William Hague is right behind you chaps !

an apple a day …….

Click pictures for large versions .

I would very much recommend the two following articles  for further reading.

http://nathanieltapley.com/2011/08/10/an-open-letter-to-david-camerons-parents/

http://theefaction.wordpress.com/2011/08/09/londons-burning-the-answer-lies-in-the-people/

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Buy, buy ?  Nope it’s bye, bye Rupert.

Original Story here

If Bowie had been born into a different era....

In Defence of Britains Got Talent. ( Well not really.)

The cultural phenomenon that is “Britain’s Got Talent”  has been back with us for a few weeks,  sucking out our brains like some sort of televisual zombie, feasting on our inertia, wallowing in our apathy and as is the way with a  Simon Cowell  ‘format’  it never makes the mistake of under estimating the great British public’s insatiable appetite for mind numbing shite.

My dislike for ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ and all it stands for is based purely and simply on my pervious, soul shrivelling experiences of all things Cowellian. Robson And Jerome,  Zig And Zag, Sinitta, that little prick Louis Walsh, Cheryl Cole . . . need I go on ?  His crimes against popular culture are numerous, heinous and unrelenting.  Yet incredibly, having studiously avoided “ BGT” for a number of  years my view and possibly my brain had started to soften, maybe  I’d been a little harsh – after all, it’s just ‘a bit of fun ‘isn’t it ?  Maybe it’s improved immeasurably since I was harrowed to the very core of my being by the likes of  Susan Boyle and the ‘side splitting’ antics of Stavros Flatley.  And so I decided in order to have a valid contemporary opinion I should at least give the show another viewing. To this  end I have just spent the last hour on youtube and ITV.com observing people who have at the very  least, an inflated  sense of their own ability and at worst are seriously mentally ill, but enough about the judges . Of the contestants you can’t help but wish their parents had said ‘ No little Jenny, you do NOT have the voice of Maria Callas, but serving happy meals might be something you’d like to consider as a career option.’ There is certainly a lot to be said for tough love.  The so called expert judges including for this series, Britain’s unfunniest  (but possibly most annoying man,) Michael McIntyre,  perform their scripted roles with the deftness of a charging elephant and effect spontaneity with all the confidence of Jean Claude Van Damme playing Hamlet . But of course that’s not the issue here, this is after all , as people keep telling me ‘just a bit of fun’.

Watching the ‘highlights’  has been a spirit crushing experience and has  left me feeling tainted, depressed and lobotomised by the sheer stupidity of this lamentable charade.  The on screen ring masters, two gurning vertically challenged, stage school, millionaire Geordie luvvies,  giggle, guffaw and simulate conspiratorial ironic exasperation in order to connect with the TV audience at home,  a skill which has rather  bafflingly seen them regaled as national treasures.

And ‘connect’ is the crucial word here, because for all its faults, it’s unremitting shitness and it’s spirit crushing crassness, ‘Britain’s Got Talent ‘does one  thing extremely well. It understands it’s audience and fills the emptiness in their life. Simply put it fills a void with a void.  Cowell may not understand what makes a great song, he may not understand the avant garde,  he may be terrified of the artist who wants to push boundaries  and challenge the status quo, but he understands implicitly how to make money from defending the status quo. Cowell’s skill is turd polishing and presentation, essentially he appropriates various elements  from redundant TV  formats, the variety show, the talent show, the pantomime and like Dr. Victor Frankenstein re-assembles these parts to  create a monster.   Not unlike Cheryl Cole, initially it  appears to be beautifully constructed, stylish and represent ….. and there’s the rub , and represent what exactly???. Because the truth is “BGT”  is  the antithesis of talent, it is a  vapid , empty sexless piece of contrived propaganda,  which assumes the public is a bovine herd  made up of fatuous indolent idiots.

