The Freak Box

Before I start, I should state that I stole the title for this rant from a conversation I had with a very talented bloke from out West who used it in similar circumstances that I am just about to. It is the perfect title….Thank you Mr Kane.

This blog will be shorter than the last one as clearly that was too long as the minimal views proved. A shame as it was a good one and funnier than the past few. No matter, these are moments in time of the mind of me, an idiot, so I’m not looking for too much other than you to laugh and the odd thumbs up.

So, here we are, November 2019 on the brink in the rudderless ship filled with guffawing, over fed disaster capitalists rubbing their hands….Brexit in some form is imminent via the medium of a general election.

I’ve given up insisting this won’t happen because at some point it will whether I like it or not. I, and people like me, lost.. to be fair we will all probably lose eventually. In reality the major problem of actually leaving the EU would never be overturned as democracy must rule regardless of whether we all think the question was too binary, the people ill informed or the pass threshold too low. The vote was willingly carried out without nearly all those things being considered and us, the Remainiacs, lost. We might not like it, I mean who likes defeat? and we don’t have to accept it but defeat it was and no amount of walking around Central London pissed on Prosecco gnawing on Hummus and bread sticks will change that. Don’t get me wrong, If protesting is your bag then crack on just don’t stop me getting to work, don’t smash anything up or glue yourself to anything which I might need to use or moan at me for not doing it with you. My job fills me with an aversion to public displays of disorder but if you like it happy days…. just do it nicely and don’t moan you’re tits off if the police take you away for causing a problem. That being said if I had another chance to vote thanks to your sacrifice I’ll gladly take it as voting is essential in a democracy.

All I can do now is prepare for the grief and misery, wait for the schadenfreude to hit me between the eyes and revel in the daily humiliation and struggle of the fuckers in charge. And I will do all those things with gusto while ensuring that those dear to me are ok.

As I said this effort isn’t really about Brexit specifically as that is done, this blog is about the deceit and ineptitude of those in charge, those who want the throne and one specific individual that I have a special place in hell for.

So where shall I start? All villains need reigning in so let’s go with the so-called ‘good guys’. The ‘Opposition’.

Tragically the word ‘opposition’ doesn’t really cut it when dealing with the current Labour set up. What we have with Labour is a series of internal feuds under a broad umbrella creating an organisation of weapons grade ineptitude led by a man that the few and not the many seem to think can fix the country. The chance missed to crush a government of such arrogance and recklessness is unforgivable really. Any organised opposition would have easily swept to power by now as a proper plan would have existed to oppose rather than a mish mash of dreams and aged policies. Sadly what we have is a split party and a mindset that unless you are fully paid up member then you don’t really count. This position, laid down by some pulse eating, snowflakery called ‘Momentum’ is almost exactly the same as the one used by the Tories when installing a new Prime Minister that they vehemently oppose as ‘elitism’. The hypocrisy is cloying.

I won’t get into the anti-semitism claims as I don’t know enough about it. All I will say is that racism of any sort needs to be taken seriously and those that feel aggrieved are really the ones calling the shots. As simple example of my simple comment would be to say that if Jen tells me I have upset her it’s not for me to insist that I haven’t. She’s the one feeling it.

Labour have failed the country and just like the Tories it’s the personnel that is the problem. Labour have no one really capable of grasping the imagination of a cross section of the public required to run a country. There can’t be many people out there with any time for Diane Abbot (who fell asleep in parliament during a Brexit speech recently), Tom Watson (rightly pilloried along with the Polis for believing a fantasist), Keir Starmer (loving the sound of his own voice but not really saying a lot), John McDonnell (a Paypal purchase away from a black Balaclava at any given moment) and of course the Dear Leader Comrade Corbyn, who has been standing before the dying monster of the Tory party for at least few years with a loaded gun refusing to pull the trigger. What would Kinnock, Smith, Blair or even Brown done to Cameron, May and Fuckface Johnson? They would destroyed them on all levels. Alas, Corbyn has failed to destroy anything other than the credibility of the Labour Party with swathes of the public. The reality is that the Tory party is a bigger monster than ever due mainly to a lack of cogent opposition. The Labour experiment needs to end or we’ll have to get used to Johnson or some other hateful lying Toff and none of us want that.

