In a varietal Party Bag tonight, we feature Theresa May at the corner flag of the Brexit Cup replay, cultural appropriation of the negro evangelist spiritual genre, the House of Commons’s mass penis extension, incompetent experts, and the bizarre respect so many people seem to have for economists and health professionals who are consistent only in their ability to disagree with each other, and change their minds.
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Hey sinner May
where yer gonna run to?
Hey sinner May
where yer gonna run to?
Hey sinner May
where yer gonna run to?
all on that day….
Run off to Juncker
Juncker was a-drinkin’
Run off to Juncker
don’t do none o’ dat t’inkin’
all on that day….
Run to Varadkar
Gay boy was a-gigglin’
Run to Varadkar
Gay boy was a-wrigglin’
all on that day….
Hey sinner May
where yer gonna run to
Hey sinner May
where yer gonna run to
Hey sinner May
50 days to get through
until that day.
Hide in the loo
dey gonna break dat door down
hide in the loo
you lettin’ all de side down
doin’ a poo
ain’t no excuse in dis town
all on that day…..
a note from yer mum
dey goin’ to see through it
note from yer mum
dey gonna tell you “Screw it”
you gonna have to come
to de Commons an’ go through it
all on that day…..
Hey sinner May
no more of yer fudgin’
Hey sinner May
ain’t nobody budgin’
every which way
we gonna be a-judgin’
all on that day…..
Dat sinner Green
one of new distractions,
what comin’ next –
Meghan’s first contractions?
Horse flu bombshell –
no more racin’ action
all on that day….
Hey sinner May
Next speech it get more distant
on Valentine’s Day
her hubby is insistent
he want his wicked way
so no MPs will dissent
not on that day…..
Feb Twenty-Eight
de new date dat’s what I hear
better never than late
is what de Leavers all fear
Remainers dey state:
“Thank fuck it not a leap year”
all on that day…..
I hope you all enjoyed that. I suspect that, as a model of racist, homophobic and culturally appropriated Little Englander doggerel, it is without equal.
I love the sheer, surreal insanity of “cultural appropriation”. It is the only term developed during my lifetime that’s up there with the Nazis referring to their Japanese allies as “honorary Aryans” after 1941.
I have for some time now harboured the desire to go up to a large group of minority ethnics and tell them to remove their clothing, all of which was culturally appropriated from Caucasians. I would in turn enjoy the experience of approaching an Islamic woman in full jihab and burqa to congratulate her on being loyal to her cultural roots, in the sense of still living in a tent.
I wouldn’t do either of those things, because I fully recognise that personal gratification alone is no basis for the creation of a successful society at peace with itself. However, there are Neoliberals, Stalinists, Jihadists and feminists in our midst who wish not for peace, but for subjugation of the majority to their crackpot, anti-empirical belief systems.
Oddly enough, they are all cleaving to the protection of the European Commission at the minute.
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It’s becoming increasingly obvious that the Prime Minister is not so much winding down the clock to March 29th as filling up her days prior to begging for an extension.
I first reached that conclusion four days ago, and I see no reason as yet to change my mind, given that all the road-ahead alternatives have been bombed to shit save one:
- No Deal is off the table, because 80+% of MPs will vote against it
- The EU has made it brutally clear that it will not give May any deal at all that the UK Parliament will sign up to.
- The majority of the British, EU and NATO élites will favour the can-kicking option as preferable to either (a) clean Brexit or (b) a No Deal Brexit.
- A clear majority of MPs will support the extension of Article 50.
- Theresa May will keep on dribbling the ball around the corner flag until the final whistle.
It’s what Leni Riefenstahl might have called The Triumph of the Will. Were she still alive today, no doubt the ghastly old Nazi ratbag would’ve approved: her Fourth Reich dream is still alive: unser geliebter Führer lebt noch, nicht?
