation as well as conscious principle.

The British Way Of Death.

All countries contain people who seek to bring death to others in any number of ways, great and small.
In Britain a large commonality of 'people' seek to do this by building walls around the living, one little crumb at a time, like dust in the wind, like a sand storm, or like the result of some Chinese torturer's invention.
They are seeking to entomb our minds, to bury thought under chronic interruption of a billion casually determined applications of psychological violation, in the hope that we will be reduced to helpless, chronic, vicious stupidity and evil.

Like them.

Oh but they wouldn't think so.
They'd say they were 'playing a game' or that it was our fault for being.....well, for being.

But when we reject this directly?
The fury wells up in these unfortunate English masses, a fury based on the ecstasy of outrage, of being driven beyond reason, to a place where they must see themselves and their evil intent for what they are-evil.
And this is the point at which they need us to weaken in some sense, a weakness of courage, of morality, of anything that will grant them the moment of superiority which exalts their viciousness to transcendence.

Yes.
We can challenge it directly, but without guns, the English challenge is wit. And wit is the consolation of the beaten.
Or we can ignore the scum and work for escape within the legality of permitted freedom.

At which stage their coughs just become silly people pretending to cough, which elicits contempt, the neighbours slamming their doors when you are trying to listen to Rimsky-Korsakov become some vaguely distant (and girlish) tantrum with no connection, and so on.

But I want to live in a country where there is less of this.
And countries where there is less of this tend to have plenty of space, and private guns not dedicated to the service of the state.
Addendum- when we ignore them, and their miserable psychological tricks fall off our minds like the frames off Forrest Gump's legs, they still hate us; but then, they believe it is 'okay' to continue persecuting us, not only safe from physical retribution, but from identification.

They actually believe that they are superior because we are 'ignorant',ie we don't appreciate that we are being murdered, which is supposed to add piquancy to their experience. Still, they keep it up in a form of co-dependency, like leaning against a wall for support.

Delightful.

The Dead Kennedys; from the artwork on their albums you might think that they were Communists, but from the realism of their lyrics, and their wicked sense of humour, you can't help but conclude that they did not think that Stalin's answers were any good.

Me?
I like the music.

Kill the Poor?
Now there's a thought.
Better still, leave them be and let gawd sort it out.


As for Holiday In Cambodia, the sarchasm is clear.

Will Spring Ever Be Sprung?

Spring is late this year; the weather may be sunny, but the chill persists, and I have yet to go up Wetherby Road and feel the magic annual moment when the air smells like honey and the tendrils of the breeze caress my face-well it hasn't happened to me this year.

Apparently other people are getting sick of Winter too, and at this pub in the legal district of Leeds they have taken the laws of the wild into their own hands.

If you get tired of watching the Yorkshireman Street, in the corner is a big screen which was showing a variety of individual sports such as Mountain Biking and Surfing. Apparently these niche sports are catching on with the Yuppies.(Can we still say that?).

Anyway, the beer is tasty, though overpriced.

This Is The BBC....

According to the British Brainslug Corporation, Phoney Tony is to 'release' £200 million of 'government' money to 'sport' in time for the 2012 Lympics in London.

Of course, this 200 million is ours and we never decided to give it to sport sponsorship(we never even got the chance), so it is an enormous presumption that we would be at all willing to sponsor sports that we don't play, watch or even find interesting.

Evidently this doesn't matter, as the possession of bits of gilt tin by certain favoured pets of the establishment is supposed to be a 'public good'.

In other words, Blair wants the 'bread and circuses' circus of 2012 to be memorable in ways that only other people's money can buy.

The ethos of the reconstituted Lympics was ever amateur; self-trained, self-financed and so on, but after decades of turning this sporting challenge meet into a spectacle for the drooling masses of various happiness-challenged countries, we have no more authentic tradition left.
Still, Blair knows all about destroying authentic traditions,eh?

Essential.....

...to modern democracy.

Latest Joke.

Yes, this is two jokes in one.
The first joke, the 'outbreak' of avian flu.
The second joke-well a whole sketch really- the present government and its secret policy.

This snippet was leaked in the Sunday Telegraph and appeared on the front page.
"Should the situation escalate, we may come under pressure to appear to" do something for British nationals.
It would appear that embassy staff would be helped but not the natives of the UK(which policy would not be released to the media).

Frankly, I suppose that this is a typical policy regarding British citizens in foreign countries, and there should be no implication that this is a domestic policy. Not that this would be any better.
But the whole concept of being concerned with image rather than content, deliberately keeping policy secret to protect their own sorry asses, is embarrassing it is so pathetic.

They state quite openly and coldly, as this is for internal consumption, that they have supplies of the vaccine in already for their apparachniks, but none for the people they claim to serve.

So now we know.
If we didn't already.

Hope They Die, Before They Get Sold.

This is a picture of the Rolling Stones frontman arriving for his very first concert in China, Shanghai actually.
This is an article about them in an Asian newspaper.
Apparently they are not too bothered about being ordered to censor themselves.
Somehow I'd have hoped they wouldn't Kow Tow to Peking.

But apparently they will.
Now, if it was me, I'd open with 'Under Cover Of The Night'.
Then go on to Paint It Black. Then a cover version of the Who's "I'm Free", and a few more 'revolution' type songs fro the sixties.

We'll just have to wait and see.
But I don't hold out any hopes. Even our own people are probably putting pressure on them to conform.