It was once said that people knew exactly what they were doing when  Martin LutherKing was assassinated or when JFK lost  an ill advised game of head tennis with a bullet.  They remember the shock when Lennon was murdered and were stopped in their tracks when news that Elvis had ‘left the building’ -permanently.  Yet nowadays ‘BGT’ is fawned over by the media and presented as having the same  cultural significance as the aforementioned events.  And of course we  all know exactly where we were , sitting on the fucking couch, gorging on kettle chips, complicit and acquiescent  in the dumbing down of  ‘event TV.’  You see  Cowells leathery withered gonads have ‘tea-bagged’  popular culture and his only contribution to it is to create a generation of couch potatoes who talk with misty  eyed reverence about the first time they saw and heard their hairy angel spirit guide, Susan Boyle.   And that’s what ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ gives us, something that we all crave as social animals,   the collective experience,  it’s just a shame it’s such a  fucking shit one, the televisual equivalent of holding your lighter aloft  at a Chris De Burgh concert whilst shitting into an empty polystyrene fish and chip tray. It’s a  parallel universe  were bad is good, wrong is right  a world were the mundane  is GOD,  where innovation is crushed, talent is feared  and where the banal ultimately triumphs, it IS the lowest common denominator made flesh. To quote Bill Hicks ” They’re so good, and so clean-cut, and they’re such a good image for the children.” Fuck that! When did mediocrity and banality become a good image for your children? I want my children listening to people who fucking rocked!“

People have called me a snob, of being a killjoy, of trying to spoil their fun with some sort of elitist agenda, but the reality is that surely there is nothing more elitist  than sitting on your expensive couch with your nice middle class friends sneering and sniggering  from your  perceived position of superiority as people’s dreams are dismantled by the very rich in the name of cheap nasty entertainment.  These ‘tastemakers’ contribute nothing of worth to popular culture, they debase it,  using  it as a vehicle to promote their own empty ‘brand.’  They take and give NOTHING back. ‘BGT’ is Jerry Springer/Jeremy Kyle style bear baiting with a karaoke machine, jugglers and synchronised dancing.

In essence I was right to despise the crass manipulative nastiness of  Britain’s Got Talent, but now after revisiting it ,  I not only loathe the show , I also pity the  eleven million plus who regularly lap up this drivel.   ‘Britain’s Got Talent’  is a void inside a vacuum, a hateful hat ful  of hollow and  Oscar Wilde’s epigram ‘Public opinion exists  only where there are no ideas’  could well be the shows tag-line.  It is  a show made by manipulative lazy cunts to be enjoyed by lazy complicit acquiescent cunts.  When  popular culture finally draws it’s last breath and all we have left are ‘Syco’ approved  power ballads and REO Speedwagon tribute bands  what will your excuse be ? .. “I couldn’t be arsed??”  –     We really do deserve better.

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The VP Express  uncovers the capital’s sexiest places: Here Nick Clegg describes the appeal of living in view of David Cameron‘s shiny pink arse.

“The view from number 10 is incredibly sexy, particularly at night with the moon and the glow from the old gas lamps. When David  and I were first courting we used to walk along the South Bank and look at the Houses of Parliament. I never realised then how sexy I would find living under Big Dave with his bells chiming.

Politicians as a breed, aside from maybe Eric Pickles, aren’t particularly sexy but I think politics can be sexy because power is an aphrodisiac. I can’t enough of it .  Since Dave became Prime Minister, the number of women who hit him has gone up dramatically. I don’t get jealous because more men hit me too. I think it’s hilarious and extremely flattering that I’ve been referred to as the Barry Chuckle of British politics.

I don’t mind people knowing about my history of one-night stands, broken promises and alcoholism. I was a bit souped-up when I was  Leon Brittain’s  European Union policy adviser in my twenties. I’m not proud of it but I’m not ashamed either. I do feel sexier now I’m older and I’ve stopped drinking. I think I grew up in my thirties and gained control of myself.

