…Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth…

Sitting in the Dschungel
On Nürnberger Straße
A man lost in time
Near KaDeWe
Just walking the dead
It’s always up its own arse to start a blog/rant with a quote or lyric of no relevance from some other fucker as it pretends to set out a direction for the point you are about to make.

The above is a lyric from Bowie’s ‘Where are we now?‘ and represents the most coherent verse in the entire track. Basically it is a load of bollocks but as it’s Bowie we care little and I wanted to remind you of something great before we started. Anyway, Bowie has form on the ‘talking bollocks’ front, I mean it’s not like we weren’t warned:

‘It’s on America’s tortured brow, That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow,
Now the workers have struck for fame
‘Cause Lennon’s on sale again
See the mice in their million hordes
From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads
Rule Britannia is out of bounds
To my mother, my dog, and clowns

Brilliant…. ‘funk to funky’ as Dave would say, a genius at work even if he is simply chucking up any kind of old toss for us to consume… a special kind of genius…

Anyway, Where are we now? as the Thin White Duke previously asked. We are nowhere and staring into an abyss of nothing led by a group of incompetent individuals, backed up by a group who just don’t care or only care about their own doctrine… ‘Rule Britannia’ indeed Mr Jones.

This blog is about the state of the nation and before I go full rant I will concede that all of this has been said and heard before (mostly and more brilliantly by Marina Hyde, although recently I’ve deliberately not read her) and better than I will lay it out however this is my view. I don’t expect you to love it or particularly loathe it and I don’t expect it to be wholly accurate so spare me the corrections if you see anything might inaccurate…. it is a humorous, caustic version of what I think. I’m not interested in ‘but what Jeremy is trying to achieve.. ‘or ‘it will all be ok in the end..’ or ‘we need to take back control’. If you want that or feel the need to say it, write your own blog… this is simply me emptying my head over your upturned faces and cackling as you wipe it off.

The only place to start is at the top. The Government.

It is hard to imagine an organisation as inept as the current Conservative party, in fact it has been quite an achievement to assemble a group of such inept individuals that someone needs applauding. The balance of probabilities dictates that you’d get a couple of half decent individuals but no…. this is the anti chaos theory mixed with utter cuntery, it is a huge massive ball of hate and arrogance injected with the DNA of a pit bull with an elastic band around the todger reeking of piss, lavender and cheap biscuits. As a group they have nothing to offer.

In a previous blog I explained that due to my parents and their horrific conservative middle England right wing attitudes I err on the side of the Labour party. But even that John Major type Tory party of my early voting years seems acceptable over this shower. Major now appears to be a political Titan, a statesman with an understanding of what might need to be done. Similarly the much derided Hestletine seems to worry more about the yoot of today than the actual people in charge and their opposite numbers.

So in their place what have we got?

The higher echelons of this Tory rabble fall into two camps:

1. Total Wankers

2. Proper Wankers.

At one end of the scale we have the Hammonds and the Javids who claim to be normal and down to earth.

Hammond has a loose history of being a moody Goth at Uni possibly because he wore a black leather jacket up the pub one night, listened to a Mission album in error and let his hair brush his collar.

Javid is the son of a Lancastrian bus driver. This is it by the way, this is peak Tory ‘edge’….. this is Tory ‘real’.

Both men are biege of personality with Hammond being a particularly dull fucker with nothing of note to offer other than the now standard Tory ‘punch my face in’ smirk owned by David Davis.

Javid has potential as a future leader but it will almost certainly be a failed attempt in a ‘no chance’ election but will give the Tories a dip into diversity which they sorely need and will cynically exploit before reverting to some kind of well buggered old Etonian who suckled at the year of ‘nana’ till he was 32.

Javid also has that ‘talking about himself in the third person’ lunacy about him which all future leaders need almost as if they are watching themselves from an elevated position such is the majesty of their leadership…

Also cramned into this end of the Tory spectrum is roly poly pseudo hard nut Mark ‘Gino’ Francois. This squinty eyed little plum is a half Italian ex territorial Army irritant and like Farage has a non British name far removed from his barely hidden racism. He’s been getting a lot TV lately which is a good thing as we all miss characters from the mind of Paul Whitehouse and Charlie Grigson.

