Gawd! How dull an' boring! I'm havin' t' spend three hours over at Great Grandma 'Ughes' 'ouse! Three hours! Can you imagine 'ow fuckin' tedious it is, for Christ's sake!? She's bin sitting there goin' on about 'er 'emmorhoids for the past ten minutes so I told her I was goin' to the bog for a dump and I snuck in here to use her antiquated, steam powered computer!
Me Mum says, "You really ought t' see 'er once every few years. After all she's gettin' on in years and won't be with us too much longer."
Good! I 'ope the borin' old cow snuffs it and then I can 'ave all her money. She can stick those lavender scented soaps of hers up her wrinkled old fanny though. They stink almost as bad as all the piss in her 'ouse. I can't believe she's lived this long t' be honest. I mean, what is she now? Thirty-three? Thirty-four? It's too old t' still be alive and spoiling the world for the rest us whatever the case.
My Dad says, "You mustn't be unkind to 'er! She might be a bit cantankerous but she's had a hard life!"
You're not kidding are y' Dad? She showed it all to me in those bloody black and white photograph albums of hers! And it was fucking borrrrrrrrrrring!
"Oh, this is me brother Thomas. He was killed by a mortar bomb y' know?"
Yes Granny, I did know! Y' tell me every fucking time I visit.
"And I lost four other brothers and five mothers and fathers during the air raids!"
Well y' should have worn your glasses then, shouldn't y', y' stupid old bag?
T' think I could 'ave been tryin' to sneak into the Fisherman's Arms with Tommy Watkins tonight, which is what we always do. But no, I had t' listen to the daft old slag goin' on about 'er bunions and Adolf Hitler! Who was he anyhow? Some oily haired singer back in the forties who'd never heard of rap or rastabilly and hadn't got a clue what bling bling was or pot or smack or speed?
Pleeeeeeeeeeeeze somebody! Get me out of here before I die of fuckin' boredom and me brain starts t' melt!
Saturday, July 26, 2003
Friday, July 25, 2003
Day One Hundred and Sumtink or Udder and One: Have decided to take Waddingtons to court for using my face on der playing cards widdout my permission. And such an ugly distorted image it is too! It captures none of my refined grace and beauty. If Zeta Jones and Douglas can get one million of de squids from suing Hello Magazine den I'm damned sure I can get sumtink out of dis! Might Allah pick a large, juicy bogie from his big nostril and flick it at de infidels!
Day One Hundred and Sumtink or Udder and Two: Got letter from Tony. He says that Dr Kelly has been disposed of and, so long as I keep my mouth shut about de whole affair, he'll keep sending me the tins of Spam. Which reminds me, I must hide the documents Tony sent me concerning some of his less obedient back benchers in the Baghdad Museum where de reporters can find them. Might Allah bless Tony's healthy testicles and grant him and his cellar full of missing children much happiness!
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Hack novelist, fraudster and implicated spotty-backed murderer Lord Archer (how come he's still a lord after doing porridge?) is threatening to sue the prison service for not boiling his early morning eggs sufficiently and being skimpy with the Vaseline. Archer (56 with matching IQ) served only two years of his four year sentence for
raping small children with a broom handle being a lying twat, during which time he spent weekends at home with his missus (or mister...it's difficult to tell with that hideous old cow) and his weekdays as producer down at the Theatre Royal. (What sort of punishment is that? It's about time I committed a few crimes I reckon if that's the treatment you get in there nowadays!) And yet the talentless old shit continues to complain. Suddenly capital punishment doesn't seem quite so bad.
Meanwhile George Best's liver has decided to divorce him following further sustained abuse. This is Best's fourth liver this year but, despite dire warnings from his surgeon, Best continues to drink forty pints of vodka and one glass of his fifteen year old wife's urine every evening. Interviewed yesterday hanging from Best's chapped lips the liver in question stated, "The NHS can only afford a certain number of internal transplant organs every year and this bastard's been through most of the Alder Hey surplus stocks already. I shall be suing for custody of the kidneys!"
And finally, last night saw the premiere of Cody Something-or-other the name of which I can't be arsed researching but which included that kid out of Malcolm in the Middle in the lead role, in London's West End. The film follows the exploits of a child spy, described by critics as "...a sort of adolescent American version of James Bond." (And I thought James Bond was adolescent enough!) J K Rowling has already contacted her lawyers to see if there's anything in the film worth suing for plagiarism.
