Happy New Year

Happy New Year to everybody wherever in the world you may be, and let's all pray for a peaceful and prosperous 2012.

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Racism And Sexism-Redundant Words.

I happened to disagree with somebody on Twitter yesterday, and it turned very ugly. When challenged she became all ranty and quite unpleasant.  She has a habit of ranting at people on t'interweb then getting highly hysterical if they stand their ground. On several occasions she has claimed that there is a vendetta against her and that she is being spied on by enemies. In other words she's mad and I should never have bothered really.

Then today an ally of hers accused me of "sexist fuckwittery", which I hope she wasn't taught at convent school. Actually I doubt she went to convent school, she'd have a bit more grace if she had. I checked her blog and she is another loony who rants on perpetually about racism and sexism, seeing those twin evils in seemingly everything. I had said nothing remotely 'sexist' in any way. The good thing about Twitter is you can unfollow and block the loonies, which I've done with these two particular nutjobs.

Then I discovered that poor old Jeremy Clarkson is being bitched at again. Apparently telling stories, or jokes about Ghandi's Revenge is now racist. I saw the Top Gear Christmas Special and although not a great fan of car programmes, I found it highly entertaining. I saw nothing at all racist about it and people who did should really get a life. But anything to have a pop at Clarkson it seems. If you don't know the programme was filmed in India.

If I now mention the horrors of Montezuma's Revenge from my time in Latin America does that make me a racist as well? It's a bloody joke. If you travel anywhere you are at risk of a dodgy tummy, sometimes it's just your body getting used to different germs from the ones it's built up resistance to. In the case of India, and some other developing countries, it is because they have appalling hygiene problems in many areas, it's a fact. There is nothing racist about mentioning it or making a joke of it.

Some people throw the words 'racist' and 'sexist' so easily today, as a form of general abuse, that I think both words have lost their meaning, a bit like the word 'fascist' which the left use to describe anybody to the right of Trotsky. Effectively these words are now redundant.

Carry On Communism

Living in a communist hell hole like North Korea or Cuba can't be much fun. Millions of people effectively imprisoned, no freedom, freedom of speech or foreign travel because you probably won't use the return ticket and are likely to end up in chokey if you don't cry enought at the death of the totalitarian monster in charge. Funny how both countries are run by a form of hereditary totalitarianism too, with son or brother taking over the keys to the dungeons and torture chambers when the ruler goes up to the great workers' collective in the sky.

But there is always something slightly comic if you look hard enough.. I  can't help thinking that the sight of female warriors marching in North Korea has a certain 'Carry On' film quality about it. Admittedly not funny if the lady soldier's jackboot comes down on your testicles when interrogating you about whether or not you are a capitalist lackey, but there you go.

So I give you the military marching girls of Pyongyang:

Boxing Day Hunt

Although I haven't ridden a horse for a few years, and have never done it to any kind of standard, popping up the road to support the local hunt really helps to make Christmas a special time. We walked there today, about a ten mile round hike along the canal towpath through the lovely countryside of the Lune Valley. Just what you need after a day of indulgence the day before.

There was one pillock who tried to drive through the horses and hounds as the hunt was gathering, making exaggerated gestures to his wife to let us know he disapproved. His car stickers showed him to be a tourist from one of our major cities, probably staying in local holiday accomodation for the festive season. Well if you disapprove of what goes on in the countryside it's easy, don't come.

It's an interesting thought that it is city dwellers who got hunting banned. I suppose they want the countryside to be just like the cities where the foxes are safe, it's just the humans running around shooting and stabbing each other you have to worry about. Oh yes, and the looters and the vermin living in filthy tents protesting about........whatever it is they are protesting about.

Anyway, here are some piccies of today's hunt:

Happy Christmas

A Prayer for Christmas Morning

by Robert Louis Stevenson

Loving Father, Help us remember the birth of Jesus, that we may share in the song of angels, the gladness of the shepherds, and the worship of the wise men. Close the door of hate and open the door of love all over the world. Let kindness come with every gift and good desires with every greeting.

Deliver us from evil by the blessing which Christ brings, and teach us to be merry with clean hearts. May the Christmas morning make us happy to be Thy children, and the Christmas evening bring us to our beds with grateful thoughts, forgiving and forgiven, for Jesus' sake, Amen!

