The deed is done

It looks like French and Germans managed to get their favoured choice of political small fry installed as EU president, and is now ripe for having his strings pulled.

I can't wait to see what this bastard is going to drop on us.

Harman to be prosecuted

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

"I'm Harriet Harman, you know where to find me"

Yes, hopefully soon in HMP Holloway being anally fisted by a series of giant lesbians.

Eat shit and die twat.

Man is his own father in law

A perfect snapshop of the clusterfuck that is immigration in ths country.

Nigerian Home Office worker who works with immigration officials marries his own daughter to get her a visa to allow her and her actual husband to come here.

Apparently the UK Border Agency are investigating, well there's 10 years of legal aid bills and deportation appeals for us to pay for.

If guilty he should be sacked, his passport withdrawn and be fucked off back to Nigeria, also his wife/daugher and anyone else they smuggled in.

What a fucking shambles.

A nation of Heretics

59% aren't buying the new religion.

It's always the same, the harder you push your dogma the more resistance you will get, especially when the only remedies you can come up with involves spending everyone elses money.

Until i see every member of the Green Party living in a wattle & daub, without electricity, on a subsistence farm living off what they grow , wiping their arses with handfulls of grass and doing their commuting with a horse and cart and actually practising what they preach they can fuck right off and stop trying to tax me for their hippy wannabe medieval bullshit.

If that makes me a "Denier" and a Heretic then so be it.

Go fuck yourself eco-fundamentalists.

Dundee what the fuck?

The turning on of the christmas lights ceremony in Dundee has been renamed "Winter White Night"

In your desperation to erase any mention of christmas from the town, includinging the nativity, you end up calling it Winter white night?

Winter White Night??

If they hadn't come up with the name themselves the PC fascists would be screaming racism all over the place and be demanding a change.

I'll look forward to you renaming Ramamdan "Middle Eastern diet month" next year or is it just our seasonal traditions that get shat on?

We are all East Germans now

Mr Catcheside, who is chairman of his residents' group, has been campaigning for three years for safety improvements.

But when an official visiting the site prevented him from listening to a phone call to his supervisor on October 30, he finally lost his temper and said: 'Don't you tell me what I can and can't do in my own ****ing place.

The official complained of feeling 'threatened' and six days later Mr Catcheside was arrested at 5.35am on suspicion of 'causing harassment, alarm or distress in a public place'.

The former lorry driver, still in his dressing gown, was marched into his bedroom, where his wife Deborah, 62, was asleep, and ordered to get changed before being driven away in a police van.

He was then held in a windowless-cell for six hours before being given the fixed-penalty notice and released.

Don't swear at jumped up council cunts or you'll get a visit from the Stasi stormtroopers in the middle of the night.

Quote of the year

"It’s a lovely idea, to get out of this stupid, Fairtrade, Brown-stained, Mandelson-skewed, equal-opportunities, multicultural, carbon-neutral, trendily left, regionally assembled, big-government, trilingual, mosque-drenched, all-the-pigs-are-equal, property-is-theft hellhole and set up shop somewhere else."

Jeremy Clarkson Sunday Times

The whole piece was quickly removed for fear of upsetting El presidente Mandleson or the ever offended Religion of peacers.

Posting full piece because it deserves to be seen

I’ve given the matter a great deal of thought all week, and I’m afraid I’ve decided that it’s no good putting Peter Mandelson in a prison. I’m afraid he will have to be tied to the front of a van and driven round the country until he isn’t alive any more.
He announced last week that middle-class children will simply not be allowed into the country’s top universities even if they have 4,000 A-levels, because all the places will be taken by Albanians and guillemots and whatever other stupid bandwagon the conniving idiot has leapt

I hate Peter Mandelson. I hate his fondness for extremely pale blue jeans and I hate that preposterous moustache he used to sport in the days when he didn’t bother trying to cover up his left-wing fanaticism. I hate the way he quite literally lords it over us even though he’s resigned in disgrace twice, and now holds an important decision-making job for which he was not elected. Mostly, though, I hate him because his one-man war on the bright and the witty and the successful means that half my friends now seem to be taking leave of their senses.

