Vote for sale

Even with only weeks left to the general election, CF remains a floating voter, undecided on the least worst option. CallMeDave? 5 more years of McBroon? Yoda and the boy wonder? Give Old Holborn a go? Fuck knows.

So, CF is very susceptible to the various promises trotted out by desperate politicos at this stage of the game.

And there's one that caught his eye today.

As a freelancer / contractor / one man band, CF has long suffered from the pernicious feast of arse known as IR35.

Put simply, this is the nasty little rule that says that even if you go to the cost and the trouble of setting up a Limited Company, paying an accountant, paying both sides (employer and employee) of National Insurance and a host of other tedious stealth taxes,  the taxman can still - at a whim - decide that you're not really self-employed after all.

That's right. He can decide, unilaterally, that the months you spent working on a fixed term contract, for an hourly rate, paid by the client to your company, were actually not that at all. No. You were working for the client as an employee.

And those fees, that only got paid for the days you worked, and not for illness or holiday, and that cover all the running costs of your company? That was your salary. All of it. And now you owe PAYE and NI on it. Yeah.

He can also, the bastard, apply this retrospectively, and make you pay a shitload of back taxes. And there's fuck all you can do, other than pay hefty insurance premiums in case it happens to you.

Well, that might be about to change, if eeevil Tory Shadow Business Minister Mark Prisk is to be believed (if). He tells us:

"For the last 13 years, Labour have constantly meddled with the tax rules for freelancers and self-employed. IR35 has especially proved to over-complex, uncertain and often unfair" 

"IR35 has cost business £73 million over 10 years but it has barely raised revenue for the Treasury. 

"This is why a Conservative Government would mandate the independent Office of Tax Simplification to undertake a fundamental review of current arrangements with the aim of providing a clearer, lasting and fairer tax regime""

Yeah! You hear that?

Fuck all that 'rebuilding a better nation', 'a future fairer for all' bollocks - this shit could hit CF in the pocket, but in a good and bulging way.

Keep it up, boys, and you might get one more self-interested vote.


Ladies go for smears

Dawn Butler is currently the Labour MP for Brent South,  while Lib Dem Sarah Teather represents Brent East.

In the supposedly-coming general election, due to boundary changes, there'll be only one seat - Brent Central. Two girls, one seat.

Naturally, both ladies are desperate to make this seat their own, and have begun scrapping already.

Dawn Butler is worried that she's tainted by the revelation that she's been a-troughing, claiming for a 'whirlpool bath', whatever the fuck that is, for her 'second' home, a home which is no further from the House of Commons than her fucking main home.

That won't play well with the voters of Brent Central, will it?

So Dawn's desperation's doubled.  In fact so desperate is Ms. Butler that she is already expanded her campaign to include to the standard Labour tactic: rather than think of some policies, smear your opponents.

There's been a buzz in blogland for some time about Sarah Teather's somewhat dodgy use of office allowances. While making a lot of noise about not claiming any second home allowance, she seems to have quietly used our money to pay for political canvassing on her office 'phone lines. And, while not having a second home, she seems to have paid her entire constituency party rent bill from her allowances.

Recently, Commissioner John Lyon received a formal complaint on these very matters from a Mr Shahid Razzaq, and began an investigation.

However, when Lyon spoke with Mr Razzaq to follow up, he denied having made the complaint. He also  pointed out that he did not actually live at the address given on the complaining letter.

Lyon then received another complaint, also supposedly from Mr Razzaq, at a different address. This second address wasn't Mr Razzaq's either. In fact, better still, this address did not actually exist at all.

A little bit of further investigation revealed that Mr Razzaq is the brother-in-law of Leanna Ait-Younnes. And who's she? Why she's someone who - wait for it - works for Dawn Butler. What a fucking surprise. Isn't that an astonishing coincidence?

In a further amazing coincidental twist, Ms Ait-Younnes own address is nearly identical to the false address given on the second complaint.

Naturally, dodgy Dawn has denied absolutely everything, bleating “I don’t know what my staff do 24 hours a day”. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Ms Teather, in spite of her relief at having the investigation dropped - or at least, dropped until a real person complains - is not happy:

“The British public are sick to the back teeth of Labour ministers trying to distract from their own failings by smearing their opponents.

“Joanna Lumley and others taking on Labour ministers have all learnt that when Labour are desperate they resort to innuendo, smears and lies.

“Dawn Butler’s second home expenses were revealed by the Telegraph. Even Labour can’t spin their way out of that one.”

Oh, it's all so fucking pathetic. Such desperation for power. Smear and counter-smear.

CF hopes that somehow, both of these silly bitches lose.


No phones

It's the end of the world as we know it.

Some muppet has obviously dug a hole in the wrong part of the road this morning.

There's a major outage in the London telephone system - thousands of 0207 numbers aren't working. Offices have fallen silent.

It's fucking amazing how much work everybody's getting done.

Thieving MP's : Pigs or Chickens?

Everybody's favourite crooks, the shameless troughing MP's, were due in court today: first time up in front of the Crown Court Judge.

Just as a little reminder, here's their roll of shame:

Bury North MP Chaytor : falsely claiming rent on a London flat he owned, falsely filing invoices for IT work and renting a property from his mother, against regulations.

Scunthorpe MP Morley : falsely claimed £30,428 in interest payments between 2004 and 2007 towards a mortgage on his home he had already paid off.

Livingston MP Devine : wrongly submitted two invoices worth a total of £5,505. He also faces a second charge alleging he dishonestly claimed cleaning and maintenance costs of £3,240 by submitting false invoices.

Marvellous. So, how did they fare? Was any justice done? Were they publically shamed? Did they offer tearful apologies on the courtroom steps? Did Old Holborn shout abuse at them, again?

Nope. None of that happened. Not at all. The thieving bastards didn't even turn up, for fucks sake. According to ITN:

"Legal representatives of three Labour MPs accused of fiddling their expenses are set to appear in court. ... A Crown Prosecution Service spokeswoman said the politicians have been excused from attending the hearing by the judge."

Excused from attending? Why? So that three 'legal representatives', paid thousands of pounds an hour - by us - can take their places? What the flying fuck is going on here?

As well as three greedy, troughing fucking pigs, the less-than-Honourable Gentleman would seem to be a trio of fucking cowardly chickens too. Presumably all three were enjoying a lovely taxpayer-subsidized breakfast elsewhere.

They're going to have to turn up to their hanging, aren't they? Aren't they?


Oh, very clever

Well, CF thought so, anyway...

You see what he did there?


Missed debating? A handy summary

It is quite possible that one or two of you missed the much-touted Clash of the Tight 'Uns, the Chancellor's Debate, last night.

Maybe you had to make sure that your grass was growing, now that spring is here, or possibly you had to supervise some wet paint, ensuring it was drying correctly.

For those of you who weren't glued to the television last night, let's just catch up with a quick summary of the debate, shall we?

