Clamday 1. Mood of the day: Smugg.
Warm bath of columnist approval - Valiant exploits ahead - Deficit Monster Quest - New Age of co-operation and consensus - Dave Disraeli? Why not Good Queen Bess?
- Evil Crookback Gordon well and truly Martson Moor'd - NuLabour delusion dead.
The lesson of NuLabour is that the markets just won't agree to play nice. That if you mess with them, you will eventually wake up one fine morning-after in the bloodstained bed of a dead hooker.
But the ConDems will soon find out that compromise is not co-operation, which the world is crying out for. And Cameron will soon find that his Big Society is co-operating to survive his cuts in public services, and eventually to get him out of Downing Street as soon as possible.
But at the same time, they won't want to replace him with anything resembling NuLabour. Which again leaves room for a genuine alternative to the current poodle-politics. Whether people choose the dark warm burrow of hatred and fascism, or something which celebrates and enables human potential will be largely a matter of presentation. And the message which needs to be delivered is that those who support the BNP are people making a choice according to their lights, not evil mental-defectives. And that they have exactly the same natural needs and enemies as everyone else in their class. That this is not a war among the working classes, but for genuine social justice, with no utopian lies on either side.
Sadly, at present, there are too many so-called socialists who indulge in this kind of Daily Mail language. Who slip into football terrace tribalism whenever the BNP achieve some squalid gain in a windswept Essex estate. The slogan All BNP Supporters are Idiots is as divisive and alienating as the BNP could want. It supports their myth that socialism is just another sneering exploitation of the working classes.
What makes them think that Nye Bevan would have stood on the steps of Dagenham town hall and denounced BNP supporters as being too stupid to have the vote? As being beyond the persuasive power of progressive politics.
To fill the political hole of the future, progressive politicians have to reject completely the language and vocabulary of reaction. Politics are a matter of the words used as much as the policies advanced. It is not possible to advance radical policies with fascist rhetoric. Which doesn't mean simply not insulting natural allies who happen to have found themselves supporting the political enemies of their own class. As we saw with Bigotgate. It means having enough confidence in the ideas to express them clearly and unapologeticaly. This was the failure of NuLabour. The only thing they communicated with their daily drizzle of ungrammatic grunts and mumbles was their political emptiness. They abandoned their principles to get market approval, but had nothing to put in their place.
ConDem have something new and shiny to have faith in. A palpable lie. So they sound convincing. It's just a shame that they have nothing to offer but another compromise with market forces, one even more craven than NuLabour's.
So when the next crash happens, will they be able even to repeat Gordon Brown's goalmouth heroics of autumn 2008? Or even match his part in the negotiations to prevent the collapse of the Euro-Zone? His last act in office, taken when he knew he was an ex-prime minister. Bereft of life, resting in peace.
It is interesting that the period of deepest Brown-Hatred was book-ended by two achievements any politician would be proud of, and which may yet be what he is remembered for.
Cameron and Clegg will definitely be remembered for the embraces of today's fragrant opening ceremony. And for their accidental arranged marriage. But unless Clegg is even more of a sycophant to Cameron than Brown was to The City, and prepared to surrender all principles, and work with corpses like David Davis, Duncan-Smith and Michael Howard, the alliance won't have much time to achieve greatness. It's all hearts and flowers today. But when the looting begins, who will take the blame?
Right through the hard winter, and the long election campaign, and right until yesterday lunchtime, my bird-table was a busy little trattoria for dozens of perky little visitors. Today, nothing. The birds have all gone.
Showing posts with label cameron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cameron. Show all posts
5/12/2010
4/22/2010
NAZI CLEGG THIEF SWINDLER SHOCK TRICK SMEAR
The Telegraph jumped the gun a bit with this lame piece of muckraking. Not only is it completely harmless, but also exquisitely badly timed. Now Cameron looks like the pampered poodle of press bullyboys. Which is of course true.
All Clegg has to do is turn casually to Spudface, flicking a speck of dust from his immaculate cuffs, and ask:
As for the Mail conflating CLEGG and NAZI all over their front page, that is hardly surprising. In the dark columns patrolled by its hitmen, Clarkson and Littlejohn, almost everybody, including cyclists, vegetarians and council workers are routinely referred to as NAZIS. And now almost everyone loves Click. And if he's a nazi and they are nazis, someone is either lying about them and Clegg, or lying about the nazis. The trick was bound to backfire sometime, and this is probably it. It has confirmed everything Click has been saying about both tories and Labour, but Labour can sit in the shade again and let Cameron take the heat.
You have to say, well played Peter Mandelson. Hot favourite for the Bernard Ingham Spindoctor of The Year Award at this years' press bash.