The Tories have excelled in the last four years. They have carried out something we thought was impossible. They have pushed the boundaries of their own cuntery to another level. None of us thought they could pull this off but they have managed it through the individuals they have chosen, the decisions they have made and so they and they alone should be applauded as none of them are up to much.

So who is supposedly running this shit show?… and who is actually running it?

Obviously near the top but clearly not at the actual top we have Johnson….that’s ‘Johnson’ not ‘Boris’. ‘Boris’ is what he wants as it makes him sound cuddly or fun or to make him a ‘bloody good bloke’. He’s none of those things. He’s a liar, an adulterer, a bluffer, in fact he’s everything you don’t want from a person in a position of power. He lies on a daily basis and has been doing so for decades and still he lives on in comfort. He is the cockroach following the apocalypse, indestructible and thriving. You have to hand it to him, 10 years ago when this jub was flapping about on ‘Have I got News for you’ and no one would have said he would have been running the country during the most serious national crisis since the war.

Johnson exists for Johnson and has done since birth. He has no love for anything other than himself. He’s been sacked for lying twice, he has children he denies are his and when in power he has used the system to protect himself most notably recently when he took out a High Court injunction to prevent the London Assembly from establishing that he gave favours to an ex-pole dancer he was hanging out the back of. He famously wrote two articles about Remaining or Leaving the EU simply to cover himself when prior to deciding to shaft his ‘Trotters Up’ mate Dave with the one that would help him more. He is devoid of loyalty, empathy, has a history of racism and homophobia. You could say he is the perfect Tory in some way, almost built in a Lab by a Mad Thatcherite Professor called Franken-Mogg but they failed in the rigid back and pristine side parting department and gave us a squat, hump backed, ratty haired Oaf with the brain of a public schoolboy… a kinda Posh Igor.

Johnson is a highly intelligent individual crammed into an unassuming body and head he moulded himself to confuse an already confused and startingly dim public. Sadly the public have mostly fallen for it but my image of him is in line with the words of the OAP from his constituency in a vox pop from Sky News:

“…Don’t talk to me about that filthy piece of toe rag…”

…And there you have it, a toe rag but not even a whole toe rag, just a piece, a piece that will eventually be inconsequential, unnecessary and not required.

When Johnson got the big job he craved so much it was always going to be funny to see who he would employ in his cabinet. He didn’t disappoint from a comedic perspective.

Immediately rewarded was old sycophantic chum Michael Gove who slithered his way to the fantastically titled post of ‘Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster’ whatever the fuck that is. I can only assume that this is a ‘thank you’ for Gove oiling the plums of Johnson for decades with his smooth face and his puffy lips like a public school ‘fag’ polishing the shoes of ‘Johnson Major’ before a ruddy good rodgering in Matron’s potting shed.

Gove is the classic lame, limp wristed Tory made manifest. He has no real views of his own and leeches off more senior members with frantic nodding from the shadows. He has the ‘successful’ right wing journalist wife who regularly straps up to dominate him in the bedroom and he has a history of low level ‘I only did it to look cool’ substance abuse however judging by the ticks and twitches in the chamber those days may not be over. Gove is a small prick in a room of top end porn meat. He barely counts but might fluff up a few strokers ego’s from time to time.

There would always be a place at the top table for Rees-Mogg mainly because he is a privilege aristo with a deep hate of us Proles. However the place he got was largely ceremonial and on the face of it seems to involve simply reading out the agenda for the following days parliament. I’m sure the tosser was expecting something better than that but even this two-bob job gets the full Rees-Jub treatment with down the nose looks and long latin filled answers quoting academics, fabled parliamentarians and authors in order to deflect from the fact that he can’t provide real information as he doesn’t have the correct cabinet level of security.

There’s really only so far you can go blagging your way through life on the back of convenient upperclass Christian values where coitus is delivered in perfunctory manner with not even an accidental arse slap or jokey ‘Yeehaw!!’. At some point the stick up your arse will snap and most likely at the point where some working class bod gives you the bad news through the medium of the C-Bomb delivered from a white van or scooter. It’s at this point that you realise you maybe a lightly buttered crumpet away from a revolution where you are standing by a wall in a collarless shirt , braces exposed with your hair askew and your spectacles cracked.

