Plod Banned

Coppers, plods and pigs are jumping up and down at the idea that their demonstration in Parliament Square is to be banned under sessional orders. The police call these laws archaic; the se instruments were drawn up in the early 19th century to combat large-scale radical protests that threatened a disturbance of the peace. So any march or demonstration that will stop MPs getting to work (a bizarre concept at best) will be banned; nothing to see here now move along.

It's an hilarious sight to see the plod frothing at the mouth about their rights.

So all those peace protesters, miners and activists who have tried to put their point of view or manifest their objections to state policy and have been detained unlawfully, obstructed or violently assaulted by the police will be pissing themselves.

Ban this march it will cause serious public disorder.

If it goes ahead there will be any number of people tripping down steps and sustaining injuries, having their evidence fiddled with or plain shot in the head "coz he was dodgy."

Billy Connolly used to sing a song about the police

Do you think I could leave you lying

When I could lie my head off too

If somebody squawks in the witness box

I'll cover up for you

I'll tell a pack of lies, pull the wool over their eyes

The way the sergeant taught us to

Before you count to three we'll be off scott free

We're two little boys in blue

Now two little boys had two little toys

A whistle and a helmet blue

And when they were wee it was plain to see

What they'd grow up into

They were hittin' other weans, bashing in their brains

And shoppin' everybody too

They didn't reform, now they're in uniform

They're two little boys in blue

Do you think I could leave you lying

When I could lie my head off too

If somebody squaks in the witness box

I'll cover up for you

I'll tell a pack of lies, pull the wool over their eyes

The way the sergeant taught us to

Before you count to three we'll be off scott free

We're two little boys in blue

Now the duty sergeant said tuck the prisoners into bed

But before you take their cocoa through

Keep them in their cells and hit them where it tells

But don't leave them black and blue

You can kick them on their balls, bounce their head off the walls

Bash them on the kidneys too

Beat them on the legs and thighs but don't give them black eyes

Or you'll be a prisoner too

Do you think I could leave you lying

When I could lie my head off too

If somebody squaks in the witness box

I'll cover up for you

I'll tell a pack of lies, pull the wool over their eyes

The way the sergeant taught us to

Before you count to three we'll be off scott free

We're two little boys in blue

So if you see them on the beat

As they swagger down your street

Here's a piece of advice for you

Don't trust your luck turn around RUN LIKE THE CLAPPERS!

From the two little boys in blue

Do you think I could leave you lying

When I could lie my head off too

If somebody squawks in the witness box

I'll cover up for you

I'll tell a pack of lies, pull the wool over their eyes

The way the sergeant taught us to

Before you count to three we'll be off scott free

We're two little boys in blue.

From Beyond

From the French phrase 'esprit d'escalier,' literally, it means 'the wit of the staircase', and usually refers to the perfect witty response you think up after the conversation or argument is ended. "Esprit d'escalier," she replied. "Esprit d'escalier. The answer you cannot make, the pattern you cannot complete till aterwards it suddenly comes to you when it is too late."

I just chanced to happen on the Wit of the Staircase, and read the introduction above and had a look at the blog, it looked interesting, read a spooky story about Basil Rathbone. And I idly wondered why the last entry was October 29 2007. Taking a break? Then off to the side of the blog I saw

Spirit d'escalier -- in memory of Theresa Duncan

What?? Isn't this this person's blog? I click the link and read and it sinks in she's dead. God, I've only just chanced over this blog and there will be no more entries. But strangely she does speak from the grave as you read the blog.

Mystified as to what happened to her I go to Wikipedia and see the photo

and instantly I remember the newspaper articles about her suicide and then her boyfriend's suicide a week later.uite a weird experience.

Quite a weird and spooky experience, is this deja lu ?

I scored a Far Out
75% on the

	I received 56 credits on The Sci Fi Sounds Quiz How much of a Sci-Fi geek are you?
Take the Sci-Fi Movie Quiz canon s5is

A Firework Ad

Love this, a Dutch firework safety ad

A Thousand Yard Stare

In this book

Michael Herr talks of

the thousand yard stare,

this must be it

Photo from "Into the Valley of Death" an article in Vanity Fair by Sebastian Junger with the photos by Tim Hetherington, lots more at the site.