The debate was skillfully refereed by a Channel 4 presenter, who looked a little like journalist Krishnan Guru-Murthy might look if he'd eaten a lot of pies over a relatively short period.

For the Labour party, there was a middle aged man with quite astonishing eyebrows. He seemed to be Scottish, judging by his accent, so he probably gets on extremely well with the Prime Minister, another Scot.

He seemed very familiar with the referee, and with the other debaters, and they often referred to him in friendly terms, calling him 'Darling'.

It was a little confusing listening to this man speaking, as he seemed to have a lot of ideas about what the Chancellor should do next, and what the Chancellor shouldn't ever do, and how the country's finances should be managed in future. And yet apparently, he is the Chancellor, and has been for some time. Odd.

For the Conservative party, Ken Clarke hadn't been able to make it, so he had sent along a work experience lad called Gideon. The poor boy was clearly nervous, but in the end breeding and a damn good education showed through, and he was soon chatting comfortably with the grown-ups.

With GCSE's coming up in a few weeks, the boy had obviously been doing some revision on Economics, and he was able to tell us all some of what he had learned.

There was another gentlemen between these two, elderly and somewhat confused. Like the people you sometimes sit next to on the bus, he was under the impression that he alone had forseen the financial crisis, and that he had warned absolutely everybody repeatedly that it was coming, and that - had everyone done exactly as he suggested - we would all now be wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice.

After a while, it turned out that he wasn't, as many had suspected,Yoda from Star Wars after all. No. He was Vince Cable, from a minority party called the LibDems.

Vince was very confident, as he realised he was in no danger of actually having fulfil any of the promises he made. So instead, he flung in a few jokes. The referee enjoyed the jokes so much, that he even let the audience laugh at them, and applaud, even though these things were supposed to be strictly forbidden.

Towards the end, the referee decided unilaterally that Vince was by far the most entertaining, and decided to direct the majority of questions to him, leaving the other two hopping anxiously from foot to foot, wishing it could be their turn to make a joke.

At the end of the debate, each of the candidates was required put on a sincere expression, look straight into the camera and trot out some utterly partisan bollocks. Which they duly did.

But what, you may be asking, did we learn about the UK economy? About the different parties' political philosphies, and how these informed a putative fiscal strategy? About the measures proposed to tackle the enormous deficit?

Well, fuck all, really.


The clash of the tight 'uns

The nation waits, breathless with anticipation, for the mightiest clash seen for many a decade.

Yes, tonight three men will bicker about who will be tightest with our money; who will squander the least of the taxpayers cash. Doubtless figures will be exchanged, hard maths done in heads. A sort of cage fight for accountants, if you will.

So, will Vince Cable convince us that he's prudence incarnate? Of course he fucking won't. He's in that traditional LibDem comfort zone of knowing you can promise what the fuck you like, safe in the knowledge you'll never be given the mandate to follow up on it. A free bicycle for every man, woman and child? Of course, just as soon as the LibDems come to power.

Well then, perhaps Alistair 'Badger' Darling will sway us with his rhetoric, his verve, his ready wit. What? Have you heard the tedious fucker droning on? He'd have become a chartered accountant if he'd been able to stand the heady excitement. He may be a safe pair of eyebrows, but you wouldn't want him speaking at your wedding.

And how about the Boy Osborne? Perhaps he'll tell us more about the great NI giveaway he thought of in the shower this morning. Perhaps he'll tell us how the revision for his GCSE economics is coming along - not long now, Georgie!

Regardless of who comes out on top, and who proves to be - to use the phrase that Labour appear to have stolen - "the weakest link", we're in for a lorra, lorra laffs. Probably.

CF can't wait. Truly, this will be Do-Not-Miss Television for the slavering masses...


Don't hit her on the head

Here we go again. Here we fucking go again.

Having frothed wih rage a couple of weeks ago about the woman who'd had eleven kids by five different fathers and bought them all up on benefits, without ever having troubled herself with the tedium of a fucking job, CF thought he'd seen it all.

But no. That egregious tale pales into relative insignificance when you read - with mounting disbelief - the story of another woman, named only as Rachael,  who has ten kids by six different fathers.

Sounds similar? Well in the sheer mindless fucking fecundity, yes. But in the first story, at least the woman had brought the kids up herself , albeit with our money paying for their mobiles and Sky TV.

The difference is, that in this second, infuriating, teeth-grinding story, this fucking moronic baby machine has had every single one of the kids taken away from her. What? Yes.

One of the horde of daddies knocked her about, another was - for fucks sake - a sex offender and a third upped and fucked off, leaving her 'unable to cope', so its not exactly fucking astonishing that social workers didn't want to leave kids in her woefully inept care.

So now five have been adopted, four are in long-term foster care and one is awaiting adoption.

Rachael didn't want that to happen - in fact the over-fertile knicker-dropper wants custody of her children and has said she will “keep going” until authorities let her keep one. Yeah, well, why not, eh? You silly bitch.

But in the meantime, of course, we're footing the bill for all of this fuckwittery. The total projected cost to the taxpayer of looking after her children – aged between 17 months and 15 years – is estimated at £1.5m, while legal fees, adoption costs and social workers’ time, bring the total to £2.5m.

Two and a half million quid? On one deluded bint and her unfortunate offspring? Dear God.

John Hemming, Rachael's MP in Birmingham Yardley, feels sorry for his over-productive constituent:

“She is trying to cope and all the state is doing is hitting her over the head every time. This is a problem not just in Birmingham but throughout England.”

'Hitting her over the head'? Hitting her over the head? The state shouldn't be hitting her over the head, it should be fucking kicking her in the moot. Repeatedly.

Until she stops squirting babies out of it.


Scenting weakness? It stinks

David 'CallMeDave' Cameron wants to remind us that Labour governments are traditionally piss-poor and rotten when it comes to dealing with rampant Trades Unions.

"I think the unions have scented weakness in the government and that's one of the reasons why we're seeing quite so many strikes"

As ever, Brown and his minders have a standard catch-phrase to trot out.

Apparently, according to them, Gordo' has been 'doing everything he could to get staff back to work' in the current British Airways / Unite spat.

Which is utter, abject, arrant bollocks.

How do we know this? Well, for one thing, we all know that the Labour party is Unite's cowering, timid bitch. Unite pay for everything, and as sugar daddy, they own Labour's ass.

If Unite want a strike, there'll be a strike, and no-one in the Labour party - particularly not 'Courage' Brown - is going to say 'no' to their paymasters.

Secondly, one of the very, very few things that Broon is good at is boasting; showboating; claiming credit for anything going.

So you can bet yo' sweet ass that if Broon had done 'everything' - in fact, if he'd done anything - we'd all have been force-fed chapter and fucking verse about what a great job he'd done. Together with the standard add-on, that the Honourable Gentlemen opposite - jabs finger at Cameron - would have done nothing at all.

