Friday, 30 September 2011

Dig for Victory!

Phew, what a scorcher! It's been an unseasonably warm end to summer/start to autumn,depending on your pessoptimism* rating, as a result of which I have been having to make policy decisions from a deckchair in the garden. Even dictators need to 'chillax'** every now and then.

Having already declared my manifesto for technology - you're not allowed technology that you can't either earn, explain or fully appreciate - my musings turn to mother nature. There she is, grafting away, while I sit in the sun eating ice cream and appreciating all that effort. Not that she does it all by herself though; no, that's just what she wants you to believe.

Before all the natural stuff I had to put in a session of digging, raking, sifting, planting and watering. Now I'm at the tending (sitting in a deckchair) stage it's plain sailing and I'm looking forward to the harvests next year. Well I would be, only my reverie is disturbed by various ne'er-do-wells who are enjoying the September sun in ways that don't meet with my approval. These ways include open windows, loud music, afternoon drunken arguing (you know who you are, neighbour) and a level of insouciant indolence that cannot go without correction.

So, I now have a vegetable-orientated directive.. A carrot canon, an onion ultimatum, a mushroom manifesto.. the lettuce law! With a burgeoning population and an eye on profits, mankind has taken to feeding itself with all kinds of, what can only be described as, crap. As a result everybody is fat and lazy and the population keeps on growing - and not in the right portion of the demographic either. I'm going to fix it.

The kingdom will only support the population it can feed and that population will have to learn to feed itself. It's perfect; a return to an agrarian lifestyle. People will learn to appreciate effort and the efforts of others. They will discover the contentment to be had from a bit of manual labour and the satisfaction of eating food that isn't uniformly brown, fried and full of msg.

Those not employed in the factories will be occupied on the state farms and with a bit of luck everybody will be so knackered there will be little energy left for either resistance or procreation. It's a win-win solution. You lot win because you get back some quality of life. I win because maybe then you'll shut the f**k up and let me get on with my little snooze.

Mind how you go, now.

(*My kingdom - I can make up any words I wish.)
(** I can also ban words. Chillax will be banished henceforth.)

Thursday, 29 September 2011

Be My Widgy

Of course, not everybody who drives a BMW is a total tosspot. Some are just mild wankers while others are merely harmless idiots. But why anybody these days would want to drive one is curious.

Beemers used to be associated with status - an elite marque for a high-achiever. But therein lies its problem, y'see. Once upon a time, when people had to earn the right, it was a choice to either work hard and save or work hard and be promoted into it. Now, it seems, it is the car of choice for anybody who thinks they are a cut above the rest.

And that self-assessment process is deeply flawed. If, when you look in the mirror, you see a men-amongst-men, a leader, a silverback, then fair play to you. But it's only your opinion; and in my opinion, if that's what you see, it's almost invariably not what others see. They see you as a strutting buffoon - or indeed, baboon - a walking grandiloquent onanist, looking for a bigger dick to be a dick in.

Next time you're tailgated, cut-up, flashed-at, beeped-at or otherwise abused on the roads take note of what car they are driving. My scientific study has revealed that it's going to be a Beemer at least fifty percent of the time. And then take measures to avoid them because many of these drivers are deeply psychologically flawed.

So, in the new Jerusalem, anybody wishing to purchase for themselves such a vehicle, new or second-hand, will come under the automatic scrutiny of the state's jerk-off assessment team. And unless they can come up with a satisfactory, reasoned account of why they want one, they will be summarily executed.

The same applies to anybody with attack dogs, gangs of snarly-faced hangers-on, knife carriers, face-tattoo-wearers and so on, although having taken out the BMW-coveters there will already be far fewer of such others to deal with.

You have been warned.

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Potless and Fancy-Free

Well, that's it. I'm at my overdraft limit and I've maxed out my cards. My total income is less than my fixed outgoings. The situation is truly desperate and something has to give.

I've thought of letting go my iPhone but I have ten months of contract left to run. Do I really need Sky+, I wonder and is there really much point in subscribing to eight magazines I don't really read but nevertheless feel I am entitled to have access to? Maybe I could trade in the Beemer and get the bus to work?

I have even considered getting a second job and cutting down on take-aways, cinema and boozy nights out. I really have searched my soul for the answer. And I think I've found it.

I am going to take a leaf out of the expert's* book and apply for a new credit card. Sod it, I'll spend my way to the promised land!

*Warning. This is satire.
Should anybody be foolish enough to take this as financial advice it will only serve to prove what I have been saying about the proles all along.**

**Not you, of course. By reading this you show you are much better than 'them'.

Public Opinion

This week I have had half an eye on the Labour Party conference. Or is it New Labour? Who cares, really? Anyway, much has been made in various speeches about what 'the public' demand, want, insist upon, etc. What the public opinion is on various subjects; what 'the public' demands of its government. How in hell would any career politician - and there are, it seems, no other kind these days - know or care about what 'the public' wants?