Cleggmania aside, last week's show was dominated by Cameron's Deflation. He looked like a fretful Maris Piper most of the time. Like Wayne Rooney's bank-clerk older brother when opening his winter gasbill.. And by failing miserably to outperform the Ultra-Lite Clegg, he showed his true worth.
The fact that Click Negg beat Spudface in the beauty contest means that Brown won on the night. If Cameron was the tories' Great White Hope, he wouldn't have been outsmarted by the no-hoper. Gathered around their screen in the Carlton Club, tory grandees must have been crying in their Asti Spumante.
Tonight, the leader who manages to properly pronounce Eyjafjallajökull first will see his digital approval worm will hit the roof. And if Click gives it its new name - E15 - the Cleggometer will blow a fuse. Mt Stratford would be even better.
If the election is decided by this farce, there will be demands for proportional representation to replace the current system.
It won't make any difference. All we need is a fixed term, and a total ban on any electioneering during the month before the poll. In fact, all politicians should be locked into the Palace of Westminster, and the election fought purely on the basis of the real experience of the electorate during the term of office. That would make us pay attention a bit more. And not just for a week or two every four years.
The first 'debate' saw Clegg clouding the political sky, grounding Cameron Air, but leaving Gordon Brown sipping Pina Coladas on his Barbados holiday beach for an extra week.
What kind of freak political devastation we can expect out of tonight's Sky is still unclear. Something to do with helicopters, presumably.
All Clegg has to do is turn casually to Spudface, flicking a speck of dust from his immaculate cuffs, and ask:
'Is this the best your bosses can do to get you elected?'By launching this pathetic dirty Nick trick in a blatant attempt to scupper tonights debate, the Telegraph has panicked like Corporal Jones, and fired its musket long before it could see the whites of their eyes.
As for the Mail conflating CLEGG and NAZI all over their front page, that is hardly surprising. In the dark columns patrolled by its hitmen, Clarkson and Littlejohn, almost everybody, including cyclists, vegetarians and council workers are routinely referred to as NAZIS. And now almost everyone loves Click. And if he's a nazi and they are nazis, someone is either lying about them and Clegg, or lying about the nazis. The trick was bound to backfire sometime, and this is probably it. It has confirmed everything Click has been saying about both tories and Labour, but Labour can sit in the shade again and let Cameron take the heat.
You have to say, well played Peter Mandelson. Hot favourite for the Bernard Ingham Spindoctor of The Year Award at this years' press bash.
Cleggmania aside, last week's show was dominated by Cameron's Deflation. He looked like a fretful Maris Piper most of the time. Like Wayne Rooney's bank-clerk older brother when opening his winter gasbill.. And by failing miserably to outperform the Ultra-Lite Clegg, he showed his true worth.
The fact that Click Negg beat Spudface in the beauty contest means that Brown won on the night. If Cameron was the tories' Great White Hope, he wouldn't have been outsmarted by the no-hoper. Gathered around their screen in the Carlton Club, tory grandees must have been crying in their Asti Spumante.
Tonight, the leader who manages to properly pronounce Eyjafjallajökull first will see his digital approval worm will hit the roof. And if Click gives it its new name - E15 - the Cleggometer will blow a fuse. Mt Stratford would be even better.
If the election is decided by this farce, there will be demands for proportional representation to replace the current system.
It won't make any difference. All we need is a fixed term, and a total ban on any electioneering during the month before the poll. In fact, all politicians should be locked into the Palace of Westminster, and the election fought purely on the basis of the real experience of the electorate during the term of office. That would make us pay attention a bit more. And not just for a week or two every four years.
The first 'debate' saw Clegg clouding the political sky, grounding Cameron Air, but leaving Gordon Brown sipping Pina Coladas on his Barbados holiday beach for an extra week.
What kind of freak political devastation we can expect out of tonight's Sky is still unclear. Something to do with helicopters, presumably.
4/20/2010
How Will the Ash Cloud of Death Effect the Election?
How will the Ash Cloud of Death Effect the Election? Because it will.
What could the killer volcano question be on Thursday night's debate?
'Can you name the volcano?' That would be a start for Foreign Affairs Nite.
The first to competently pronounce Eyjafjallajökull will gain enormous respect. I suppose they're all practising in front of mirrors now, otherwise the massed Simon Cowells beyond the cameras will shake their heads in tired old-pro resignation, and call:
'Next!'
It might be tempting for the deflated Spudface Cameron to appeal to the Old Duffer vote, who have been ranting online in the last few days about how the country has no guts, and how it's all a sinister conspiracy by the Elf'n'Safety Brigade of the Nanny State.
In the good old days when men were men they'd have just fixed a pair of stout military tights (W.A.A.Fs for the use of) over the engine intakes and barrelled that kite over the White Cliffs of Dover like a partridge in season.
