Mostly Bollogs, I'm afraid

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

Tuesday, 23 November 2010


Before I am shot down in flames, let me say that I wish Paul J Chambers every success and more in his quest to shake off the ridiculous conviction for threatening to blow Robin Hood airport sky high.

I've never been an accountant. I know some people who have though, and, when pressed, they will tell of the training they've been given. It involves things like checking numbers to make sure that no bad deeds are being done, that things are on target, that boxes are ticked. It's a little more complicated than that, but not much.

None of them, so far as I can tell, have had any real training in the development and deployment of any quantities of plastic explosive, timers, triggers, remote detonation devices or the like. Apparently it isn't part of the job description.

Now, I know how to make a sizeable bomb. I also have enough equipment right here to design and develop a device which COULD blow Robin Hood airport sky high. I don't have the inclination to make such a thing at the moment, and I have a real problem with maiming and killing innocent people. I don't know Paul personally but he seems a good sort, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't have the inclination or the motive, either.

Sometimes I get cross. It's a by-product of living in a world that has changed so much since I was a lad, where we built our own bikes out of stuff we got from the landfill site, and played around on building sites and stuff. Where we built our first piano from a couple of scrapped broken ones because we didn't have loads of money. Where I got a box of wood and a saw for one of my birthdays and was chuffed to bits. I still have the saw, which as I remember was the first thing I ever got brand new. Where we made our own fireworks out of weedkiller and sugar, and where Plod came round to check whether I'd really bought that amount of weedkiller for my Dad, or whether I was up to no good. Which I was. Where I got a bollocking. Often.

When I get cross I tend to say what I think. I try not to upset people, apart from those who desperately need it. I have been known to utter such garbage as "Bloody Luton needs blowing up and rebuilding", for instance. I doubt if I could work round the logistics of actually blowing it up, in its entirety. Perhaps I need to try harder.

Anyway, the upshot is that Paul Chambers probably couldn't blow up a banger at a bonfire party. Most people wouldn't have a clue.

Therefore, what he said was bollocks and had no stature in intent nor in ability. Therefore none in law. For the spirit of the law, as any fule or skoolboy kno, is what it's all about.

I read yesterday that the next appeal would involve a "high-flying barrister". That means that some fancy overpaid fancy-dressed chap will be wordsmithing and trying to beat the judiciary with words and cleverness and trickery and the minutiae of the law.

And THAT, chaps, is wrong, so very wrong. That means that, regardless of the outcome of the appeal (and I hope beyond hope that Paul is acquitted and that the previous two judges, the security man, the Plod and the CPS all eat shit), the law has already won.

This case should be revisited at the highest level and this travesty of justice reversed immediately. And Paul should be compensated. Not by the public coffers, by the endless collection of idiots involved, any ONE of whom could have stopped this before it started.

Friday, 12 November 2010


I'm not a lawyer.

One reason is that I'm thick. The main one is that it would bore me rigid.

Here is some law, interpretation, and common sense.

You are reading this. You chose to.

Paul Chambers tweeted something which no sensible person would have found threatening nor menacing.

I didn't see it. I wasn't following him. Bet you didn't either.

An anal security chap from East Midlands Airport who was on his day off spotted it. Because he looked for it. That is so sad. He then alerted the Plod, presumably because he was a small-minded little cunt, and the rest is history.

I tweet, and blog. What I'm typing now is between me and me until I press this button. However, these characters are going through my LAN, onto my router, up to my SP and from there into the ether. Google is watching as I type, because autosave is on.

This is on a public network. You won't read this until I want you to.

I just typed something. It was grossly offensive and menacing. Google saw it. They should have called Plod. They haven't, have they?

Because it's between me and me. But they can see it. GCHQ (hello!) can see it.

I selected that bit and just deleted it. Google still have it. GCHQ still have it.

It was REALLY offensive. And menacing as fuck. It involved a famous public building, a dildo filled with semtex and a black one-legged lesbian muslim nun in a wheelchair. Something for everyone, right there.

Did you see it? You should have done. Those electrons were all over the internet, right there.

If you read this, you chose to. If you read what I tweet, you choose to, or you choose to read what other people might retweet, from me.

If you like, you can search Twitter, Google or what the hell you like for news about airports, bombs, carnage, anything.

It's up to you.

It is not public. Public is the telly doing it right in between Strictly and the X-factor. And, FFS, they are exempt from this fucking stupid, badly thought-out law.

Incidentally, the judge in this case (see Daily Mash for details) could have put right the life of an innocent victim of gross misuse of yet another one of the Blair fiascos. But she didn't. And for that, I sincerely hope she is ashamed. Very, very ashamed of herself. I couldn't sleep at night if I had ruined someone's life on a point of principle viz., it's the LAW and it's MINE and I can DO WHAT I WANT, which is exactly what she did.

Now, can one of you decent bloggers please come up with something?


Monday, 8 November 2010


I'm not sure why I'm writing this.

I don't like horror films and stuff, not at all. I thought the Exorcist was quite funny, and Shaun of the Dead, but I don't like proper scary stuff.

Just that someone twat, or is it tweeted? On the subject of paperwork. "Returns". Forms. Lots of them, red tape, bullshit, so the STATE can determine how much they can bleed you for. It isn't the STATE. It's the chosen troughers.

It reminded me. Some wag had posted something on Twitter recently about an Iranian who, because of Sharia law, had been sentenced to cross-amputation without anaesthetic. That's one leg, and the opposite arm. And like a berk I clicked on the link and got halfway through before I realised I shouldn't be reading it.

The bit that did my head was where he was "invited" into a room lined with polythene sheeting. There were beardy ragheads present, like high priests. Sharpening saws and stuff. Nightmare fodder.

I got as far as "make it quick", which is apparently what he said to the cunts, sorry, priests. Following which, I will leave to your imagination.

Luckily I live in Britain, where the only carnage the "law" inflicts on you is to spend what could be productive time filling in forms, acting as an unpaid administrator and/or tax collector. So it can go into the bottomless pit that they call society.  You can change that by paying some accountant/solicitor/other who will milk you instead.

I wouldn't let someone cut my hand/foot/leg/dick off without a proper fight. Really. Sheep, lamb, hung.

And I'm not going to give my hard-earned to them either, on the same basis.

That is all.

Oh, by the way, turns out that the amputee was innocent. "Whoops" doesn't really cut it, does it?

I *am* allowed to say "raghead", am I not?

Tuesday, 2 November 2010


This is just plain daft. Bombs, from Yemen with love.

The news claims that the FBI/CIA/MI6/Plod are examining these bombs. Knobwits with quite posh accents are interviewed. They don't know when the bombs were going to go off, nor where. Nor why, it seems.

And then the startling revelation that these bombs are built into toner cartridges.

I am not a bomber. Nor am I in the spooks. But I know.

And now, toner cartridges have entered that long list of things even more dangerous than cigarettes. UPS and Fedex are no longer trusted in Yemen.

Why does MI6 stand for Ministry of Intelligence?

I presume I am not the only one who knows when are where these were supposed to go off, how they would be detonated, why they were in toner cartridges?

Or am I the clever one? I don't think so.