Francois talks the talk because he thinks he should but in reality he oozes bitter little bloke living alone in shabby damp bedsit eating beans from a tin while looking forward to his evening wank into some parliamentary headed paper with a tin of Stella primed on a rickety stool.

If we didn’t have a scenario like Brexit no one would know him. He is only on the TV as he has a 25,000 majority in a pro Brexit area of Essex and so the BBC in its quest for ‘balance’ dig him out for some World War II based analogies reminding the nation that ‘us Brits’ won’t be told what to do by some ‘garlic eating surrender monkeys’ or, by the chuff of St George, ‘Fritz’.

Francois’s recent face-off with that horse faced ponce Will Self on some two bob afternoon political magazine programme was wholly embarrassing but bizarrely gave him a position of strength in the eyes his electorate. ‘He ain’t taking it’ was the cry when in reality he was simply dragging out the old Politician trick of ignoring the question and crowbarring in whatever old shit he wanted to be heard. More surprising was that Self, a megamind intellect in his own elongated head seemed thrown by it and resorted to a playground stare-out which in the international language of imminent violence is about as convincing as ‘hold me back…I’ll fuckin’ do him!!!’. Basically it means nish…. no one is getting hurt…ever.

We’ve all met a Francois. He is ‘I’m not being racist but….’ three pints of bitter and a carvery esturay filth. They used to be relatively rare but like the odd random Jackel around the feeding lions eventually they mass, grow some bollocks in groups and burst forth to feed on the lesser cuts. When this Brexit catastrofuck is over Francois will roll back under his rock never to be heard of again… which is good but also highlights the madness we are currently in.

Then we have the proper Fuckers. The public school boy Tories….. the elites, the ones we truly hate…

We could start with the leader but that would be easy so let’s start with the lower level cuntery and straight off Sir Geoffrey Cox, the Attorney General.

Cox embodies almost everything hateful in the Tory party. A big loud boorish prick with a booming stentorian voice and a massive sense of self entitlement who was clearly told early he was ‘Born to Lead’ but is ultimately doomed to be killed by his own troops in a wet trench with a rusty bayonet at the hand of a simple Tommy called ‘Arbuthnot’ from a small hamlet near Blackburn.

Whenever I see this bloke I want to smash up my own house and when I hear him I feel an overpowering urge to break into my neighbours house to smash that up as well. Cox has decided to project himself as Gandalf the Grey on the bridge of Khazad Dum ordering the Balrog that it ‘shall not pass!!’. He is weirdly reminiscent of the thespian postman in 80’s classic alt comedy ‘The Young Ones’ booming out commands so even those at the back of the circle can hear him without the aid of a microphone.

Cox is that man you meet at a party who, upon finding out your name makes a point of calling you it endlessly in an act of gross over familiarity. You suffer this as you know parties end and the next time you meet he will neither remember you, your name or where you previously met.

As Attorney General Cox appears to be the bloke tasked with making our exit from the EU legally watertight (which he won’t do) but as I said earlier he is doomed to failure due to the whole Brexit process being pretty much unacheivable but he’ll take his moment in the spotlight and all he’ll really achieve is leaving his many minions with tattered eardrums.

The real poncitude of the Tory Party lies in the form of the European Research Group (ERG) which is a group of faceless public schoolboys of a certain age dressed in heavy tweed led by the previously perfectly named Minister for the 18th Century and Haunted Oxfam shop Jacob Rees-Mogg with the assistance of ‘bit of rough’ Francois.

The Mogg is fuckin’ minted but seems incapable of purchasing a suit which either fits him or is in any way fashionable. I can only assume that these volumous rags are leftovers from his father’s wardrobe and worn as tribute just like Saville and the Duchesses polyester shrouds he kept pristine…

Our first visual experience of the ERG was during a press conference after lame duck Prime Minister May delivered her withdrawal agreement. What we got was a long table of old men sitting in a line in varying stages of decreptitude with Rees-Mogg as the spokesman. Imagine that…..Jacob as the face of anything other dishing out thrashings to unkept chimney sweeps or ignorant knife grinders…

If you lined them up and presented them as the cabinet or the face of the nation revolution would surely become a viable option.