I Believe In Father Christmas

Busy getting ready for Christmas and learning my lines for a play in February, so haven't got much time for blogging. Add to that the fact that the news is dominated by politically correct moral outrage at footballers and pundits behaving badly, according to the standards of the PC Gestapo, and I really can't be mithered.

So here's my favourite Christmas song from when you could use a word like "coloured" on national TV without being treated like you'd just slaughtered a classsroom full of five year olds. Yes, incredibly I fell in love with this song in 1975 and I still love hearing it:

El Perro Del Mar-God Knows

Time for some soothing music I think:

Black and White Minstrels, Dwarfs and Choirs

As we enjoy the unravelling of the hated European Union we can only hope that soon political correctness will follow. Political correctness is one of the more subtle forms of fascism but nevertheless very effective. What makes it so effective is that it doesn't require a great deal of obviously oppressive legislation, just a largely dense and pliable population. But, like any form of totalitarianism it does throw up some bizarre anomalies.

I would imagine that anybody wanting to reunite the Black and White Minstrels would get short shrift. It just isn't politically correct for white men to black up and sing in the negro/Al Jolson style anymore.

But a theatre in the Midlands decided it was alright for a group of kids to dress up as dwarves for their pantomime, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Some politically correct muppet decided it wasn't PC to have dwarfs running around on stage playing dwarfs. No, I don't see the logic either, but that's political correctness for you. Quite rightly unemployed dwarfs, who can earn a good livinmg in the panto season, are absolutely furious at being so patronised and denied a few weeks good money.

A very good friend of mine has recently left her local choir in protest at galloping political correctness. Yes, it's tenticles creep far and wide. Whenever I hear somebody use the phrase 'I have issues with...' my PC alert rings. In most cases I find people use that phrase to condemn something that they dislike or disapprove of, but don't like being definite in their condemnation, often because they fear offending somebody and are therefore weak and lack the courage of their convictions. Alternatively they are being politically correct but don't actually know why they 'have issues' with whatever it is. This is how the choir incident began.

The head honcho of the choir introduced a Latin song one afternoon but a little delicate hand was raised at the back. One of the thirty strong choir had issues singing a song in Latin because of the religious implications. My friend isn't Roman Catholic but was appalled at such bigotry, especially as the poor, easily offended flower at the back hadn't had 'issues' when singing the negro spiritual earlier in the afternoon. Another example of the stupidity of political correctness. She finally walked away from the choir when they decided not to sing carols as one or two choir members 'had issues' with being seen as a religious choir. So PC ensures the tyranny, in the interests of ensuring people don't have 'issues', of the self-righteous ignorant minority.

So, I hope and pray that as the EU crumbles the people wake up to the sinister sickness that is political correctness and see off that pervasive and divisive doctrine too.

Which all reminds me of my favourite old Christmas joke, the one about the politically correct pantomime: Precipitation of Indeterminate Colour and the Seven Persons of Diminutive Stature.

Why David Cameron Should Sack Nick Clegg

The short blog post would read: "Because Clegg is chief nobhead who leads a party of massive nobheads". But I suppose that is really not enough.

I detest the European Union with every fibre of my being. It is a sick, money gobbling vanity project to bolster the egos of a bunch of political misfits in Europe. It is corrupt, it is interfering and controlling. It is led by the two greyest politicians the world has ever seen, Herman von Rompuy and Baroness Ashton. The EU's accounts are in such a mess they've not been signed off in nearly 20 years.

If they pretend to be democratic they hold a referendum, then another one until the people vote the way they want them to. They have held bloodless coups in Greece and Italy and installed their own technocrats, aka twats, to run those two countries. A quote from the great PJ O'Rourke sums up my attitude to government, especially big, interfering, unaccountable government: "A little government and a little luck are necessary in life, but only a fool trusts either of them".

I love Europe. I love quiche or foie gras and a carafe of rose outside a cafe in Bergerac for lunch. It's hard to beat hunters stew and vodka on a snowy mountainside at Christmas in Poland. There isn't a finer Christmas market than the original, biggest and best in Nuremburg. Tapas in a shabby little bar full of locals in a small town outside Toledo can't be beaten by any tapas restaurant in Manchester or London. There's nothing more evocative than walking under the Brandenburg Gate, an impossibility a couple of decades ago. An abiding memory is of seeing Nigel Mansell become world champion and spending that evening sat outside our tent on the shores of Lake Balaton drinking cherry brandy with an Austrian and a Hungarian.