In any case. who in their right minds would canvass, let alone listen to, Joe Public? Joe is pretty thick. Even when an individual has valid views on his world, as a member of the teeming masses his reason is swamped by the background noises of others grunting as they push sweatily at doors marked 'pull'. And when has the BBC, man-in-the-street, vox-pop been anything other than a gurning freak show?

Look at what 'the public' keep on doing:

  • Voting for the Labour Party
  • Voting for the Liberal Democrats
  • Voting for the increasingly left-leaning Conservative Party
  • Spending more than they earn
  • Believing in god
  • Reading horoscopes
  • Watching X-Factor
  • Worshipping the famous
  • Wishing on stars

I could go on, I really could, but you get the picture.

And, as if to validate this voice of 'the public', the Labour nutters gave space on stage to Labour Boy.

This pubescent bleating gob-on-legs poured out the same old left-wing manifesto of entitlement and outed himself as a proud product of the welfare state - he thought that was a good thing. Drawing on his vast experience of , er, school, he told the conference just what he and his mates thought of the nasty Tories. Labour Boy later said he would "quite like to go into politics in the future." So there you are, the ideal future politician, a snotty-nosed follower of supposed 'public' opinion.

When I'm king I like to think I'll be kind to all who deserve it. But I sure as hell won't care what you think. Now, behave yourselves and run along.

PS (added 28Sep2011) Look again at Labour Boy.

Monday, 26 September 2011

Be Prepared

Robert Baden-Powell chose well the motto for his fledgling para-military organisation - Be Prepared. Indeed, by the time Kaiser Bill threatened our security a well-honed crack team stood poised to repulse his advances and throughout the twentieth century there was barely a boy who couldn't whip up a woggle or lash up a lanyard if need be.

Sadly, a recent report attests to the decline of such scouting skills in the wake of such things as soft parenting, health-and-safety and political-bloody-correctness. Admittedly the existence of the occasional, overly friendly Akela hasn't helped but, hey, you can't make an omelette without de-flowering the odd vulnerable kid now, can you? In some public schools that used to be called character-building. "Stop snivelling, boy!"

Today's pampered, delicate flowers need endure none of the activities that formed the backbone of the generations that fought to retain the old empire. In fact they are entirely unprepared for the struggle that lies ahead. From where will come the disciplined, resourceful recruits to staff the new order?

So, with this in mind we need a training programme and where better to start than the state nurseries? As soon as the kids are capable of forming a fist we should set them to work whittling, tying, lashing and ging-gang-gooleying for all they are worth. Of course, we're bound to lose a few in the inevitable knife-related accidents and there will undoubtedly be plenty of missing-fingers, but that will only serve to sharpen up their mental counting skills. No down-sides as far as I can see.

And the result is that they will be prepared. And they'll do as they're bloody well told, when I'm king.

Sunday, 25 September 2011

Euro Trash

Every day I find more and more reasons why I really ought to be king.

I've just been reading the The Centre for Policy Studies' report "Guilty Men" (Download it here: Guilty Men) and it's as if I have been on a time-trip back to my teens. I wasn't old enough (quite) to vote against Common Market entry in the rigged referendum of 1975, but I well remember my impressions of the options as broadcast. They were:

Option One - die young, of crippling famine-and-poverty-related disease in the blackened, wizened, asthmatic last gasp of our desolate island prison. Or,
Option Two - join the common market.

That's how it seemed to me and yet, when I listened to the arguments I could discern no indisputable threads of reason in the highly vocal pro-Europe argument and many doubts from the hardly heard opposing camp. In the intervening years I have never heard any dispassionate argument for continued entry and plenty of seemingly hard evidence of the damage wrought by our membership.

My instincts were then, as they have remained, that if nobody can honestly produce evidence in favour, why should we prolong the agony of our membership?

It's never felt like a good idea to open up our borders, to lie down and accept Euro-diktat with barely a whimper, to freely hand out our money to nations we openly distrust. So, come the new order, there will be years of work for fence-erectors and wall-builders, all along the coastline (and across the northern border with our nearest enemy).

Sorry this wasn't more amusing, it just needed saying.

Saturday, 24 September 2011


The scoreline for the England v. Romania game this morning was England 67, Romania 3.

In the new kingdom the career advice to all will be: stick to what you're good at.

I wouldn't expect men to be heavily involved in nail care, for instance. Nor would I think it unreasonable that petite, wee girls be dissuaded from hefting heavy hods on building sites. I'd advise fatties not to set their sporting ambitions at Olympic heights and would positively discourage the thick from having any aspirations other than perhaps becoming a bit less thick.

Throughout the population, certain groups excel in quite specific areas of expertise. The majority of male dancers seem to be gay, or at least effete. Tall, black men are almost exclusively represented in international sprinting competitions. Women dominate the world of nursing and dogs make by far the most efficient sheep-herders.

