What Did They Think Of His Show?

Well Gordon seems pleased with his new look.
Must be a dream come true.

The Party Line.

There is a large and virulent caucus of people in this country that wait for the cue of a government soundbite then start chattering, like chickens in a shed where somebody has set off a firework.
They are dispersed among us like the evangelical emissaries of the anti-Christ, and one of their most common boasts on behalf of New Labour is that we have had ten uninterrupted years of growth, and Gordon Brown has put an end to boom'n'bust.

The truth is somewhat different.
It has taken seven whole years for share prices to even approach levels to be found before 2000.

There is a gaping hole in the pension provisions of millions due to Gordon confiscating the funds.

The run on Northern Rock was the first run on a British bank for 140 years.

The economy is like my car; it is clapped out, and hasn't been serviced recently.
They are both going to break down.
The car will be repaired or replaced.
The British economy will resume the downward spiral of the sixties and seventies.(I'm backing Britain anyone?)
But will we notice?
Not at first.
Because we are relying on Red China to entrap us into reverse balances with ever cheaper material goods to keep the population docile, and by the time we notice, they hope to have us by the balls.

Arty Conference Season.

GIMP photo editor is like photoshop but free.
This is my first attempt.
Won't somebody please think of the children?
Volleyball anybody?

Party Conference Season.

Is that Harriet Harman I see there?
Or Shirley Williams when she was younger?
At least a few of the party members get the joke.
But they just aren't telling.

Nuff Said.

Photoshop, anybody?
Incidentally, within the past two days, the Labour Party Website has gone from "Ask us a question.."(Ve vill give ze answers!) to "Discuss."
I don't know whether I should. They still want my house number and post code.
Filth.
No but wait.
Give me all the Labour Party Member house numbers and postcodes, and I'll give you one of mine.
No.
Didn't think so.
Meanwhile I hope you realise that these creatures, trawling for the names and addresses of potential resistors, are not the government, not even the government.
They are members of a private organisation that has done more for fascism in the past ten years than Mussolini did in thirty. They are now arrogating unto themselves the information gathering activities of state organisations for the purposes of preserving their stranglehold on government, which will give them a stranglehold on you and I for the benefit of their assinine, petty ambitions.
The only grand scale thing about them is the scale of the destruction they wreak, rather like Space Invaders of old, eating away at our shelters, leaving us nowhere to run.
They are preparing but quietly for a putsch.
But only as a last resort, naturally.

DON'T PLAY THEIR GAME.

Say What?

Reports coming in from Dorset Central News Agency confirm that the idea has been mooted in the US Congress that whichever candidate wins the US presidential elections be made personally accountable for the National Debt.
It is expected that all the official candidates will either leave the country immediately to avoid being elected, or they will declare bankruptcy and file under Chapter 11 as soon as they are elected.
Either way, the Republic of Dorset wholeheartedly concurs with this new policy.

Too True Motherfuckers.

“We sternly warn the Taiwan authorities not to play with fire,” Li Weiyi, a spokesman for the Taiwan Affairs Office of the State Council, told a regular news briefing on Wednesday, according to a report carried by the official Xinhua news agency. “Whoever plays with fire will get burned.”

I can hardly wait to see these communist bastards burn.

Simply The Best.

The Tom Brown pub in Dorchester High street.
Sorry, no pictures today, I was crying too much at the beauty of the pint of beer I had.
It was house-brewed 'Tom Brown Bitter', 4%, flat as a pancake and quite simply one of the best jars of beer I have ever tasted.
That was before the food; I ordered the Ploughman's Lunch.
I received a platter, with two generous baguettes, fresh, sweet and warm like a Dorset maiden's thighs, with fresh butter in a dish, fresh tomato and lettuce with Spring Onions and celery, and a tub of beer-chutney. Also half an apple, fancy cut.
Also coleslaw so new it stung.
The cheese was locally produced hard goat's cheese, which I had chosen from four local cheeses; last time I had the Dorset Coast Cheddar.
For half an hour I was too moved to speak.
I've never tasted anything like it.
So remember, if you are ever in Dorchester, go to The Tom Brown.
And if you are ever in Dorset, go to Dorchester!

HMS Achilles!

'She played herself in the film'
I could never understand why the ship in the movie only had three turrets; apparently one was bombed out later in the Pacific War.
The ship didn't actually get scrapped until 1978.
You'd think the buggers would have hung onto her by then.
I mean she would have practically been an institution.
Would it have killed them?

Good old Auntie!

The BBC is at least telling us what is landing on its doorstep.

Other Bastards.