The same could be said of a line up of David Davis, Ian Duncan-Smith, Liam Fox, Boris Johnson, Nigel Farage, Dominic Raab, Esther McVey and Common room fop and tuck shop assistant Michael Gove.

This mob are the comic relief normally, the team captain foil in a million episodes of ‘Have I got news for you’. If this shower was presented as the individuals to dig us out of a national disaster at any other time then even the thickest of the thick would start to panic. but at this time the ‘will of the people’ decided that they were more trustworthy than captains of industry, economists and experts.

There is nothing remotely statesman like about any of them….they are all fantasists blindly stumbling around yapping like lonely dogs hoping that they we can reinstigate steam ships for another crack at shouting at Johnny Foreigner and taking all their shit in the name of ‘Empire’ to make us great again. They are all ‘fur coat and no knickers’ as my mum would say…. bluffers…. piss takers… charlatans..

Take Esther Mcvey as an example. A former failed TV personality presenting conservative religious programmes before being called to parliament and living with a fellow parliamentarian ‘Fuck buddy’ in a publicly funded Pimlico safe house.

Once entrenched in politics she attempted to bring glamour to the house with some Jennifer Aniston type haircuts and RuPaul heels and a walk like she was in a slow motion Loreal ad.

This is all great but the main issue is that she is pretty thick and ill informed. The amount of basic errors about policy and her general lack of understanding of politics is staggering. I’ve heard her interviewed on a number of occasions and she’s mostly been destroyed on things you would basically expect her to easily answer. She battles on in the classic politicians way of basically talking about anything other than the question in a polite regional accent but is a millisecond away from the mask slipping before launching into a Scouse diatribe of bile and hate followed by robbing your house and eating out of your bin.

And so we come to the top of the tree. The supreme leader at the head of the table at this ‘Cunts Banquet’, the awkwardly awkward, elongated sloth gaited, personality vacuum that is Theresa May.

May. Mother Theresa. Maggie May, barren, empathy free, devoid of humour, unlived, field marauder, pale of face, borderline racist, lover of heels, daughter of a vicar, Trump bannister, destroyer of Police and self proclaimed ‘bloody difficult woman’.

She’s right. She’s a difficult watch, a difficult listen and probably emits a difficult odour…. most likely cheap perfume like ‘Tweed’ or something lavender based with a squirt pump and a bow.

She walks like a person recovering from having two displaced hips, its almost mechanicalas if there is a couple of gremlins within driving her forward. She is the AT-AT walker from ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ lumbering on to certain doom through its own inability to move quicker. She makes bolshy prop forward Amber Rudd seem graceful of movement but on the upside Mrs May would be infinitely more useful at reaching any top shelf with her telescopic limbs so it’s not all bad.

Then there’s the voice, and the hair, and the laugh and basically the lot. She is the human embodiment of the Python sketch ‘How not to be seen’. One of my gauges of how I assess a person is would I want them to cook me an egg? I would neither want her to, see her do it or good forbid see her eat one. The egg is the benchmark… no egg, no trust babe…

On a more serious note she has almost single handedly destroyed this country through her own stubbornness and sense of duty that only she sees. She has isolated herself with her own inflexible approach to everything put before her. As home Secretary she dismantled the police and continues to do so as PM. She is responsible through these actions for the rise of knife crime and you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to work out the correlation between less law enforcers and rising crime, its staring you in the face. But like this and Brexit she ignores facts as she is convinced she’s right and everyone else is wrong.

She was brilliantly described recently by Matthew Parris as a ‘political Death Star’ and ‘ the human embodiment of a closed door’. Outstanding stuff but with her Brexit position I see her as Don Logan from ‘Sexybeast’ particularly with her complete intransigence to anything other than the course of action taken. ‘No, No, no, no, no, no…..’. She should say to parliament ‘your just going to have to turn this opportunity yes’.

This is were the Tories are, run by a sociapath who thinks scraping mould off old jam is a thing we would be willing to do because she is prepared to for a soundbite. Well, I’m not prepared to do that. Mouldy jam goes in the bin you delusional nut job…

Moving on we have the ‘opposition’….with a glaring lower case ‘o’.