For dates I like to go somewhere down to earth, and you can’t get more low brow than crawling in  Hell’s gutter  on a double date with Rebekah Brooks and James Murdoch. I’ve got a sweet tooth so I find puddings, particularly chocolate, very sexy and  it also helps sweeten the bitter pill Lib Dems have been forced to swallow of late. This Valentine’s Day, David is destroying the country in the evening, so I will probably be eating a Chinese takeaway and a bar of chocolate on my own upstairs…just waiting to feel his touch, to bask in his glory and hopefully  enjoy mutual approbation later.   The most romantic thing I’ve ever done for  David is to allow him to f*ck me and my party up our collective arse.  He’s a very lucky man.  “

With apologies to Sally Bercow and The London Evening Standard

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‘Ever get the feeing people are trying to tell you something ?’

Brillo bonced Newsnight Rotweiller, Jeremy Paxman recently  added himself to the illustrious band of  BBC broadcast journalists to reveal their subconscious  feelings toward the fucking twats, ahem, excuse me, I’m sorry, I mean the  coalition. This week he joined James Naughtie and Andrew Marr as the third person to mention the ‘C’ word  in relation to the government when he said ‘Supposing, though, some of the people who ought to be paying taxes so the cunts, cuts aren’t so bad aren’t actually doing so.” It certainly echos what most of the country is feeling at present, so let’s enjoy them in all their glory once more…..

Jeremy Paxman

James Naughtie

Andrew Marr

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I’ve long given up following football since Murdoch’s filthy lucre  poisoned it’s well. The greed of the players now is probably on a par with bankers and despite my ambivalence towards footie  it’s still annoying when these badge kissing mercenaries show little regard for their club or fans.  The latest to throw his toys out of the cot is Liverpool striker Fernando Torres who has handed in a transfer request after hearing news of interest from  Chelsea -  They really are a shower of spoilt, pampered w**kers.

Click for Larger version

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Andy Gray And Richard Keys get the boot from Sian Massey & Karen Brady.

_________________________________________________________

Click for larger Image

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There has been so much written this week about the Sky Sports duo of Andy Gray and Richard Keys making disparaging remarks about females, resulting in them parting company with Sky. I won’t add too much, other than to say these two Neanderthal rock apes can talk about dark forces all they like, but they only have themselves to blame.  I did get involved in some message board fun on The Guardian website; some of the views expressed in the comments section were of such vitriolic bile I found it difficult to believe I was part of the same species never mind gender.   Another disquieting aspect of this whole affair is the female apologists for these two grunting arse scratching rock  apes, blithely dismissing it as ‘lads banter,’ is there anything more depressing than watching a woman speaking out to defend bigotry against women?

Posh fuck-wit, Katie Hopkins, who makes Thatcher seem positively sane and well balanced actually said on BBC’s Question Time ‘I think women actually don’t want equal treatment, they couldn’t handle it if they got it. It’s a tough world out there. I think what women need to realise is that you have to toughen up, we can’t ask for equal pay, you have to be paid on performance and the results you deliver. It’s a tough world out there and I don’t think Karren Brady or any others are doing us any favours by putting this sort of debate out there. I think the art of banter is something we should be proud of as a nation. I worked for a while in the military and our forces, the best in the world, in my opinion, they survive in banter. I think we need to keep that, we need to look after it.” There’s that word again, ‘Banter’ the last refuge of the scoundrel.  How somebody so thick can succeed in business is beyond me. Woman not only want equality, they quite rightly demand it !

Meanwhile the nation’s most repulsive man, dickless wonder,  Jeremy Clarkson whined that Andy Gray and Richard Keys  were ‘stitched up’,  alas the only thing that appears to have been stitched up is Clarkson’s  cranium when they removed his brain and replaced it with a small garden pea roughly the same size as his pathetic withered little testicles.

Looking at the photo above you can’t help but wonder if Mr Key’s would dismiss such disrespectful comments as ‘banter’ if they were aimed at his undoubtedly attractive daughter.  Would he find it amusing if she was referred to as ‘it’ , or if somebody asked if they’d ‘smashed it? Or had been ‘hanging out the back of it? ‘ Probably not. ..

Welcome back to the 1970’s kids.

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1970′s Footballers

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BBC Radio 4 presenter James Naughtie had  listeners of the Today programme choking on their Cornflakes  this morning when he accidentally uttered the C-word after he stumbled over the pronunciation of Culture minister David Hunt’s name.

