Mostly Bollogs, I'm afraid

But occasionally, a glimmer of truth.
If you find one, please let me know.

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

Old joke, new twist

Listening to the news ...

A teacher asked her class of youngsters what their Daddy did for a living. No takers. So the teacher singled out young Johnny.

"What does your Daddy do, Johnny?" she asked.

"Well, Miss, he's a rent boy, and if the money's right he takes it up the arse."

"Is that TRUE, Johnny?" probed the teacher.

"Well no, Miss. He's a High Court Judge but I was too embarrassed to say."

Substitute Police Chief, Liberal Politician, etc. for High Court Judge. If the cap fits ...

Wednesday, 4 March 2015


There is a land called Saudi Arabia. I've never been there, nor do I ever want to. It's full of Arabs.

It is ruled by a King, or as I like to call him, a cunt, who relies on a thousands of years old religion to keep the idiots (citizens) under control.

They flogged Raif Badawi, one of their citizens, who is now due another 950 of 1000 lashes. He had 50 but they didn't heal up, so "doctors" said he couldn't have any more yet.

So a "judge", or as I like to call him, a cunt, will decide he can be an apostate (which is someone who was a Muslim because he was 0 years old when born and didn't have a choice and grew up, oh bollocks) and therefore instead of having more lashes can have his head chopped off.

Now this is my take on this, and mine alone. The King of fucking Saudi can suck my cock. Muhammed can suck my cock. Allah can suck my fucking cock, because there is NO sense in this.

Until Raif Badawi can fuck off out of Saudi, with all the other poor sods who were born there through no fault of their own, I will rant my face off.

Tell someone. Someone might be the someone who tells someone who matters.

Thank you



Wednesday, 18 February 2015


I visited Sachsenhausen when I was in Berlin, on the recommendation of a couple of Twits.

Sachsenhausen, for those who don't know, is a bit like Auschwitz, in that it was a concentration camp, in WWII. It means Saxon's Houses. No idea what significance that has, presumably to do with Saxony.

It's near Berlin, in Oranienburg. Nice village.

It's a piece of almost derelict field now, with stones where the barracks (living quarters) used to be. It housed the folk that the Nazis (as opposed to Germans) felt were for one reason or other "inferior". These people were actually people who they had a problem with. Dissenters, religious folk, disabled folk. Anyone who wan't blond-haired and blue-eyed and fit. No idea how Hitler escaped it, TBH.

It left me cold. I know the enormity of the crimes committed there. There was a chap who was short-arsed, with a stoop, who was in the Waffen-SS, a commander. He came in with a stick and randomly beat people. Jews. Communists. Christians. All those kind of bastards. They randomly killed folk. Humans. For no real reason. 200,000 of them, apparently.

Problem is, this was done in the name of a state. The Third Reich. Nazis.

I've lived through skinheads. Same thing. They used to kick the fuck out of "Pakis" because of the same mentality back in the day.

I've seen museums in a weird country, known as the United Kingdom, where not very long ago at all a "magistrate" (the equivalent of the SS) would condemn a bloke for stealing a chicken, because bloke was hungry and had no alternative but to starve. Now it gets gory. Stop reading if you are of a nervous disposition.

The magistrate would sentence a man to gaol. Gaol meant being placed at the disposal of a chap in the pay of the state, a gaoler. The gaoler, or cunt as I like to call him, would be responsible for putting the accused, or victim, into a dungeon, which was a cell underground, with nothing in it apart from rats, through a hole in the floor. But in case he tried to escape, he had his arms tied behind his back first. And was let down by a rope. By kicking him through the hole. This, of course, would dislocate his shoulders. If it didn't, they'd do it again, with weights tied to his feet. And if that didn't work, they'd add more weights, and do it again until it did.

I'm not making this up. A few years before that, the rulers of this fair country would cut the nads off a bloke for interfering with the economy. Or chop their wife's head off if she didn't give him a son. Lovely.

Nowadays, all we have in the UK is the persecution of people who the state demonises, such as those who would like to hang on to a little of their money rather than give it to the state to give to, say, India, to, say, send a rocket into space. If you don't believe even that, try taking the piss out of HMRC and going to their paramilitary wing in Worthing for an "interview".

The problem is largely moved away from these shores, to places in the Middle East, where they routinely stone, behead, cross-amputate (don't look that one up because you won't sleep) folk for not agreeing with their bizarre philosophies. I've seen pubs destroyed by nail bombs, and picked up the severed limbs of the revellers inside. Because Ireland is God's own Country, and Gerry Adams is now an MP. Cunt.

I've spoken at length to a chap, a "squaddie" if you will, who was wrongly accused of rape, and acquitted. whose life was destroyed by the glorious state. Whose eyes were sunken, whose life was wrecked. Who will never be the same again. He won't get that back.

I know folk who have served in the armed forces, mainly because they were too thick to do owt else, who are well and truly fucked through PTSD. I have a friend on Twitter who has been demoralised beyond belief for doing her job against the odds and been effectively fired for being beaten into a pulp, spiritually and emotionally.