Rees-Mogg is a bluffer relying heavily on status and the gravitas afforded to him through wearing his dead old man’s suits which in the true tight fisted upper class fashion have been past down through the generations complete with the DNA of a thousand knickerless kitchen staff. The truth is that when this country gets back on something approaching an even keel the Rees-Mogg’s and his rigid like will be rowed out of the positions that matter as they offer little in the way of realism.

Then we have a raft of individuals who know they would never have made it as far as a TV screen in roles normally considered reserved for ‘Government Spokesperson’ had it not been for a dearth even slightly more intelligent politicians. All of these individuals seem to have been manufactured in the same Tory lab as Johnson which struggled to obtain any more fresh brains and so had to use the slower ones.

Raab and Hancock, who could be related, have that 1000 yard stare that soldiers get when they’ve seen ‘too much shit’ or that tilted head look that a Spaniel gives you when it doesn’t understand what you mean by ‘Don’t shit on the sofa’. Thicker that turds in a bottle the pair of them and flip floppy with it proving once and for all that all politicians ain’t really in it for the people they are really only in it for themselves (yeah, yeah… I know you know this).

The thunderingly stupid are in healthy numbers in this Government. Liz Truss cruises around with the vacant look of someone who can’t quite believe she is employed let alone in a position of power and that scouse lunatic Esther McVey only still exists as an available bit of tot for a PM who clearly doesn’t own a mirror and so sees himself irresistible to a certain type of female.

Then there are the faux ‘hard men’ in the form of Andrew Bridgen and the combustible Mark Francois, two blokes who look like they were moulded from the same heap. These two are never seen in the same room together leading me to believe they are the same fused together hate ball. Francois in particular is a special type of tosser with the endlessly mentioned Territorial Army background but with the inevitable ‘flat feet’ excuse tucked in the back pocket should his mess hall services be required in ‘theatre’. These two are the ‘strongarm’ of the Tories with lots of common room level threats never to be actioned and the ability to make even the most mild mannered member of the public want to enter their fighting arcs.

At the top of the pyramid of stupidity we have Savid ‘The Hood’ Javid and the utterly delightful Priti Patel.

I’ve done Javid before so I’ll leave him this time and as he’s worked in finance and was an accountant you could argue that even though he’s a slimy ‘talk about myself in the third person’ plum he has some right in being Chancellor. He could probably do some adding up and be capable of lifting that red briefcase so in this shower of shit he’s as close to as shoe-in as you can get.

Priti is a whole different ball game. What qualifications does she have to take on the crucial Role as Home Secretary?

Her career started as an intern in the Conservative Party. She followed this up with a career in Public relations, always the mark of a person with a degree of moral flexibility. She then went to work for ‘Diageo’ the company responsible for Guinness before becoming an MP a mere 9 years ago. Now, as Home secretary she sits on the front bench with that fantastic Tory smirk developed for all occasions whether appropriate or not talking tough on crime, a subject so complex she can’t possibly comprehend. The closest Priti has come to the Polis is when she worked for the makers of Guinness which is the fuel all Polis need to do the tough job very few (and fewer under Tory rule) people want to do.

To hear Priti talk about the Polis is a thing to behold. The shite spouted in the name of manifesto pledges is truly sickening. For the Tory party to claim that they are the party of law and order is an absolute abomination given that they have removed 21,000 police and 30,000 associated staff in the last 10 years. Now we are to believe that 20,000 ‘extra’ police will be recruited , well you don’t need to be a mathematician to work this out.

A little known fact is that every month the Metropolitan Police lose over 200 police officers through natural wasted. These officers aren’t replaced and given that the Met have been promised only 1600 of the 20,000 ‘new’ officers this year they are still under resourced massively regardless of the cobblers dished out to fool the public and won’t even cover the amount retiring, resigning or leaving to go to other forces.

The Tories are great at big words prior to elections and it’s all delivered with the classic Tory smirk of which Priti Patel is now the world champion. The smirk has been deployed liberally in the last three and a half years most noticeable by professional dimwit David Davis who clearly wakes up with it fully deployed. Priti now attempts to use it to ooze weapons grade smugness although like Davis before her it could be that she is masking the fact that she is way out of her depth. The liar Johnson also deploys the smirk, unfortunately for him it is delivered moments before he lets rip with another porky as he has no control over it. The smirk is the key to a career in Conservatism and is no doubt smashed into them at University in conjunction with a dormitory pummelling.