Download it here

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Let’s face it, news that politicians lie is nothing new.  Liberal Democrat leader and spineless political shape-shifter of no fixed ideology, Nick Clegg conned many before the election with his oily slickness during the nations first televised TV debates.  Little by little  the carefully constructed façade of  earnest integrity, of a reasonable man who like the Danish prince, agonises with his conscience over ‘big decisions’ has been reduced to rubble. The mask has  well and truly slipped to reveal a shallow fraudster with no scruples whose  lack of  veracity is matched only by his naked hunger for power.  To wit, he really is a fucking cock-ring.

Nick Clegg before the election:

Nick Clegg after the election:

“”This is an extraordinarily difficult issue… We have stuck to the wider ambition that going to university is done in a progressive way”

In other words

Resulting in

Which induced a not very chastened  Nick the  Prick to say-

“You need to be careful. I should have been more careful perhaps in signing that pledge at the time.”

But wait !! Apparently, the Liberal Democrats were already drawing up plans to discard Nick Clegg’s flagship policy to scrap university tuition fees two months before the general election. Pity they didn’t let on to the people who voted for his pre election pledges eh ? And they call it democracy?

[Youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYMN7l_wo5U&feature=related]

Support The Students

Nick, you see can be anyone you want him to be…whenever it suites

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Fireworks can be dangerous in the wrong hands. . . as can power.

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Later in the week Fry was quoted as saying that he feels sorry for straight men as women aren’t generally too keen on making the beast with two backs, submitting that “it’s the price they are willing to pay for a relationship”. Obviously if Fry is correct this means I’ve been lied to countless times and the earth didn’t really move!! …Damn you Fry ! Now I’m beginning to doubt my once unquestionable prowess !

Admittedly my first reaction was that Stephen appears to have regressed back to the 1970′s, but that was nothing compared to the twitter-verse lynch mob, as they went into overdrive, jerking their knees and bleating that Fry should be hung in Parliament Square via his (doubtless) magnificently humongous testicles, until such time as they are engorged and bright purple; like overripe Tuscan Valley plums.  At this point his plump, puce pods should be pummelled with splintered cricket bats as Fry is handed his I-phone and attempts to beg for clemency using just 140 characters.  However, one suspects as an ex public school boy, Fry may regard that sort of behaviour as more of a guilty pleasure, than an actual punishment.

Others defended young Stephen, many observing (including it is noted, one Mrs Von Pip,) that he was merely  highlighting a painful, unspoken truth whilst also helping to  shatter the final taboo that has for so long haunted  the shadowy world of heterosexual sex.  Namely that women would sooner drink neat bleach than blow a gentleman’s love trombone, although many accept that ultimately it’s a price worth paying as all their friends have men and they don’t really want to come across as ‘a bit Lesbian.’ Some young ladies confusingly tweeted that ‘Feminism was gay‘, whilst others said that all this nagging would simply give women a bad name , and really shouldn’t these feminists be busy preparing their man a delicious meal wearing a thong, suspenders and high heels ? After all, he’s bound to have developed an insatiable appetite following a spot of late afternoon dogging !  Ah the Sisterhood is alive and well it seems!

As an upshot of all this blathering, Mr Fry has not only deleted the Harry Potter photos, but it transpires he may have also deleted his twitter account claiming he’s being painted as the gay, I-phone loving anti-Christ and has been horribly misquoted, signing off with a pithily inspired “bye,bye”.

Still, whatever the rights and wrongs it gives us an ideal opportunity to indulge in some Photoshop fun, sadly it also gives the Daily Mail, who are no fans of Mr Fry, the chance to produce yet more spurious nonsense too.

Fry Quits Twitter ? -(Animated version)

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Large Version.