But my fondest memory has to be having a drink before our meal in the small bar of a hotel in the High Tatras mountains in Czechoslovakia just after the Velvet Revolution. A German family came into the bar and the husband asked if it was my car in the car park, the one with the ani-EU stickers on the bumper. I confirmed it was mine and he shook my hand and we had a drink and spent a great evening together. When Germany had been reunified he had left the east to settle in Munich. He and his fellow Osties were appalled when they discovered the true nature of the EU and hated the fact that they had left one authoritarian bloc top join another, rather than an independent, united, democratic Germany. I sent a batch of anti-EU stickers over for him and his friends when we got back.

So when a jumped up, talentless prick like Clegg throws the accusation of xenophobia at we Eurosceptics I want to pin the misfit down and kick him unconscious. He needs to grow a brain and understand that it's tithead politicians like Clegg we despise, not your average Frenchman, German or Greek. It is the institutions of the EU I loathe, not the culture, cuisine or customs of Italy, Spain or Portugal. Crying xenophobia proves why little Nicky Clegg is a brainless moron and he and his party should be sacked from government forthwith. Not only is he sticking two fingers up at Cameron's standing up to the EU, he is showing his loathing for Britain and the British people.

Here endeth the lesson.

Feltham By-Election

Last night's by-election saw a turnout of 28% and the Labour candidate elected with a mere 12,000 votes, despite keeping Ed Miliband locked under the stairs for the campign. The Tories were never going to win the seat and the fact that their vote held up shows that the Euro problem took the edge off any anti-government vote based on the economy.

The fact that UKIP still couldn't beat the Lib Dems, and claim that their vote wasn't as good as hoped for because the anti-EU vote went to the Tories, shows that they are making virtually no real progress and are not a credible fourth party. If you're only known for being anti-EU and can't get more than a fraction above 5% in a by-election when the country is as anti-EU as I have ever known it you may as well pack up and go home.

So that leaves the Tories and Labour fighting over the corpse of the Liberal Democrats. If I were a betting man I would still put money on the Tories sneaking in at the next general election, especially if Dave's stand against the EU is firmed up and doesn't turn out to be sleight of hand.

I still maintain that Dave should dump the Lib Dems and go for a general election in the New Year. The last thing he wants to do is risk Labour binning Miliband and finding a credible leader from somewhere.

The Stupidity Of Politicians-The Divine Comedy

So, with Europe heading for chaos and quite probably serious civil disorder, it's time for a change.

One of the most powerful pop songs of the last century has to be Sunrise by Divine Comedy. I imagine this song would touch every British person who witnessed the troubles in Northern Ireland.

Nanny State And Alcohol

So in the run up to Christmas we've had the police launching their annual terror campaign with speed traps set up in an effort to catch the odd driver who had a sherry too many at the office party. Now we've had a group of 'experts' urging the government to bring in a minimum price for alcohol, supposedly to save thousands of lives like Soviet Scotland is doing. Humbug!

I'm tired of whinging 'experts' lecturing and hectoring us about our lifestyles. Who pays for all these nannying ninnies? Oh yes, you and me through our taxes. We all know the dangers of obesity, alcoholism and so on and we make our choices. All this nonsense about minimum price to save us from ourselves is just an excuse, as in Soviet Scotland, to hit us with more tax but 'for our own good'.

So why should I pay more for my Laphroiag or my bottle of Cahors because some piss head in a bedsit is drinking himself to death on cheap cider? Furthermore with higher costs for booze, said piss head would only satisfy the demands of the anti-fat fascists by eating less to spend his money on cider, thus dying earlier anyway. 

The sooner we have a government that gets off our backs, and starves the health fascists and other nannying do-gooders of funding the better for us all. After all, it's mostly the government that drives us to drink in the first place.