Pigs, Clouds and Wifelets

Quirks by Nature

England Made Them

"Meet Garech Browne, the Guinness heir whose father raised pigs in their drawing room. And Gavin Pretor-Pinney, founder of the Cloud Appreciation Society. And the Marquis of Bath, with 64 mistresses he calls “wifelets.” Tim Walker captures a cross section of proud standard-bearers in Britain’s long tradition of eccentricity as Christopher Hitchens explains why his native land often seems like one big Monty Python skit. "

Christopher Hitchens on English eccentrics

"You might well think that it is easy to write about eccentric English people. “An embarrassment of riches” is a phrase that leaps to mind. After all, “England is the paradise,” as George Santayana wrote, “of individuality, eccentricity, heresy, anomalies, hobbies and humors.” But before making one’s selection, one has first to appreciate that the entire place has something batty, squiffy, potty, and loopy about it. For a start, Santayana’s remarks on the English appear in his work entitled “The British Character.” So, what is this country actually called? " Read on.

The Most Moments

Check out the most moments at ourkingdom.

Most important book: Peter Oborne’s ‘The Triumph of the Political Class‘ which addresses the overall nature of the ruling political system in Britain today and its corrupt and undemocratic nature. And more.

A Nation Mourned

"Tributes are being paid to Scotland this morning after the entire country laughed itself to death.

Most would have been dead within minutesThe alarm was first raised at around 10pm last night as thousands of phone calls and text messages went unanswered.Small groups of volunteers from Berwick-Upon-Tweed and Carlisle ventured north just after midnight only to find houses full of dead people gathered around still blaring television sets."

read on

Gong Despite Dog Killing Spree

Golden Lab runs Amok

This dog left barely a chocolate in the Quality Street tin

and after aggresively fell asleep.

Go figure; another attack by a rottweiler.

Do you think it may be a breed problem?

Or if all owners of rottweilers and pit bulls put on head scarfs, those green quilted jackets, and went for a jolly good walk their offensive dogs might behave themselves?

No I don't think so.

Ban these dogs.

You have to wonder about the people who decide to get these dogs. Woof!

Ding Gong

Yes this man deserves a CBE.

All he's done really is go Ding Dong

and do a bit of acting

but he seems a jolly nice chap.

The Queen's Royal Gravy Train

Dear old Parky gets a knighthood for being a professional Yorkshireman and Kylie gets an OBE for errrr dancing is it? Who knows, maybe for being jolly brave. Brian Ashton gets an MBE for being ignored by his squad after a disasterous start to the Rugby World Cup.

These are some of the dead beats that get an honour in the the Queen's honours list.

But you have to wonder about some of the knighthoods. How about Alderman John Boothman Stutthard getting a knighthood, who he? Oh an ex-mayor of the City of London, oh right, you just keep riding that gravy train and you'll get a knighthood.

Stuart Rose gets a knighthood for heading up dreary clothes shop M&S. Well done Stuart, sorry Sir Stuart.

And who the euphemism is James Meyer Sassoon who picks up a knighthood for his services
"to the Finance Industry and to public service. " Mmmmmmm sounds worthy, you trying googling him and there is nothing on Google. Who he? Another mandarin picking up the obligatory K? Why? Careful don't get the gravy on your Certificate of Knighthood Sir James.

A laughable knighthood is the one given to Ian Gerald McAllister, CBE already you note. He's head of Network Rail. So he gets a K for his services to transport. Really! Let's put that to a vote on a crowded commuter train or on those trains delayed by "maintenance work" evry weekend and during Bank Holidays. Note that was services to transport, so that presumably must be getting people off the train and into their cars.

Sorry you don't get a K. And give that CBE back while you're here.

Aren't we tired of top Civil Servants getting obligatory honours? Why the knobs at the top? Why not some of the people at the bottom who keep the whole thing going?

So Nigel Hamilton, Head of the Northern Ireland Civil Service and William Alexander Jeffrey,
Permanent Secretary, Ministry of Defence, you can give back those Knight Commander of the Baths medals. Surely it is sufficient honour that you have an indexed pension and quite a good one at that.

Then there are just the mates thing going on apparently, such as Samuel Thomas Kelly, lately Prime Minister's Official Spokesman, Prime Minister's Office. An honour for spinning?