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Large Version

Kudos to Rolf Harris

Coming soon the ultimate date movie

And the DVD box set

The UK election was without doubt, one of the most fascinating and unpredictable for decades. It had the lot, tears, tantrums, the decimation of the BNP, UKIP leader Nigel Fargae, crashing his aeroplane ( a problem with the right wing apparently ).  It also featured the added drama of voters in a number of constituencies being turned away from polling stations, unable to exercise their democratic right. The UK Electoral Commission is said to be “undertaking a thorough review” of instances where voters have been unable to cast their ballots.  They have yet to confirm the rumour that Robert Mugabe has offered to dispatch neutral observers to ensure the next election is all above board!

Yes the general public have spoken and their overwhelming message was quite clearly  “erm..” leaving the three main party leaders  lost in political limbo. With no clear winner, maybe the electorate’s message to politicians was quite simply “get lost..”

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So we have a hung Parliament and all the feverish  talk of huge Liberal Democrat  gains amounted to nothing more than hot air and broken dreams.  The Tories failed (despite being bankrolled by  Cashcroft and enjoying the support of Murdoch’s huge media machine) to gain majority.  And so now Cameron ‘the man who would be king’ is reduced to attempting to broker  deals with the Lib Dems, the Unionists, a Shetland pony called Roy, hell, anybody who will assist him  in fulfilling his “birthright”…

So will the Liberal Democrat’s get into to bed with current PM  Gordon Brown and form a government? Or will Nick Clegg risk an STD and allow David Cameron to seduce him with flaccid promises of  “an all party committee on electoral reform”. A fairly shit chat up line me thinks…

But it’s Cleggs shout…Deal or No Deal ?

Simon Indelicate ( Of  The Indelicates)  tells us why he loves election night and why a Tory government would be no fun…..

Last Ditch Effort

“I have a serious character flaw: I don’t want to be ordinary. I don’t ever want to be a member of an audience.  I am only happy backstage, peering out through curtains at amorphous crowds. I want to conduct them – to raise and quiet applause with a gesture – not stand among them. I want to commentate, not participate. I long for an occult understanding of the manipulable mechanisms that operate complex things. I want to be a witchdoctor, predicting the returns of summers and taking credit when I am proved correct.

As such, I’ve always loved elections. Like nothing else, they are a gift to people like me – arcane historical motions steeped in complex mathematics and eccentric insider traditions. When I learn that a party can come third in percentage terms and still be awarded enough seats to form the largest parliamentary grouping I get a little, embarassing thrill that I understand why and someone else doesn’t. When I hear that the Prime Minister has reacted pretty much as I would to hearing an old woman blather ludicrously on about eastern europeans, I don’t for a moment think that immigration is the issue at the story’s core: I think on a meta-level – I think about what it will mean, who it will sway, how it will play with undecideds, whether the public will warm to the glimpse of humanity or be disgusted with the Big-Brother-win-forfeiting crime of two-facedness…

This is all because I am, by birth and nature among the political classes. My parents never paid for my education, but I went to a state grammar school almost entirely populated by former prep school boys who had, by sheer and remarkable coincidence, been identified as the cleverest local kids in a fair and wholly accurate verbal reasoning test. I’ve got a politics A-Level, I attend counts and stay up all night for european election results. When I was 17 I won a national prize for debating, a title awarded to those who are the best at arguing a case with passion, commitment and eloquence that they have been handed a quarter of an hour before doing so. I’ve always known that politics was such a performance. We stripped belief for parts and reassembled it to convince people that we shared it. The Death Penalty, Abortion, Euthanasia, Privatisation, Poverty, Climate Change – they are just capitalised topics, fonts of rhetoric to be picked at for advantage, stages to play on. That’s what being of the political classes means – that people’s lives are chess pieces to help us to get our names onto little shields and precious websites.

I recognise my brethren everywhere in the media and politics. We are drawn to the swingometers and home-guard-ish returning officers and we babble excitedly about the process of it all. To us, ‘discussion of policy’, ‘smears’, ‘passion’ and ‘spin’ are all in the same category. They are tactics – like blows during a turn based RPG battle: Brown performs a medium strength  appeal to class solidarity on Cameron’s upper body, yielding +2 EXP, -4 INT and a heartland bonus of +3 CHR…

It’s a game and we’ve read the rulebook and we don’t believe that anybody else has and that makes us special. More special than you, undecided voter so easily swayed by Saatchi posters and gaffes; more special than you, mumsnet whom we so nearly decided to name the election after; more special than you, old woman, worrying about your little care home; more special than you, ordinary man, charmingly expressing your little opinion outside Dixons. We’re the guys behind the curtain – quake before the great and terrible Oz.