Nick Clegg, Wimp Among Lib Dem Wimps

Yesterday we were helping the in-laws move house so my news updates were occasional, usually in my van when I was off to collect more furniture or bedding. That said I did have a good giggle when I heard that little Nicky Clegg had bottled out of attending the House of Commons. It seems that after initially proclaiming agreement with David Cameron's handbagging of the EU, he changed his mind and went into a Ted Heath style sulk. Diddums little Nicky, diddums!

The problem with this Coalition is having to roll over the Lib Dem stone and see the insects crawling out blinking into the daylight, Cable, Huhne, Laws and their like. Not exactly inspiring are they? The  plus side is that the voters can now see what any of us who have fought Lib Dems in elections have known for years, they are fundamentally immoral and opportunistic. It is obvious now to anybody with half a brain that the Lib Dems are going in one direction, public opinion in the opposite direction.

Lib Dems have misled the electorate for years in their local election material and have made ludicrously extravagant promises in their national manifestos, knowing with near certainty that they will not be proved to be a bunch of daydreamers and fantasists by actually being elected. Then bang, they're whoring themselves around Westminster like a bunch of cheap tarts offering to jump into bed with anybody who will have them. Coalition! It's all changed.

Clegg is so Euro obsessed, and so patronisingly dismissive of this country, that if he had any moral backbone at all he would have resigned on Saturday morning when he was awkened from his slumbers to be told Cameron had vetoed a new treaty. But he has merely flip flopped and clings to what bit of power he has because he knows it's as far as he is ever likely to go.

When this government was cobbled together I gave it two years. I still maintain that will be the case. Dave will never win an election on the economy but if the Lib Dems throw a tantrum over Europe, he could call a general election with the EU as the core issue and win it. In the process he would see the Lib Dems wiped out and Labour given such a kicking it will create a few more years of infighting rendering them unelectable again.

Let's face it, the EU is dying and we could reap huge benefits by standing aside and watching it crumble. Several birds with one stone methinks.

Ted Heath, Typical European Union Liar

The following quotes typify the way the EU and its supporters have consistently lied and cheated the electorate to achieve their aims:

"There will not be a blueprint for a Federal Europe"
 Ted Heath, British Conservative Prime Minister and noted Europhile. Speech in the House of Commons, 25 February 1970 in run-up to EEC entry.

"There is no danger of a single currency."
 Ted Heath, British Conservative Prime Minister and noted Europhile. EEC membership information leaflet, 1975.

Sissons: "...the single currency, the United States of Europe: was that on your mind when you took Britain in?"

Heath: "Of course, Yes."
 Ted Heath, British Conservative Prime Minister and noted europhile, and Peter Sissons, BBC journalist and presenter. Question Time with Peter Sissons, 1 November 1991.

Chris Davies, Lib Dem MEP for North West England

I had an extremely long day yesterday, up at 5 45am to get to Liverpool for a start at 8 00am finishing at 6 00pm. On the way home I had a terrible shock. I had the radio on and heard Chris Davies, Lib Dem MEP for the North West on national radio. For a few horrible seconds I thought I'd fallen asleep at the wheel and was having an awful nightmare, but no I was awake.

Davies was stood on the quayside as they were about to wave the passengers off on the maiden voyage of the Titanic. He was berating a family on the quayside screaming: "I know it's going to hit an iceberg and sink, but the others are on so you should be too. Don't kick the other poor saps in the teeth by staying safely on dry land". Except he was really talking about us not committing suicide with the rest of the EU as if we were doing something evil.

Chris Davies is quite probably going to win my Quisling of the Year award. His hatred of Britain and love of his massive EU salary and allowances makes me sick. Tell you what Chris, piss off and fight the next European election in some French or Italian constituency, you obviously loathe the UK.

This one is just for Monsieur Davies:

For The EU Summit-Fun Lovin Criminals

Whenever I see EU leaders gathering I think of the Fun Lovin Criminals' song Scooby Snacks. It's all about robbing banks whereas the EU robs us, but I'm sure you get my drift. Let's face it  history will look back at the EU and recognise it as a huge undemocratic memorial to the vanity of the intellectual pygmies who led Europe into the twenty first century, crushing the wishes of the people in the process.