It is impossible for me to convey quite how much I’d love to be wrong about this. I just can’t see either the guts and ethics of MPs – or the ire of the British People – intervening to stop the march to Limboland and, in the space of four weeks after the next meaningless vote, pushing through what Brexit ultimately means: We are leaving, deal or no deal.
Brussels and its myriad allies have effectively slammed the exit door in the face of the British electorate by collaborating with some 520 odd MPs. Worse than that, only a minute élite (of probably no more than 3,500 people in total) have guaranteed the unconstitutional frustration of 17.5 million people. The 48% who marched a lot dressed up in their slush-fund-paid-for silly Soros hats and cloaks? Forget it: they had no effect – or certainly, no enduring influence and, most importantly, no case.
The view they put forward was beyond laughable: Leavers lied (everybody lied, as with every election in history), ‘people’ didn’t know what they were voting for (they rarely do in any election), a second referendum would give a different result (almost every poll shows it wouldn’t), young people were underrepresented (history is made by those who turn up) and it was “too complex a subject for a referendum” (then the sovereign power shouldn’t have approved it by such a margin).
Die-hard Remainers are the exact UK analogy of poor-loser Democrats who don’t “recognise” Trump as their President. Conspicuous by their silence while they expected to win, full of limp, whining unreason when they lost: ‘Hillary won the popular vote’ (US Presidential elections are decided by Electoral College votes) ‘the Republicans stuffed ballots’ (so did the Democrats) ‘Russia colluded with Trump’ (the FBI has spent over two years not finding any substantive evidence of that whatsoever) and ‘Trump is a sex-pest’ (so was Kennedy).
“Only the bad people voted Leave” is the ludicrous British Left’s equivalent of “Only the dumb underclass voted for Trump” line from Democrats in the US. The attitude betrays (more than any answer to a straight question ever would) just how gross a bunch of intellectual neo-fascist snobs they all are. “We know better” is their mantra. Just like the Comintern, the Politburo, and the Ministry of Truth.
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The only other cultural group that is their equal at saying “We know best” (and then demonstrating clearly they don’t) is the medical profession.
For some reason, I revitalised my mission to shut medical opinion up after watching a round table Sky News discussion about Brexit durig the week. The Labour MP present, in describing a No Deal departure from the EU, used the words “crashing out” nine times in under eleven minutes.
I urge you to visit the Spiked podcast on that subject as an antidote to braindead catechism and sociopathic exaggeration.
What liberals and medics have in common above any other single factor is their indefatigable desire to turn an empirical research result open to various interpretations into an indisputable fact – often described as settled science. As long as we are (allegedly) one minute planet on the southwestern swirl of one tiny constellation, there will be no such thing as settled science, political correctness, the end of history, global warming or any other imagined certainty that so typifies the incipient megalomania of our lamentable species.
Thus, the “scientific” economic certainty of Britain crashing into oblivion after a No Deal Brexit is today’s equivalent of “doing under fifteen minutes of exercise a day achieves no improvement in fitness” in the 1980s – during that epoch when we were all busy pounding round London’s streets in a bid to live forever. Nearly forty years on, the NHS has a waiting list for knee and and ankle injury replacements stretching round the equator.
For twenty years I was married into a medical family. A person whom I admire to this day served on a committee to decide the ‘healthy’ level of alcohol consumption for men and women. I shall never forget this quote: “Nobody could agree, so the Chairman made it all up”.
During my lifetime, economists have changed their minds about how productivity increases, the effects of high taxation and mass distribution, advertising investment in brands, the importance of exports, how wealth is created and spread, the effects of globalism, the effectiveness of pricing research, the ideal form of agriculture, the future of light engineering, the role of bourses, and the importance of community balance in retailing.
Labour MPs and Remainer fluffies have an attitude to economists similar to my parent’s view of hospital consultants: they are convinced such people walk on water. Prostrate deference is the only possible mode to adopt when in their presence. Until they operate on your prostate, and make a pigs-ear of it.
We’re in the fairyland of soi-disant experts again, are we not?