And I love it. Deep down, I do. I love it all. Except, this time, there’s this thing that’s happening and it really feels like we might elect a conservative government and it isn’t fun – it’s horrible.

For so long it has been an item of received wisdom that the main parties are all the same. If you have only been paying attention for the last thirteen years, you might well feel that this is true – The Labour years have been awash with disappointments, attacks on civil liberties, terribly planned wars and stupid laws. But they have been punctuated with the minimum wage, huge improvements to the NHS, the lifting of huge numbers of children out of poverty, real peace in Northern Ireland, real Gay rights, even free fruit for infant schools… There is a gap between the records of these parties – a narrow gap maybe, but any gap with a million children in is a gap worth recognising the existence of.

To us who spend the days before elections writing self-serving blogposts and trying to make things trend on twitter – it is incredibly appealing to see the contest as between three rivals from our ranks. We like the narrative that identifies ‘change’ as a desire and animating force among the munchkins. We assume that David Cameron will be the beneficiary and we think it’s delightful that the Liberal Democrats might have convinced enough people to cause a plot wobble in the story arc.

We like to dissect whether or not this ‘Big Society’ thing is connecting with people. But what does it mean, really? When Tories promise to “Promote the delivery of public services by social enterprises, charities and voluntary groups, encouraging them to get involved in running things like “Sure Start”, does that mean that they will rely on the generosity of rich people to counter the aggressive cutting of services that make people’s lives more bearable? Does it mean that in poor areas where people aren’t willing to help, people will suffer? Johann Hari makes a persuasive case that it does.

When they promise to “Recognise marriage and civil partnerships in the tax system, bringing us into line with other major European countries and making 4 million couples up to £150 per year better off” does that mean that they plan to institutionalise a world-view that looks down on blameless single mothers, widows and unconventional couples while doing as close to fuck all as possible to actually benefit anybody on the basis of a basic misreading of the statistic that married people are less likely to split up (as close to a perfect correlation/causation fallacy as it is possible to imagine)? Well, yes, yes it does.

When they promise to cut spending immediately and usher in an ‘age of austerity’ (a phrase quietly dropped in response to bad polling) does that mean a double dip recession as poor, tired, silly old Gordon Brown warns? Well, yes, it probably does. It’s happened in some countries and has been halted in countries where the opposite policy has been pursued. Does it mean that the unemployment and house reposessions I remember from the early 90s will happen again? Again, yes, probably – Jonathan Freedland makes a convincing case here.

When David Cameron says that we can’t have a hung parliament because that will mean decisions being made in smoky backrooms by politicians – does that mean that, in the event of a hung parliament he himself  intends to try and make decisions in smoky backrooms so as to overturn constitutional convention and ride press momentum into power? Again, reports say yes.

When he says he’s making ‘a contract with you’, does that mean that he’s going to honour it precisely until the moment when, driven by inevitable crisis or political necessity, he is forced to compromise with the base of his party in order to shore up his position? Does that mean he’ll be compromising with Tebbit? With Philippa Stroud? With the Chris Graylings who had the sense to keep quiet? With his Extremist partners in the european parliament? With, not to put too fine a point on it, FUCKING TORIES. Yes. Yes it does.

I have been criticised for not making a positive case for any party, just attacking negatively and I admit it. It’s not easy. I think there are reasons to support Labour, reasons to support the Libdems and plenty of reasons not to. But at this stage, I barely care – I don’t fear either party because they are on the other side of a real gap with real people in it who will really suffer. I do fear the Tories. They terrify me.