And it goes on-and-on. Obviously there are lots of good, worthy people there in the list. But do we have to have all the establishment, or the official classes as Martin Bell calls them, sticking their noses in the trough and snagging all the best bits? But hey that's what it's for, all round back-slappery for the pigs.

Indy Jumble

The front page looks fairly messy

compared to the indy's great covers

over the last few years.

A step backward.

Which Way is the Indy Going?

Great front page, don't change Indy

Confusion Speculation Incompetence

Gil Grissom : It's pretty clear what happened here.
Sara Sidle : Yes a suicide bomber. Blown up.
Gil Grissom: Maybe not. Look at this here, on her neck.
Sara Sidle : Ah yes, they could be bullet holes, so she was shot in the neck and look, in the chest, and then blown up? Talk about overkill.
Gil Grissom: I'm not so sure, did you notice that bump on her head?
Sarah Sidle: Ah yes. Where'd that come from? I'm at a loss here, what could it be?
Pervez Musharraf: Well, it seems fairly clear that she banged her head on the sun roof.
Gil Grissom: Ah yes of course. Well we've sorted that out. How about Princess Di?
Pervez Musharraf: French driving.
Gil Grissom: JFK?
Pervez Musharraf: Bashed his head on the seat in front.
Gil Grissom: General Zia-Ul-Haq?
Pervez Musharraf: Hit by a UFO death ray.
Gil Grissom: Olaf Palme?
Pervez Musharraf:His gay lover killed him.
Gil Grissom: Juvenal Habyari-Mana?
Pervez Musharraf:Another UFO death ray.
Gil Grissom: Marilyn Monroe?
Pervez Musharraf: Barbiturate enema, no really...
Gil Grissom: OK, Alexander Litvinenko?
Pervez Musharraf: Dicky cup of coffee at the Grosvenor Square Millennium Hotel.
Gil Grissom: Excellent, well done, welcome to the team.

Are They Real Players

Imagine, you're sitting there playing America's Army, an on line multi-player war simulation developed by the Pentagon, and somebody starts writing in the names of the soldiers and people killed in Iraq. How annoying that must be to the gamers.

But I love this screenshot with one of the players asking "Are those real people?"

Duh! Yes, Fuckwit.

The person doing this has stood witness to 3852 people who lost playing the real game, much to the annoyance of the other gamers. His site can be found @

Indy Front Page Story

A new policy at the Indy?

Words on the front page.

Christmas Compo

Super soaraway Christmas headline competition, guess the papers and bask in the glory.

THE CARPENTER

HIS WIFE
HER STORY
A MIRACULOUS BIRTH

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

FRANCKINSENSE

MYRRH
AND

GOLD!
CENSUS DODGERS GET EVERYTHING

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HERROD CENSUS

DATA
WILL IT BE SAFE?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

COR!
WHAT A WOPPER

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

STRAW BIRTHS

ARE
GOOD FOR YOU

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bethlehem Archangel Engineering
TOO MUCH GOLD, FRANCKINSENSE AND MYRRH?
EXCLUSIVE INVESTIGATION

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TAV FACTOR

WITLESS WOMAN
STUPID MAN
THEIR SHAGGING STORY

Honey Rider Needs a Big Sheath

Do You Expect Me ?

Bond: Do you expect me to talk?

Goldfinger: No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to fill out a Health & Safety assessment, that laser can get quite hot, careful.

The Name's Safety, Health and Safety

Kylie You Beast

"Kylie's Kiss As Doc Denies He's Going

Updated:03:36, Wednesday December 19, 2007

The universe's only remaining Timelord has a new love interest - one of the world's sexist women, Kylie Minogue. "

SkyNews booboo

The Prince and I

There's Something I Can't Put My Finger On

Pigs at the Trough

Money spent on food for each category. See full article at Guido.

Douglas Jardine: Hero

Just heard this about Douglas Jardine on Fighting Talk, excellent stuff, what a hero....

"Douglas Jardine, though, earned the enmity of a nation more resoundingly than any England captain before or since - including Mike Gatting, whose 1987 spat with Shakhoor Rana did nothing to endear him to many Pakistanis, and Ian Botham, who three years earlier had caused mighty offence (although not while he was captain) by suggesting that Pakistan was a good place to send one's mother-in-law.