IABATO – It’s All Bollocks And That’s Official.
The moral of this meander through contemporary events and my consistent nostalgia for a more natural age is obvious, really. We have to keep on and on and on and on contradicting those people who think and act as follows:
“I’m not listening to you, because I know, and you dont“.
I wish you all a very good Saturday night out free from narcissists, ideologues, colonists, proctologists and onanists.
Hmmm. The formatting of that table really got messed up by WordPressing stripping out all the deliberate padding with spaces. Lets see what happens when using Tab Stops instead:
Group Age.yr Remain.proportion
## 1 18-24 0.73
## 2 25-34 0.62
## 3 35-44 0.52
## 4 45-54 0.44
## 5 55-64 0.43
## 6 65+ 0.40
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Can we dismiss the remainers argument that after three years the arrival of the new youngest voters, and the death of the eldest, the Loser’s Vote would swing over to a Remain result ? Here’s The Independent’s best calculation –
Group age.yr count registered.prop turnout.prop remain.prop years.left
## 1 18-24 5878472 0.8178976 0.400 0.73 354889646
## 2 25-34 8822757 0.8232843 0.620 0.62 460441013
## 3 35-44 8378302 0.9005604 0.725 0.52 355694721
## 4 45-54 9196082 0.9385801 0.770 0.44 305099646
## 5 55-64 7452381 0.9483274 0.810 0.43 181974128
## 6 65+ 11611167 0.9616406 0.830 0.40 148374089
taken from https://github.com/majazaloznik/BrexitAgeWeighted
The ‘remain.proportion’ column to me suggests that age begets wisdom because, regardless of current age, as time elapses every single voter is slightly more likely to vote Leave.
The analogy would be an escalator in a department store. Yes, those stepping off the three top steps into retail heaven are no longer able to vote (mostly Leave), and yes, the new arrivals at the bottom are the most wretched traitors likely to vote Remain. But on every other step of the escalator each voter has just now risen a few feet and is more likely to vote Leave.
It doesn’t matter a jot that the youthful cohort and deceased cohort assist the Remain vote, because the rest of the escalator balances out the losses.
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John
use this post as anon !
Some years ago my prostate was identified as large : Very alarmed by this, agreed to a this ( Acccess though the anusi) Biopsy. This caused more trouble than I thought it would. Took getting on for a year for things to return to base one . Not cancerous as it turns out ………..good news indeed.
did a little checking and found out one survival rates were better…….. if left alone. This was confirmed by my doctor , who said ‘I wa more likely to die with it, than of it.
This was backed up by a information from an ex RAF pilot ……………..In the hospital waiting room
He said he had a life untill they took it out……..He said it looked as if some children had been let loose on it with blunt school scissors!
Things have come full circle ………….This week…..’er indoors is my nurse now and does the busines with a cathaheta.
My wiife was asked if she would agreed to do this, she said yes ……….and then I was asked if I was in agreement…………..I said I was, but only the understanding ‘ she did not get too creative’ !
This has made things very much better for making short term plans.
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Thsnk you for your warm final salutation JW.
Pleased to report that I have survived indeed one more Saturday night without getting mugged raped stabbed shot garrotted or in some other way terminated albeit I passed this period locked up behind my own front door with a crowbar by my bed.
Yes I have reached the luxury of a very old age by adopting these sad Self-preservationist measures but there again I am still here and all the heroes have died young.
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Reblogged this on RogersLongHairBlog and commented:
What shall I do? what could I do, if I could find these Criminals?
I could not dare to take vengeance: for all things are so constructed
And builded by the Divine hand that the sinner shall always escape,
And he who takes vengeance alone is the criminal of Providence:
If I should dare to lay my finger on a grain of sand
In way of vengeance, I punish the already punish’d; O whom
Should I pity if I pity not the sinner who is gone astray?