I’d like nothing more tomorrow than to stay up all night gleefully waiting for Portillo moments and unopenable magnums and good old Paxman having a nice old go at someone and swingometers and exit polls and Andrew Neill and funny old Nick Robinson and what will Galloway say and will Caroline Lucas win and who’ll try to put a positive spin on the exit polls and look its animated MPs in a CG parliament and aren’t we all clever with our analysis and predictions and isn’t Britain just marvellous…

But this is because I suck. I love the process and I don’t want to think about what it means. But fuck me and all my chums. We’re elitist, entitled nerds and we are obscuring the things that matter. It’s not fun anymore, it matters, and if you are scared of the country this will become if Cameron becomes Prime Minister on Friday then please do not let us distract you – just use your vote any way that you can to stop it happening. It isn’t too late.

(Simon Indelicate)

So you know what to do….

Last word to sum up how many of us feel from Gary Younge

“I don’t have a phobia about Tories. That would suggest an irrational response. I hate them for a reason. For lots of reasons, actually. For the miners, apartheid, Bobby Sands, Greenham Common, selling council houses, Section 28, lining the pockets of the rich and hammering the poor – to name but a few. I hate them because they hate people I care about. As a young man Cameron looked out on the social carnage of pit closures and mass unemployment, looked at Margaret Thatcher’s government and thought, these are my people. When all the debating is done, that is really all I need to know.” ( Full article here )

http://www.stopdave.co.uk/

Not as offensive as The Suns front page

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Many voters probably wouldn’t object to the above scenario and  apathy and mistrust towards  a system that appears to be   inherently  corrupt is understandable.  However not voting at all  is a bit like saying…“I’m going to wear sweat pants and a man nappy for the rest of my life, I have given up “..Predictions today suggest that a hung parliament is still on the cards, The Sun “newspaper” and others with vested interests  would seek to convince you that this would be an unmitigated  disaster for the country, and Murdoch has allegedly already issued the Sun’s editor the diktat that  it’s his job to “fu*king get Cameron into fu*king Number 10 ” .

There are still vital seats to be won and lost, so don’t be  manipulated  into voting for a party you don’t support purely to avoid Murdoch’s scaremongering  “nightmare scenario” propaganda and self- interested bullshit (you can register your disapproval of media manipulation  HERE ).  If people don’t actually  get out and vote, then the Tories may actually scrape a  majority, and having lived through  corrupt and uncaring Tory governments in the past, I know giving them the keys to number 10 would be a  f**king  disaster. So here’s a guide to tactical voting aimed at  keeping the Tories out on May 6th (download HERE ) .  Do the right thing, don’t vote Tory, do vote tactically.

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Large Versions For Display in your windows

Things kicked off in Rochdale, when after an exchange that seemed as dull as it was  innocuous,  the Prime Minister privately described “typical” former Labour voter Gillian Duffy, as a bigot.  Alas for hapless Gordo,  the all hearing ears of Rupert Murdoch’s Sky News  picked up this remark via a mic that was still switched on.    But was hecorrect?  Was he merely making a private comment that many may agree with?   Because invariably a conversation that starts with  “ and all those immigrants from Eastern Europe”..is the sort of comment that can be put in the same category as ” look, I’m a card carrying member of the Whitney Fan Club, got nothing against ‘em . . . BUT…..”

You obviously don’t need a road map to see where this ends.  However Gillian Duffy, it transpires, does…..( a sat nav voice over is but a Max Clifford phone-call away.)

Sadly to make political capital out of such tommy-rot only plays into the hands of The Tories and the BNP.

Related articles

• Gordon Brown was right about Gillian Duffy (blogs.telegraph.co.uk)
• Gillian Duffy takes on Nick Clegg (guardian.co.uk)

Everybody’s laughing at Davey’s absurd election poster in which he looks incredibly fresh faced !!!! Pop along here to see some brilliant examples of the election poster that has spectacularly backfired  !

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“Simon and Cheryl-Secret Recording”

If the suggestion  that Simon Cowell wants to enter politics with an X-Factor style political show doesn’t fill your heart with dread then you probably deserve him.

“Ant, Dec? What do the public think ? Should we pull the troops out. Let’s get the public to decide!.