So, to keep the field clear and avoid disappointment, it would be wrong of me to advise the general population to involve themselves in enterprises in which they are doomed to be out-competed. I say leave the fields of street violence, prostitution, drugs, cash-machine thefts, fraud and people-trafficking to the natural experts. Talking of fields, certain groups also seem to have cornered that particular market already.

In the new world we'll all fill a niche. That way, not only do we end up with everybody doing what they're best suited to, the authorities will also know where to find you.

Friday, 23 September 2011

Faster than the speed of light?

Scientists have clocked neutrinos breaking the universal speed limit. That's three points on their licence at least and possibly some re-education. Goodness only knows how much it will cost to update all the speed cameras.

It's only a matter of time now before the nutters appear, claiming to see the hand of god in all this, mocking our clumsy attempts to discover the secrets of the universe without an imaginary friend to hold our hands. This'll be the same god with so little to do and so much time on his hands that he planted bits of dinosaur here and there and so limited in imagination that he handed out commandments carved in lumps of rock. We have much to learn from such wisdom. [insert roll-eyes smiley here].

In a superb soundbite, Subir Sarkar, head of particle astrophysics at Oxford University said "Cause cannot come after effect and that is absolutely fundamental to our construction of the physical universe. If we do not have causality, we are buggered."

But there is good news here because maybe, just maybe, this ushers in the future (or is past?) possibility of time travel!

And if that's the case I'm sending somebody back to kill Jesus.

Well Burka Me

Burka, hijab, nijab, niqab... whatever you call it, the flouting of the French ban on wearing it in public places is mere provocation. And it's working, stirring up sentiment on both sides of the debate, for no other purpose than to create conflict.

Fortunately, here in the UK there is no such prohibition, so I am free to go about my daily business in the dress of my choice, even though my religion does not require it. Because it is my choice, I choose a black-and-white hooped sweater, gloves and a burglar mask, the ensemble topped off by the traditional over-shoulder black bag bearing the holy inscriptions 'swag' or 'loot'. I'm just nipping down the local Post Office.

At the same time the exposure of 'medium' (more a large, if you ask me) Sally Morgan as - shock, horror, who saw it coming? - a fraud, is promulgated as news. Well, here's some news for you: there is no afterlife, nobody can read minds, magic is a fiction and, yes, there is no god. Really.

You see, once the abolition of all false gods - except my state-enforced keep-Sunday-quiet deity, Jonesy, is complete, nobody will have any unhinged religious or other reason to do anything that does not meet the approval of the majority. So, if you do decide to wear a black sack and peer out at the world through a slit, we'll all know you're only doing it by your own choice. Because you are mental.

We dismiss 'yoots' wearing jailhouse-chic half-mast trousers as daft, don't we? Fat birds in mini-skirts are deluded, old geezers in open-topped sports cars are a joke and anybody buying a Power Balance bracelet is fair game for a bit of exploitation. None of them are to be feared, only ridiculed.

So, under the new rules you can wear what you like, where you like, subject to certain common-sense rules: You can't drive in any headwear which restricts your vision. You must not cover your face anywhere where your identity needs to be revealed; banks, shops, schools, in the street... oh, in fact, anywhere where other people are present. This applies equally to helmets, hoodies, stocking-masks and even some hairstyles. There will be no concealment in company.

If you still want to clothe yourself in the religious equivalent of a gimp mask in the privacy of your own home you are more than welcome to do so - you're only hiding from yourself.

And that is the reasonable stance in this matter. Vive La France

Thursday, 22 September 2011

Health Scares

Lots today about the cost of PFI schemes and the resultant burden on the finances of the National Health Service. Well, I have a brilliant fix for the NHS and it is so simple I am amazed nobody thought of it before.

Currently, drug companies collude with the medical profession to invent all manner of new conditions for which their drugs appear to offer some relief. This is well known and documented, with the real drug research being carried out on paying customers and many middle-men benefiting from the practice. It's been going on for years and I have no issue with private companies profiting from the ignorance or gullibility of the masses; in fact government relies on gullibility to be able govern at all.

But it's not going to happen in my health service - oh yes, there will be one; somebody has to keep the workers fit to work. And therein lies the problem with the present NHS. Over the years, doctors have altered their practice from simply fixing folk to comprehensively meddling with the malingerers to invent excuses.

Doctors will henceforth be required to diagnose idlers, skivers, fantasists and plain old fakers. The shiftless and idle will be prescribed a spot of hard work to get them back on their feet and medical treatment will be reserved only for those with genuine, serious illness.

'Wellness' will cease to be an acceptable term and most types of psychologist* will be struck off the medical register and rebranded as 'a bit mad'. Everybody feels under the weather now and then; the difference is that in my system you will just have to put up with it and stop whinging. Similarly 'low self-esteem', in fact anything for which counselling is currently prescribed, will be removed from the list of condition that the state will treat you for.

