Saturday, 25 April 2009
Despite a long running campaign to highlight the horrors of foreign people coming over here, the traditionally isolationist tabloid news magazine branded new restrictive criteria for granting Gurkhas British citizenship 'a moral outrage'. Immigration minister Phil Woolas had claimed that the new rules would allow an extra 4,300 members of the Himalyan 'martial race' to settle here, but campaigners estimate that the true figure would be closer to 100 due to overly stringent selection criteria.
A spokesman for The Mail said: 'While immigrants are undoubtedly A Bad Thing, these ones are acceptable because they've stood alongside our boys and shot foreigners, which is good. It may seem contradictory of us to campaign for an overly severe cap on immigration while simultaneously declaring some immigrants should be allowed in but, in fact, it is not.'
Friday, 24 April 2009
Apologies for not posting anything for a while, I've been busy buzzing round the Everglades out the back of the ol' maison on my spanking new airboat ain't I?
Well, that and these weblog things are fucking shit. Don't pay enough, no sirree, not like the mountainous wage I receive from my old mate Dacre. That's where the money's at, nyoos-papahs, and don't tell let anyone tell you it's not. Keeps me comfy anyway. I just laugh at all those other 'real' journalists losing their jobs as their liberal rags shut down. Ha! You don't get ahead for talking sense you muppets!
So, anyway, thought I'd write a bit about those fucking Talibans that got caught bang to rights for plotting a very big terrorist attack on shopping centres or football grounds or whatever in Manchester. I wrote some shit about that Darling bloke and his wife having breakfast too, like, where I made up some stuff they might have said - it seemed funny at the time (I was pissed) but actually, looking back at it, it was pretty shit and didn't even make sense, so I won't go into that now. Even Hitchens said it was bollocks, and when he tells you something's crap, it must be crap! He knows shit writing, that guy. Oh well, what do I care? All about the dollar innit? So long as I get paid, who gives a flying pisspot!
Yeah so these terrorists wanting to blow up landmarks in Manchester. Football grounds for heaven's sake! I ask you, what kind of sick bastard wants to blow up Old Trafford? Bloody Islams, they hate everything we love, they do. They just can't wait to see the look on the faces of those poor little kiddies, turning up on a Saturday with pops to see the match, they can't wait to see them cry when daddy has to say, 'Sorry Timmy, there won't be a game today because the stadium's been blown to smithereens by those fucking Afghanis, or Pakistanis, or wherever their from, it doesn't matter, they're all the same, bloody terrorist states, you know the ones, like Iraq and that other one, Iran, and all the rest of them'. They'd poison all the tea in Eng-er-land if they had half the chance.
Sickos. They love it. They love to see pain on our faces, because they hate us. That's the point of Islam - did you know what Islam means? It means 'Kill the West', or something like that, that's what I heard.
So these twelve, right, they got caught bang to rights they did, with their beards and Korans or whatever it's called and their sacred cows. The evidence couldn't have been more against them: there they were, foreigners, in Manchester, all living in the same house, come over here to study supposedly. Yeah, alright, pull the other one - who in their right mind comes all the way over here to study in Manchester? 'Students', indeed. I never heard such rubbish. The only possible reason for brown people being in Manchester is to blow us to Kingdom come, and just because the coppers didn't find any 'evidence' it doesn't mean they weren't planning on it.
You can never tell what's going through these fanatics' minds. So there wasn't any bomb making equipment - well there would have been if they'd had half a chance, I'll wager. Oh yes, mark my words. They probably knew the plod was about to knock at the door and swallowed it or something, or flushed it down the pan. They're clever these extremists, they can tell if they're being watched. Like owls, they are, they can sense it: no doubt some surveillance operative hired by that idiot Brown coughed too loudly and blew the game, yeah, that was probably it, and I bet that Jack Straw blew it too, twat, he probably sent them a letter advising them of an impending 'top secret operation'. Is Jack Straw still home secretary? Only I don't tend to follow British politics too closely any more, what with Obama skanking my country up over here, knob, bloody liberal. Not that I'm not British, I'm more British than you, you wanker. See, I said wanker, only a limey would say that. Fucking limeys.
But now though, now we hear that all twelve of them have got off without so much as a slap on the wrists, without so much as being sent over to Git'mo. Nope, instead they've been handed over into the softly-softly care of the Imm-uh-gray-shun services where, no doubt, they'll enjoy four square meals a day, Sky TV with all the sports channels and a key to the city of Manchester. And who'll be paying for all this care? Yep, muggins the British taxpayer of course, hardworking people like you and me, well not me of course, I don't pay tax because I live over here and keep my savings in Jersey, but you know what I mean, they'll be living the life of Riley at your expense, planning their next atrocity from the comfort of some public funded safe house somewhere protected from harm behind all the luxuries you can't afford.