O Albion, if thou takest vengeance, if thou revengest thy wrongs,
Thou art for ever lost! What can I do to hinder the Sons
Of Albion from taking vengeance? or how shall I them perswade?
So spoke Los, travelling thro’ darkness & horrid solitude
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I was a hairy biker, from Oldham, learning to fly in 1976, at Lasham taught by recently deceased Derek Piggot (age 91). My usual haunts would be dirty heavy rock music clubs in various places in Manchester where I saw Motorhead’s first ever gig, after he got chucked out of Hawkwind on their American tour for crossing the border into Canada.
I had yet to discover The Electric Ballroom, nor the Marquee in Soho.
But I did got to the Premier of Saturday Night Fever at the Empire in Leicester Square. I thought it was Brilliant. I then dropped my Suzuki GS750, just round the corner in Central London. I may have had a few pints, but it was a right heavy bugger, to get back off the ground. Unfortunately I didn’t have the 16 year old girl, I really fancied, who was also learning to fly. She might have come if I’d asked her. She went solo about the same time as me.
About to go out, with my lovely wife to see a band who occassionly do the Cure extremely well in my local pub.
Such is life.
Keep doing it.
Dancing makes us smile and keeps us alive.
Tony
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Excellent memories. I knew the former lead guitarist of Hawkwind for a while in the 1980s. JW
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Read your opening ballad and was reduced to helpless laughter; I expect a small booklet of your most recent efforts to be published without delay. The Memsahib surveyed my convulsions with an analytical eye and observed that it had been some time since she had seen me “laughing like sandbags” which reduced me further into those introspective sniggers redolent of memories past. Particularly of a certain corporal who had memorised, it seemed, Bernard Manning’s entire repertoire:
(“The boy stood on the burning deck,
Eating red-hot scallops.
One fell down his trouser leg
And burnt him on his ankle …
completely missed his ..” – ) but I digress.
What is really starting to get on my nerves is the majority of commentators, in the Torygraph not least, who profess to be puzzled and frustrated by the actions of Theresa Klebb, her acolytes, and the quiescent fools in the HoC. Is it really so difficult to understand that the bloody woman (egged on not least by her husband Arthur Askey) is working to an entirely separate agenda whereby the UK will be enmeshed ever more tightly into the EU while declaring to a credulous populace that “Brexit means Brexit”. FFS. Every single thing that woman says and does reeks of double-dealing and falsehood and the silly sods take her at her word. There are times when my disapproval of the chap who invented flame-throwers because he thought it might be a good idea to set fire to ‘those chaps over there’ may be misplaced – he may not have been entirely misguided.
Harrumph .. the decanter beckons.
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Dear John
I’m half way through a tv serie’s called “Impossible Peace” it’s about the period 1919to 1939 and it’s available via Amazon Prime.
If you haven’t seen it then I think you would find it depressing but interesting and quite relevant to today’s FUBAR.
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I was beginning to wonder if I had inhaled some of the street drugs that abound when I started reading this blog. Is John now a rapper or am I getting confused between reality and another dream-like world?
Then I really knew I WAS dreaming when a local job search (no state pension for me, you see) revealed that I can take on negotiations with the EU. I kid you not…this is today’s ad. from an agency on behalf of the Govt. “Senior Negotiators for EU Exit
£35,188 – £40,310 (National) or £37,987 – £43,520 (London)
Grade: SEO
Two-year fixed-term contract with the potential for extension or permanency
Location: London, Bristol and York. Other locations will be considered and candidates may be required to travel to London occasionally. There is also the opportunities for international travel. ”
I might apply (anybody give me a reference?!) or I may just continue offering medical advice for free because I use common sense and instinct to avoid all health professionals and drugs unless I know I need them. And those occasions I can count on the toes on my webbed feet. After all, the platypus is one of the most intelligent beings on Earth.
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‘“Only the bad people voted Remain”’
Should that be ‘Leave’?
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Correct Roobeedoo, it shouldd indeed. Thanks for being on the ball. J x
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