We haven't, so we know he hasn't.



No 'real' post this morning, as Mrs. CF has bullied half the village into attending the annual 'litter pick'.

So, instead of lounging in bed like the rest of the world, CF will be grubbing about in the verges, collecting filthy pieces of crap.

You know, all that stuff that you threw out of your car window in the middle of nowhere, in the fond belief that it would instantly turn into a little bunny rabbit and scurry off into the undergrowth.

Actually, it doesn't. It turns into a slimy ball of shit, with muddy rainwater in its every crease.

If you ever want to confirm your view of the great British public, try picking up its discarded Monster Munch bags and Diet Coke tins for a couple of hours.


++ UPDATE ++ Done. 20 full bin bags, from about a mile and a half of roads. You filthy fuckers. The 'National Speed Limit' sign is not actually the point at which it becomes OK to wind down your windows and chuck out your fag packets and empty Tesco-brand lager tinnies.



5 more lies : 5 more years?

Now that Gordon Brown and the Labour party appear to be confident of victory in the next election, they're churning out the lies and spin with renewed energy.

Broon has deigned to give an exclusive interview to those handwringing ponces over at the Guardian, in which he outlines Labour's 5 election pledges.

There seems to be a 'bonus' pledge too, about not getting rid of Alistair 'Badger' Darling, but we'll have to wait to see what Blinky Balls thinks of that, won't we?

The lucky reporters treated to all of this had their heads wedged so far up Gordo's arse that you can barely hear what they're saying, but the little card is faithfully reproduced by the Graun' and here. Ready for the pledges?

  • Secure the recovery
  • Raise Family Living Standards
  • Build a high tech economy
  • Protect frontline services
  • Strengthen fairness in communities

That's it, is it? After 13 fucking years, you want 5 more, to do that, do you Gordo'?

And what in the name of fuckwittery do you mean by 'strengthen fairness in communites'? Did you just think of some words we might like and stick them together? 'improving kindness in welfare'; 'allowing generous chocolate nurses'? What the fuck?

And as for the rest, well, no-one could disagree that you should 'raise family living standards' and 'secure the economy'. It's just that you and  your fucking hopeless little chums have just spent the last 13 years proving that you are completely fucking incapable of doing either of those things.

Oh, for fucks sake. Well, CF doesn't even need to sum up, as evil Tory Theresa May has done it for him:

"How can five more years of him possibly be the answer to the challenges facing this country?"

Well, exactly.


Tory poll dip - an expert explains

Panic in Tory central office, as the polls continue to slide. But they needn't worry: experts are on the case, providing shrewd analysis.

As the inestimable Malcolm Tucker tells Guardian readers  over at Comment is Free this morning:

"Their poll dip looks to me like the public having a postcoital fag after their first good rogering from Cameron and feeling a bit "meh".

"But soon enough they're going to be ready for Dave the Happy Shopper-Clinton to turn off one of his beloved westerns and clamber on top of them to resume his determined, joyless huffing and a-puffing."

There you go, Tories, you're all right after all.

If Tucker is to be trusted, anyway..



Pope gives abuse his blessing?

Controversy continued to grow yesterday as it emerged that the Pope had failed to stop a man abusing his position to bugger thousands of people.

Some years ago, concerned individuals had contacted the then Cardinal Ratzinger to warn him that if Gordon Brown were to become Prime Minister, the population of the United Kingdom would be completely buggered.

Tony Blair, a life-long devout Catholic, said last night

"Look. I wrote to say that I knew this man; I knew what he was capable of, y'know.

I warned the Pope that he should not, under any circumstances, be left alone with a vulnerable nation."

However, the Cardinal chose to ignore the warnings, claiming that his boss, a big, bearded, angry man who lives in the sky, had told him there were more important things to worry about, like making sure poverty-stricken darkies didn't go messing about with contraceptives.

Unimpeded, Brown attained the position he had long coveted, and shortly afterwards began to abuse his helpless victims.

Tens of thousands were forcibly abused; lives were ruined and entire industries were made to swallow very unpleasant things indeed. Several victims claimed to have suffered agonies during a painful and degrading sex act known as a Clunking Fisting.

And yet the abuser clung to his post for years, refusing to relinquish the position that enabled him to continue with his abuses.

Victims are only now beginning to speak out. One small business owner, who would not be named, said tearfully:

"After what Brown and the Labour party did to me, I'm a changed person. I don't like to go out into new markets, I don't see many of my customers any more and I've started to drink heavily.

The strain was too much for the relationship with my bank, and we split up shortly afterwards"

When asked about this large-scale, long-term abuse, Social Workers refused to condemn the perpetrator, saying:

"We really didn't consider what he did to be abuse in the strict sense. In fact. Mr Brown pleasured us extremely skillfully, increasing our wages and creating thousands of new jobs for us and our colleagues.

Frankly, we've enjoyed every minute of it".

It is believed that many of the victims were deaf, completely deaf, to what Brown was doing,  and would probably vote Labour again.


Bob Crow's bollocks

You know how sometimes someone says exactly what you were about to say? Cat-fancying misogynist Al Jahom has that rare ability.

As a paid-by-the-day one man band, CF needs to be able to get to London every day, so naturally is following the fuckwitted antics of the morons of the Railway Unions with a personal interest.

And yes, they've called a strike. But when? When? As the BBC informs us:

"There were fears that the strike would be called over Easter, but the unions said they deliberately avoided this in order not to disrupt the public over the bank holiday"

Yeah, fucking right.  Good old Bob Crow. Always our interests at heart, eh? Over to AJ, who thinks this is..

"..patent bullshit whichever way you cut it. He seems oblivious to the notion that there are hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people who rely on trains to commute to work, but who wouldn’t fucking dream of using the cunting things on a day off.

What’s more, he, and his poxy members, know just as well as I do that his monkeys will be far too busy lapping up overtime at double or triple pay over the bank holiday weekend."

CF couldn't have put it better himself.


Perhaps you were right, Darling

Spotted earlier today, just off Curzon Street, London, was this lovely brand new shop. Just open for business, with 4 pretty young things bustling busily behind the counter.

Lola's sells only two things: pretty little cupcakes, freshly baked on the day, and half bottles of pink champagne.

Each of the cupcakes is tiny, hand decorated and costs an eye-watering two pounds. Two quid? Yes.

For the same price, you could stuff your and all your friends' faces with 30 large profiteroles from hideous crap-mongers Iceland.

And how delightful to be able to wash down your tiny 2 quid cupcake with some delicious bubbly, eh? Champagne? Mmmmmm. Super.

So perhaps Alistair 'Badger' Darling was right yesterday? Perhaps he is part of a

"government that has been right about the recession, right about the recovery, right about supporting people and businesses in this country."