No surprise then that these rat-bastards are appealing efforts to deport them. Can't blame them can you, if you were given free housing, multi-channel TV and your choice of dessert (I'll have the banoffee please guv) you'd want to stay too. I know I would, well I wouldn't because I earn more than that, but the fact remains it's a pretty good living just for being a terrorist innit. That's all our, well your, benefit system's good for: giving a free ride to those who hate you, us, the most. I can't hardly decide what I hate most, those fucking extremist scumlickers or the 'welfare' state that rewards them for it. Easy isn't it? All you have to do to live in comfort for the rest of your life is get arrested at gunpoint by jacked-up security officers who don't have a scrap of evidence against you, say you're not a terrorists but 'oh you're hurting my yooman rights innit it's not fair' and you're golden. Sorted.
These poor kids, twelve bright eyed young things over here for nothing more than to further their education and make a new start in Britain and these heavy handed police state Stasi oafs break down the door and accuse you of being a fanatic, even though they can't prove a bloody thing. It's bureaucracy gone mad it is, you know what I reckon, I reckon it was all just a big cover up for those Nazi coppers in London who knocked over that poor boy Tomlinson. Convenient isn't it, 'Shit sarge, I think I just killed this bloke, what do I do', 'Don't worry son, we'll cover it up by arresting some innocent kids in Manchester and everybody'll forget', you can just imagine it can't you.
That's what it is, it's Big Brother Britain just like that writer said it would happen, you couldn't make it up, twelve students arrested for nothing more than taking a couple of holiday snaps in their new country and bam! jack booted riot police hammering at the door to take them away under the fucking 'Terrorism Act', whatever that is.
Well, just so long as they don't get sent over here. They want to stay in Britain, the little bastards, we've got enough of them over here. Brown should stand up for what everybody wants for once and throw them in Broadmoor and chuck away the key, let them rot, the democracy hating shits. They want deporting, simple as. If they hate us - you- so much, why don't they fuck off back home where they can blow up what they want? Why stay here if they oppose everything we believe in, oh yeah of course, they want to stay for the benefits, so they can afford to buy bombs and stuff so they can blow us all to high heaven.
It'll cost us millions in legal fees to deport them, mark my words, the best thing to do would be just keep them here under 24 hour watch, put them in solitary, see how they like that. But our immigration system is so far up shit creek it'll never happen, they'll stay here for years on end I bet, scrounging off the state, I'll tell you what they should do, McBroon should just have done with them and send them packing back to Somalia or whatever, bloody pirates, in this day and age, I ask you. Isn't it?
But of course, it won't happen. I'm willing to put money on them still being here in ten years time just like those Afghan hijackers - what do you mean what Afghan hijackers? The fucking hijackers, y'know the ones, that shoebomber - yeah, they'll be here just like them, those Russian hitmen, living over here in a nice semi in Berkshire paid for by the council no doubt, living off benefits, working in Tesco putting anthrax in your Cheerios, the bastards, those power mad police officers nicking anyone they want accusing them of 'terrorist this' and 'fanatic that' without even the merest scrap of evidence or motive just because they took some photos, shitting police state 'elf'n'safety Nazis that's what they are, you can't even go outside to take some photos of the shopping centre without them coming down on you like a pile of bricks putting away perfectly innocent students for exploding Old Trafford, the psychopaths, it's like living in Afghanistan.
Madness. Britain's gone to the dogs, and it's all because of those bleedin' climate change crusties.
Mind how you go.
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Jowly, slack-eyed, pie-faced hatevangelist Nick Griffin was today given a platform in two of Britain's biggest news outlets to explain the intricacies of his immigration policy and clarify his assertion that brown people are icky.
BBC news, which obtained a leaked copy of the Ban Negros Party's 'Language and Concepts Discipline Manual', ran a prominent story headlined 'BNP leader defends policy on race', giving Griffin invaluable media space in which to present his case that black and Asian people are 'racial foreigners' guilty of 'bloodless genocide'.
The Beeb added helpfully: 'The manual describes the BNP's "ultimate aim" as the "lawful, humane and voluntary repatriation of the resident foreigners of the UK"'.
A reader said: 'Well that seems fair. I assume it means illegals, and so long as it's lawful and voluntary, what's the problem?'
Fortunately, more embarrassing sections of the manual that might make BNP members look like knuckle-dragging wannabe stormtroopers were left out of the BBC's coverage - the booklet also contains instructions to hide 'naked torsos in summer, unshaven scruffs or skinhead haircuts (put them in caps or hats)'.
One passage reminds members to always use the party's full name because 'the initials BNP have to an extent been turned into a demonised tag by the media..."British National party" sounds more reasonable and comfortable.”'
The Daily Mail followed this advice, altering the BBC's article to exclude the demonic initials from an otherwise copy and pasted first paragraph. 'British National Party chairman Nick Griffin spoke today of a 'bloodless genocide', it read, which sounds much nicer.
Both articles focused on the fact that Griffin had been forced to defend his comments, presumably from faceless politically correct liberals intent on twisting his words into vile, hate-filled racist propaganda.
A commenter said:
Like The Mail, several pro-BNP blogs regurgitated the original BBC piece unaltered, deeming it to be a rather splendid summary of their glorious leader's watertight rebuttal of absurd lefty criticism.
The articles follow priceless coverage generously donated to the BNP earlier this month by The Sun, which described in celebratory tones how the allegedly 'racist' party is now 'Stronger than ever'.