Bingo. Cutting health spending at a stroke. Another blow for the dependency culture and a major step forward for good old common sense. Okay, so we'll lose a few, but it's just got to be seen as collateral damage. If you seriously want a healthy society we have to get rid of unfounded illnesses and treatments. Job done.

As for 'alternative' therapies. Go on, have a guess what I think about them...

(*Pyschology, psychiatry, psychotherapy, behavioural studies, sociology, criminology et al will be deemed to be harmless hobbies, but not worthy of the status of proven medical disciplines. Most of those thus qualified had better get to grips with a stethoscope or go private.)

Celebrity Squares

So, what's caught my eye today? Not much, really. The news is all financial, confused and although desperately important, insufficiently understood by one and all, least of all bankers, economists and politicians. So, we're in good hands here, then. The continuing Israel-Palestine argy-bargy? Not interested; call me when it's sorted. I may be out that day.

But there's a type of news that never seems to grow old - celebrity guff. It's everywhere.

Today I learn the following important stuff:

  • "Ex Eastenders star Lacey Turner's spotty bikini proves a big hit with her beau." and
  • "TOWIE's Gemma Collins pours her newly-slim curves into a skintight dress for day of filming." (Still fat, curiously.) and that 
  • Kirtsie Ally says, " I didn't want to have fat sex, but now I'm ready for love."

If I'm getting this it seems to be that all you need to do to become famous and feted is to appear on camera fat, (or pregnant, or both) and unattractive, then reappear a few weeks later, a bit less fat, just as unattractive, yet strangely reborn as some sort of talisman for lardy wimmin everywhere. (I have to assume that only women want to know about this stuff; the alternative is too unbearable to contemplate.)

Anyway, this is all great news. It means we really don't have to worry one jot about female tokenism in the boardroom. The spectre of quotas for girlie politicians need never be an issue. And we can probably ignore all and any of the bleatings of the right-on, girls-on-top feminista for ever more.

So, to keep the chicks on board with the revolution I propose free subscriptions to Heat magazine and any other gossip rags and plenty of sound-proofed, pastel-hued girlie lounges where they can meet to discuss babies, kittens and other fat women to their hearts content.

Peace out, sisters!

Wednesday, 21 September 2011

Mobility Allowance

Hallelujah! A light in the darkness, as a headmaster tells the truth about academic selection in schools.

The failed comprehensive school debacle has been going on since 1965 - that's forty-six years up the paddle-less creek and whole lives have been desperately sacrificed to the gods of equality and diversity, inclusivity and whatever other claptrap the non-teaching teachers have dreamed up.

Because, let's face it, is those who have left the chalk face that like best to pontificate about how to scale it. Working teachers are too busy trying to stay alive in the blackboard jungle and dream of the days when facing students will be a thing of the past for them too.

Child-centred education, collaborative learning, experiential learning, the initial teaching alphabet, look-and-say, the utterly ridiculous over-use of non-effective whiz-bang information technology to try and get through to infantile fifteen year-olds who can't yet read effectively. Play before work, reward for indolence, the refusal to instil a work ethic. The idea that children should actually be consulted as to how they wish to be taught!

It must all go. So herewith my manifesto for children:

Children to be sterilised and have vocal chords removed* at, or very shortly after birth. (Voice returned once trained but fertility only to be reinstated after the age of 23 and having passed certain strict socio-economic tests). One parent to be required by law to remain at home during the formative years, to play with their kids and be tasked with house-training them and instilling basic discipline - all kids to be capable of 'sit', 'stay' and 'heel' on command before being admitted to school.

School to consist of two years Infant Education consisting of the alphabet, times-tables, writing, drawing, singing and play-time. Followed by four years in Junior School: Absolutely NO computers or calculators allowed and all work to be hand-written in fountain pen. Then a return to sensible secondary education - the school of hard knocks where competition is all and only the strong survive. Eleven plus, grammar schools and then on to tech, poly, white-tile, red-brick or oxbridge on merit alone. Selection at the discretion of the establishments and all Labour Party Gala Bingo 'universities' to be abolished forthwith.

All state education will be free and higher education accessible only for those who warrant it - 10% at best.

Corporal punishment? I hear you ask? What's my policy on that? I'll go one better and not only reinstate corporal punishment but introduce capital punishment for the worst offenders.

You know it makes sense.

(* Thanks, Ken - credit where credit's due.)

Tumbling on...

The latest from Dale Farm where the TGBs have not only won a temporary reprieve from eviction, but have already started to spread their particular brand of poison farther afield. Luton, I hear, has become a target for invasion.

This will never get better without drastic measures because as each year goes by there are more of them. They breed, you know. And that's our fault for maintaining a tolerant society. In fact most of our problems are brought about by our national tolerance of aberrant behaviour - why else do we allow itinerant foreigners to roam our land and steal our stuff?