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
Tonight I would like to pay homage to those thoughtful and considerate parents who, now that the Summer Holidays are here (six weeks of quality family time), have decided to dump their noisy, irritating and remedial offspring down my avenue as far away from their own houses as they can possibly get whilst remaining within the boundaries of legality!
Thank you so much you skanky, selfish piles of dog shit! You can rest easy in your drug induced comas that my summer has been totally ruined by these dreadful, inbred little cunts charging up and down the fucking path outside my window in the pursuit of what appear to be stone-deaf dinosaurs. If only the vile twats had stayed at home they might have realised that Jurassic Park was on the television and they could have seen as many dinosaurs as their horrible little hearts desired. But obviously their parents don't want the foul little bastards anywhere near their own houses...and, to be fair, I can't say that I blame them.
Listen up irresponsible parents! Scooters, pogo-sticks and footballs are excellent bargaining tools at Christmas but those kids are going to learn how much they hurt when I ram the fucking things up their arses one of these nights. You wanted the damned children, now fucking put up with them! I made a deliberate choice in not producing offspring because, unlike you lot, I have enough brain, character and individuality not to follow the status quo. And I also made a deliberate choice buying a cottage down a street where every house was too small to harbour the screaming little bastards. Your ignorance in chucking these disgusting monsters into our quiet row is astounding, and unless you want them returned to you with fire axes stuck in their heads then you'd better pick the revolting little cunts up now and keep them in your own stinking cesspit houses where they're not going to drive me to commit genocide!
Before I fly off to Sydney in my never ending search for Weapons of Mass Destructions, let me leave you some thoughts from Oz's favorite ranter.
JournalistsIan Thorpe is a great Australian. Bigger, faster, better - he is the epitome of everything great about this country. He is a super-freak, and we are living in the era of freaks. Increased steroids and antibiotics in foods has resulted in the world's population being at its most fecund, resulting in huge population increases.
But for every Thorpe, Jordan, Beckham, Woods, there is an increase at the other end of the spectrum. Smaller, uglier, thicker - an army of under evolved life forms that spend their time dwelling at the bottom of the human food chain.
Strangely they have all congregated in one profession - journalism.
Well not actually journalism, but gossip writing, the journalistic equivalent of the gun-totting uniform-wearing half-witted security guards who spend their lives protecting 7-11 stores because they were too thick to get into the police force.
I must admit though, I’m actually a big fan of the fifth estate. The world is a busy place and while there is great need for thinkers, innovators and producers, we also need people who are willing to dedicate their lives to the banal, like asking people, who made your dress? Were you happy you got beaten by 200 points? Do you like peanut butter? Can you help me tie up my shoelace?
Who else is going to do it? Last I heard Ivan Milat was a bit busy and Warwick Capper was too busy pursuing his career in comedy. Journalism is about informing the public. What do gossip journalists tell us that we don’t already know?
That socialites are fatuous, that twenty-three year olds are more desirable than forty five year olds, that Eddie MacGuire did a deal with the devil whereby he gave up introspection in return for total power.
If you happen to have the misfortune to run into a society columnist tonight, let them know you think they’re all drunken, pretentious walking anachronisms that think if they find their way out of the toilet at the pub they’ve really achieved something to be proud of.
British Prime Minister Tony Blair hailed the deaths as "a great day for the new Iraq." Speaking during a trip to Hong Kong, Blair said the two helped lead a regime "responsible for the torture and killing of thousands and thousands of innocent Iraqis."
Whereas Tony leads a squeaky clean regime "hardly responsible at all, at all for the intimidation and vilification just one solitary insignificant scientist" ... do the math. What's more the
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
How to win court cases even when you're guilty!
1) Kill the main witness for the prosecution.
2) Leak various stories to the press and then shout "Trial by media! My integrity is compromised!"
3) Force the main witness for the prosecution to commit suicide in a field at gun point.
4) Refuse to let the jury see your spotty back.
5) Get the MOD to kill the main witness for the prosecution on your behalf.
6) Make sure the judge is a close personal friend and/or shares your lodge and has a particular dislike for homosexuals called Norman Scott.
7) Put the fear of God into the main witness for the prosecution so that they won't admit to anything in front of the Foreign Select Committe. Then have them secretly killed.
8) Pretend that the glove is smaller than it actually is by pathetically spreading your fingers apart when trying it on in court.
9) Marry a judge and have the main witness for the prosecution removed from the trial by lacing his drink with untracable but lethal chemicals.
10) Blame the BBC...and then employ a member of the aristocracy with whom you've had sex and underhand dealings, such as Lord Hutton, to investigate the mysterious death of the prosecution's main witness.