A source close to the Nick Griffin said: 'Wahey! We'd never be able to afford this kind of national coverage, having just spent all our funds on shiny new jackboots and human rights lawyers.'
Alan 'Howlin' Laud' Hope of the Monster Raving Loony Party said: 'Perhaps I should say something as ridiculous as this Griffin fella to get some media love. Our policies are just as silly and yet they get all the attention; it's just not cricket.'
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Nobody cares about the sphincter looseningly dull annual trudge through reams of impenetrable micro economics that is the budget.
We hardly need reminding of the inevitability that Alistair Darling and his team of joy-crushing bean counters will squeeze the last few pounds from our already thread-bare pockets for daring to enjoy the delights of cigarettes, alcohol and inefficient motor vehicles - the few remaining joys left to a country crippled by state engineered fiscal ruin.
But, unfailingly, the budget does exactly that. Those with any sense, no doubt, spent the day at the pub getting the rounds in while they could still afford to, smoking themselves into a gravel voiced stupor in defiance of the eye-wateringly steep 2% levy on tobacco. At least the smokers will eventually get their money's worth in treatment from that bloated, cash hemorrhaging tumour on the taxpayers' purse that is the National Health Service.
These endless tax hikes on anything remotely fun are a given, which is why nobody cares. But the important thing about the budget is that it provides a splendid chance to whack Gordon Brown, Alistair Darling and the entire party of gentry hating apparatchiks with a big stick of feigned outrage and mock horror at the hardly revelatory confirmation that some people might have less money than they did last year.
So what fresh economic hell did comrade Darling unleash on this dark day?
First off, the headline grabbing, pinko pleasing sucker punch to the very people who keep our country afloat: a 10% rise in income tax for the selfless men of industry who run our businesses, spend our money and keep the whole greasy wheel turning that we may be have the privilege of borrowing enough to buy a flat and start a grubby, hopeless family of our own.
Since the pre-budget report a few months ago the goodly rich had already been anticipating a gigantic 5% hike in income tax. Those earning £150,000 and over started pinching the pennies in preparation, selling off yachts, tearfully waving goodbye to Jeeves and washing their Bentleys when they were dirty instead of buying new ones. Sacrifices of simple hard-earned pleasures were demanded at the altar of New Labour's increasingly Bolshevik regime.
In a budget reminiscent of the bleak days of Old Labour, nothing could prepare the responsible super rich for the coffer hammering income tax hike to 50% that weaselly eyed Darling ended up slapping down on them today, which left some pundits 'fizzing' with rage. What happened to Peter Mandelson's encouraging claim that he 'didn't mind people becoming filthy rich under New Labour'?
While ungrateful proles get off scot-free despite life times of never bothering to earn sackloads of money, dancing drunkenly in the streets with only 20% of their incomes handed over to the state, those who made something of themselves, or had the foresight to be born into already wealthy families, sit weeping in the run down cloisters of once majestic townhouses and country mansions.
As Kirsty Walker rightly notes: 'It appeared to look back to the 1970s when chancellor Denis Healy promised to "tax the rich until the pips squeak''. And squeak they will - figures already show how the treasury hits those who earn the most hardest, while the bottom feeders brazenly revel in proportionally lower taxes.
As if this weren't enough, those struggling by on £100,000 will no longer have the freedom of a tax-fee personal allowance - the first time an entire section of the population has been denied a tax break. Ever. Thanks to the boundless greed of commissar Darling, those finding themselves newly bereft of their allowance will now hand over up to £1,500 more every single year than they did before, while the poor are effectively excused of handing over ANYTHING for a few months. No wonder those call centre operatives and middle-aged sales assistants working in Tesco always look so unflinchingly happy.
To add insult to injury, the beneficiaries of these punitive anti-capitalist measures can only be described as corpulent white elephants, gorging tenaciously at the shallow pool of public finances, sucking the nation dry of the last few drops of appropriately targeted expenditure that remain.
Like a man trying vainly to plug a gaping wound in the Hoover dam with a pea, commandant Darling will throw some of the money gained from punishing the rich at Britain's mountainous national debt. This is patently ridiculous.
Our country's debt has now reached levels so catastrophically massive that it is meaningless and should simply be left alone. The figures used to measure debt and borrowing are no so vast that they do not even fit across a double page spread in The Telegraph.
Everyone knows that unwashed dishes eventually clean themselves, and the same is true of the economy; left to its own devices, our financial systems would come to realise how silly they've been and just forget about the recession.
Thus the budget's forecast of debt amounting to 80% of GDP by 2015 is meaningless and misleading; within that time frame the Conservatives will rise to power and save us from the financial quagmire by dithering until the whole thing simply disappears.
Equally ridiculous is the £1bn to be squandered on 'the environment'. An absurd £525million is to be wasted on countryside befouling wind farms over the next two years, while £435million will be set aside for energy efficiency schemes in homes, officers and public buildings. Of course, if the Government's hugely expensive asbestos removal programs hadn't been so hastily implemented in the first place, we wouldn't need to be re insulating buildings now. Such lack of foresight is the real reason for Britain's tanking economy.