I haven't been to war. If I had, I'd probably be bent out of shape properly by now. I might even think that Marine "A" wasn't a complete bastard. Which he is.

So, the concentration camp. Yes, it happened. Yes, there were very many people. But it still happens. People are still in Guantanemo.

You know what makes me cry? That we haven't learned a thing, not a fucking thing, from this. Nor will we, ever.


Now go to Wiki and look up Stockholm Syndrome, and weep.

Tuesday, 17 February 2015


I have been in Berlin.

One thing I noticed is that you can't pay with a card, not even a debit card, for anything much. Like a train ticket. A bus ticket. A meal, even if it costs in excess of 100 Euros.

I assume this is because the Germans are all good people and pay all their tax.

The other thing I noticed is that German cuisine is the worst in the known universe. I LIKE pork, but the Germans insist on converting it into spam and deep frying it to eat with pickled cabbage.

Anyway, they have a new favourite dish. Like we have chicken tikka massala. Theirs is called currywurst, literally translated as curried sausage. I thought I'd share with you a recipe for this delicacy so you can share the experience.


1 inner tube from a 24" bicycle.
1 pig.
Some pink dye, such as congealed beetle's blood.
Sharwood's "instant" curry mix.


Take all the inedible parts from the pig. Mince them so finely that they cannot be identified as being from the animal, even with the most advanced forensic laboratory equipment. Soak them in the pink dye for a week. Leave out in the sun for a day to dry a bit.

Stuff the inner tube with the resulting mixture, tightly. Bake it in the oven for two days.

Sprinkle it with the curry mix.

Wrap the dish in several layers of polythene. Bin bags or old carrier bags are ideal.

Open the dustbin and carefully place inside.

Apologise to your friends and go to the kebab shop.


Tuesday, 27 January 2015


Holocaust Day.

This is what I understand of history from reading stuff and seeing it happen again.

Hitler was a Fuhrer (which means "guide" in German) and wanted to take over the world because some people like that kind of thing.

At the time, Germany was in deep doodoo financially, to the point that people were having to buy wheelbarrows to take their pay home, the Deutschmark being worth less than the paper it was printed on. And the wheelbarrow was worth more than the pay.

When this happens, folk turn to anyone who can offer a "better" solution to their problems than the people currently offering a solution.

But, in order to unify the people, a Fuhrer had to find someone to blame. In America it was the black folk, otherwise known as N......s.

Hitler didn't have access to enough black folk on which to blame the country's ills. He could've gone for folk with moustaches, chaps who wore hats, gay folk, actors, drummers or bus drivers, but again, they didn't number enough to really take the blame.

Poland is a big country. And it's next door to Germany, and pretty easy to invade as well. And it was full of, guess what, Jews!

And Jews tended to run banks, and were well-known (and have been throughout history) for being money men. And the problem was money. So, clever old Hitler twisted the plot a bit, convinced all the folk that the Jews were the problem, got "elected", then realised that he'd pointed the finger and now people expected him to act,

I don't think Hitler could've believed that the Jews were the problem. But he was a convincing bastard, and I suspect his Generals did. And they all went Heil Hitler, mein Fuhrer, and got stuck in.

After that I think it just got out of hand.

That's how I see it. This isn't fact, I'm not a historian. Nor am I anti-semitic. It's your nose, not mine. Wear it with pride.


My mate who is a Londoner has a wife who is a Kiwi. She's been here for donkey's years, probably over 30 of them. She has a NZ passport, always uses it although she also has a UK one.

Recently, they returned to the UK from a holiday in Malta. Upon entering the UK she was challenged, and in order to validate her right to be here, was asked random questions from a "test".

The first question was "what's the population of Wales."

No, this isn't any kind of joke.

Monday, 26 January 2015


This is the Schmidt Pain Scale. I heard about it on R4's "The Infinite Monkey Cage" earlier. I've only been stung by two of these.

I've shameless robbed it and updated it. Bet you can't spot mine.

1.0 Sweat bee: Light, ephemeral, almost fruity. A tiny spark has singed a single hair on your arm.

1.2 Fire ant: Sharp, sudden, mildly alarming. Like walking across a shag carpet & reaching for the light switch.

1.8 Bullhorn acacia ant: A rare, piercing, elevated sort of pain. Someone has fired a staple into your cheek.

2.0 Bald-faced hornet: Rich, hearty, slightly crunchy. Similar to getting your hand mashed in a revolving door.

2.0 Yellowjacket: Hot and smoky, almost irreverent. Imagine WC Fields extinguishing a cigar on your tongue.

2.x Honey bee and European hornet.

3.0 Red harvester ant: Bold and unrelenting. Somebody is using a drill to excavate your ingrown toenail.

3.0 Paper wasp: Caustic & burning. Distinctly bitter aftertaste. Like spilling a beaker of Hydrochloric acid on a paper cut.

4.0 Pepsis wasp: Blinding, fierce, shockingly electric. A running hair drier has been dropped into your bubble bath (if you get stung by one you might as well lie down and scream).

4.0+ Bullet ant: Pure, intense, brilliant pain. Like walking over flaming charcoal with a 3-inch nail in your heel.

5.0 Knowing that you can never be mine.