There’s talk of emigration in the air. It’s everywhere I go. Parties. Work. In the supermarket. My daughter is working herself half to death to get good grades at GSCE and can’t see the point because she won’t be going to university, because she doesn’t have a beak or flippers or a qualification in washing windscreens at the lights. She wonders, often, why we don’t live in America.

Then you have the chaps and chapesses who can’t stand the constant raids on their wallets and their privacy. They can’t understand why they are taxed at 50% on their income and then taxed again for driving into the nation’s capital. They can’t understand what happened to the hunt for the weapons of mass destruction. They can’t understand anything. They see the Highway Wombles in those brand new 4x4s that they paid for, and they see the M4 bus lane and they see the speed cameras and the community support officers and they see the Albanians stealing their wheelbarrows and nothing can be done because it’s racist.

And they see Alistair Darling handing over £4,350 of their money to not sort out the banking crisis that he doesn’t understand because he’s a small-town solicitor, and they see the stupid war on drugs and the war on drink and the war on smoking and the war on hunting and the war on fun and the war on scientists and the obsession with the climate and the price of train fares soaring past £1,000 and the Guardian power-brokers getting uppity about one shot baboon and not uppity at all about all the dead soldiers in Afghanistan, and how they got rid of Blair only to find the lying twerp is now going to come back even more powerful than ever, and they think, “I’ve had enough of this. I’m off.”

It’s a lovely idea, to get out of this stupid, Fairtrade, Brown-stained, Mandelson-skewed, equal-opportunities, multicultural, carbon-neutral, trendily left, regionally assembled, big-government, trilingual, mosque-drenched, all-the-pigs-are-equal, property-is-theft hellhole and set up shop somewhere else. But where?

You can’t go to France because you need to complete 17 forms in triplicate every time you want to build a greenhouse, and you can’t go to Switzerland because you will be reported to your neighbours by the police and subsequently shot in the head if you don’t sweep your lawn properly, and you can’t go to Italy because you’ll soon tire of waking up in the morning to find a horse’s head in your bed because you forgot to give a man called Don a bundle of used notes for “organising” a plumber.

You can’t go to Australia because it’s full of things that will eat you, you can’t go to New Zealand because they don’t accept anyone who is more than 40 and you can’t go to Monte Carlo because they don’t accept anyone who has less than 40 mill. And you can’t go to Spain because you’re not called Del and you weren’t involved in the Walthamstow blag. And you can’t go to Germany ... because you just can’t.

The Caribbean sounds tempting, but there is no work, which means that one day, whether you like it or not, you’ll end up like all the other expats, with a nose like a burst beetroot, wondering if it’s okay to have a small sharpener at 10 in the morning. And, as I keep explaining to my daughter, we can’t go to America because if you catch a cold over there, the health system is designed in such a way that you end up without a house. Or dead.

Canada’s full of people pretending to be French, South Africa’s too risky, Russia’s worse and everywhere else is too full of snow, too full of flies or too full of people who want to cut your head off on the internet. So you can dream all you like about upping sticks and moving to a country that doesn’t help itself to half of everything you earn and then spend the money it gets on bus lanes and advertisements about the dangers of salt. But wherever you go you’ll wind up an alcoholic or dead or bored or in a cellar, in an orange jumpsuit, gently wetting yourself on the web. All of these things are worse than being persecuted for eating a sandwich at the wheel.

I see no reason to be miserable. Yes, Britain now is worse than it’s been for decades, but the lunatics who’ve made it so ghastly are on their way out. Soon, they will be back in Hackney with their South African nuclear-free peace polenta. And instead the show will be run by a bloke whose dad has a wallpaper shop and possibly, terrifyingly, a twerp in Belgium whose fruitless game of hunt-the-WMD has netted him £15m on the lecture circuit.

So actually I do see a reason to be miserable. Which is why I think it’s a good idea to tie Peter Mandelson to a van. Such an act would be cruel and barbaric and inhuman. But it would at least cheer everyone up a bit. onto in the meantime.

HT Old Holborn