And pointlessly, an extra £1.7billion will be poured into the Jobcentre Plus network on top of £1.3billion already announced - providing cushy jobs and trendy 'training placement schemes' for unemployable louts under the age of 25 who have been too lazy to work for the last 12 months. According to Mr Darling, some 250,000 jobs will be created or supported as part of these measures, but the question remains: Why should we go to the trouble and expense of providing these yobs with careers when the most practical solution would be to ship them off to offshore labour camps to work for free? Why do they deserve any sort of remuneration for their non-jobs? And surely the real problem is that for every new job created, at least two immigrants come over here and take them?
Indeed, the creation of a system whereby low level jobs are constantly provided and taxed very little will only ever encourage even greater levels of immigration, while our layabout generation of media studies students lack the skills to compete with foreign labour. The better our country becomes, the worse it will get.
In the indisputably insightful words of Floridian commentator Richard Littlejohn, 'we need an election, not a budget'.
All of Darling's measures are too little, too late, serving no purpose other than to rob the middle classes of any remaining dignity and savings, while the poor and the foreign benefit like parasites leeching away at the scalp of our nation.
And remember, while you may not care, or be affected, or even understand the budget, the important thing to take away is that it is most certainly an excellent opportunity to beat Brown, Darling et al with a big stick.
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Drivers penalised for eating, drinking, making merry; Insurers charge up to 40% more for 'carelessness'
Middle-class drivers, including those with young families and mortgages, are the latest target of faceless insurance companies and unscrupulous traffic police intent on wantonly punishing anyone found 'breaking the law'.
Drivers caught eating an apple, writing a novel or knitting while in control of a vehicle face rises of up to £200 on their insurance premiums.
Over 25,000 unsuspecting motorists are convicted of supposedly 'driving without due care and attention' every year and punished by the courts with massive £60 fines and penalty points on their otherwise clean licences. And many devious insurers use driving convictions for distracted behaviour - so-called CD10 offences - as an excuse to raise already cripplingly high premiums.
The insurance rises are in line with a Government crackdown on supposed 'careless driving', which can also include such harmless past-times as playing scrabble, tuning the wireless or applying make-up whilst driving.
Now ministers are even considering plans to allow police to stop motorists deemed to be distracted and hand out humiliating on-the-spot fines, while other more dangerous - often foreign - motorists drive past pointing and laughing.
Nigel Humphries of the Association of British Drivers said: 'They started upping the premiums for speeding but clearly this is not enough. There is no evidence people caught eating an apple or swigging water and given three points are less likely to do it again. Insurance firms need to produce evidence which shows these drivers are more risky before they hike up the premiums.'
Recent examples of over zealous officers stopping responsible motorists minding their own business include the case of Ediri Tsekiri, a 36 year old researcher, who was stopped by police near her detached suburban home in Liverpool for not being in proper control of her vehicle.
And last month, Gary Sanders was stopped by police in the same city - for laughing while driving.
A driver said: 'It's health and safety gorn mad. You can't even take a quick nap on the motorway now without some jumped up copper accusing you of careless driving. It's just an excuse to wring even more money from us hard done by motorists. The Daily Mail is doing a great job in exposing how silly these accusations of dangerous driving are - careless driving never hurt anyone.'
Although driving without due care and attention has been a criminal offence since 1988, and insurers have levied higher premiums on drivers with convictions or endorsements for over three decades, sources confirmed that it was all the fault of the increasingly prevalent nanny state under New Labour and that Gordon Brown probably loves it.
Monday, 20 April 2009
In a chilling and factually accurate account of the future, Michael Hanlon, the Daily Mail's science editor, described in graphic detail the full horror of the catastrophe awaiting Britain in just three year's time.
'When it comes', intoned Hanlon, who posesses GCSEs in both physics and chemistry, '[it] will be beautiful at first. Pillars of incandescant green writhe like gigantic serpants across the skies. Sheets of orange race across the horizon during the most spectacular display of the aurora borealis seen in southern England for 153 years.'
But the stratospheric light show will be little more than a deadly precursor to months of cataclysmic horror as our beloved life-giver, the Sun, begins hurling gigantic globules of white hot plasma towards our innocent planet.
While millions gaze upwards in wonder at the many coloured lights painting trails across our normally grey sky, high energy particles will have already begun wreaking havoc with our electrical grids, leaving vast swathes of Britain without power.
Hanlon, a fan of dramatic page breaks, continued forbodingly: 'By midnight, every mobile network is down and the internet is dying. Television - terrestrial and satellite - blinks off the air.
By noon the following day, it is clear something terrible has happened and the civilised world has plunged into chaos.'
And if the terrifying new revelations seem like the ramblings of a disturbed street prophet with a cardboard sign reading 'Teh ends are ny!' dangling from his neck, think again: Hanlon's evidence is based on an article that appeared a month ago in The New Scientist - a clever person publication produced by real science journalists.
Improving upon the original piece by copying and pasting the first two paragraphs before writing eleven additional enitrely imagined scenes of blood-curdlingly exciting death and destruction, Hanlon described a post-apocalyptic landscape unimagined by the timid mind of the original author: 'By the end of 2013, 100,000 Europeans have died of starvation. The dead go unburied, the sick untreated.'