Type 'Burma Blog' or 'Myanmar Blog' into Google, and you will find?
Absolutely fuck all.
But we are constantly told of the 'vital role' blogs are playing.
We just can't go and look ourselves.
Some pinstriped cunts are trying to keep a lid on this.
Freedom is infectious don't y' know.

Bastards.

The bastards aren't stopping according to the NewYork Times. Of course, China was a far away place that took a chance once Ronnie and Maggie were history, and now also Burma feels safe; nobody will touch them.
Ronnie wouldn't have stood for it.

Bastards.

Bastards!

Who Said.......

The British couldn't be cool?
I'm currently watching 'Battle Of The River Plate'.
Four fucking actual,genuine cruisers, including one that was there, and the best stars of the British Nation at the time, even (in a bit part) Patrick McNee('John Steed').
This is an awesome film, and anything today would be a pathetic CGI fake.
Four heavy cruisers, shooting like hell and being shot to bits!
And that doesn 't even include the sets.
Never let it be forgotten that once, this was a COUNTRY!

Who Said......

Germans can't be cool?

The Telegraph Is Gone; Yes, It's Probably Personal..

I scrapped my link to the Telegraph.
They don't publish my comments.
Back in the days of snail mail they used to get my letters and ignore them, probably saying 'Oh no, it's him again."
Thing is, in this crappy little country, crappy little people at crappy organisations love to hold grudges, long and hard, usually over reasons which are entirely one-sided and delusional; but when the Telegraph publishes dozens of rude remarks, but not my rude remarks, something is going on.

So the crap can stew in its own stagnant cess pool.
I haven't bought it for years and now I won't bother reading it either.
I only used to go there for 'Alex', and they lifted that from Rupert Murdoch's 'London Daily' after the Evening sub-Standard sank it with deeper pockets.
(Back in the 80s-you might recall).
Anyway, good riddance to bad rubbish.
If they have to censor me then it's only the fear that's holding them up.

Why Facebook Is Crap.

Facebook- a harmless little site where friends can meet.
Facebook- the next big thing.
Facebook-demands more and more of your personal data, your phone numbers etc.

Facebook. Sick of it yet?
When you are sick of it, you can de-activate(not remove)your account, but only after giving excuses in a multi-choice interrogation where pressing 'ok' gets you a load of argument about why you should stay.
It is invidious.
Facebook go to hell.

Through A Brewery, Darkly.

The 'Whirlpool' chamber which separates out the sediment from the Mash;


The touch-screen control panel; very modern for the New Forest.

Fermentation tanks;

A pint of the real stuff, best bitter I believe, or was it delicious 'Huffkin'?



Thatcher's Cider.Maggie's Revenge?

The Mash Tub.


The Ringwood Boar; 80% of North American 'Craft Beers' use Ringwood Yeast!


These were the scenes at local brewery, Ringwood.

The Prophilactic Nation.

As I sit here watching carelessly, mindlessly, fat UAW members picketing General Motors- over healthcare, allegedly, and at a time when this 'issue' is being promoted by various faggot-left politicians in America-I am minded of my own situation here in England.
Last weekend I took an expeditionary trip back North, another three days of my life blighted by association with the sites of so much misery, and found that to actually get anywhere, when one wants to get anywhere, is almost impossible.

For example, I pulled into a trio of empty parking spaces at a garage I use halfway up.
Within a minute some jerk parked dangerously and unnecessarily close to me, and when I finally was starting to reverse out, an idiot pedestrian strolled out and stood with his back to me. It's instinctive, possibly even subliminal and subconscious.

The driving delays were almost entirely due to the stupidity of the traffic, rather than the weight; for example, there was a fifty mile tailback on the M1 North-bound, allegedly over four miles or less of fifty mph restriction near Sheffield.

Once through this the 'traffic' vanished.
And I came up with the following theory:
large numbers of stupid people behave like antibodies in the bloodstream of a nation, a world, a life, except that they gather round the healthy cells and surround them to preserve the evil infection that has given them purpose.

In other words, the disease is running the immune system, and we the living are the intruders in this world of schlerosis.

Ecological Disaster.

A giant oil slick was spotted in the channel near Bournemouth today.
Apparently Gordon Brown and the Labour Party had been bathing near the promenade.

Weep For The Burmese Students.

This is a reminder of the true passion of the eighties, lest we forget.
It is bubbling up again.
Hope, not misery, springs eternal in the breast of man.
Courtesy of the New York Times.
Good on them.

Wir Kommen.

Bank balance was in credit today.
After three years of being maxed out.

We Never Closed Either.