Dammit, all of civilisation runs on someone's blood. Without 1,000s of road deaths a year, there would be no supermarkets, and riots in the streets. And the Nanny State worries about a few hundred possible deaths in the air. This isn't the spirit which beat the Frogs at Waterloo or the krauts on the beaches of Normandy.
etc etc etc.
The professional hacks have moved in on the game, spewing out doublethink by the yard, all amounting to the samne thing. It's the Millenium Bug all over again!
A load of namby-pamby stuff and nonsense. In their day they would have donned their goggles and white scarves and ploughed intrepidly through the bit of dust, while others quivered like white mice in their shadow. Mercenary Onanism of the highest order.
Rightist Nutter extraordinaire Alain de Botton has naturally joined in:
Gimme a break please. Romancifiers like Botton never miss a chance to stuff their version of the past down the throat of the present.
If he were to seriously apply his imagination more to a future without Consumerist Free Market Worship, then he would be doing his job as a philosopher. But as a devotee of the free market, this would make his head explode. Just as it did to those who always condemned powered flight as blasphemous. Botton would have been one of the loudest crying: 'If God had meant us to fly he would have given us wings.'
Ultimately, what he might as well say is 'imagine a world without the vote, where sage old men who had proved themselves in battle, took all the major decisions on behalf of everyone, who were then 'liberated' to enjoy their lives.' Ultimately, like Rabid Littlejohn yesterday, he can go Eyjafjallajökull himself.
Brown, of course, just has to play a straight hand, and he's almost home to a famous draw.
Meanwhile, the conspiracies run to fantasy. The eruption is Iceland's Revenge for losing the credit war. The Icelandic PM on Newsnight was like having a visit from The Boys.
So will that be the tactics of the Browneron on thursday? Blame it on the boy. They could do worse. It won't be the worst joke we hear all campaign, it's just a matter of who gets in first.
Watch this space.
What could the killer volcano question be on Thursday night's debate?
'Can you name the volcano?' That would be a start for Foreign Affairs Nite.
The first to competently pronounce Eyjafjallajökull will gain enormous respect. I suppose they're all practising in front of mirrors now, otherwise the massed Simon Cowells beyond the cameras will shake their heads in tired old-pro resignation, and call:
'Next!'
It might be tempting for the deflated Spudface Cameron to appeal to the Old Duffer vote, who have been ranting online in the last few days about how the country has no guts, and how it's all a sinister conspiracy by the Elf'n'Safety Brigade of the Nanny State.
In the good old days when men were men they'd have just fixed a pair of stout military tights (W.A.A.Fs for the use of) over the engine intakes and barrelled that kite over the White Cliffs of Dover like a partridge in season.
Dammit, all of civilisation runs on someone's blood. Without 1,000s of road deaths a year, there would be no supermarkets, and riots in the streets. And the Nanny State worries about a few hundred possible deaths in the air. This isn't the spirit which beat the Frogs at Waterloo or the krauts on the beaches of Normandy.
etc etc etc.
The professional hacks have moved in on the game, spewing out doublethink by the yard, all amounting to the samne thing. It's the Millenium Bug all over again!
A load of namby-pamby stuff and nonsense. In their day they would have donned their goggles and white scarves and ploughed intrepidly through the bit of dust, while others quivered like white mice in their shadow. Mercenary Onanism of the highest order.
Rightist Nutter extraordinaire Alain de Botton has naturally joined in:
"In a future world without aeroplanes, children would gather at the feet of old men and hear tales of strange flying machines..."and hear tales of Noggin the Nog, and his heroic deeds in the land of the far north.
Gimme a break please. Romancifiers like Botton never miss a chance to stuff their version of the past down the throat of the present.
If he were to seriously apply his imagination more to a future without Consumerist Free Market Worship, then he would be doing his job as a philosopher. But as a devotee of the free market, this would make his head explode. Just as it did to those who always condemned powered flight as blasphemous. Botton would have been one of the loudest crying: 'If God had meant us to fly he would have given us wings.'
Ultimately, what he might as well say is 'imagine a world without the vote, where sage old men who had proved themselves in battle, took all the major decisions on behalf of everyone, who were then 'liberated' to enjoy their lives.' Ultimately, like Rabid Littlejohn yesterday, he can go Eyjafjallajökull himself.
Brown, of course, just has to play a straight hand, and he's almost home to a famous draw.
Meanwhile, the conspiracies run to fantasy. The eruption is Iceland's Revenge for losing the credit war. The Icelandic PM on Newsnight was like having a visit from The Boys.
"Now about our little arrangement over the banks. You have a very nice civil flight industry. Shame if it were to get all clogged up and grounded. Clogged up with - ooThey've never got over losing (or winning) the Cod War. Either way, they want to make us pay for making them pay back what they owe your local council, and the rest of us are left praying to Woden or Odin or Wotan to not plunge us back into recession. I blame that Click Negg. Until he opened his mouth everything was fine. The gods were offended by his overturning the political applecart.