Travellers are criminals because they ignore the law. They claim that those laws do not apply to them, because of their 'culture', that houses are against their 'culture' (even though many of them own houses). They litter and fly-tip and won't shit in their caravans because that's dirty, but are happy to crap all over other people's parks and public land. They work illegally and don't pay taxes and they do, repeatedly, steal from others. Yet they see no wrong in what they do because that is what their 'culture' allows them to do.

But Dale Farm has provided a solution. Along with their barricades, protesters have chained themselves to the  gates, handcuffed themselves through concrete-filled barrels and made repeated, determined proclamations that they will not leave. So why bother stopping them? In fact, why not help them to stay?

I propose that we assist all gypsy encampments to remain where they are. Exactly where they are. Until their last breath. It's so simple, it's cheap and it will eventually solve the problem. So, whenever they set up camp the local authority will immediately erect a security fence around them, for their protection. So they cannot be contaminated by the evils ways of outsiders (or tax-payers, as I like to call them) the fences should be at least ten feet high, reinforced and electrified.

We will know when they are happy with their new home because, eventually, they will stop complaining. I think this will be a popular move and those who don't approve can continue to travel, as long as that is outside our shores - which is, after all, what happened to them in their countries of origin.

What's happened to the world?

So the Times Atlas of the World is telling big porky-pies about global warming?

I'm not so sure I'm against this, when I think about it.

A society has a duty to educate its citizens for the benefit of that society. Any individual gain is a lucky by-product of that process. And while we need thinkers and doers, we need far more doers than thinkers - and the last thing we need is doers turning to thought at the drop of a hat.

With that in mind I applaud the Times Atlas for supplying the drones of the world with something big to worry about because once people stop worrying about stuff they can't control they start to worry about stuff they could control. And if I'm honest about it, there are a lot more proles than police. Fair play to the publishers.

Our free press is responsible for much stirring in the far-too-well-informed sensibilities of the great unwashed. So I say, keep 'em in the dark and feed them bullshit - the trademark of successful tyrannies throughout history. Long live the king!

School's Out for Summer

Aargh! What is it about the phrase, 'feral, underclass, criminal scum' that Nick Clegg doesn't get?

"Prevent children [from] falling through the cracks"? Jesus Brian O'Blimey, does he not realise they were born between the cracks, they intend to live their lives there and the good ones will die there, leaving no marks but skid-marks on the world? The ones he's seen emerged from the cracks simply because they saw a chance to steal and wreak havoc and maybe get away with it.

Summer school? Why not a send 'em on safari? Or trips to Disney? Sod it, give them a council house and be done with it! For every single kid who has genuinely benefited from such crackpot schemes  there are many thousands who have not. And what message does that send to the decent kids? Work hard at your sums, practice your writing, finish your homework on time and you'll get... nothing. Nothing, that is, except a chance to get a job and spend a lifetime paying taxes so the squeaky wheels can continue to be greased-up on handouts.

And then we'll take more of your money to send to Greece and Italy and Spain and...

The best thing a scheme like this could achieve is a period of incarceration; take them off the street for a few weeks. So let's not pretend it is anything but a brief respite for the elders of the rats' nest sink estates.

So, I have a much better idea, naturally. I like Cleggy's idea, I do. With one little tweak: Let's bring back Borstal and send these brats on a summer taste of what's to come if they don't scurry back down through those cracks. And we can invite hard-working kids to the summer gala at the end, where they can play splat-the-rat with some real vermin.

Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Choice Cuts

Variety, diversity, choice, whatever you call it, it's ridiculous.

There are only so many ways you can mix up pulped tomatoes, a few herbs and preservatives, so why so many varieties of tomato-based cook-in sauces? All processed food tastes pretty much the same anyway, so the only distinguishing features are introduced by cynical marketing additives such as labels, price and the shape of the bottles.

Cars - why so many different makes and models? What's to discriminate one from another?

Pizza? It's cheese on toast, with some other bits added in; it's Welsh rarebit with tomatoes (bloody tomatoes again!).

Everywhere you look it's choice, choice, choice and it's advertised as a good thing. Clothes, shoes, furniture, mobile phones, crisps, fizzy drinks, carpets, curtains. Even bloody dogs - why so many different shapes and sizes of ugly, dirty, antisocial child substitutes? And all this choice is bad for you. It's because of choice that we have leisure shopping. And shopping as a pastime is downright evil; ask any man.

What the hell?  Humans are not equipped to make sensible choices - see the divorce statistics - so in future there won't be any to make. You will have a very simple selection of small, medium and large in quality ranges of cheap, just-the-job and pricey. Colours will be restricted to those with a proper name, such as red, green, etc. (Taupe, my arse!)