[ Cue gratuitous close-up of grieving Army mum  looking tearfully at a photo of her son and set to a heart rending  Leona Lewis song.  Cut to  close up of a concerned looking Simon] …..

Simon: “Afghanistan ? EVEN  I don’t understand what’s going on there the public deserves the truth which can only be discovered by a premium line phone vote” (Story here .)

But before you rush off and vote for Simon or imagine Clarkeson as Minister For Transport , “Dr” Gillian McKeith as Health Minister , Ant & Dec as  Cultural Ambassadors or  Vernon Kaye as Minister For Vacuous  Twattery,  before you embrace that particular cultural and political  Armageddon , lets examine how Cowell manipulates the (willing )public on say, mind rotting shite like  The X-Factor, let’s do the maths.

“Do You Want The Truth Or Something Beautiful?”

Oblong Headed Oligarch of Pop : “Every single person who fills in an application form does so because they want to prove to the judges that they have what it takes, that “X” that “It” that “Pow!” which will propel them from the humdrum inadequacy of their current existence towards that mythical nirvana called the “celebrity life-style”. They all think they have a chance. That once they get in front of those three famous judges they have a genuine chance, no matter how small, of all their dreams coming true.

But they’re not going to get in front of us are they? At least not about ninety four thousand of them. The chances of them getting to perform for the judges are tiny!”

So it’s all a lie??

Oblong Headed Oligarch of Pop: “Of course it isn’t a lie!!! It’s show business. It’s entertainment. We don’t deceive anybody. The information is already there for people if they want to see it, they only have to do the maths. Ninety Five thousand contestants, three judges. How could we possibly consider even a fraction of that number? Say we did ten an hour, that’s nine thousand five hundred hours. Assuming we worked a ten hour day that would be nine hundred and fifty days!! That’s nearly three years we would have to be sitting there behind a trestle table saying “I think you need to find another dream” to an endless stream of idiots and that’s if we worked flat out without a break !

People can work it out if they want to. The only have to do the maths. But they don’t want to do the Maths. Why should they? Any more than they would watch a film that reminded them that it was only actors reciting a script.”*

*Ben Elton “Chart Throb”

“Homophobia” By Chumbawamba

According to  Daily Mail journalist Jan Moir, former Boyzone singer Stephen Gately died of “being gay.” The article can be read in it’s full vileness here

We have written to the press complaints comission to register our anger at such  a disgusting, inhuman and hateful article. We urge others to do the same. Moir will doubtless call this sort of thing  a ‘carefully orchestrated campaign’ .Ermmm by who we are not exactly sure,  probably those “gays” ?  Maybe Stephen Fry is pulling  everybody’s strings from his “lair” , that secret  hideaway, deep within a dormant volcano before he fires up his “Gay-Ray Gun” and turn us all into the sort of folk Moir disapporoves of ?   For the record we’re not gay,  we  f**king loathed  Boyside and Westzone’s music, but we do like to think  we are not totally devoid of humanity….anyway…here’s the letter to the PCC from “Team Pip “...

“I wish to complain about the breach of clause one of the code. It is factually inaccurate to say that young , healthy men do not go to bed and not wake up again.Apparently healthy people die every day due to Sudden Adult Death Syndrome. Moir dismisses the family’s assertion that their son’s death was due to a heart condition despite the fact that the cause of death, pulmonary oedema, happens as a result of heart failure.Also,is she asserting a link between cannabis use and heart failure?

I feel she is also in breach of clause twelve of the code in that she is using her factually inaccurate assertions to reinforce predjudices against a particular group of people on the basis of their sexual orientation.The whole tone of the article, from the headline onwards, is designed to portray the idea that Mr. Gately’s death was in some way sinister and that this is inextricably linked with the fact that he was homosexual.Had this tragedy happened to a heterosexual ‘celebrity’ , I don’t believe that it would have attracted the same type of comment and so on that basis I would argue that the article is discriminatory .”

Other links

Press Complaints Comission

Charlie Booker on Jan Moir

The Daily Quail

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