Now can you think of anywhere that might cause that kind of trouble?... If you can, let us know and we'll do our best to see that any problems go away. If you're reasonable about our credit arrangement...." I dunno - some kind of ASH. Maybe even VOLCANIC ash, blown thousands of feet into the air by some huge natural force.
So will that be the tactics of the Browneron on thursday? Blame it on the boy. They could do worse. It won't be the worst joke we hear all campaign, it's just a matter of who gets in first.
Watch this space.
2/04/2010
Society Not As Sick Cameron Wants Shock Horror! Social Workers To Blame!
It seems that we are more terrified than we should be. An inconvenient report by the University of Bournemouth, under Prof Colin Pritchard, is very clear.
The number of violent deaths among children in England and Wales has fallen by almost 40% since 1974, research has suggested.
David Cameron, and his raggletaggle band of reactionaries, must be delighted.
Even worse, social workers - of all people - are responsible for a shameless demonstration of the welfare state in action.
'Better monitoring by social workers and improved liaison between health visitors, paediatricians, GPs and police had led to the drop, it said. The US and Germany had the highest violent death rates, the study found.'
But where did this increased fear and loathing of our broken society, with its increasingly bottomless depths of depravity and squalor, come from?
Whoever turns out to be the evil arch-villain responsible, the benefits to some are clear.
If the fear exists that your children will be killed if they set foot out of the house, you will quite naturally keep them under supervision. This clears any traditional open spaces and playgrounds of children, effectively killing the demand for play. At least, for play which cannot be 'monetised' as they say on blogs. This tends to reduce the chances that profitable property developments will be challenged at the planning stages by crank parents and communities which value their children's welfare before the share prices of Barratt and Wimpy.
Keeping children indoors also creates a massive market for consumer goodies to keep them amused and not killing each other. Plus all the supervised activities and recreations with their lucrative added options. For over ten years, society has run on fear. It has been a cash cow, a significant job-creator in this phase of late Consumerism. After all, skipping ropes and skatebords don't need upgrading. And they don't wear out easily. From a business point of view, they're a disaster. As is any play which children invent for themselves out of their imagination and resources available. Because play cannot be weighed and sold by the pound, it is the defacto enemy of industrial consumer society. Just as free air is.
That is the real sickness of society, which Cameron & Cronies are genetically incapable of grasping. But then, he is only following Brown's example. But that is Brown's shame for life, not Cameron's.
The number of violent deaths among children in England and Wales has fallen by almost 40% since 1974, research has suggested.
David Cameron, and his raggletaggle band of reactionaries, must be delighted.
Even worse, social workers - of all people - are responsible for a shameless demonstration of the welfare state in action.
'Better monitoring by social workers and improved liaison between health visitors, paediatricians, GPs and police had led to the drop, it said. The US and Germany had the highest violent death rates, the study found.'
But where did this increased fear and loathing of our broken society, with its increasingly bottomless depths of depravity and squalor, come from?
Whoever turns out to be the evil arch-villain responsible, the benefits to some are clear.
If the fear exists that your children will be killed if they set foot out of the house, you will quite naturally keep them under supervision. This clears any traditional open spaces and playgrounds of children, effectively killing the demand for play. At least, for play which cannot be 'monetised' as they say on blogs. This tends to reduce the chances that profitable property developments will be challenged at the planning stages by crank parents and communities which value their children's welfare before the share prices of Barratt and Wimpy.
Keeping children indoors also creates a massive market for consumer goodies to keep them amused and not killing each other. Plus all the supervised activities and recreations with their lucrative added options. For over ten years, society has run on fear. It has been a cash cow, a significant job-creator in this phase of late Consumerism. After all, skipping ropes and skatebords don't need upgrading. And they don't wear out easily. From a business point of view, they're a disaster. As is any play which children invent for themselves out of their imagination and resources available. Because play cannot be weighed and sold by the pound, it is the defacto enemy of industrial consumer society. Just as free air is.
That is the real sickness of society, which Cameron & Cronies are genetically incapable of grasping. But then, he is only following Brown's example. But that is Brown's shame for life, not Cameron's.
6/26/2008
Bojo the Batty - The Discombobulation of Boris
James McGrath is definitely not a racist, both David Cameron and Boris Johnson say so, and they are both honourable men, and so McGrath must be sacked as quickly as possible.
That's clear as mud then, like the Boris Johnson administration and its Cameron backers.
So either Cameron and Johnson don't know what racism is, in which case they are idiots who shouldn't be running a creche. Or they do know, and are therefore a pair of standard issue tory slimeballs only fit to run a second hand car showroom.
If his remarks were not racist, why did McGrath have to go? Apparently, because of 'bad timing', whatever that means. The battiness of the Bojo administration continues to fail to disappoint.
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