Finally we come to the architect of the chaos of the last 4 years, The Master of the Dark Arts, the big cheese, the one and only face that launched a thousand fists, Ladies and Gentlemen I give you, the unelected professional agitator Dominic McKenzie Cummings.

To understand the rat Cummings you need to understand the sad tale of Tom McCarthy . This name probably doesn’t mean a lot to you personally but we’ve all met a ‘Tom McCarthy’ in our time. In this case he was at my school in the early to mid 1980’s.

Tom was an aloof cocky chap who was fairly active in the early years in school. He messed about, he played football, he was a fairly nondescript as we all were between the ages of 11 and 15 as we were just kids. Then when we got to 16 things changed where Tom reinvented himself as a ‘man of mystery’.

At 16 you start to branch out a bit and you break free from the shackles of parents. You become obsessed with the opposite sex, of course you may have had a ‘girlfriend’ at that point but it wasn’t particularly the norm so we were all out there frothing at the mouth.

At 16 you get the true freedom, the parties start, the social events with the dancing and cheap cider begin and you start to notice everything, the world slows and everything becomes clearer and noticeable. Being out with your own generation was the thing to do.

But not for Tom.

We’d all go to Parties or gatherings and get wasted on Strongbow or Grolsch, snog a few unsuspecting yet willing participants from the local girls school and end up in some kind of altercation resulting in some of us (* looks accusingly towards a Palace in South London) getting the snot smashed out of us. Tom was never there for most of that as Tom had been reborn differently. Tom needed mystery and impact. Tom wanted to appear from the shadows like a Lord or illusion.

Tom was a cock.

You’d leave these events in the arms of each other or if you were lucky something acceptable of the opposite sex and you’d stumble laughing around a potholed municipal car park where out of the corner of your eye you’d see a face illuminated by a freshly lit Silk Cut. In a fug of smoke Tom would appear all nonchalant and moody.

“..Hi…” he’d say in that cheeky chirpy David Essex kinda way which usually hides insecurity…

“…Hello Tom. Where have you been?”

“… (long moody pause followed by extended drag of cigarette)….Around…” the standard response…

“..Around where? Around the carpark? Nothing happens in the carpark Tom, all the action is in the party. Or do you mean round your Mum’s? Nothing happening around there mate except cups of tea and a Kimberley with a smattering of overzealous Catholicism. It’s all happening at the party and you’ve missed it again you twat..”.

Basically Tom had escaped the crazy Irish lockdown from his parents and so could only turn up once they had prayed themselves out and collapsed unconscious in a puddle of communion wine and Jesus biscuits. Prior to that he was incarcerated like ‘Carrie’, locked behind a door while his captors prayed to save his soul from eternal damnation at the hands of ‘K’ Cider and Catholic schoolgirls dripping in Rive Gauche. All he could use then was ‘the cool’.

But Tom wasn’t cool. Tom wasn’t mysterious. Tom was a cock, a cock who created an ‘I don’t give a shit’ persona of fake cool.

The problem was that at 16 or 17 ‘mystery’ just weren’t cutting it with a horde of violent, over sexed North London drunk schoolboys as they would simply tell you to shut the fuck up.

And so Tom went back into the shadows forever. I think he’s a Priest now or perhaps in prison….or something…. fuck it, I don’t know what he’s doing but I’m sure it’s nearly really ‘cool’..

Cummings is Tom. Not only is he also a massive bellend but he’s also an insecure wispy haired Rat-fink who has created a cloak of mystery to hide his own failings and problems. He’s a deflector on a grand scale.

You can tell he’s an insecure person by his clothing which tries desperately to be ‘anti establishment’ but fails miserably as we all know he’s taking a salary from a Tory government which instantly makes you ‘elite’. Cummings is ‘shabby chic’ in human form with the baggy unbuttoned shirt, the walking boots over the trousers and the carrier bag with his deadly plans within.