It always looks like a gathering of shady gangsters too, which it is in reality, so Fun Lovin Criminals are especially apt. I must admit to worrying a little about Angela Merkel though, her fringe does seem to be lengthening and sloping a little more each day while her eyes are becoming beadier, and I swear a little facial hair is developing on her top lip.

But enough banter, as the EU leaders meet to stitch us up yet further, having already imposed unelected technocrats to replace elected leaders of Greece and Italy, I give you Snooby Snacks:


Suggestions for other suitable songs for the EU gratefully received via comments.

Launch Of Annual Police Terror

Don't forget folks, most forces have this week launched their annual police terror campaigns.

There will suddenly be the kind of police numbers on the streets that are only rivalled when we are in the grip of rioters and looters. They will use any excuse to pull you over so they can sniff your breath, just in case you've had a glass of sherry when visiting Auntie Ethel. They'll pull you over on your way to work in case they can catch you over the drink drive limit from the party the night before.

There will be disgustingly emotive TV commercials about children being slaughtered by the thousand by drivers who had an eggnog with their staff before closing the office for Christmas. There'll be ads showing the look of hatred on the face of an angelic five year old when he finds out his father failed a breathalyser, lost his job and has thrown his family into a life of grinding Dickensian poverty.

They'll make those disgusting anti-smoking adverts using kids to try and shame grown ups into giving up smoking look reasonable. Oh yes, the spirit of Joey the Cripple is alive and well and working on public service announcements in  the UK.

Feast of St Edmund Campion

The most famous of the English martyrs, Edmund Campion (1540-1581) gave up a promising career at Oxford and an invitation to enter Queen Elizabeth's service in order to become a Catholic priest and minister to the abandoned Catholics who greatly desired the sacraments.
Campion was born in London of Catholic parents who later became Protestant. He attended St. John's College, Oxford, where he gained renown as a lecturer and a following of students who called themselves "Campionites." When he was 26 years old, he gave a speech of welcome in Latin to Queen Elizabeth on her visit to Oxford; he made such an impression on the queen that she and Lords Cecil and Leicester tried to recruit him for her service. He probably took the Oath of Supremacy, and was ordained a deacon for the Established Church. The more he studied to be a priest, the more convinced he became that the Catholic Church had the true faith. He moved to Dublin in 1569 in an effort to find a place to live as a Catholic, but the Irish capital showed an anti-Catholic feeling that drove him back to London. In June 1571 he left England for Douai, Belgium where the recently founded English College trained seminarians for England.
Campion finished his degree in 1573 and set out soon after for Rome with the intention of becoming a Jesuit. Within a month of his arrival in Rome, he was accepted into the Society. At that time there was neither an English province nor an English mission, so he was assigned to the Austrian province and went to Prague and Brno to make his novitiate. He remained in Prague after he took vows and was ordained there, expecting to spend the rest of his life teaching in that city. He wrote and directed plays for his students and won renown as an orator.
The English Jesuit's life changed course suddenly when the Superior General in Rome decided to open a mission in England. Father Campion was one of the first to be assigned to it. He stopped in Rome on his way back to England and joined Father Rober Persons and Brother Ralph Emerson. They turned north and joined other recruits for the new mission at Saint Omer in Flanders. English spies in Flanders learned of their impending departure and informed the English ports of entry, who awaited their arrival. Campion and Emerson left the Continent on the evening of June 24. Campion disguised himself as a "Mr. Edmonds," a jewelry merchant. Port authorities were suspicious, but Campion answered their questions adequately and they let the merchant enter.
It had been eight years since Campion had left England. He briefly remained in London where he wrote a manifesto of the mission which has become known as "Campion's Brag." Its point was that the mission was religious, not political; so well-written and powerful was it, that copies were made and widely distributed to confirm Catholics in their faith. Campion himself moved on to Berkshire, Oxfordshire, Lancashire and Yorkshire. He would stay at a Catholic house for one or two nights or visit households where Catholics were employed. His pattern was to arrive during the day, preach and hear confessions during the evening, and then celebrate Mass in the morning before moving on to the next location. He continued to write and composed a book addressed to the academic world; entitled Rationes decem ("Ten Reasons"), the book gave arguments to prove the truth of Catholicism and the falsity of Protestantism. It was printed by the end of June 1581. Many of the 400 copies printed were left on the benches of Oxford's University Church of St. Mary. Campion was still well-enough known that the book was eagerly read.
Campion's freedom to minister to Catholics soon ended. In July he left London and stopped at the Yate family in Berkshire. The family's Catholic neighbors learned that the Jesuit priest had been there and pressed the Yates to invite him back. Mrs. Yate sent word to Campion who returned, unfortunately at a time when a professional priest-hunter was in the congregation pretending to be Catholic. After Mass the hunter slipped away to notify the authorities who quickly returned to the house but could not find any priests. The guards remained on the grounds, listening for sounds of unusual activity. They alertly heard a group of people leaving a meeting that Campion had addressed. The guards searched the house again, this time finding Campion and two other priests.
The three were taken to the Tower of London on July 22, where Campion was put in a cell so small he could neither stand upright nor lie down. After three days there he was brought to Leicester house, where he met Queen Elizabeth for a second time. She offered him the opportunity to renounce his Catholic faith and become a Protestant minister, with the offer of great advancement. He refused and was returned to his cell; five days later he was tortured on the rack. He had four conferences with Anglican divines, something he himself had requested in the book rationes decem, but the disputations were inconclusive, partly because the first one was held shortly after he had been tortured. The government determined that he should be executed, but they needed a stronger charge than the fact that he was a Catholic priest. On Nov. 14, the priests were led to Westminster Hall where charges were raised against them that they had formed a conspiracy against the life of the queen, had exhorted foreigners to invade the country and had entered England with the intent of fomenting rebellion to support the invaders. At his trial six days later, Campion was asked to raise his right hand and take an oath; he was unable to do so because of recent torture, so another one of the priests had to lift his arm for him. Campion attempted to defend all the priests by pointing out their motives were religious, not political; but they were found guilty of high treason and condemned to be hanged, drawn and quartered. The priests joined in singing the Te Deum when they heard the verdict.
Campion remained in chains for another 11 days, and then was dragged through the muddy streets of London to Tyburn. With him were Briant, and Father Ralph Sherwin, a diocesan priest. As Campion forgave those who had condemned him, the cart he was standing on was driven from under him and he was left hanging. The executioner then cut him down and tore out his heart and intestines before cutting his body into pieces. Briant had been tried a day after Campion, but was executed soon after the other Jesuit. He was cut down while still alive after being hung so that he could be disemboweled and his body cut into quarters. He was only 25 years old.