Although the article as it appears in New Scientist contains no estimate of the cost to human life, Hanlon's forecasts are 'probably accurate', said an insider.
The grim vision follows other real cataclysms that actually happened after being predicted in The Daily Mail, such as the Millennium Bug, a 50ft tall woodlouse that wreaked havoc in several major British cities as it crushed skyscrapers and bridges, scurrying around in search of a giant warm, damp crevice in which to nest, and the black hole created by the Large Hadron Collider which swallowed Earth shortly before it was shut down by health and safety inspectors.
Even more worryingly, the solar superstorm is not without precedent. As Hanlon, who has done his research, explained: 'It is something that has happened before - not that long ago - and indeed has the potential to arrive every 11 years.'
In 1989 a solar flare caused a stream of stellar plasma to enter the Earth's atmosphere, leaving nearly 6 million Canadians without electricity for almost half a day as magnetic storms affected Quebec's power grid.
And although Hanlon acknowledged that, actually, 'it may not happen in 2012' or even 2023, ' the year of the next solar maximum', he recommended that we should all be really, really worried and start stockpiling candles right now.
A scientist said: 'This is not just rampant fear mongering or exaggeration, and won't come back to make the writer look silly when nothing happens in three years because the Mayans predicted the same thing a thousand years ago, and everyone knows they did all sorts of mystical stuff and rode around in chariots literally made by the gods themselves. Do you think you know better than them? No, didn't think so.'
Sunday, 19 April 2009
She was once a pin-up for teenage boys and frustrated middle-aged men dissatisfied with their wife's nightly 'headache' everywhere.
With legs that ended at her armpits and sensational denim hotpants - not to mention exquisite breasts and an attractively simple demeanor - the original Daisy Duke became a worlwide sex symbol and the only reason to watch substandard 70s TV series Dukes of Hazzard.
But incredible new photographs reveal that Catherine Bach, who played Duke for six years, seems to have aged at least 30 years since the TV show first aired in 1979.
Since having selfishly had a child in the 90s, Bach has 'piled on the pounds' and now just looks fat and a bit old. The shocking pictures also show that Bach's once pert bosom appears to have drooped as a result of aging - it would appear she has not deemed it necessary to pay out for even the most essential cosmetic surgery.
But it wasn't all bad news for one mid-market national newspaper - the startling news of Bach's battle with the forces of aging provided a superb opportunity to reprint more photographs of Jessica Simpson, who squeezed herself into the Daisy Duke's denim shorts for the 2005 Hollywood remake of the Dukes of Hazzard. The change of actress sparked rumours at the time that Bach might already have aged by a number of years as she had not been approached to reprise the role that made her a star.
Simpson, who came under fire for 'larding up' a bit last year, also has nice legs, a pleasing bottom and great breasts and accounts for a large proportion of traffic to dailymail.co.uk.
Thirty humourless readers left critical comments underneath the Mail's expose of Bach's grotesque tubbiness but, inexplicably, they had all disappeared by the morning. Insiders have blamed 'internet goblins' for the fault.
Don't miss The Quail's exclusive special report in 2039 on Jessica Simpson's shock battle with the aging process!
Take the glorifying of benefit-scrounging former heroin addict Nicola Fisher, who at the heat of battle between police and rioters viciously hit a police officer's fist with her face and insubordinately obstructed his baton as he attempted to swat a rather nasty looking bee that was troubling him.
But, even if the officer did use disproportionate force against Miss Fisher, is it any more acceptable that she, a scummer, has made thousands by selling her story through the dubious offices of Max Clifford?
The logical answer would be yes, it is more acceptable for someone to make money from something than it is to beat unarmed, law abiding citizens with weapons.
But in fact, it is not."
Friday, 17 April 2009
Instead of using gunpowder and live ammunition, musketeers from the English Civil War Society were forced to shout ‘Bang!’, 'Pew pew!', 'Blammo!' and various other gun noises when they fired during the event at the Clarke Hall living museum in Wakefield. The actors were also banned from skewering 'enemies' with their bayonets in case they died.
Sue Riley, a member of the Sir Thomas Lunsford's Regiment of Foote said: 'We were told that because the lead windows in Clarke Hall are so old there was a concern that the shock waves from the guns would smash them. They didn't want us to bring the house down.'
A do-gooding lilly-livered kill joy council spokesman claimed that the sound of gunfire might disturb patients at Wakefield Hospital, which is next to Clarke Hall.
'This was done in the interests of public safety and to protect nearby windows at the historic hall', he said timidly, speaking from within a big ball of cotton wool. 'I just hate anyone having fun of any kind', he may or may not have added.
A source said: 'It's 'elf 'n' safety gorn berserrrrrk! Britain's bonkers innit? Argh!'
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
Nicky Fisher, 35, was seen hurling abuse at a police sergeant in a video of the incident, which took place at a vigil to mark the death of Ian Tomlinson, who died of natural causes on the previous day.
The officer, who was so terrified of violent attacks from the likes of 5"1 Miss Fisher that he felt it necessary to hide the identification number on his shoulder pads, has since been suspended pending further investigation.