Jardine topped that not merely by masterminding the fiendish Bodyline bowling tactics - designed to diminish the threat of Don Bradman, and devastatingly carried out by Harold Larwood and Bill Voce - but also by applying what appears to have been a premeditated exercise to get Australian backs up.

From the beginning of the tour he affected disdain for all things Australian: its accent, its women, its wine, even the inability of its cricketers to express themselves with quite the precise syntax drummed into him at Winchester.

He was, according to my (old Etonian) colleague Henry Blofeld, "a rather typical Wykehamist... they seem to have a certain sort of remoteness".

Whatever, Jardine plainly embodied everything Aussies despised about the Old Country, and insisted on wearing a Harlequins cap, a powerful and provocative symbol of English privilege, while batting.

My favourite Jardine story [by Brian Viner from the Independent] concerns his astonishment, feigned or otherwise, on the eve of the first Test in Sydney, when Australian cricket writers assembled at the nets to request the names of England's team.

"Let me make it clear once and for all," he said.

"I do not speak to the Press, and furthermore, I never speak to Australians."

"

Paris Hilton Bear Strangle

No this isn't some sort of options trade trying to wring the last vestige of value out of a falling market, but I think the subject of the new Paris Hilton video.

DiscWorld, DiscWorld, DiscWorld

Terry Pratchett has Alzheimer's.

Who would have guessed?

Sweeney Todd - Striking Squad

Plod to Work to Rule

Brazilians and Muslims heave a sigh of relief.

Where are We Going?

Go On Conrad

"Unless it was scripted very carefully,

if I were his lawyer,

I would not let him speak."

Wise advice for Conrad Black when he stands up in a Chicago court. And it may all go horribly wrong if he starts to lose it. Be careful Conrad; just advice from a vermin and a tart.

OzBus

From the Guardian's article on the OzBus, which went overland to Australia, a poor benighted Aussie, you have to wonder why she even bothered coming to London.

"One woman, returning home to Australia, had spent a year living in a London hostel on pasta to fund the trip."

Why?

What's the point of coming to London?

Travelling is the new wanking.

UK CO2 Just Hot Air

The UK's CO2 emission figures are an illusion say Oxford University economists. Top level economists yes; headline writers no.

Classic Tabloid Story

TABLOID DELIGHT

A PERFECT STORY

The canoe, the wife, her amnesiac husband and his wardobe. The Sun has served up some treats covering this story. This is a great story: bizarre, financial skullduggery, world travel for the hacks and a bit of a mystery. The front pages have been excellent.

The Hat On

Hatton is a mistake, but are you going to tell him?

Scarey as Marathon Man

They Need Gerbilling

The horrid French might be fined EUR17M for not protecting the "Great Hamster of Alsace," the only wild hamster in Europe. there are only 600 remaining in eastern France. They need a good gerbilling.

Canoe Believe It!

No, Really, I Have A Very Big Bomb

Spooky

but of course the US might pretend that Iran hadn't been doing the old nuclear weapons thing if they'd come to a secret agreement, hey maybe Spooks is right.

NuLabor Steady as She Goes

A couple of things here that demonstrate that much of the upper-echelons of the NuLabor establishment are standing on the bridge of an unsinkable ship having just bounced off a bit of ice. Toynbee; it's all unconnected, minor syndrome, yes darling how vexing and poor Straw; how irritating; there you go lovies, sit down and have a cup of tea each.

This is from City Unslicker

"Minor Mishaps" - Polly Toynbee Speaks

"On cue, Polly Toynbee as predicted: "However unconnected a bank, immigrant security guards, missing discs and a dodgy donor, they are all whirled together by the enemy into a downward spiral. Minor mishaps become syndrome symptoms."

Minor mishaps ? Unconnected ?

As CiF commenter Cynosarges puts it:

"A red thread runs through all four incidents … a Labour thread."

And this is from the Daily Torygraph

"Jack Straw has claimed that the Labour donations row is a hangover from the Tony Blair era.