From CatholicCulture.org
St Edmund Campion

Jeremy Clarkson-Yet Again!

Totalitarian states are notorious for taking every aspect of life so seriously that humour, especially satire, is likely to land the exponent in a cell at best, a shallow grave in the woods at worst. While we're nowehere near that stage yet our politically correct nanny state is certainly heading in that direction.

We used to be renowned for our freedom and liberty, which included free speech and humour, especially in the face of adversity. But one symptom of a nation in decline is a collective lack of humour. Dare tell a joke about a woman and a po-faced member of the sisterhood will sit you down for a serious lecture on sexual equality. If you tell a joke about an Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman you'd better make sure the butt of the joke is the Englishman or you'll be up before Trevor Philips' Equality Gestapo. Sadly, with the connivance or totally apathy of the mass of the population, political correctness is relegating us to a third world style banana republic that takes itself far more seriously than it deserves to and rounds on any dissenters.

Yet again Jeremy Clarkson is in the brown stuff for saying, on a popular light entertainment programme, that public sector workers on strike should be shot. No doubt some po-faced Fabian commissar somewhere heard that as incitement to murder and urged his arrest to protect the glorious workers from the evil capitalist lackey. There has been uproar. If he'd taken a gun from his pocket and dashed from the studio towards a nearby picket line screaming "I'm gonna kill myself a picket" then fair enough. But come on, a flippant remark on a bloody television show. Get a grip!

The saddest thing about these politically correct times is the death of humour, replaced by humourlerss polytechnic lecturers masquerading as 'alternative' comedians self-righteously attacking the Daily Mail and anything they see as reactionary, traditional or 'dangerously right wing'. You know, people like Russell Howard and Marcus Brigstocke.

As long as we have people like Clarkson in the public eye I suppose we have half a chance of killing political correctness. So keep up the good work, I might even start watching Top Gear.