And you will all be grateful for it. Grateful because I will save you so much time you will be able to do all those things you've been putting off for years; get some exercise, read some books, play with your kids. You'll live a better, more worthwhile life because you'll no longer covet your neighbours slightly better version of what you've already got.

Say goodbye to envy, embrace freedom from choice, do as you're told; you know it makes sense.

Tilting at Windmills

Renewables. All very fashionable, all very 'now', all very much ado about nothing.

If this stuff is so good - windmills and what-not - why do we have to pay folk to invest in it? Just because our crackpot governments have believed every bit of dubious 'research' and signed up to every bit of external pressure to jump on the next bandwagon arriving at platform 3B, it doesn't make it right.

While a few householders - mainly those who can easily afford their bills - get a boost from the feed-in-tariffs for solar photovoltaics, the majority of installations are not funded by such householders but are, instead, the property of wealthier companies, receiving a subsidy that wasn't intended for them. How was this allowed to happen? 'Joined-up government'? Hardly.

On a much larger scale it's just been revealed that two-thirds of those enormous energy-using, can't-work, eyesore white-elephants, the 'wind farms' are foreign-owned. So not only are we, the fuel-using public, paying a hefty green-tax penalty, from which others benefit, it turns out those others are sucking cash out of the country. Madness.

So, in my new realm, there will be no such thing as governmental interference in, tinkering with, screwing up, 'fixing' things that are not broken. Of course there will be social engineering - that's what I'm all about, after all - but there will be no signing up to ridiculous faddy notions from any quarter.My gaff, my rules.

This is how it will work: You petition me directly if you have a big idea. I'll have a think about it and if it sounds like a plan, I'll give you the go-ahead. If it sounds like a load of rubbish you'll get a clip about the ear and be sent on your way. And you will only get any financial assistance if you can show me a real profit from the deal. Now that is joined-up government.

Sunday, 18 September 2011

The Church of Jonesy

My radio alarm wakes me up to the soft tones of Aled Jones, conducting his weekly sermon on Radio 2. Gaw'd bless his delusions, Aled exists to trickle treacle over troubled souls at the ungodly hour of six on a Sunday morning. My own fault, I suppose, for leaving the alarm set.

Still, I'm up now and it got me thinking. While I have absolutely no respect for your, or anybody else's religion, which after all is a deluded and lazy attempt to pass the buck. I have noted-bene the power of various churches to exert undue influence on the gullible. To pretend all will be well in some vague, far-off Nirvana (but in the meantime if you wouldn't mind topping some infidels we'll hold your place in the queue) is brain-washing par-excellence. And mind how you go, sonny, else you're bound for oblivion. Carrots and sticks; religion, I like your style.

Karl Marx had a point. An opiate for the people is exactly what I had in mind and - forget soma* -what better drug than a stealth opiate in the form of mild-mannered Jonesy. So, that's settled, I'm all for religion. A religion. State-approved, with proper rules, hellfire, fury and a bit of smiting. Lots of woe-betides and plenty of thees and thous in the text (which I'm working on; I might call it The Wholly Bibble). Treacle on the outside, torture on the inside. Just the ticket.

Attendance will be compulsory on a Sunday morning from 0800 until 1100, after which everybody goes home for a proper roast and a doze in front of the telly. That's law and order and civil obedience taken care of for the best part of a day. Any absentees better have a good, reasoned excuse; those who do may well get jobs in authority, those who can't think of one will be up for a public punishment of some kind. I'm sure the old religions will provide plenty of suggestions.

See? I'm nothing if not reasonable. Plenty of reasons for all to do the right things and plenty of incentives to stay on the straight and narrow. One religion, one god (I'll get him a better name, obviously) and one set of rigidly enforced rules. And because your reward is post-mortem, pretty cost-effective too.

So, that's my Sunday morning labours over and I see that it is good. Now, where's that light switch?

(*cf: Aldous Huxley)

Sunday, 11 September 2011

Work to Rule?

So, Len McClusky of the Unite union has stepped in to become, in an odd way, an ally of the cause. He is calling on members of the public to engage in 'civil disobedience' as a means to put pressure on the coalition to scrap their essential reforms:

Good on yer Len, lad! That'll do nicely.

Because, of course, any form of disobedience will be contrary to the rule of kings, which, in my case will be simply that you do as you are told. Now, whilst I have no intention of being a heavy-handed despot towards those who calmly get on with their lives, those who willingly put themselves in the way of my programme become, automatically, traitors. And under my rule traitors will be dealt with simply, swiftly and in all likelihood, finally.

Lest this sound at all draconian let me assure you that I have better things to do than go around spying on you, paranoid that you may be plotting my downfall. No, not at all, your kids and your neighbours will be doing the spying - a regime likes to reward its supporters.