When it comes to opposition Labour are currently Spurs in the 2000’s when they were trying to deal with the Arsenal. They are Gary Docherty and Chris Armstrong against Sol Campbell and Martin Keown….. nothing is happening and the general public ain’t believing it ever is…

As I said earlier I vote Labour. This may appear shocking to some of you given my job and general abrasive personality but it’s true. The problem I have is the hijacking of a party by some radical extremists, funnily enough mirroring the Conservative party.

Labour have become so much of an unelectable joke that the public, even a public of this stupidity in general, see them as irrelevant. As of last week Labour were 10 points behind the most inept group of people to ever have power….imagine that.. the Tories are a car crash wrapped up in a clusterfuck and are still wiping the floor with Jezza and co based on trust. ‘Trust’…the public trust the Tories more than Labour. It’s almost incomprehensible. There is more trust in disaster capitalists and public schoolboys who never look further than their own breed than there is in a one trick pony like the current Labour party…. the one trick being to demand or wait out for an election even though no one has the appetite for it and they probably won’t win it with the current ‘leader’.

As with the Tories the problem is most likely the personnel, so let’s have a look.

I could start with Comrade Corbyn but that would be easy and predictable so I’ll briefly touch on a few others within this rabble.

It would be be easy to pile in on Diane Abbott, I mean Corbyn did back in the day, but it would also be unfair. I believe Abbot is simply out of her depth to a massive degree. She is pretty stupid and it can’t have gone unnoticed that she isn’t exactly front and centre when it comes to one of the high profile positions in a shadow cabinet. Even the Labour hierarchy have realised that less isn’t more, less is necessary… it’s simply easier.

She can’t even hide her stupidity through bluff and bluster like a Tory. She delivers at the despatch box and in interview as if someone is communicating with her via an earpiece which creates a slight delay and provides a stocatto deliver to questions. This may sound unbelievable but nothing is unbelievable anymore, everything is possible.

I won’t really tear into Abbott because I feel there is something not really quite right. I see nothing worthy of a 35,000 majority (which is more votes than Farage has obtained in seven failed attempts to win a seat) but clearly her constituents do so fair play to her but would you really want her to be Home Secretary? Does anyone really think she could handle a job of such importance? I doubt it.

For every Tory Cock, sorry ‘Cox’ there is an equally booming pompous arse in Labour and there is none better then Emily Thornberry.

The daughter of a UN and NATO diplomat she spent 20 years as a barrister and is currently living and working in Islington… by the way I’m still talking about a Labour MP here in case you thought I’d moved on to the ‘elite’.

Like most barristers she is big of mouth and arrogance but short on common sense. I’ve been in the company of many a Thornberry both professionally and socially and they could all do with a shake. From a professional perspective they swan in like they own the place and dish out the commands while forgetting that the ‘hard yards’ have been carried by the real grafters who put them in the room in the first place.

My first real exposure to Thornberry and her huge self importance was when she was the mouthpiece after a ‘victory’ that was a defeat. Since then she has bellowed in the house, pointed a lot across the dispatch box and generally acted like the pissed posh girlfriend of the University rugby skipper who can sink 15 pints and has a penchant for that rowing boat drinking game the egg chasers love or a game of beer pong before accommodating the rest of the team for ‘a bit of a laugh’.

She’s a blunt old instrument, a sort of posh totty ‘strongarm enforcer’ ensuring the Comrade sticks to the plan. We could probably end this whole Brexit shambles with a televised bondaged bear pit brawl between her and Francois where the winner decides the fate for the nation. I’m certain she would emerge bloodied and victorious with Francois chucked in a corner, his face a rouge mousse with his limbs snapped like twiglets moaning some shit about the army and not being ‘trained to lose’.

Another former big old unit is Tom Watson who I think it’s fair to say we all had hope for. Watson seemed to have potential but now he’s just another ineffective Labour MP who doesn’t really seem to know exactly what to do. In a time of national crisis where the opposition party seem happy to do no opposing you’d think a man of his reputation would rise to the top regardless of the so called ‘Leader’ of the party. Instead Tom has decided that Tony the Tiger on a packet of Frosties and the MacDonalds Monopoly game are his bag. This is all very noble from a former big man who was clearly ‘roomy through the hips’ but unless someone in the Labour party doesn’t actually get a grip we’ll all be eating Frosties and MacDonald as fresh produce will be scarce.