The bombing went on for three years.
I suffered defeat after defeat.
I was defending an ever-dwindling livelihood.
I was threatened over and over with despair, destruction and bankruptcy.
I could only dream of seeing a vaudeville show.

I never gave up.

The tide has turned, and now more than ever is a time for reconstruction.

But this blog, like the Windmill Theatre, can make one proud boast:

"We never closed!"

Pravda, Baby, Pravda!

The New York Times is not 'British'.

Pravda, Baby, Pravda!

The New York Times is not 'British'.

TEHRAN, Iran — The deputy commander of Iran's air force said Wednesday that plans have been drawn up to bomb Israel if the Jewish state attacks Iran, according to the semi-official Fars news agency.

Do tell. They've been bombing Israel for fucking years.

Just thought I'd dredge up this photo I took a couple of years ago.

In Case You Were Wondering.

MONO is a programming system set up by Novell and run as an open source implementation of C#, ASP.NET and VB.NET.
It is not very effective in my experience.
It includes many features in the IDE which appear as real but haven't actually been implemented, and it just doesn't work very well.

I've been multitasking my server; I have been running music jukebox programmes, webservers, database servers and normal applications all at the same time.
Every couple of days the system becomes so arthritic I have to reboot.
Many applications fail altogether.

So I ran the system analyser, and saw that a MONO process was taking 80% of my CPU.
This was the 'Banshee' music player.
I am now using 'Rhythmbox'.
This occupies 15% -20% tops, and automatically scans for files.
Much better.

But Come; I Have Chastised You Enough

So, persuaded by my mother, I took one more look at University Challenge.
Tonight Exeter University took on Jesus, Cambridge.
All prejudice apart, I was easily able to keep up with the leaders, Exeter.
Exeter won the contest.

But I have to say this: the Cambridge kids didn't answer enough questions, but when they did, they displayed an intelligence I could only admire, and though they lost, I was rooting for them.

They are the sort of people I would be happy to talk to.

And listen to.

Western Fundamentalism

80s Islam

The Shakespeare Conspiracy.

At the ceremony, Derek Jacobi, best-known known for television's I, Claudius but also a noted Shakespearean actor, said he subscribes "to the group theory. I don't think anybody could do it on their own ... the leading light was probably de Vere."

That would be Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, a well-educated, much-travelled nobleman and theatrical patron. He was first put forward as a candidate in 1920 by the unfortunately named J. Thomas Looney, whose book convinced, among others, the father of psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud. "The man of Stratford seems to have nothing at all to justify his claim," Freud wrote, "whereas Oxford has almost everything."

This courtesy of today's Toronto Star.

Looks like the Mother of all Looney Tune conspiracy theories to me. Complete with an unhealthy dose of modern contempt for the reality that ability exists and is needed.
Still, when these swine are all wearing rags and eating shit, they will be comforted by the fact that they don't have to look up to anybody, or even further than their blistered, naked toes.

Say It Before, Say It Again.

Masters Of The Universe.

Back in the 80's stock market traders were dubbed 'masters of the universe' by a press that thought they could do no wrong.

The trouble is that there are literally millions of people in this country that do, really and earnestly, want to be masters of the universe.
They hope and pray that all their coughing, sneezing and snivelling will amount to something in this world, some cumulative scar on some innocent back.

They don't think that there are any innocents; they think that they are the people, and that anyone who doesn't misbehave like them is an outcast, a weakling, a victim who deserves
to be the victim.

When, after a lifetime of their pathetic efforts to mutilate, without ever having taken a real risk, they see some man or woman with bent shoulders, they take cold satisfaction at the suspicion that their incessant little whippings are what caused it, while believing with pathological earnestness that they are the masters and that this will never happen to them.

Britain is one of the worst places for this, because Britain hasn't been conquered and taught a lesson; Britain also has never had a Prague Spring where the murderers were rounded up and murdered.

So Britain is safe for these creeps.

When they find that they are confronted by a few people who don't play the game, they are genuinely terrified, and genuinely outraged.
And these few are labeled 'nutter' and 'psycho' because they dare to inflict fear where fear is felt.
The next time you walk down a street in Britain and don't get bothered, or have a day at home when the neighbours don't feel emboldened enough to trash your innocent privacy, thank the nutter who went out, say, last Friday night, and made an example of one of these bloody bastards on his home turf.

It happens.
Thank god.
Not too much rule of law eh?

Telegraph Gets It Right..

With a little help from the public!

The New World Order.

When it was invented, the 'New World Order' was shorthand for the victory of Capitalism that had been and was yet to come.
But lo, here we are 15 years later, and it means something else entirely!