But Fisher's reputation was under scrutiny last night it emerged that she 'has faced allegations of shoplifting in the past' and is therefore probably a criminal who deserved it anyway. She even admitted that: 'There wasn't any bruising or marks on my face'.
The Daily Mail also exclusively revealed that Fisher lives in sin with her boyfriend 'in a rundown basement flat' which, shockingly, 'faces a council estate'. Mail journalists who visited her residence to demand a detailed statement the morning after her attack were startled to find 'an anti-fur slogan and a 2003 Glastonbury Festival sticker' stuck shabbily on her front door, suggesting a certain distasteful belief in wooly-minded silliness. It is understood that she has time to worry about polar bears dying and trees suffocating because she is unemployed and relies on state benefits to fund her wayward lifestyle.
Her boyfriend, 'an overweight young man in an England football shirt', refused to comment or even tell reporters his name. Neighbours said the 'couple' have lived in the flat for around ten years, and Fisher 'did not appear to have a full-time job'.
It has since emerged that Fisher is now being represented by public relations guru Max Clifford, agent to stars such as St Jade of Goody, Simon Cowell and Tony Martin. She is believed to be attempting to negotiate a £50,000 deal for selling her story to a national newspaper, after a video of the incident conveniently appeared on Youtube. It is not known how a sub-working class person like Fisher can afford Clifford's services, which can cost up to £100,000 per day, but insiders have suggested that 'something fishy' is probably going on.
A fed up British taxpayer praised the police's stoicism in dealing with undesirables such as Fisher:
One conservative letter writer said: 'Ha! I suspected as much!'
Since Miss Fisher's shady background was originally reported, it has come to light that she is also a 'former drug addict'. Typical.
Monday, 13 April 2009
Readers from the real world may have been perplexed by the attention given to the so-called 'blogosphere' this past weekend, and left wondering why they should care about it.
The short answer is they shouldn't.
The British blogosphere is comprised entirely of frustrated writers bitter about their inability to land jobs at real newspapers, sitting in their mother's basement, stabbing endlessly away at their computer keyboards in the middle of the night writing cretinous, infantile forums of abuse dressed up as argument in the hope that people will read their inconsequential, misinformed diatribe.
Such hopes are miguided and futile. People don't care what these vicious, nihilistic bloggers have to say because all the news and comment worth reading is already published by the mainstream national press. Granted, print journalism is usually several days behind the blogs, and presents an often strangled version of reality, but, ultimately, it is written by real journalists unfettered by the mindless intricacies of the internet - a dying medium if ever there was one. These are the people to trust, not square-eyed internet zombies removed from reality by their 'modems' and 'processors'.
A recent example of this growing dichotomy of reportage between the real newspapers and the blogs is the fine work done by the Evening Standard - the Daily Mail's London edition - which exclusively broke the news that brave police officers tending Ian Tomlinson in the moments before his death had been bombarded with bricks by evil anti-capitalist demonstrators at the G20 protests. It is telling that not a single blog noted this critically important event - presumably because many of the bloggers themselves are evil anti-capitalists desperate to cover up the vile behaviour of their comrades.
Indeed, those who live online are destined to die online, and if you delve deep enough into the 'blogosphere' you find a world that’s very happy to be separated from the real one. So divorced is this new breed of citizen journalist from reality that they even consider Twitter - the boring website beloved of celebrities who want to tell the world what kind of muffin they're eating - to be a useful tool for reporting news and monitoring 'buzz' around particular current affairs. How absurd!
It is around this ridiculous, irrelevant mire of online tittle-tattle and rumour that the events of this Easter weekend spun.
Ironically, the now-defunct, directionless British blogosphere was invented by leading conservative pundit Iain Dale in 1984. His website, Iain Dale's Little Black Book of Westminster was an immediate success and continues to attract nearly 12 billion absolute unique visits every month. It has been hailed as 'compelling and entertaining' by Piers Morgan but it is noteworthy that Dale has attempted to distance himself from the murky waters of the blogosphere through frequent appearances in national newspapers and on television. It is precisely because of his detachment from the reality of blogging that he has been shortlisted for the prestigeous Orwell Prize for blogging.
But it is testament to how low the blogosphere has sunk that Dale was barely involved in the weekend's scandal, despite repeated shouts of 'I want to play!'. Instead, it was former Labour spin-doctor Derek 'Dolly' Draper whose blog, LabourList, caters for 60 million people, at the centre of attention for illiciting those fateful emails from his Number 10 pal, Damian McBride.
However, if it hadn't been for crusading, swivel eyed, right-wing, sleaze-wallowing blogger Guido Fawkes, Draper's foul attempts to smear the Tories would never have come to light and bored the British public to tears in the first place. Fawkes - real name Paul 'Pee' Stains - rose to prominance in 2004 after being declared bankrupt and deciding the best way to claw his way from financial hell was to start a blog. It is still a mystery how this questionable strategy succeeded.