Cummings likes to think he’s a tough guy. He only allows himself to be interviewed on the move by panting reporters walking and talking with the Tory smirk activated. He doesn’t answer questions but instead resorts to insulting the quality of the reporting or lack of knowledge before him while quoting ‘the will of the people’ or ‘Get Brexit Done’ which is as helpful as saying you build a nuclear reactor by simply building a nuclear reactor. It’s a soundbite from a bloke who won’t be about to actually do the job, a man who can point a lot, find a loophole, chuck his weight about and shout but ultimately won’t be ‘hands on’ with the process. Not his problem just like the leave vote wasn’t his problem it was ‘the will of the people’ a will triggered by misinformation delivered and dreamt up by his massive cranium and sucked up by a gullible public.

Cummings is a modern day Rasputin. A well trodden cliche maybe but an appropriate one. He’s a conjurer and hypnotist where disinformation and trickery are King and due to the lack or any real strategy or strategist within this shambles of a government, Cummings finds himself pulling the strings of the bluffers and charlatans and like all Puppet masters he will slink off at some point to write a memoir. All this current Tory shite is from the head of Cummings. Even Johnson doesn’t have the hateful wit for these levels of fuckery. Johnson is the affable Oaf banging at the door with the Battle Axe wheras Cummings is the Grima Wormtongue whispering in the earhole telling you to smother your kids to maintain power at all costs. He is the whispering death of this country.

I had a boss like Cummings a few years back. Moody arrogant fucker who loved his position and told you who was in charge on a daily basis even though he wasn’t particularly good . When he retired after all the years of nasty and snide and lost rags he had a poorly attended leaving do and seemed shocked that the love wasn’t flowing. He now sits looking at a dusty phone that doesn’t ring convinced he was a great bloke who did the right thing and we, the people, were wrong.

This will be Cummings. He will be the same arrogant angry agitator in retirement that he is now. Some people are born nasty, some people like grief, some people love division and are hate filled and that is Cummings and it is all delivered with the Tory Smirk of a Great White Shark. Cummings appears joyless, a man happy to brood and plot, a man always looking for the chink in the armour, looking to exploit any weakness he can find. At the end he will be a man remembered for division and covert action to disrupt. Funnily enough he’d probably get on very well with my Old Man.

What Cummings actually needs is a 16 year old aggressive lapsed catholic drunk schoolboy to tell him to shut the fuck up, it could save him… or break him. I suppose it’s too much to ask that a cabinet minister might do it as they all appear frightened of him. Absolutely tragic.

So Cummings appears to have won and there has been little that any of us could have done about it because essentially our view is irrelevant unless it ultimately goes bent or fits in with the agenda of the party in power at the time. The public seem to be a small inconvenience to the Tories unless it’s possible to blame us. The Conservative Party General election tagline should read: “You are either with us or you are beneath us”. At least I’d respect the honesty if they went with it.

So where does this leave us, the people. Well, it leaves us nowhere. We have no leaders to admire we only have the arrogant, the indecisive or the unelectable.

The Tories are bred for power and aggressively crave it which should by default should exclude you from ever acquiring it.

Labour have fucked up with their experiment which will not gain the mass audience necessary. The Corbyn’s of the world have long existed in the party and get to air their view but it has little mass appeal in its undiluted form hence the lack of proper left wing Labour Governments over the years. The country doesn’t want it.

The Lib Dems have delusions of grandeur mainly because the other two parties are so inept. In some ways, who can blame them for thinking they can fill the void it’s just they are the Magic FM of parties, they are the beige slacks with the wet penny to the front. The Lib Dems are merely a reflection of most of their leaders, bland, normal, dull and unelectable.

As I write this we are moments away from the official start of a General Election Campaign triggered, ultimately, by Cummings and his quest for a no-deal Brexit. That is what the Tories want as proven by the continual position or the ERG and the trap door in the withdrawal agreement put forward to parliament and agreed by the EU.

If they win, and I suppose they must be favourites due to the lack of political firepower within the opposition as a whole, they can fix whatever agenda they like, and they will. They will push ahead with the ‘clean break’ they always really wanted one way or another and this was made clear today when they reiterated recently that there will be no extension to the transition period to leave.