The New World Order is a phrase they don't bandy about much any more; today it stands for the tyranny of the 'New World Polite Society', a huddle of belligerently terrified dwarves calling themselves our 'leaders' while all the time bending before any shadow of populism, bending but not breaking or retreating, munching through our few remaining freedoms like demented Political Pacmen with Power Points and the appetite of the insatiably foolish and greedy.

Polite Society has replaced Principle across the globe, so that a mere shake of the head from his friends will prevent any of our leaders from reacting to his own self-induced nausea with an original thought.

In the light of these people, the activities of Putin's Russia look almost like a blow for freedom.

They alone are uncowed by the New World Polite Society, alone and unbowed.

Things are beginning to get interesting again.

Journaholics Nonimous.

Djomama is concerned that newspapers don't seem to be capable of accurate reportage.
In the USA.
Today, the Toronto Star and the New York Times said nothing about poor Britney, which is decent.
But the UK?
Here in the British newspaper, the Daily Mail, there was a report about Richard Hammond.
Apparently news had to be made of a bog-standard racecourse crash that didn't even immobilise his car.
It was notable due to the persistent journaholic symptoms which are the equivalent of an idle 'Eeeek' of interest, like the boring dinner guest who carries on talking past all embarrassment.
The report suggested that the crash "brught back terrifying memories of a year ago".

Terrifying? To whom?
Richard Hammond had already bantered on about the slight coming together, and how he then got on with the race; Hammond is a professional driver.
So it couldn't have been him then.
Or was this imaginary, second-hand terror supposed to be ours?
We should care?
No.
It was emotion placed into the non-existent repository of 'concern' known as 'society'.
Something which cannot feel because it does not exist, but something that can be used to set apart human concern from humanity and turn it into the lifeblood of fraudulent oppression.

So much for Journoholics.

What Was That About Bombs?

Thanks to the Daily Mail(a family newspaper) for this hotty(via Mondopolitico news digest).
I believe she is called Britney Spears.
Apparently her 'comeback' bombed.

She can bomb me anytime.
That is one kind of terrorism I could definitely go for.
Yowsir.

The Bastard Freedom Of London.

"Awright mate?"
The cheery cry of the friendly Londoner as he goes about his business of impersonating something resembling a human.
London tolerates many things.
It tolerates the rich.
It tolerates the poor.
The red and the blue; the pink and the green.
It tolerates the Jews and the Muslims. All are welcome to stay, as long as they pay their dues and become 'Londoners'.
London is the great courtesan, the seducer, and the whore, the absorber of all things, that great Suborner,the place that exists to be itself.

All who go to London and stay are part of the scene.
Well, almost all.

You see, there are a few things that London can't tolerate.
Such as Freedom.
A Free Man is given every opportunity to recant, every opportunity to convert to being a crippled facet of the mewling horde, a part that doesn't really work because he 'never really got it', but a tolerated essence all the same, and when he cracks up a little he is an 'eccentric', to be spat out into the counties, if he can accept the demotion.

The more you fight it, the more you lose, until the day comes when you know, for sure, that only the genuinely criminal have any freedom.
The rest are 'nice', and the 'nice' people just earn their contempt and try to keep them in their places so that the hell-ship of London can go on.

Oh yeah! Red Ken has them taped, but good.
He makes the 'nice' people feel radical and caring, and the criminals licensed.
That is his secret, and now you know it too.
But in case you are wondering what happens to those who don't surrender?

They are driven from London, or their minds, or from their very lives.
Because London's game is a 'right little earner'.
Got that mate?

Say It Before, Say It Again.

Third World Politics.

In an interview later, Augimeri said she'd met with about 50 or 60 parents who use a community centre in her area.

"The mothers are crying," she said. "They have no place to put their kids on Mondays. One woman was saying she has to quit her job because her mother is 80 and not able to pick up the child. So even one day a week does hurt."

Een my country, we call theese de place-o dey weepo, after the mothers-of-the-disinhereeted.

Everee year a paper statue of El Thatcho ees taken out at the head of thee procession and burned.

Then wee all dance, to thee Boomtown Rats seengeeng "I Don't Like Mondays".

Third World Politics.

In an interview later, Augimeri said she'd met with about 50 or 60 parents who use a community centre in her area.

"The mothers are crying," she said. "They have no place to put their kids on Mondays. One woman was saying she has to quit her job because her mother is 80 and not able to pick up the child. So even one day a week does hurt."

Best Canned Music Ever.

Good gumment!
DVLA Swansea(Driver and Vehicle Licensing Authority) had the usual multi-option phone.
Eventually I reached the point(using, not abusing, the system) where I needed an operative.