This trinity of bloggers - it is illustrative to think of them in terms of the father, the illegitimate son and the greasy ghost - are followed by a bewildering multitude of smaller, less important internet scribblers who, collectively, form the wider blogosphere. Dale and Stains count amongst their brethren such wits as Donal Blaney, scourge of 20 something Labour candidates, such thinkers as Dizzy, a computer programmer with a taste for pornography, and Letters from a Tory, a man who supports capital punishment for those who smell of alcohol and look at policemen a bit funny.
On the left, the list is even more depressing. Behind the fecal point known chillingly as 'The Liberal Conspiracy', sit a gaggle of naysayers and angry old men determined to destroy the few remaining whisps of tradition and middle-class pride this country clings to. Tim Ireland of The Bloggerhead pursues a ceaseless, brutal agenda against The One True blogger in almost every issue of his online magazine and even dares question the veracity of the national press in using deluded fantasists as authoritive sources. Vicious nihilists such as the unpalatably named Chicken Yoghurt, meanwhile, appear to support no particular brand of British politics, instead criticising the actions of the Tory and Labour parties in a fence-sittingly un-partisan kind of way. Suspiciously foreign sounding bloggers like Hopi Sen peddle the type of meandering lefty drivel that attacks everything but never proposes any decisive, committed plan of action or solution to anything.
For more excrutiating examples from the left-wing piffle-osphere, see the links to the left.
It is plain to see that the interminable fountain of drivel pouring forth from these 'writers' only serves to create a chaotic, screeching, somewhat sticky sphere of blogs, hopelessly inadequate compared to the panoply of well written, increasingly successful national newspapers.
The events of the Easter weekend have led to some discussion of a rebirth of blogging amongst some left-wing commentators. Only in the self-aggrandising world of online punditry could such heretical Messiah-aping be tolerated. Surely it is time for the bloggers to scurry back underneath their moss covered rocks and give up; surely, if Derek Draper has taught anyone anything, it is that blogging is a silly, puerile nonsense to be ignored by anyone with a shred of common sense.
Saturday, 11 April 2009
A campaign to undermine the Labour party by deploying 'plants' to make them look disorganised, corrupt, sleaze ridden and woefully out of touch with the entire British population is going 'swimmingly', it was revealed today.
Following two days of crushingly boring media coverage over some leaked emails that nobody cared about, senior Labour spin doctor Damian McBride has resigned after coming into contact with reputation assassin Derek 'Fecal Touch' Draper.
Draper had managed to convince McBride to launch a 'reverse smear campaign' against himself by encouraging the communications advisor to send salacious and defamatory emails from an unsecure Downing Street computer to the 'influential' Labour blogger. But one of the emails was intercepted by muscle-bound anti-establishment freedom fighter Paul 'I hate politicians' Staines, or P Stains as he is known to friends. Stains runs the poorly moderated 'Guido Fawkes' charity site, which caters for victims of the psychological condition 'Bilious Superioritis Verbal Diarrhoeaphrenia'.
Draper, who was created by Tory scientists to erode the Labour party's credibility by posing as a high-profile supporter before saying a ton of stupid shit, launched the face-achingly dull LabourList website earlier this year, and quickly found himself at the centre of manufactured controversy for accusing everybody in the world of being racist and pretending to be a psychiatrist.
Noticing that the three readers of LabourList were tiring of constant attempted smears and link-baiting faux scandals involving important right-wing bloggers Iain Dale and P Stains, Draper set up the Red Rag website as a repository for all the petulent tripe too pathetic to post on LabourList. A quick call around his Number 10 chums for some juicy Westminster village gossip resulted in several 'juvenile and inappropriate' emails sent by McBride to be published on Red Rag.
Draper has been credited with turning swathes of once staunch Labour supporters against the party and destroying the delicate image of Britain's political blogosphere, while simultaneously drumming up public sympathy for previously maligned, eminently dislikable figures such as abortion fan and pretend blogger Nadine Dorries.
Draper defended his communications strategy as 'too difficult for you to understand'.
In a statement he said: 'Yeah but no, that's not what happened, no, that's not true, yes it was a bit like that but you've misinterpeted me, I didn't mean that, it must have been hackers or something, those comments weren't going up on LabourList but similar stuff did appear yeah, no but yeah and that's not fair because nobody told me that was an offensive word, I didn't call him a racist but he is a racist, well I say racist but I'm not saying he is racist, but that other one is the real villain because he allows it in the comments, Tories are bad, they're all the same, well not all of them, but you know what I mean, no I didn't mean that, I'm creating a website for 50 million people not some self-important bloggers, hey bloggers why aren't you linking to my website, we do daily emails and everything, I get more comments than Guido it's just I don't allow them all through, I'm a psychotherapist you know, I went to Berkley, not the university, but I did go there and I have four degrees, well not four exactly but you know.'
A local man said: 'Who the fuck is this Damian McBride twat and why is news so boring and shit?'
Friday, 10 April 2009
It is barely a month since two homosexual ducks in Sussex came under fire for the thoughtless poovery that left an entire species facing extinction.
Now the selfish lifestyle choices of one elephant have ended up costing a Polish zoo nearly £8million.