Watson seems to have the balance for me. He’s close enough to Blair to make him palatable (I recall little hate for Blair during ‘Cool Britannia’) but also to the ideals of what would be an acceptable Labour party to a mass audience. Maybe his time will come but really he should grasp it now before Labour split further and all hope is lost.

And then we come to the Stooge. The lead Comrade, the Marrow Grower, the man who always appears to be a second away from saying ‘I’ll smash your fucking face in’…. Corbyn.

I’ve always disliked this bloke and always will. ‘Old School’ they say, No one likes an old school Tory as we’ve evolved so why should he get away with it. Old school Tories have fucked this country so old school Labour would do the same.

Corbyn is a man from another age. He wants something that only a small proportion of people actually want for this country namely a socialist idyll. The reality is that most of us, from King to Pauper, want their own stuff and lots of it, everyone wants an element of ‘elite whether it’s a new TV, car, watch, bike, jacket whatever….we want the stuff. You know this anyway….it’s not a startling revelation that pure socialism didn’t work as proved by Corbyn lauded Venezuela which is now a war zone controlled by a socialist dictator clinging on to power with all the money while his people drink out of the sewer.

Regardless of all that his biggest error is his absolute apathy towards potentially the biggest crisis to hit this country since the war. He seems to care not one jot about what might happen and simply bangs on about a new election which, if he won, would undoubtedly expose his lack of any cogent plan. Just repeating ‘give me a go’ ain’t really cutting it with the public.

Bizarrely, and this may seem like an odd concept, but the role of the opposition is to oppose the Government as necessary. Corbyn doesn’t appear to be too interested in this idea and seems content to sit back and hope that a nation, historically balls deep in the right, suddenly swings massively to the left…. if this Brexit process is anything to go by the rest of the country isn’t having a cosy chat and a peppermint tea with Jezza down the allotment watching the gooseberry jam ferment, it’s moaning about ‘taking back control’ and ‘shutting our borders’ even though we are surrounded by water. Corbyn’s actions throughout this car crash have been nothing short of despicable given the part he should be playing and most remainer Labour types won’t forget it.

Finally we come to the last group of players in this tragedy… We, the people.

In my job you never trust the public even though at the most crucial time you are forced to. The public are random, skittish, prone to bollocks. They can believe nothing or everything in the delivery of a tweet. Facts are not required and sometimes decisions are made for ‘a laugh’ or a ‘change’ but once they are made they stick. That’s Democracy…… it’s overrated sometimes.

The public decided this mess, a mess given to them by one of the country’s finest ponces, they decided with a simplistic vote about a complex scenario.

The public were pissed about but a large proportion abdicated personal responsibility in actually finding out facts and instead chose personalities or personal bigotry….. not all people but a significant proportion. I say this through personal experience rather than any prejudice you think I might have. I have deliberately engaged with as many people as I can over Brexit in order to see what has made a cross section tick and it’s been quite shocking. I’ve heard everything from the mundane to the insane, I’ve heard the racist and I’ve heard the truly dim.

One of the most stupid answers I received to why someone voted to leave was that no one told him to research anything about it. I questioned how he made a decision at all without finding something out about it and was told that he basically just picked the opposite to what we had. Now this bloke is no melon, he’s a functioning individual with responsibility….just not in that moment.

I’ve also seen ardent leave voters apply for Irish Passports to give their kids ‘a chance’ even though their actions will hamper most other kids. I know of people with multiple properties abroad who voted leave to ‘take control of our borders’ while they swan across someone else’s border to collect their vast monthly rent in bespoke elite complexes in a foreign land.

Clearly I know more remainers than Brexiteers because I live in London which is Remain City Central. We fuckin love the diversity, the bureaucracy and the straight bananas as we are all minted, arrogant, unaffected and softer than an untoasted Warburton’s crumpet. But I mostly work with Leave supporters as they nearly always live in the Shires and beyond. I’ve also travelled around Britain in the last two years and the majority of people I meet are Leavers and quite solid ones at that. Because of the London Bubble you assume everyone is like you but they aren’t. There is strong support throughout England and Wales to leave and I’m not sure that has waned much in the last two and a half years.