So long as you are behaving yourselves you can do pretty much what you like; just don't start upsetting people. For instance, you may form a trade union, within your industry to discuss with your employers the appropriate working practices and remuneration. That's fair enough. But start talking about strikes and be assured I will get to know about it. Start disrupting the normal functioning of society and I'l get involved. And you wouldn't want to distract me from my golf, trust me.

So please, if you are a crackpot, a lefty-pinko-whinger, a lazy git, a troublemaker or a jumper-on of bandwagons, feel free to climb aboard Len's Civil Dis-Express, but don't expect an easy ride. All you'll be doing is giving me an excuse. For which I thank you... very likely posthumously.

Saturday, 10 September 2011

Rocket Surgery

I've just had the misfortune to sit through England's dismal performance against Argentina in the rugby world cup. They won, but only by a squeak and it was a match you could only really comfortably watch with your hands up to your face to avert the worst of the horrors. The match commentary was augmented by the use of 'social media', by which I mean that Konrad and I exchanged texts and a couple of phone calls during the game (Konrad is my Foreign Minister and occasional moral guide).

Anyway, stuff the game because what was truly amazing was the technology at play. On the other side of the world, thirty blokes from two different nations grapple in the mud for control of a ball assembled, no doubt in yet a third country. Gawd knows how many cameras are involved, but sufficient in number to watch the match from any angle at any distance and in wonderful clarity. The images from these cameras are collected by skilled editors and technicians, encoded into a data stream, beamed up into space and redirected by satellite to arrive in my living room almost instantaneously, where they are decoded by my television, which itself is a miraculous piece of technology.

My point? Well television is watched by all sorts of people; scientists, surgeons, engineers, financiers, teachers, doctors, mentors and thinkers. You name it, they'll be represented. All sorts of intelligent, ingenious, worthy people to whom you could explain how the technology works and who could no doubt be trained to design, construct and operate it. These I have no problem with, so what IS my point?

It's this: The vast majority of TV watchers are NOT intelligent, worthy people and can loosely be described as the great unwashed, amongst whom are the kinds of morons who engaged in the looting a few weeks ago. Such people do not deserve that the fruits of the labours of many, many useful people delivered up to their subsidised dwellings virtually free of charge. They do not deserve to be able to regard television and many other modern miracles as a right and to disregard and take for granted the effort that goes into creating such diversions for their tiny minds.

So, in my new kingdom technology rights must be earned. If you have a job, or are self-supporting and keep out of trouble you will have the same kind of access you have now. If you are not contributing to society you will have to pass an examination for each type of technology you wish to use in order to demonstrate, if not true understanding, at least an appreciation of the effort to which other people have gone. It's my guess that the 'right' kind of people will be incapable of passing the exams for anything beyond cycling and using a footpath.

But don't worry that that will leave a whole underclass of people denied the use of all things modern. Don't fret that they will then turn to mischief as a diversion. Oh no. The test centres will also be detention centres and those who fail will simply be detained. After all, if they can't pass the telephone and computer exams, if they can't demonstrate an understanding of electricity, how could they possibly be set to useful employment?

That's right, the world will always need rocks to be broken up and given that the new world prisons will be hard labour establishments, the solutions are right beneath our noses. Straight from school to prison for the wrong 'uns - problem solved!

Now say thank you.

Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Squat Thrusts

It beggars belief. It does - because I say so.

Judge Fiona Henderson has ruled that, in order that squatters can more easily go about their business, Camden council must publish a list of empty properties in North London and claims that, "there was no evidence they [the squatters] carried out more anti-social behaviour than rent-paying tenants". 

No evidence? Good grief, woman! Ask anybody who has been excluded from their legally-owned property by a bunch of free-loading, drug-ridden, soap-dodging, self-righteous, thieving, wrecking, whining social rejects if there was any evidence of anything anti-social.

Things like forced entry, theft and the threat of physical violence. Things like loss of access to your own home, the defacing and damaging of your possessions and - let's not forget what touchy-feely times we live in - the devastating effects on people's psychological and emotional well-being.

Read more if you can bear it:

Do we have solutions? You bet we do. For a start, once everybody is tagged from birth we'll know exactly what you're up to - for your own benefit and that of society, of course.

And anybody rendered homeless through no fault of their own* will be legally allowed to occupy designated empty houses until such time as they are found suitable long-term accommodation. They will pay rent, keep the place clean and pay for any damage, redecoration, etc when they leave. And then they will go on to occupy their own property and have the same rights as any other resident. The right to shoot trespassers on sight, for instance.

So, in the new GB nobody need fear returning from holiday to find squatters in their house and the rights of those squatters being defended by judges like Ms Henderson. Quite apart from anything else, such judges will have long-since been removed from the system and - being virtually unemployable - will quite likely be squatting temporarily in a state doss-house while they apply for cleaning jobs.

(* Anybody rendered homeless by their own actions will undoubtedly have committed a crime of one sort or another - too noisy, not paying the rent, having a sofa in the garden, etc - and will very quickly find themselves accommodated at My Pleasure, being 're-educated'.)