Perhaps things really are getting rapidly better, the recession is over and will never return, and we can all look forward to nothing but boom times and delicious cupcakes from now on.

Yeah, right.


Don't panic? No, Panic

Yet another in the seemingly endlessly series of polls brings good news for Gordon and his woeful party.  The Tory lead is now down to 2 points.

Mike Smithson over at calls it a 'remarkable comeback'. The Labour share of the vote is up to 34%. And, under the bizarre electoral system we enjoy, that means that Labour will somehow, eventually, win the election.

Yes, Labour will remain in Government. Gordon Brown will continue to be Prime Minister. Ed Balls will become Chancellor, for fucks sake. We will be governed by the Unite-puppet Labour party for 5 more years.

What. The. Fuck?

Who are you, you 34% who are going to vote Labour? What the fuck is going on in your heads?

Do you really, really want this bunch of fuckwits to continue their inept reign over us?

Would you enjoy further increases in the already fucking enormous tax burden that that has been steadily loaded onto those that actually work?

Do you want to see a continued growth in the numbers that don't actually work, and sit on their fat arses all day watching televisions that we paid for?

Do you believe that after 13 fucking years of fucking up everything they touched, this Government will somehow get a new lease of life after the election and actually start to make everything - anything - better?

Would you like to see even more taxpayer-funded demonisation and denormalisation of smokers, drinkers, eaters of food and drivers of cars?

Do you want 5 more years of McBroon lying and gurning and stammering in the House of Commons?

Would you like to see the Lord High Mandleson grow even more powerful, and end up running every single fucking government department whilst not actually being allowed to attend Parliament?

Because if you do stagger down to the polling station and put an 'x' next to the Labour candidate, you'll be getting - and giving the rest of us - all that and a whole lot fucking more.

You don't need to vote for CallMeDave and the Tories. Vote for the fucking Monster Raving Loonies; vote for Esther Rantzen; vote for the BNP;  vote LibDems if you must.

You just need to not vote for Labour, for 5 more years of Gordon.

Look, guys, we're getting a bit too close to comfort to the election for this to be funny any more.

Stop fucking around.


New Labour, New Targets

With the Badger's Bye-Bye Budget hot off the presses, various Government departments have been busy writing about what it means for them. The Department of Communities and Local Government understands what they have to do. There'll be changes. Oh yes:

"The Budget commits the government to delivering radical freedoms and flexibilities for local agencies. All local councils in England will benefit from the removal of at least 10 per cent of the current National Indicator set"

Total fucking gobbledy-gook, of course. What are they actually saying?

They're saying that they're now committed to the removal of some of the 'National Indicator Set'. What the fuck is that? Well, folks, it's fancy, never-done-a-proper-day's-work-speak for ... Targets.

Now, targets are a terrible, terrible thing, as CF wrote just the other day, so this ain't all bad.

So what are they going to do again?

Oh yes. They're committing to remove 'at least 10 per cent' of them. That's their goal. Their ... errr ... target.

So, they're announcing a TARGET to remove at least 10 per cent of TARGETS.

You. Could. Not. Make. This. Shit. Up.

(Sharp eyes, that Mark Wadsworth)

BBC biased 'bout budget?

As CF listens to Badger's Budget with mounting disbelief, he's also surfing the interwebs for news.

Here's what the unbiased, paid-for-by-you, politically neutral BBC have as their headline:

And it's a safe bet that most of the bastards at the BEEB wish the apostrophes were even smaller and less obvious.

Tell us what to think, Auntie!


Life is perfect in Wales

The National Assembly for Wales, Cynulliad Cenedlaethol Cymru, was formed in 1998. When it was first created, the Assembly had limited powers but, since the passing of the Government of Wales Act 2006, the Assembly has had powers to legislate

And how magnificently they have used them; what an absolutely superb job they've done in that time. Brilliant.

Every single road in Wales is now in perfect condition. Investment in infrastructure has meant that it is possible to travel quickly and efficient by road, rail or air across the entire country.

Crime figures have fallen precipitously. No-one needs to lock their homes or their cars any more, and violent assault is just a distant memory. There is a policeman on every street corner, and on every village green, but much of their day is spent playing soccer with local kids.

Although beer and wine are cheaper than virtually any other country in the world, sensible licensing laws and intelligent community policing have meant that every pub and club is a civilised haven. Visitors from France and Italy are frequently amazed at the calm ambience and intelligent conversation to be found at any bar or cafe.

Employment is, and has been for some time, at fractionally under 100%. Only one man is rumoured to be jobless at the time of writing, and that apparently because he resigned from his job to spend more time enjoying the incredible public facilities on offer throughout the land.

A generation of Welsh children is growing up, preparing to dominate the world stage, thanks to the superb education they have received. Virtually all private schools have shut down, unable to match the excellence of the state sector's offering.

How does CF know all of this? Well, he doesn't. But it must be the case, surely?

Unless everything important, everything described above and more, had been successfully dealt with, surely the Welsh Assembly wouldn't have got together yesterday to debate, and then vote upon, whether or not the undoubtedly ecstatically happy population could use electronic training collars on cats and dogs?

That's exactly what they did, yesterday. We can only assume that absolutely everything else has been efficiently dealt with.

And unless the Assembly had achieved all of its aims, and had no more important matters left to debate, surely the two Government parties wouldn't refuse to enter the Senedd Building for a debate today, just because they'd have to cross a picket line of striking civil servants?

Because that's what they're doing today.

Yes, truly, everything in Wales must be perfect.

For fucks sake.


The Budget and the Wisdom of Crowds

So, here's an idea whose time may have come. When Gordon Brown's sock-puppet, Alistair 'Eyebrows' Darling, staggers to his feet tomorrow to deliver what is hopefully the last Labour budget ever, most of us will sit there with a glazed expression as a lot of lies, bullshit and obfuscation cascades over us.

But these guys (don't panic: the site won't be working until tomorrow) have a better idea: they're going to try to 'crowdsource' tomorrow's budget. Let everyone, experts and laymen, have their say.

They plan to get everyone involved, via the interweb, in what sad techies like to call 'real time'. To get as many eyes and brains onto the subject as possible, and to gather all the output, expert and foolish, biased and honest, in one place.

Tory Jeremy Hunt explains it all here. Yes, he's an eeevil Tory, and CF ain't necessarily into all that, but equally, who else has the cash (and/or the cojones) to try this?

It might all be hijacked by Bevanite Ellie and all the other tedious, teenage, nothing-better-to-do, I-once-met-John-Prescott Labour activists. Or it might be hacked out of existence, like the 'Cash Gordon' effort was.

On the other hand, it might work, and let us unpick Broon 'n' Darlin's filthy lies while the ink is still wet.

It might let us see through the fibs, and realise that the bribes are all smoke and mirrors.

Let's give it a go, eh?


