By The Way.

Better not quote me on the 14 miles figure, I may be mistaken.
It may only be 4.
Meanwhile, the nutters on the British Airways site seem to have entirely forgotten that nobody wants to go to an airport.
They want to go to a destination.
Got that, you ground-bound, desk-jockeying BA dumb-asses?

Just In Case

The new Heathrow Terminal 5; as soon as I heard that it contains 14 miles of conveyors, I thought "fucked".
That's several thousand conveyors, all custom made and untested by long runs at capacity.
A disaster waiting to happen.
Suppose there are 1000 conveyors with 99% reliability. That's 10 conveyors broken down at any one time.
Of course the engineers probably didn't use redundancy or critical path analysis.

Essentially that's £4.3 billion for a corrugated iron shed. As much as the Channel Tunnel.
Of course, BAA is a London monopoly. So they don't have to be efficient.
Equally, the gifting of an entire terminal to British Airways is a timely reminder that it is the 'flag carrier'.
This is supposed to give (unfair) competitive advantage to BA, and restore their monopoly status, presumably prior to a future re-nationalisation.
Socialism by stealth, the hallmark of this bunch of lying cheats known collectively as the government.

I mean, how do you spend £4.3 billion on a shed?
They were probably told to bankrupt themselves the way the government bankrupted Railtrack, so that they could be nationalised as well.

What a disgusting, stinking crime.

Tank Of The Day.

Actually this was the tank of many days.I can't call it the ultimate 'Cold Warrior', because it saw far too much hot action.
A lesser known fact about the Centurion is that in the fifties it was the first tank to be (experimentally) powered by gas turbine.
It was designed in WW2 as the ultimate answer to the panzers, but arrived too late.
It went on to define the role 'Main Battle Tank', thus ending the split between 'Infantry' and 'Cruiser' tanks.
Here we see a couple of early examples.

Hey Ted, Who's Getting A Bloody Good Thrashing Now?

Olympic Fucking Farce anybody?

Free Tibet.

Are ye fer the cause?

Curiously Difficult.

Reuters? No.
The Times? No.
Google? No.
How to find the current price of an ounce of gold.
Very, very difficult.
It is almost as though somebody has something to hide.
What's the big secret? It's only gold.
I found, eventually, that an ounce of gold sells for about £494 at the moment.

I had to go to an old route I remembered from years ago, the Commodities section of the New York Times, for which you have to register.
But at least it is free.
There used to be another site, but googling can't dig it up.
I'll post it if I rediscover it.

St.Patricks Day.

Paddy is drinking on St. Pat's day in Mick's bar.
He is very drunk.
"Go on, Mick, give me one more drink..."
"No Paddy, you've had enough."
"Go on Mick, just one for the road."
"Alright, just one."
Paddy drinks up, slams his glass down on the counter, and falls off his stool, lying flat on his back.
He gets to his feet and staggers drunkenly towards the door.
He falls over again, feeling unwell.
"If I can just get to the fresh air" he thinks.
He gets up, gets to the door, but once outside he takes a deep breath and falls flat on his face.
Lying in the street he sees his house a few doors down.
"I'll make it"
He takes another few steps and falls flat again.
"Damn. So I'll have to crawl."
He reaches his front door. Crawls up the stairs to his bed.
Falls flat on the bed and falls asleep.

In the morning his wife comes in with a coffee.
"So you were out drinking at Mick's again were you?"
"Darling, how'd you know?"
"That was Mick on the phone. You left your wheelchair behind."

No Dissent Will be Tolerated - China

Fuck off you red communists bastards.
Free Tibet Now!

Insight.

Watching the television advert previews for this film, I suddenly realised what a load of crap 'horror' movies are.
They are based on one, single premise - namely, life in the 'fear of death'.

Now I'm not one to welcome death, but life in the fear of death is rather pathetic, the cowards approach to blagging life from the jaws of nothingness.
Death isn't the end of life; if you are a mummy or a daddy, your life goes on in your kids.
But if you are a game player then it is the end of the game, and that is something which horrifies those feeble creatures that do nothing but delay, delay, delay, putting off judgement and action until the end.
Death is the end, and that terrifies them.

Personally, the threat of death makes me angry.
Many years ago, the presumption of enemies who were deluded into threatening me with death, in the misguided belief that I would feel fear, actually drove me nuts; I became so incapable of expressing my rage that I went mad.

This wouldn't have happened in a country with guns.
There would have been a few dead, wet faggots and I would have strolled on(apart from legal considerations - oops) but you get the picture.
Today we live in a world where we are supposed to be conditioned to fear death, all so that in-crowd wankers can imagine that they rule us with fear.

It would be funny if it wasn't so weird.

I Say, Darling...