Monday, 5 September 2011

Just do it!

I have just returned from a visit to a mate. We'll call him Robert (although his real name is Richard). Robert is practically-challenged; to him a screwdriver is a vodka and orange and  a drill is something to do with fire. So, for anything electrical, I'm his best mate and when it comes to cars he switches his affections to another, fickle friend that he is! I don't feel used, quite the contrary, I feel needed, if only from time to time.

In return he tells me about new-fangled social media technology, such as Chrome-to-phone and vice-versa. (You'll probably have to look that up now, won't you?)

Under the new regime, such a lack of practical skills in males will be officially classified as a disability and attract both mockery and sympathy in proportion to how funny or debilitated the condition renders the afflicted. Other such, mildly amusing disorders will also be classified, such as: women who don't understand shoes, gay men who don't get curtains and children who fall over a lot - now that is funny!

You see, it doesn't have to be all serious under my administration. In fact, after a time I'm sure we can classify enough personal shortcomings so that everybody will have somebody they can feel superior to. Epic win!

Saturday, 3 September 2011

You for Coffee?

I read an article last week, which made my day. Said article was about some research regarding the efficacy of a cup of coffee and concluded that much of the highly sought-after caffeine 'buzz' was psychosomatic. Yes! I've been saying this for years. During those years I have seen untold numbers of fellow workers eulogising about their craving for and fulfilment on experiencing their first cup of the day.

I have always been able to take it or leave it. I neither need nor crave a morning coffee and frequently don't bother and yet I drink gallons of the stuff, most notably immediately before bed. Never felt a need, never experienced a buzz, never had trouble nodding off. The closest I have ever come to a 'buzz' is when, as a student, I was pulling an all-nighter, drinking coffee and popping ProPlus in an effort to revise for finals and my hands got a bit trembly by four in the morning. I believe four in the morning had more to do with that experience than the caffeine.

When I'm King, all scientists will naturally want to run their theories past me for agreement. It's nice to see that they are coming round to my way of thinking. More sensible reports like this, please.

Which brings me onto the Emperor's new clothes,or, as I like to call it, the Red cock-and-Bull story. If ever there was proof of the stupidity of people in general, it is the phenomenal rise of the marketing-only company that somehow makes active morons pay out for a piss-coloured, mildly offensive-tasting cup of caffeine with lots of sugar which they somehow believe 'gives them wings'. With gullibility at this all-time high, getting me voted King can only be a matter of time.

And as for those caffeine enemas - you can shove 'em up your arse!


A propos of nothing in particular, I'm stashing my business logo on here:

Tumbling Grumbleweeds

Imagine my utter lack of surprise to learn that the United Nations has waded in to add support to allow the Dale Farm 'Traveller's Camp" residents to continue to breed in their illegal, filthy, shanty town. Go on, imagine it.

Well, butt-out UN and take the odious red hag Vanessa Redgrave with you. The other day, on hearing of the legal order for their eviction, after a ten-year fight by local people blighted by their presence, she described them as " a strong, wise, warm, gentle" community. She, a brace of bewildered bishops and the ridiculous UN called for "culturally appropriate" alternative accommodation to be found.

Well, I have news for you all. They already have "culturally appropriate" accommodation - caravans pulled by Ford Transits, which they use to bring misery and scorn to the lives of tax-payers and local business throughout the land.

So, they don't want to travel after all? Well we already have a phrase for those kind of people; "ordinary people". But they also don't want to abide by the laws that govern their neighbours, wherever they stop? We already have a name for that too; we call those people "criminals".

Ethnicity my arse. This is illustrative of the extent to which blinkered liberal morons will go to defend the rights of anybody who doesn't want to conform; to have everybody else disadvantaged in bending to their will. No bloody wonder so many cultural revolutions have involved the rout of the liberal elites.

So, here's my deal. You CAN travel (just like people who don't tiresomely refer to themselves as if they were a protected species). And you can pitch up overnight on any piece of land whose short-term settlement does not inconvenience or offend those who own or live near it - I don't know, let's call them "Caravan Parks" or something, whose owners may require a fee for their efforts in maintaining the facilities.And then, after an agreed stay you can move on and take your rubbish with you. We'll happily tolerate that.

But, put a foot out of line and you will face the consequences, which will include use of the new, officially politically-correct label of "Thieving Gypsy Bastards" and allow ordinary non-criminal citizens to descend on you and yours with whatever force THEY feel appropriate, while armed police defend THEIR rights.

When you pay taxes, behave decently, stop stealing, fighting, intimidating people, destroying property, defacing the landscape and defiling communities, then you will have earned the right to be treated THE SAME AS EVERYBODY ELSE! Until that happens, when I'm King, you will not be 'travelling', you will be fleeing.