Brown serves revenge cold

So, the Lobbygate three have been suspended from the Labour party, following the Dispatches broadcast last night. Their greed has led to the destruction of their careers. No cosy lobbying roles later this year - or at least, very few at five fucking grand a day.

Gordon Brown was notable only by his silence for most of yesterday, which comes as no great surprise. He's got plenty of previous, has Macavity.

But he's now broken cover, to announce that there'll be "no need" for an inquiry. And of course there isn't, in McBroon's distorted mind.

He doesn't see the need for one: the enemy is badly damaged already. The enemy? Yes. After all, these miscreants are all famed for being - ugh! - mainstream Blairites.

And Hoon and Hewitt were responsible for that pathetic attempt at a coup a few weeks ago. McBroon doesn't forget that kind of disloyalty. Ever.

As we know all too well, Clunking Fist Brown is more than happen to suspend logic, to ignore what is best for anyone else, in his relentless pursuit of revenge.

His desire to attack, to damage, completely overwhelems any desire he might have to improve his party's lot or - heaven forbid - to do what is right for the nation.

So, is it a coincidence of simply massive proportions that the people 'stung' in this exercise were all people that Gordo' wanted damaged? Of course it fucking well isn't.

Of the literally hundreds of MP's of every shape and colour stepping down at the election, why on earth did the stingers choose Hoon, Hewitt and Byers? Were they tipped the wink? Whaddya think?

Or perhaps they interviewed and filmed many, many more; perhaps dozens of MP's were offered these fake jobs, and only these three responsed in this way? Yeah, right.

So abso-lewtly, as Broon would say, no need for any inquiry. Let 'em swing.

The Lobbygate three are utterly, comprehensively fucked. They'll do nothing more as backbenchers, and there's now nothing waiting for them after the General Election. Both their current and future careers are ruined.

And that's all Gordon wanted.


Sam Cam: saucy pics work almost immediately.

Often when a marriage has run on for a while, and things are calming down in the marital bed, the lady produces some saucy snaps to revive the gentleman's jaded interest.

Clearly, when SamCam showed her recently revealed snaps to CallMeDave, there was a sharp intake of breath, and then the air was filled with whirling underwear. Ewwww.

And sure enough, according to Sky news:

"Conservative leader David Cameron and his wife Samantha are expecting a baby, due in September.

A Conservative Party spokesman said: "The baby is due in September and David and Samantha are completely thrilled"

It's a certain fucking bet that poor Sarah Broon is currently weeping uncontrollably, her hands trembling as she desperately stacks chair after chair against the bedroom door, the thumping from outside getting louder and louder...


What is it NOW?

Dear God, CF goes away for five minutes (well, three days) and look what happens.

Just when you thought that MP's as a species could sink no lower, that they were irretrievably sunk in the mire of their own filthy ways, the greedy, self-serving bastards prove you wrong.

Stephen Byers, Patricia Hewitt and Geoff Hoon - not exactly the most glorious trio in the history of modern politics - were all apparently thick enough - and greedy enough, and desperate enough - to fall for a sting by a fake US lobbying firm. Really? Yes, really. For fuck's sake.

In the kind of pathetically obvious trap usually used to get dimwitted models to offer ten grand shags, or even more dimwitted footballers to offer Cup Final tickets in exchange for a couple of lines of coke, these grasping MP's were easily tripped by their own own greed.

Asked whether they'd be interested in whoring influence for cash, all three fell flat on their backs, legs apart, pound signs flashing in their piggy little eyes, not hearing the whirr of the tape recorder.

Byers was particularly boasftful of his connections and influence. He told an undercover reporter he had secured secret deals with ministers, could get confidential information from Number 10 and was able to help firms involved in price fixing get around the law.

He even offered access to Tony Blair for Christ's sake, although why anyone would want that - other than to smash his stupid, grinning face in - is hard to imagine.

And he offered all this for mere five grand a day, the grasping bastard.

It's all gone down about as well as a glass of cold sick at Labour HQ, and the handful of Labour MP's who actually have some hopes of having a seat after the upcoming election have scurried to distance themselves from this lastest fiasco.

"Ridiculous", says Alistair Darling; the boy Milliband is "..appalled". In a sinister statement, that should have Byers looking over his shoulder, Archduke Mandleson says that he has "no recollection" of any meeting with Byers.

Politicians from other parties, grinning with relief, have also weighed in: "..very, very sleazy" says Nick Clegg. First thing he's got right this year.

"Shocking", says CallMeDave Cameron, pinching his own thigh under the table to stop himself smiling.

And as for Gordon Brown, well, he's ... he's ... what? Yes, what?

What does the Leader of the party from which all these greedy sleazebags came think?

What does the Prime Minister of the Government enmired in this scandal have to say?

As ever, no-one knows. Not a fucking word.

Macavity 'Courage' Broon has vanished.


Mine's a pint.

Ah, Design! Technology! Solving all our problems.

Apparently, the Home Office’s 'Design and Technology Alliance Against Crime' (what?) and the Design Council have established a project called Design Out Crime. According to their excitable website, it is

"..showing how designers can get to the root of a crime problem and stop it happening"

Oh really?

And there was us, thinking that we needed more police, and a few more feral fucking hoodies behind bars. And it turns out, its all just design. Design, baby!

So what have these doubtless bespectacled, probably goateed, designers done for us then? Instant Spider-senses? Affordable Bat-mobiles? Nope.

No, what they've done is .. wait for it .. invented a new beer glass.

Yes, really.

But a beer glass with a difference. A beer glass that's a little bit like a car windscreen, in that it doesn't shatter into a million tiny pieces when broken.

So, when the traditional Saturday evening fight kicks off, there'll still be a shitload of people in casualty with broken noses, missing teeth and cracked ribs from the kickings they've received. There'll still be the odd person with stab wounds.There might even be someone with a bullet in 'em.

But what there won't be is that bloke covered in cuts because he's had a glass mashed into his face. No, instead, he'll have a broken nose, and a large round bruise.

Well hoorah! At one stroke, we've addressed binge drinking, disaffected youth and the inadequate policing of violence hotspots. Haven't we? No, we fucking haven't.

We've turned one of the many weapons at hand in a pub brawl into a slightly different - but equally useful - kind of weapon.

And of course, who do you think is going to pay for all this cutting-edge beverage-holding excitement? Well, let's see.

It could be the Home Office. In other words, us.

It could be the owners of pub chains and the vendors of booze, who will promptly increase prices to cover the costs. So again, us.

Or it could be the poor ol' landlords who serve the booze who - if they don't go bust as a result of having to replace every glass in the fucking place - will also pass on the cost in increased prices. So, once more, us.



Thanks, Barclaycard

CF has one of those whizzy Onepulse Barclaycards, You know, the ones you just wave near a tube station gate, or newsagent, or a suitably-equipped prostitute, to make 'contactless payment' or whatever the marketing idiots call it.