Screw tightens on Brown fundraiser

Attempting to shift responsibility to the aides of the former prime minister, Mr Straw said that the scandal was "distracting beyond belief".
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"This seems to go back for about four years," said the Justice Secretary. "And frankly one of the reasons why all of us are irritated to distraction by what's happened is that we assumed that these historic problems had been sorted out with all the additional controls that were put in place following the so-called cash-for-honours issue."
He said that questions may have to be asked of Mr Blair but said that if the police wanted to interview Mr Brown, "I'm absolutely certain he would be happy to comply"."

Foxy Business News

Possibly the way forward for the Wall Street Journal ?

Word on the street is that a number of internal corporate emails are still talking about a merger of equals. Forget it guys, you've been bought by Rupert, he owns your ass, to use an American idiom.

SAS - Safety And Security

To help prevent accidents the SAS have always adopted the most rigorous Health and Safety standards. Here are some rare photographs from the storming of the Iranian Embassy, Health and Safety is obviously a top priority.

Dirty Cloud Seen Over Westminster

They Don't Even Do that Anymore

The people's flag is palest pink
It's not the colour you might think
White collar workers stand and cheer
The Labour government is here
We'll change the country bit by bit
So nobody will notice it
And just to show that we're sincere
We'll sing The Red Flag once a year

The cloth cap and the wollen scarf
Are images outdated
For we're the party's avant garde
And we are educated
So raise the rolled umbrella high
The college scarf, the old school tie
And just to show that we're sincere
We'll sing The Red Flag once a year

They don't even do that now. The people's party is content to rely on dodgy donations and dodgy people. Happy to have a go against people on invalidity benefits, happy to push private education. ore than content to charge students and have them debted out. Presiding over the mass testing of a generation of children, turning them into exam junkies or dispirited drop-outs. All too keen to drag the country into a war on lies. So control-freaked out that they want all the details, every detail on not one computer but three computer super datbases and so smug they couldn't give a fuck about controling the security of the information.

The people's party has been spun out of existence.

Boss of Bosses

Still, who would you rather have as England manager, the special one with his style and elegance and success or the seedy, bunged up looking Harry complete with his brown, very brown coat which looks like he's slept in it for a week. Or there is a school of thought, I use the word thought very loosely, that Alan Shearer should be England manager. Great! now we'll have a monosyllabic block of wood mumbling and grunting cliches and furrowing his brow as his perfect plan of scoring goals by leaning on and then fouling a defender and then with a great grunt thumping the ball really hard at goal fails to make an international dent.

On the Lash

Bloody Noisy Hotels

It's Alright, I'll Give it Back

"Norman Stanley Fletcher you are an habitual criminal who accepts arrest as an occupational hazard and presumably accepts imprisonment in the same casual manner...."

"Ah yes your honour errrrr if I give back the DVD player and the television set, it'll be alright won't it."

"Giving back the proceeds of your criminal ventures will not wipe the slate clean Mr Fletcher, where on earth did you get such a fallacious idea?"

"My mates in Nu Labor, innit."

Three Women Walk into a Bar

Sit down and talk to each other about their problems, listening carefully, repeating what the other person said to them and what they said to them and mulling over what they really meant and sometimes being a bit bitchy. Then they go home slightly tiddly.

That's why Women aren't funny.

They think too much, listen too much and take themselves too seriously.

On the other hand Men don't.

Or sometimes they think too much and develop whole political and philsophical and religious movements that require bloody crusades and wars and genocides. Or they listen too much and end up listening to God and carrying out the Missio He's given him, usually with a hammer and against prostitutes. Or they do take themselves too seriously and build cruel and evil empires in which millions exist to serve them. Stalin wasn't a great one for standing around talking about norks and doing "Suit you Sir" impressions (though he did do the very boysy thing of making lists, Top 500 people to execute today) and Hitler's attempts at stand up weren't that good, not many laughs but huge audiences. Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Fuhrer is not that good a catchphrase.

But these guys and similar of their ilk aren't the real guys. The real guys don't take themselves seriously, ever, that's why there are more funny men than funny women, you can't be serious about humour.

But as Christopher Hitchens points out Women don't need to be funny to get a shag, they just need to be there. Men have to stand up there, with a hostile audience, pitching a line and usually getting shot down. That breeds funny.

The worst comedians are the ones that go round the audience, "Anybody here from Portsmouth?" "Anybody here from Fowey?" That's the variation of the bloke asking "Where do you come from?" "What do you do?" That's flailing around in a nervous sweat about to tip your pint over your groin and to be gonged off with scorn.