Uncle Brian: Saving party funds from being spent on Max Clifford.
Speaking at his Texas ranch with the leader of one supportive country, Premier Silvio Berlusconi of Italy, Bush said, "The more people involved in Iraq, the better off we will be."
Goodonya George! Getting a bit too toasty warm in the hot-bed that is Iraq is it me old mate?
"Better off WE will be"? Who's the WE? Perchance a royal plural adopting president whose popularity is falling and who faces a
Well, I could suggest a few ways, but that would be churlish, not to say worthy of a weekend at Bernie's Guantanamo Bay. I believe there is an Australian or two, a Brit or two there, allegedly involved in matters Iraq, who currently feel not exactly "better off".
I have to admit that I'm an old stick in the mud nostalgia buff who wants a return to the good old fashioned, tried and true, traditional "shock and awe" values that we once, far too fleetingly, enjoyed. Seems like the Iraqi guerillas are not too bad at the old "shock and awe".
Monday, July 21, 2003
Number nintey-four: Dr David Kelly, the British Civil Servant Scientist
who until last week was described by Tony Blair and Alistar Campbell as..."a snivelling, lying back-stabber who hasn't got the guts to admit the truth and declare his involvement with Andrew Gilligan..." was described yesterday by Tony Blair and Alistar Campbell as..."a wonderful family man whose tragic death comes as terrible blow to everyone."
Dr Kelly was born in
Nazi Germany Communist Russia North Korea 1945 with six months growth of beard to hide his true identity a mole on his chin. In later years he took up office as Unofficial Government Informer an MOD scientist. Following his witnessing of the 'Iraq pre-war Dossier' stitch up alleged involvment with Andrew Gilligan, Dr Kelly was hounded and bullied questioned by the Commons' Select Committee until he was murdered accidentally committed suicide and had his corpse dragged in a body bag in the nearby woods.
cynical, stage managed and insulting independant inquiry has been set up to examine his filing cabinet before setting fire to it death. Judge Cherie Booth has been appointed As yet a judge has not been appointed.
This report has not been tampered with by Alistar Campbell or any other
spin doctor decent and upstanding member of the totalitarian government.
Editor's addendum: Let's examine the evidence. Dr Kelly not only spoke to Andrew Gilligan but, independantly, admitted the 'sexing up' of the Iraq dossier to Newsnight. Andrew Gilligan kept Dr kelly's name quiet as the source for his claims and yet, somehow, the media and the Select Committee got hold of it. (How? Somebody in the MOD released his name? If so then how did they know it was him if there was no 'sexing up' going on?) Dr Kelly appears before the Select Committee and feigns ignorance of his involvment in this scandal. Why? Because he was lying? That doesn't quite ring true, does it? After all, he spoke to at least two journalists about this. In fear of his life then? That sounds about right. Two days later he turns up dead. Sound suspicious? Not half...especially seeing as he had no reason to commit suicide but the government are certainly a lot better off now that the main witness is defunct. Now, as you know, I'm not one to start conspiracy theories...but seriously...and when all else is said and done, Alistar Campbell's claims that Saddam could initiate WMD within forty-five minute were patently not true and the original dossier was still stolen from the internet. Come on...think about this folks...and reach your own conclusions before some New Labour loving Lord reaches them for you.
Jeffrey Archer freed from jail
Well that frees up a cell for another politician soon to appear before a judge.
Judge pledges open Kelly inquiry
"I make it clear that it will be for me to decide as I think right within my terms of reference the matters which will be the subject of my investigation," he said in a statement.
British Prime Minister Tony Blair said he was ready to appear before a judicial probe into the death of a British defence ministry weapons expert who committed suicide two days ago.
"Of course there are things I will talk about to the inquiry, as will others," Blair said at a joint press conference with South Korean President Roh Moo-Hyun.
As I said, the release of Lord Maggot frees up a cell for another politician.
Sedgwick's Jargon Watch. Official alert #24:-
"Mr Bremer, who is overseeing the US effort to establish civilian control in Iraq, acknowledged on CBS's Face the Nation that there had been an uptick in attacks on US forces who ousted Saddam in April."
Sunday, July 20, 2003
Written by Terry Pratchett. Winner of the Carnegie Medal.
Published by Corgi Books 2002. Doubleday (an imprint of Random House Children's Books) Edition 2001.
Illustrations by David Wyatt. ISBN 0-552-54693-3
Reviewed by Big Brother's John Tickle.