And very handy it is too. So handy, that when Barclaycard offered CF a second card, he was glad to reply "Why, yes! One for the lady wife, if you would!".

Sure enough, 10 days later, a letter arrived. Printed on cheap, thin paper, using a dot matrix printer, it tersely informed CF "Your application has been refused".

What? You fucking what?

You just offered a second card, you nonces. A card for Mrs CF, who shares the same surname, lives at the same address and is party to joint bank and mortgage accounts. So presumably has a startlingly similar credit rating to the main cardholder.

The card itself hasn't exactly been used to run up hideous debts, either. It's used most days, always cleared every month - by Mrs CF, funnily enough -  and it's got a 5 figure limit which has never, ever been exceeded.

And you weren't exactly cautious when you issued the fucking first card, were you? If CF recalls correctly, his was flogged to him by a shifty-looking bloke signing people up at Kings Cross railway station, for Christ's sake.

So why the fuck can't Mrs CF have one, you dimwitted moneylenders?

Dear god.

Targets? Toss

Targets are a lazy way of governing, or managing, or just trying to get something done. Set a target, add a reward (or a punishment) and then sit back and relax. No need to think about it any more: a target has been set.

And that's exactly what lazy ol' Nanny State does. She wants everything to be done her way, but she doesn't want all the shit, shag 'n' hassle of actually dealing with the detail.

To take an example at random: worried about leaking water pipes? Oh dear. But no need to worry - just set the water companies a 'target' to lose let water through leaks. Then tell them you'll take away some of their enormous profits if they don't meet your new target. See? Problem solved. 

But what if the water companies turned out not to be staffed entirely by chimpanzees in suits? What if someone in those water companies actually realised that you could also reduce leaks - and hit your new target - just by reducing the water pressure a little.

Oh but they wouldn't, would they? Surely, if they did that, people's showers wouldn't work properly. Boilers, which need a certain minimum pressure, would go expensively wrong. The higher floors on flats might not even get any water at all. Everything would be fucked up, wouldn't it?

And people, who pay through the nose for the basically-cleaned-up-rain that the water companies sell, would not like that at all 

So the water companies would have to secretly reduce the pressure without telling the customers, just to meet their 'targets' and keep their greedy paws on their profits.

Which is, of course, exactly what the bastards have been doing.

Genius. Long live targets.


Gordon Brown - a reminder

Our unelected Prime Minister is not going to give up without a fight. Day after day, he tells us how he saved the economy, how he's a safe paid of hands with our finances, how he's going to 'keep on going', 'getting on with the job'.

Let's just have a look back at some of the ways in which the monocular mentalist has 'helped' us all, shall we?

Taxing dividend payments: Before 1997, dividends issued by UK companies and paid to pension funds were tax-free. Not any more, decided Brown. Pension funds holding the cash that we all plan to use for our retirement have lost around £100 billion over the last 12 years. Now that's a stealth tax.

Tax credits: Millions of low-income families have had to pay back the Treasury after receiving too much money in tax credits, putting them under huge financial and emotional strain. Meanwhile, 40 per cent of workers and families who deserved tax credits left billions of pounds unclaimed in the 2008-09 tax year for fear of being chased for the cash later on.

The £10,000 corporation tax threshold: In 2002, Gordon Brown introduced a new tax regime to help small businesses. He announced a new zero per cent rate of corporation tax on profits below £10,000. It was designed to boost the ability of small businesses to grow and prosper. It didn't quite work out this way. It became advantageous for sole traders such as taxi drivers or plumbers to turn themselves into limited companies to take advantage of the new rules. A Treasury Minister later commented that "the Government did not realise how many people would engage in abusive tax avoidance", despite the fact that it was "blindingly obvious" to tax experts "within 5 seconds" of the budget announcement that this would happen.

Abolition of the 10p tax rate: Accountants calculated that the scrapping of the 10 per cent tax rate, coupled with the increase in the proportion of tax credits withdrawn from higher earners, would leave 1.8 million workers earning between £6,500 and £15,000 paying an effective tax rate of up to 70 per cent.

50 per cent tax rate: Robert Chote, director of the Institute for Fiscal Studies, has said the tax hike which heralded the end the new Labour may actually end up losing the Government money. "If you look at what happened when higher rates were last changed in the 1980s, that might lead you to suggest that such a move might actually lose you revenue, rather than gain it, as people actually declare less income for tax," he said.

Cutting VAT: "It would be funny if it wasn’t so serious," said a tax accountant when asked about the Brown-Darling brainwave to cut VAT by 2.5 percentage points. As a nation of shoppers, rather than shopkeepers, a chopped down sales tax sounds like a good idea, providing a vital boost to hard-pressed families at a time of financial hardship. There were two problems. It costs £12.5 billion a year and it has made little discernable difference to those hard-pressed families because it is shopkeepers, rather than shoppers, who have pocketed much of the benefit.

And, of course, the grand finale, the piece of resistance:

Selling our gold: In May 1999 Gordon Brown had a plan to sell some gold. There were two problems with this, which concerned his economic advisers deeply. The price of gold had slumped after a decade of stagnation, but was likely to increase in the proceeding years. Added to this, the announcement of a major sell-off would - duh! - drive the price down further. Never mind, said Broon. Experts believe that the poorly timed decision to flog our national treasure has cost us all around £3 billion.

And that little lot is just a selection, picked from a much, much longer list of gaffes. For fuck's sake.

We might get rid of him - please? - soon, but the hangover will take years to get over.


Will there be snow, Daddy?

The global warming fear-mongering has been going on for some time. Way back in 1998, the BBC was peddling the scare-stories with which we're now tiresomely familiar.

The story, published in November '98, warned skiiers that they should make the most of the snow this season, because it wouldn't be around for long.

"Swiss scientists said 90% of alpine glaciers are expected to melt within the next half century, causing floods, landslides and threatening economic disaster for tens of thousands of permanent inhabitants of alpine uplands."

..and there was more...

"A research organisation from Germany reported that although winter temperatures in the German Alps are not expected to rise as much as summer temperatures, the greenhouse effect will mean that rain will fall in many areas where snow fell before, making skiing impossible"

Oh no! The litany of woe went on..

"Some popular Italian ski resorts could be without snow by 2008 if winter temperatures continue to rise at their present rate, according to European scientists. A report circulated at a meeting at Cortina d'Ampezzo in Italy of international experts on alpine climate change said that skiing may no longer be possible in at least a dozen Italian resorts, situated at 1,500 metres or lower. This would include Cortina d'Ampezzo and Courmayeur"

CF is pleased to report that he is off this morning for his second skiing break this year in .. err .. Courmayeur.

When he was there in February, the pistes were near-perfect, completely covered in deep, thick snow. Every roof had a least 4 feet of snow piled upon it. On the last day there, it snowed heavily all day.