Next step on the comedy evolutionary ladder is holding the audience in contempt, attacking them and generally taking the piss. The Darcy approach. Be contemptible and funny for such a long time, then when they're least expecting it, turn on the charm and they'll be like bunnies caught wide eyed and lolly-gagged int he headlights of your charm and ready for a good running over.

The final step on the comedy evolutionary ladder is to be searingly original and funny. That's a bit difficult but there you go.

I never said it was easy being a Man

One for the Patio

Alan Titmarsh signs up for a new 2 year contract for his chat show. Dear God another two years of his bumbling, yokel smarminess. On Ground Force I was pleased it was was only Charlie Dimmock who wore low slung tops, if Titmarsh had.....it doesn't bear thinking about. Still Alan is definately one for the patio, a Brookside patio. Actually thinking about Charlie and her Dimmocks....I've gone all Murdoch...

Ready for Your Golden Shower Mr McClaren

Pissing on McClaren might not be enough. He should be chained to rock like Prometheus and every day the gentlemen and ladies of the Press should descend and rip out his liver, devour it and leave flicking the Vs. Though we can't blame McClaren too much, he was a special ability manager reaching beyond his capabilities. We can turn our fire on the collection of dead beat, arrogant, lazy, money-obsessed, preening little wankers that "play" for England these days.

All they care about is the money, their wags, driving cars and brushing their hair.

Iconic

Creepy-Crawlies

This is a sea scorpion, part of which they've discovered fossilized. At half-past midnight Richard Bacon, Mr Dim, was smacking his lips at the thought of an 8 foot shrimp. Later at 5.30 in the morning the Wake up to Money program they thought it would petrify anybody who had arachnophobia; fear of spiders?

In Praise of Mighty Organs

A thrust by David Leigh of T'Grauniad against easy, slick, superficial journalism, the detritus of the blogs and shrieks of citizen journalists

"You can get junk journalism almost as easily. But just as there is now a Slow Food movement, I should also like to see more Slow Journalism. Slow Journalism would show greater respect for the reporter as a patient assembler of facts. A skilled craftsman who is independent and professionally reputable. A disentangler of lies and weasel words. And who is paid the rate for the job. Aren't such people essential for probing the dodgy mechanisms of our imperfect democracy, and our very imperfect world?

But the power of reporting does not lie entirely — or even mostly — in the nobility of its practitioners, or their professional skills. Or their celebrity status. It also lies in the preservation of media outlets that are themselves powerful.

When I reflect on the investigations I have been involved in, I realise that the reporter does have influence. We have written about the scandal of tax-dodgers with private jets pretending to live in Monaco, but still working four days a week in a London office. The government now says it will close that loophole. We wrote some rather savage articles about plans to restrict use of the Freedom of Information Act. They dropped the plans. And Rob Evans and I have written scores of articles detailing the corrupting influenceof the defence ministry's arms sales department. The government now says it will shut the department.

There is only one reason why these stories have an effect. I like to think, of course, it is down to our own personal brilliance. But it is not. It is because a story on the front page of the Guardian carries clout. So do reports on the BBC, for example — that's why Andrew Gilligan's stories about alleged sexed-up dossiers caused such panic and rage in Downing Street. That is perhaps one of the biggest dangers of the media revolution. When the media fragment — as they will — and splinter into a thousand websites, a thousanddigital channels, all weak financially, then we will see a severe reduction in the power of each individual media outlet. The reporter will struggle to be heard over the cacophony of a thousand other voices.

Politicians will no longer fear us. And if that day comes, I'm afraid it really will be the end of the reporter."

Illegal Immigrant Shock

The Home Secretary, Jacquie Smith, was last night revealed to be an illegal immigrant. She says she didn't think it was appropriate to tell Parliament and that it was more important for her to get on with her job. But as the truth became known, thanks to the super soaraway Hackery's investigations, Jacqui Smith was dragged kicking and screaming from the Home Office. As she was bundled into a private contractor's van, KickemOut plc, to be taken to an immigrant detention centre she was heard screaming, "Those bastards will beat me up on the way to the plane, help me, help me I'm a Home Secretary you know."