How To Lose Friends And Alienate People..

(Photo courtesy of 'Probert')

Simply stand up for your principles, or defend a lost cause.

After all it never did anything for Winston's reputation did it?

All The News That's Fit To Ignore.

"And in breaking news, a dead Swan has been found in Scotland. Now we go over live to our Scottish Swan Affairs Zombie, Urgh McGregor."

"Brains. Brains. Today a swan was found in the harbour of a small town in Eastern scotland.Brains."

"And what do we know about the swan?"

"Brains. It dead. Apparently from Bird Flu.Brains."

"Was it the deadlystrainofthevirus?"

"Well.....it certainly killed the swan."

"Thank you Urgh. And in the studio with me tonight is Rampant Pessimity from the Disease Control Authority."

"Argh! We're all going to die!"

"From Avian Flu?"

"I don't know.But we are all going to die!Urgh!"

"Brains?"

"Not now Urgh.Mister Pessimity, what are the chances of the disease affecting humans?"

"Well....they've had it for 4 years in China."

"And how many people have died?"

"Out of 2,000,000,000? Less than die every month on the roads."

"That must be quite a few people?"

"On the roads in Britain. About 180 people. In 4 years."

"But what are the chances of catching it?"

"Well....don't suck the arse or beak of a dead bird....and if you must eat them...."

"Yes?"

"Cook them."

"I see...and what are the chances of a mutant strain attacking humanity?"

"About the same as the risk from Feral Strawberries growing fangs and sucking our blood.Urgh!"

"Brains!"

"Not now Urgh. On a lighter note, the entire ITV News Channel has been scrapped."

Hell.

Sydney Reilly again.
This time in a BBC article from 2002.
Here.
This ties in very closely with the account given in the television series in 1979.

What I want to know is, were the documents faked to agree with the 'fiction', or was the 'fiction' based on secret penetration of the Bolshevik establishment?

Whatever.
Reilly was a great man and a great champion of freedom at a time when evil was welling out of the social firmament like sewage from a ruptured drain.
He tried his best to change history and nearly saved us all from the Cold War and possibly world war in the 40s.
I've already suggested that a subscription statue be raised in Moscow.

While we're at it, where are all the statues and memorials to the other victims of Communism?
Doesn't anyone give a damn?

If Berlin can build a holocaust museum, then Moscow or Petrograd can build museums to the Russian Holocaust.

But no.
They still tend Lenin's Mausoleum.

A Joke Too Far.

This is the 20th member of the Mohammed Atta hijacking team.
The team was so large because the evil ringleaders needed to use peer-pressure to ensure that everybody died together.

This fellow has already admitted to plotting the atrocity in 2001.

But to make his admission into a lynchin' offence(ie in order to ignore the adequate law), the 'jury' today faced(straight-faced) the world's correspondents with the statements that:
he was guilty of planning to 'destroy aircraft'
and
he was guilty of 'planning the use of Weapons Of Mass Destruction'.

Now I can't claim to know all there is to know about US law, but these sound like a big pile of steaming bullshit, designed to deliberately victimise their captive criminal rather as if Patton had gone to the ruins of Berlin and said he was going to kick German Butt.
After the unconditional surrender.

Weapons of Mass Destruction is a media-political bottle of linguistic baby-vomit, not a crime.
Any crime so defined is almost certainly a retro-active monstrosity which didn't exist at the time of the atrocity in question.

And the more illegitimate the prosecution renders itself by such devices, the more po-faced and repetitive becomes the restatement of the case, rather like Pinky writing a threat.

As for plotting to destroy aircraft, that is another load of bollocks; a crime against property is Criminal Damage, and plotting to 'destroy aircraft' is just Criminal Damage obscured by yet another layer of half-witted drivel.

It is the Sacred Conch all over again. The less meaning their statements have, the more solemnly they are made, as if tone and clothing can impart meaning to degenerate nonsense.

To kill this man is justice(of sorts).
But to kill him by stripping the law of meaning, by creeping up like an inevitable disease on an honest criminal, that is shameful.

They are carrying out the act of justice under cover of lies, so that justice is not seen to be done, and the state commits murder, not execution.

And I think that this has happened once too often for the Bush Presidency to be characterised any other way.

You Are Joking Aren't You?

If you have to go for a job interview, it may as well be somewhere nice.
This one was on the South Coast.
I checked into my hotel the night before, and when I got to my room, this was the view.


From the bed. Then I noticed the steps leading off.
Upstairs was a personal lounge(two chairs) with picture windows all around, and behind that a fully equipped private bathroom. All centrally heated and filled with the faint sound of the surf.
The town at sunset.

The beach defences.At 0620 the rising Sun woke me up.


Finally at seven the coastguard patrol arrived.

I went for breakfast, which was Honey-Nut Cornflakes, apple juice, tea, toast, mounds of fresh scrambled eggs with parsley, back-bacon, Black Pudding, fried tomatos, baked beans and hot mushrooms.
In the room was tea and coffee, and satellite TV.

Total cost was £40($80Cn,$65US).

I think I'd go again.

Rather Nice!

Time was when the MGB GT was as common as muck, but the MGB Roadster is quite a catch even today.
This is a particularly clean example in bright red with the roof up.
They were made all the way up to the eighties, but not like this one with the pre-regulation bumpers(and suspension, with superior handling).
It is still possible to get a V-8 version which is being made in small numbers.