The recording apologised for a potential wait of '2 to 5 minutes'.
They played Ian Dury(Reasons To Be Cheerful) then started on classic James Brown(Get Up off'a That Thing).
But I didn't hear it all as I was put through to two highly efficient and polite Welsh gentlemen who said that there was 'absolutely no problem' with my license and it would soon be here.

One congratulated me on remembering my number off the top of my head(photographic memory), and then said that I was one of the first to change details successfully online.

So apparently it worked that time!
Cheers!

The Rarity Of Shame.

This image is next to all that I can find out about the Hawker P1121 of around 1957.
It looks like an F-16 but better, and would have been a British, supersonic fighter far in advance of the Lightning.
This picture is of the actual aircraft which was actually built, before a bunch of cunts read somewhere that missiles were better.

So the 1121 got cancelled.

The details are all in the 1975-76 book 'Project Cancelled', which after a worlwide search appears to be available second-hand.
The cheapest of the four copies available is $79 US.
Quite some book.
Quite some plane.
And it was a Conservative government that bludged.

Your Starter For Ten?

I mean, what the Jesus H.Christ?
"Edinburgh University, whose alumni include Gordon Brown..."

WTF?
"In which country did the early American WW2 defeat of Kasserine Pass take place?"
"Duh, Spain?"
"Duh, Cyprus?"
How about a country that actually took part, oh brilliant ones?Such as Tunisia?

"The definite integral of X-cubed between 0 and 1 is equal to?"
"Duh, x?"
"Duh, 1?"

I am an average mathematician. I owe what poor understanding I possess to kind gentlemen such as Newton.
But I shot out the answer "one quarter" while these dumbasses were still congratulating themselves on 'looking cool on tv'.
God help this country.
These morons are supposed to be the elite.
They are supposed to come from the same school as the (prime minister?) Gordon(is a moron) Brown.

Incidentally, for all those genuine readers who sat bemused by the wailing and screeching of sadistic 'mathematics' teachers, the 'rule' of integration is that 'x'(the very, very simplest quantity you can integrate) goes up one power, and is divided by that power.
To integrate x-cubed, causes one quarter X-to-the-power-four to result, and between 0 and 1 means 1/4 minus zero which is one quarter.

Even if you don't understand the method, or have forgotten, the rules are easy enough.
I could answer that question aged 12.
And I was a desperately poor mathematician.
These piles of fat and stupidity are fucking undergraduates.
AT ELITE UNIVERSITIES!

TorStar would be great if they didn't wreck browsers

Let me know if this crashes your browser or causes a lock-up.
It is a video from the Toronto Star of the 'Snowbirds' aerobatic display team going for a gentle flight with Chris So.
I thought that the old-school ground crew was remarkable.
I've never seen the like anywhere else.

Organic Destruction

Have you ever wondered about the amount of absolute bravery it takes to try and run a serious enterprise in the modern world - the modern British world?

Property is abandoned; there is no incentive to profit.
If you manufacture, you have to organise the unwilling into improbable efforts which can collapse like an eggshell at the merest sign of a bad apple in the barrel.

You have to appoint - and trust - men to positions of responsibility.
You have to hope that the life you offer is life enough.

When people work and sleep, work and sleep, you've got to hope that they enjoy the work.
But how is this possible in a climate of malfeasance fostered by the infiltrating hordes of parasites, people who may even in themselves be capable of, but unwilling to, work.
These will drag down the experience of the remainder.
They will attack and inflict in their quest for dominant misery and mediocrity, so that more and more of the able flee to little companies where they can escape the slave pen.

And the grand design dies, due to the lack of interest in keeping it alive, due to the death of authority.
The sanctions are there, but they are not discretionary, due to the protections and machinations of state interference.

In the effort to impose some fiction of fairness on the world of work, we all suffer. There are no sanctions and a company man is an iron-stomached man who swallows any amount of bile for any amount of time.

Yes. He can stand it. But his mind won't.
And where there are no barriers, no walls, no identical authority, then we will find that productivity dies or only comes in accidental spurts or with new blood.

This is why the young are sought.
They still have enough sap to give a couple of productive years to the farm, but what is really needed is an end to the lies of the sociological malfactors when they create working environments suited to nothing productive.

We need offices.
We need walls.
We need sanctions with bite.

Until this happens, there will be no more life, no more progress and no more money or things to buy with it.

Fantasies about a 'cottage' economy notwithstanding.

God help this country. A hundred and fifty years ago it invented large ship manufacture.
But the QM2 had to be built in France.

That is the proof.