My other belief is that demonstrations or petitions don’t work and only really add to the confusion. A million people marching is unbelievable (although the actual estimate seems to be between 312,000 to 400,000) but it’s a fraction of the people who voted to leave and as it was in the South and specifically London I’d imagine the majority of participants were most likely local to London and the South at least. I’d be interested to see what the biggest crowd outside of London protesting against Brexit is (this isn’t a test, I simply can’t be bothered to look it up).

Similarly with petitions. I think that the entire Government petitions website should be shut as it creates a sense of false hope.

The original 2nd referendum petition hit 4.2m online signatures and when it was discussed in parliament it was rebuffed with a ‘will of the people/thanks but no thanks’ response. Shock. The new Stop Article 50 petition has surpassed that with 5m signatures and it was also rebuffed with a ‘will of the people/thanks but no thanks’ response. Shock. The petitions that are effective are usually trivial.

May is immovable and Corbyn couldn’t give a fuck so collectively why would they care about a few people with the arsehole over reversing what they insist is an unfulfilled democratic vote

The other problem with petitions is they only provide one option. ‘Replay the champions league final’ that Liverpool lost last year for example got 500,000 signatures, isn’t big on options for the Manchester United fan and plays into a specific demographic much like a Brexit vote. The reality is that 5,000,000 votes, while impressive, means fuck all to anyone prepared to do anything about it. At the last general election 4,000,000 people voted for UKIP and got one MP who later decided he was independent. We all laughed over that and said ‘So what?’. It’s just a number, a number far too short of 17 odd million and so it will always be derided.

Of course the media played their part. The BBC seem adept at finding proper extremes of the voting spectrum while missing out on the ‘Charlie Farleys’ in the middle. Old people have been thrust before the cameras with what seems to be the specific remit of winding me up with comments like ‘it would be good to struggle to bond the people together’. Brilliant. I look forward to reminding my elderly neighbours of this when they are stricken with frostbite huddled around a candle eating their own rotten toes this winter. I saw an interview the other night on Sky News with some pale skinned wallflower from the Shires whose job description was ‘stockpiler’. It’s come to this….this shit.

I’m not in the game of struggling, I’ve moved on. If I think I can dish out puzzles and football socks stuffed with nuts and a tangerine at Christmas I’d better think about some form of parental protection because I’m pretty certain I could be bludgeoned to death in my sleep on Christmas night if I was to offer up such a ‘thin gruel’ (I love this expression, it’s the greatest thing that ponce Rees-Mogg has ever uttered). We should be moving forward not backwards and the chances of me coming home from work to tend to a vegetable patch are close to zero so it will be Pot Noodles and toilet water all the way.

So the people chose this path but the least you could expect was for the politicians to smoothly negotiate something worthy of all the bother……ahhhh.

All we have learnt about the capability of the shower in the chambers is that the majority are stealing a living. There has never been a real plan and even if there was you’d have no faith in anyone in a position of power delivering it.

The title of this blog is a quote from Mike Tyson at his ferocious peak…the EU have punched us in the mush and we have nothing else to offer… we have propped ourselves up as something special with all the mouth but we have no trousers to speak of.

As a remainer I think we are proper fucked and rushing headlong into ‘Mission: Certain Death’ but at least our Prime Minister stood by her guns and the leader of the opposition who is 180 degrees away from her on the protractor of ‘Bollitocks’ let her. Think how proud you will be of that while you are washing a dead rat in a puddle prior to a slow 65 hour bake over a tea light…

There appears to be no chance of flipping this. The Brexiteers have won as they grasped the reigns, winning a most likely bent vote and after nearly three years of acting all arrogant Brit in a Spanish restaurant shouting for ‘Steak and chips’ we can only hope for a poorly made ‘Patatas Bravas’ with well-done horse meat steak.

The people chose Boris, Gove, IDS, Farage, Robinson, Leadsome, Corbyn, Raab, Fox, Davis, Rees-Mogg and the Human stick insect on the Good ship ‘Sovereignty’ as we plummet over the edge of a border free flat earth eating wafer thin ham while watching mixed martial arts on a three channel TV…

Just a personal view…. as you were…

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