Alistair Darling.
I mean, what sort of pathetic cunt would have grey hair but dye his eyebrows?
I mean, fuck off!
Are we really supposed to take this sort of prick seriously?
He's a walking insult to the very concept of importance, and this little weirdness of eyebrow vanity is the false note that the bastard waves in our faces even as he obliterates lives with his jackbooted dictats, like a holocaust where every body has to laugh politely while having their throats cut.
Vomit!

Interesting

Fred's On Form.

Here.

New York, New York!

I just saw a great movie from the seventies.
It was set in New York, and I could practically taste the place.
Absolutely superb.
What was it?
The Taking of Pelham 123!
Made in 1974, it starred Walter Matthau and Robert Shaw, one the cop, the other the crim. The whole thing was gripping, I just had to watch from beginning to end.
Oddly enough, I first saw it at school; back then we had a movie enthusiast teacher who used to arrange for the entire school to watch in the Hall of an afternoon.
Two other films we saw were the Italian Job and the Ipcress File.
This was in the days before VHS of course, so it was quite an undertaking to bring a cellulose copy into the school and put it on a projector, but they did it.

But- the Taking Of Pelham 123 was simply class, a true work of entertainment, with all the tension and excitement of a real adventure; superb acting from a superb cast, and the original film to use 'Mister Blue/Green/Grey' for the criminal names, never mind miserable 'iconic' style-exercises such as Reservoir Dogs.
This was the original.

We Won In The End.....Right?....Didn't We?

From the New York Times, a story about golf courses in Vietnam.
Pay attention to the completely unconscious use of the bastard phrase, 'managed capitalism'.
There is no such thing.
'Managed capitalism' is Communism, pure and simple, in the only form it has ever existed.
The fact that the writer uses the phrase dutifully and without even batting an eyelid, demonstrates the depth of their victory over us and their growing, universal dominance.

The chickens have been set off yapping, and as they run about the Communists smile and wait for the inevitable chaos while enslaving the world by degree, with the patience of the truly insane, only acting to reinforce the fencing of the chicken pen when the pressure of swaying masses builds up; such is their 'management'.
Got to keep the loonies on the path.
The shining path, that is.

Thought For the Week.

Today we exist in a state of confusion.
The confusion is designed, designed to mask the reality that will assert itself in every way, including economic and political.
In 1982 the world marvelled at the 'Comeback King', the Empire putting up a fight and reversing the reversal in the Falklands.
After that time, Western, Freedom-loving people dared to think that some things were worth defending, worth fighting for.
Again in 1990, in the Gulf, the same people decided that in the new climate of victory, intervention to prevent oppression and monopoly of our strategic interests was acceptable, desirable even.

In 1990, nobody even pretended it wasn't about oil, so no wicker man could be burnt to kill Freedom.

Then in the 90s, a different kind of politician took over.
'Hey guys, now it's our turn'.
And so it was.
They deliberately garbled the policy of the recent past, turning the defence of freedom, then the defence of interests, into the pursuit of 'stability'.

Maggie's defence of Liberty and Self-Determination became the promotion of minority causes everywhere, backed up by criminal repression exercised by NATO.
Where once we had limited, rational aims, now we had blank-cheque war in order to further furry animal-loving aims throughout the infantilised parts of the West, the nurseries growing the Communists of tomorrow for a bridge to yesterday.

Their soul-brethren in Al-Quaida provided further impetus to the neverending war story, by their terrorist attack on New York; even within days, Bush W was promising a generation of war.
Thus granting the terrorists precisely that status they had been seeking.
Defeat piled on defeat, in other words.
The armies were beaten by the fact that they marched.

Today the British military are abused by the public when they appear in uniform.
Brown-job says they should be respected.
We will respect them again, perhaps, when they are no longer murder-tarts doing the bidding of a political class that should be sectioned and forcibly treated.

We won't regard them as a disgrace when you have stopped disgracing them.

Tank Of The Day.

Developed from the Cruiser Tanks, then the Cromwell, these tanks were in service in the late war and afterwards.
The top one was a massively up-gunned and up-turreted version exported to the Iraqi Army in more conducive days; the bottom example is a Comet Tank, with a 76 mm high power gun, similar to the 17-pounder but not actually the 17-pounder (as I understand it). It is presented in Berlin Victory Parade colours and trim.

The Boys Are Back In Town.

Good, clean fun.
Obviously he isn't a murderer.
Obviously he isn't a terrorist.
Presumably it is political, in the most direct sense.
Any thoughts?
(Oh, and be careful- this particular page hijacks your browser for several seconds- presumably the Department of Homeland Paranoia trying to do a bit of hacking.)

Never Give Up.

It's Official!

Britain's pretence at democracy is a fraud.

Tory Peeve - Sorry, 'Peer'.

It's horrible, horrible, they, they, they're......alive. Boohoohoo, mummy mummy, make them stop!