According to the latest reports, it has snowed more since then. The webcam picture above is from Monday this week. Looks like a bit of skiing might still be 'possible', doesn't it? Looks like enough snow to be going on with, eh?

Skiing 'no longer possible'? Like most of the climate scary stories:



Dodgy salesman

As CF drove to work this morning, he listened to an interview on the Today programme about some highly dodgy advertising.

The Advertising Standards Agency described how they had received nearly a thousand complaints about a series of recent adverts.

The offending adverts had presented predications as fact, made exaggerated claims, distorted the evidence and - cheap trick - had tried to instil fear in their audience.

Then the person ultimately responsible for these adverts was wheeled on. He was as evasive as you'd expect a person in that position to be. He grudgingly admitted that the adverts "might have been phrased better", but he was otherwise unapologetic. He firmly felt that he should be allowed to advertise in this way.

So who was this dodgy geezer? This peddler of untruths and distortion? Was it that irritating Irish git who has the dirt-cheap airline? Was it Richard Bloody Branson?

No, no. This wasn't a dodgy businessman, pushing goods and services that we don't want or need. Oh no.

It was none other than the Right Honourable Edward "Ed" Samuel Miliband, Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Change.

And he's not actually selling us anything in the traditional sense - we've got no fucking choice. He's just advertising why he's helped himself to our money, after the event. We paid for the adverts, and we'll pay for whatever Climate Change-related bollocks Ed wants us to.

And in spite of this slap on the wrist, Ed's not going to stop, either. He added that the Government would..

"..continue to provide public information about the dangers of climate change".

And of course, continue spending our money on it.

Time to change the Government, then.


We've all done that, haven't we?

We've all had a few - well, a load - too many beers and done some foolish things, haven't we?

Just like this bloke, Marium Varinauskas, who'd sunk one too many ales.

His other half was fed up with him, so she called the police. And then..

"They arrived to find the self-employed engineer sitting on the sofa wearing a pair of underpants"

So far, not too bad. But then, according to prosecuter Elaine Lynch, oh dear, then..

"The accused got to his feet and was standing over the police officer exposing his penis and thrusting it in her face, forcing her to take evasive action to avoid getting struck.""

He tried to hit a policewoman on the head with his truncheon? Ooops. Defending, solicitor John Hardie said:

"He can't remember anything but accepts that if that's what the police say then that's what happened.
"He has never been so drunk before that day"

Well. fair enough. We've all done that before.

Errr... we have all done that, haven't we?


Careful, Darling

One of the many, many benefits of EU membership - along with the straight bananas and Baroness Ashcroft - is that a bunch of Eurocrats get to stick their dirty foreign noses into our financial affairs.

Even though we are not - praise the Lord - users of the Euro, the UK still has to observe EU 'stability rules' regarding public finances.

And guess what? In spite of his fucking endless lies and boasts to the contrary, Gordon Brown - with his little puppet Alistair Darling - has broken those rules. The EU is not happy about that.

Clearly no-one in Brussels has been listening to Broon's blustering: they've just looked at the figures and concluded that Britain must do more to curb its spiralling debt.

The report states:

"The fiscal strategy in the convergence programme is not sufficiently ambitious and needs to be significantly reinforced.

"A credible timeframe for restoring public finances to a sustainable position requires additional fiscal tightening measures beyond those currently planned.”

Which, translated into normal-speak, means: 'You're still pissing far too much money up the wall. Stop it.'

Gosh, really? But Gordon told us all that he was saving us. That he was the only one who knew what to do. That the eeevil Tory's pledge to cut the deficit faster would 'put the fragile economic recovery at risk'. Was that all bollocks then? Who'd have thought?

The timing is good, or if you're Broon or Darling, terrible. We'll find out on Thursday whether Darling's prediction in December that we'd be 'only' 178 billion in the red by now were right, or - more likely - woefully inaccurate.

And we've got a budget, the last budget before the election, next week.

How will the Chancellor balance the EU's demands for a more 'ambitious' strategy and 'additional fiscal tightening' with Gordo's inevitable bullying demands to hand a series of massive and fucking obvious bribes to voters?

Careful, Darling.


Debunking the bollocks in Unison

The real rulers of this once-great nation, the blatantly obvious power-behind-Broon's-throne are the unions. One of them, Unison,  recently used the few quid of their members' contributions not already bunged straight to Labour coffers to make a traditional fear-mongering video for our delectation.

You know the kind of thing: "every pound cut from the public sector budget means that nine nurses and eleven policeman must be fired". That kind of bollocks.

The folk over at the Taxpayers Alliance aint 'avin any of that shit though. They've done a quick remake, with a few minor tweaks, for the sake of accuracy:

You'd laugh out loud, if it wasn't so fucking close to the truth.

(Hat-tip OH, on Twatter)

Letter from Dave

CF's been catching up with the weekend reading; Mrs CF is away skiing, so all childcare / dog minding / tortoise feeding has been in the hands of a real expert, but the papers 'n' mags have been neglected.

One thing that caught CF's jaundiced eye was the glossy little pull-out in the Spectator, entitled 'How to Save Britain in Ten Easy Steps', wherein various talking heads offer unsolicited advice to CallMeDave and his gang, suggesting what they should do when (if) CMD assumes the mantle of power.

One little gem from this collection was a proposed letter from Dave to all those overpaid public officials.

"If you are receiving this message, it is because you draw a salary, at the expense of British taxpayers, which, pro rata, is equal to or in excess of my own. I don’t know about you, but I certainly feel that my current level of remuneration — £187,750 — is plenty and, as I’m sure you’re aware, I have immediately taken a 5 per cent pay cut. I’m not sure, however, that you will give your own pay similar rigorous scrutiny during these tough fiscal times.

So, please consider this letter as a formal request for me to receive from you, by close of business on Monday, a completed version of the following sentence in 100 words or less: ‘I deserve to draw a salary from taxpayers, greater than that of the democratically elected Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, because...’ Your answers will be analysed and weighed for merit but, obviously, if you decide immediately to take a pay cut to £1 less than me, I’m sure our employees, the British people, will appreciate that very much.

Finally, I reserve the right to publish you answer in full in one week’s time.

With warm wishes,

The Prime Minister"

Go on, CallMeDave, show us you've got some balls, and show us you're in touch. State that you'll send this letter, unedited, on your first day in office.

It's a start.


Blair's Babes Back?

Pam Tatlow has been been working hard for the government. She's currently head of Million+, a Higher Education think tank, where she develops funding policies for universities.

She's also been chairman, secretary and vice-chairman of a constituency Labour party.

Her reward is due soon - she's been shortlisted for the safe seat of Ashfield in Nottinghamshire,

And look at the picture - she is also, it has to be said, easy on the eye, eh? Mmmmmm. Helllll-o.

What's that? That's not Ms. Tatlow? Oh. Who is it in the picture then?

