Mostly Bollogs, I'm afraid

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

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.