No agreement, No extension, No deal. Happy days in the Shires where bloody British blokes, drink bloody British tea and dance around a maypole to the strains of Elgar’s ‘Nimrod’ while lamenting the loss of the Robertson’s Golliwog and a new series of ‘Till death do us part’ as the fruit and vegetables rot in their fields unpicked by the cheap European labour they haven’t realised they rely on yet.

So we have a final chance to kill off the Tories and probably Brexit if necessary. The only way to do that is to get out and vote. Don’t be one of those lazy strokers who says it doesn’t matter and then spends the next 5 years complaining that it’s all wrong. Vote for what you like but make sure you vote.

If you want the Tories out remember the lies and vote them out. I’m not suggesting for a minute that any of the other party leaders don’t lie because they do. All politicians lie as it’s in the job description but I’m certain there is more humanity and less bullshit within the others. Whatever I think of Corbyn strangely I believe he’s sincere. He’s spent long enough on the fringes not playing the centre left game to be believed but it’s just not for me and a lot of other Labour voters.

But the Tories lie to an industrial level and are devoid of the basic human emotions. Just remember the lies when one knocks on the door this year. Remember the lies and insults about Grenfell, the lies about Police numbers not being relevant to violent crime, the lies about the NHS, the lies about immigration, the lies about affordable housing, the lies about the welfare state and the lies about education. Remember that the Tories exist purely for the Tories and not the people.

Remember who benefits from a ‘No deal’ Brexit because it won’t be us unless you’ve gambled big on it. Remember the trap door in the Withdrawal Agreement that they tried to stop being scrutinised by closing down parliament. Remember Dominic Cummings an unelected paid advisor pulling the strings while saying ‘Get Brexit Done’ but providing no information on how. Remember Francois telling us the country will explode is we don’t leave nearly a week ago, oddly nothing has exploded. Remember Rees-Jubb reclining in contempt in the Houses of Parliament and Remember the use of the word ‘Humbug’ in reposte to a legitimate question about the safety of MP’s.

Remember that if we will be so much better off with a no deal exit why have we spent three and a half years trying to negotiate anything at all? The constant use of the phrase ‘will of the people’ is all a Tory bluff to make money for themselves. If it goes wrong for the country then us, the people, will be blamed as 17.4 million demanded leave and all they did was act on it in the name of democracy.

Finally remember Johnson, the serial liar who will sell this country down the river for personal fame and gain. Think of the NHS in the hands of Trump or any American President as that is really the only market they want here. Johnson will bend over and take the full length for a deal with the US as he’s willing to cut out our biggest global marketplace to do it.

So remember. Remember the Tory smirk Johnson has perfected. The smirk that the Queen saw, that his wife saw, that his girlfriend saw, that Jennifer Accuri saw over her shoulder, that the London Assembly saw and that a million bored to tears TV journalists see on a regular basis.

Remember the wasted money at the hands of one MP. Remember the £100m lost on advertising the exit date of Halloween because he would rather ‘die in a ditch’ than extend a deal he ultimately extended. Remember the Garden Bridge, a loss of £53m, remember the £300,000 loss on water cannons the even the police refused to use for ethical reasons, remember the ‘Boris Bus’ which lost £3.6m in fare evasion and a further £300m in costs after it was recalled for having no air conditioning. Remember the £24m cable car that no one uses, or the £230m of public money used to ensure that West Ham United can rent a stadium. Remember the lost Police Stations and Fire stations either closed and sold to private developers or closed to ensure the police didn’t have to make staff redundant. All this under one man in one city. A liar who cannot even be trusted by Nigel Farage (the undisputed King of Bollocks) and remember he was sacked twice by the Associated Press who lie for a living. Remember the man who disowned the children he illegitimately sired, a man whose own brother resigned on him and who his own sister denounced.

What does this tell you? Funny? No? Untrustworthy and of low moral standing? Yes…..

Just remember, we have to continue, we have to work on….he don’t. This is a game to him and at some point he’ll drift off happy and content that he ticked all his life boxes. Don’t let him do that.

So when you trudge out once more, this time in the cold, covered in tinsel and stinking of Baileys to place your ‘X’ ensure you whack it smack bang in the middle of anything other than one marked ‘Conservative’ as you will be doing the vast majority of this country a favour.

We have another go here, try not to fuck it up this time.

Onwards.