That's Gloria De Piero. And what does she know about politics? Oh, loads. She was .. wait for it .. a political correspondent for GMTV. Wow. GMTV, eh?

And there's more on her CV than that, too: in 2008 she was voted the 85th sexiest woman in the world, in a poll of the drooling reader of lads'-mag FHM. Yeah baby!!

That's a bit more sexy, a bit more accessible, than all that tedious stuff about policy, isn't it? So she's on that ol' safe-seat-shortlist too. The same one.

And Gloria's not just good at sitting prettily on a red sofa early in the morning, either. Ms De P. is also said to be 'close to Tony Blair'. Lucky old Tone, eh? That must make a pleasant change from old slot-gob.

No surprise then that the other one, that Pam Tatlow, with all her boring, old fashioned 'experience', was quietly removed from the shortlist. Can't have too much competition for the gorgeous, pouting sofa-dolly, can we?

So a women-only shortlist becomes even shorter: a celebrity-women-only shortlist. Wonder what Hattie Harman thinks of all this?

A Labour spokesperson, arriving late and panting, tries to convince us that this was all a mistake.

"..a genuine error .. A clerical error occurred when the initial shortlist was circulated"

Yeah, right.

Wikipedia fingers Uddin

Regular readers will be all too aware of CF's views on that thieving bitch Baroness Uddin, and his rage when all charges against her were dropped.

It would seem that CF is not alone. Spotted on Wikipedia (which of course, is always Gospel):

For the hard of seeing, the text reads

"Manzila Pôla Uddin, Baroness Uddin ... born 17 July 1959) is a British Labour politician and thief."

Yup. Perfect.

(Tip of the hat to Muffled Vociferation.)

Bereaved Mum sells newspapers

The press are having a field day with the artist-formerly-known-as-Jon-Venables. Venables, who was jailed for his part in the murder of a toddler in 1993, has sinned again.

It's not at all clear what the fuck he's done this time. Assault? Kiddie porn? Arson in a Naval dockyard? Failed to return a library book? Perhaps he sounded his horn in a built-up area after 11:30.

Regardless, the press are more than happy to rake over all the hideous ashes of 17 years ago.

And, of course, the bien pensants are equally happy to re-visit all of the endless, hypothetical, tedious debates about 'the age of criminal responsibility', and the 'nature of evil. yah?'. Great topics for dinner-party debater and perfect for the Moral Maze morons to agonise over.

And at the centre of this artificially generated storm of outrage and opinion, who do we find? Every time? Denise Bulger, mother of the murdered child.

When the story first broke, a relative told the BBC that the family "did not intend to comment", but that the news had brought her "a whole load of anxiety"

Clearly, this intention was soon forgotten, and Ms. Bulger was soon demanding audience with the Justice Secretary, Jack Straw. A second spokesman informed the grateful nation that Ms Bulger was 'content' - oh, jolly good - after the meeting, having previously been "sick" of having "doors closed in her face".

And now, Ms Bulger has called for the sacking of Children's Commissioner Maggie Atkinson, who had the temerity to have a view on the age of criminal responsibility.  Ms. Atkinson feels that the murderers Venables and Atkinson should not have been tried in an adult court.

Ms Bulger, speaking to the world yet again, does not agree:

"This woman owes James and me an apology for her twisted and insensitive comments. Then she should resign or be sacked"

To which the only response can be, what the fuck has all this got to do with you, love?

Yes, Denise, your child was the victim of a horrendous crime, many years ago. The perpetrators were caught, sentenced and incarcerated.

Now one of them, having served what society judged to be his due time, has committed some other, unrelated crime. He's done nothing to you this time, and nothing to worsen or mitigate what he did all those years ago.

So, again, what the fuck has this got to do with you? You're not an expert in law, in social policy, in sentencing, in criminal rehabilitation or indeed in anything relevant to the current shenanigans.

Listen, Denise, the only reason the media is interested in you and your opinions is that you're the human interest. You're the 'devastated mother'. You make the story interesting and 'accessible' to the slack-jawed imbeciles who guzzle these prurient tales.

This is the media, remember, who decided to call your boy 'Jamie', even though you never did - his name was James - because they judged it made the story just a tiny bit more poignant.

They don't give a shit about your opinion, they just want your sad face at the top of each story.

Don't help the bastards sell their tawdry rags.


Beautifully put..

Mummylonglegs, over on And There Was Me Thinking, has been listening to Samantha Cameron, CallMeDave's other half, eulogising her man. And fuck, did she lay it on thick.

Mummy's response is spot on, and well worth reading in full. As she says:

"I can understand why Sam appreciates these qualities in her man, after all she has to live with him. I don't. I do however have a chance to decide if I hand the running of the country over to him, and so far I have yet to be convinced that Dave is any better than Gordon."

"So unless Dave is planning to turn up on my door step, marry me, cook me a meal, do the washing up, read my kids a bedtime story and then give me a good seeing to in order to gain my vote, what he does at home is about as about as relevant to me as what fucking biscuit he likes to dunk in his tea. I don't fucking care."

As Mummy points out:

"My ex was great with the kids, a blinding shag and could iron a crease sharp enough to shave with. Regardless of these skills (and his amazing Spag Bol) I wouldn't trust him to run the country because he was financially incompetent, morally bankrupt and to be frank with you, full of shit."

As ever, Mummy knows best.


Who was bullshitting?

A little quiz for you. Who said, in the final hours of that infamous 1992 election, which Labour confidently expected to win, the following:

"The Conservatives have lost their overall majority, they’ve got no mandate to govern. In fact it looks as if there’s been a bigger swing to Labour than in any election since 1966, and that we’re going to win a substantial number of seats ...

... it looks as if they’ve done extremely badly, it looks as if there’s a big swing to Labour. One thing that is clear is that at the end of this evening, the Conservatives will have no mandate to govern. They’ve lost the election."

Clearly, a lot of utter bollocks, as everybody apart from this person knew. A couple of hours later, the Tories .. err ... kept their mandate.

Whoever spouted all of that 'extremely badly' nonsense was either terminally misinformed, or desperately fibbing.

But who was it?

Here's a clue: it's someone to whom lies and exaggerations come easily.

It's someone who can trot out the most enormous fucking lie, without so much as blinking.

A person who often uses the phrase 'One thing that is clear is..' just before stating something wildly inaccurate or just plain wrong.

Someone who lies so often, and even when not deliberately lying is pathetically attempting to mislead, that he doesn't even know he's doing it any more.

Someone who hates, loathes and detests those eeevil Tories so much, that he believes that if repeats a lie about them often enough, and with enough conviction, that it will become true.

Here's a bigger clue. Watch this ...

Yeah, you guessed, didn't you? It's good old Gordo'. The lyingest, fibbingest MP that ever there was.

Wonder if he'll be doing the same again in a few weeks time?

(Tip of the hat to Tory Landlord for that priceless video: well found, that man!)