Despite having the largest enclosure in Europe built especially for him, Ninio the African bush elephant has expressed his ingratitude to kind-hearted keepers by preferring the company of young boy elephants, while behaving aggressively towards females. Zoo officials fear that the homosexual pachyderm will be incapable of doing proper hetero elephant stuff like lifting heavy logs or fathering children because of his weak effeminate trunk and sensitive skin.
Ninio - whose name means 'child' in Spanish - has already been removed from three other zoos in the past five years for harassing male elephants by repeatedly inviting them over for 'slumber parties' and exchanging his entire allowance of fruit and nuts for tusk-whitening products and family sized tubs of pink nail varnish.
Right-wing Polish councillor Michal Grzes is incandescent with rage at forking out for a 'broken' elephant. 'We didn't pay 37 million zlotys (£8 million) for the largest elephant house in Europe to have a gay elephant live there', he fumed. 'We were supposed to have a herd, but as Ninio prefers male friends over females how will he produce offspring?'.
The intimidatingly named Law and Justice Party, to which Grzes belongs, has been repeatedly criticised for allowing senior members to publically express overtly homophobic views.
But the head of Poznan zoo where Ninio resides said the 10-year old beast might simply be confused as elephants only reach sexual maturity at 14, and that same sex displays of affection between the animals - such as kissing and trunk-intertwining - are common.
A local man said: 'I'm not homophobic, but I wish all these gay elephants would just keep it to themselves. You can't switch on the TV or open a paper these days without hearing about homosexual elephants. I've got nothing against queers - some of my wife's best friends have met them in that Warsaw - but they better stay away from my kids.'
Thursday, 9 April 2009
While lesser news sources occupied themselves with turgid reports of senior police officers resigning in disgrace (who cares?) and yet more banal stories about the latest poorly filmed video of something happening last Wednesday, it was left to The Mail to address the issues that really mattered - namely: why are fat people so rubbish, and is there a link between obesity and scrounging off the state?, is anorexia bad?, and finally, ha! celebrities have cellulite!
Kicking off the day's hard-hitting round up, the enigmatic 'Daily Mail Reporter' - who may or may not be Julie Moult - sensationally revealed that obese X-Facor contestant Emma Chawner is not only fat, but also unemployed. Her family is also mobidly obese; mother Audrey is said to posess an infinite number of chins.
Adding balance to the proceedings, 'Daily Mail Reporter' went on to describe thrillingly how skinny TV presenter Fearne Cotton has become a pin-up for anorexics everywhere. Having pointed out how bad obesity is in the Emma Chawner piece and established the undeniable link between grotesque fatness and benefit-scrounging, Daily Mail Reporter responsibly highlighted the flip-side of the coin - that being too skinny is also A Bad Thing.
Drawing the triple-whammy of ground breaking journalism to a close, Lizzie Smith told movingly of Mischa Barton's refusal to withdraw from public scrutiny - despite the incessant
Refusing to conform to other news sites' hegemonious frontpage layouts, Mail Online decided that collectively, these three stories should sit proudly above the mundanity of 'real' news, giving them pride of place on a wizardly scrolling box of delights that dwarfed news of fresh footage of Ian Tomlinson's death and the resignation of Britain's most senior counter-terrorism officer.
A reader said: 'Wow! Look at it scroll - I don't even have to press anything, and the pictures keep moving between a fatty, a skinny celebrity and that bird from the OC! I could watch it all day!'
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
85 per cent of parents said in a study carried out by Natural England that they would like their children to be able to play outdoors unsupervised but feared they would be abducted by strangers or hit by a car.
Critics have blamed the increasing number of children deprived of the joys of tree-climbing, pond-dipping and accepting sweets from kindly strangers on the rise of the 'nanny state' under New Labour.
A source said: 'It's all these woolly minded, hand wringing liberals terrified of their children tripping over hedgehogs and eating conkers. That 'elf 'n' safety is to blame for making everyone think the world is full of hazards and filthy sex beasts - thank god we have The Daily Mail to tell us it's all ok in a straightforward, unhypocritical manner without contradicting themselves ever.'
Monday, 6 April 2009
Armchair experts and anonymous critics today poured scorn on ridiculous new 'evidence' suggesting that the world is getting warmer.
Questionable satellite images from the European Space Agency appear to show that a 25-mile-long strip of ice believed to pin the Wilkins Ice Shelf in place has splintered at its narrowest point, about 500 metres wide. 'Experts' now believe that greater collapses may follow, allowing land-based glaciars to slip into the sea - all because of a paltry 5.4f (3c) rise in Antartctic temperatures over the last 50 years.
Suspiciously, news of the collapse comes as penguin loving, tree-romancing delgates from 175 nations are meeting in Bonn, Germany to try to force the UN to ratify a misguided new treaty on climate change which will probably result in tax hikes for millions of middle-class Britons. Evidence of the perilous state of the Wilkins Shelf will be used to 'fuel fears of global warming'.
But commenters were not convinced that the polar ice caps melting would be of any significance to anyone anywhere and highlighted the folly of saving the planet if it means paying 3p more tax every month:
Meanwhile, self-taught scientists derided the politcally correct climate change camp as 'FOOLS' for being sucked in by the great global warming swindle.
Flat-earther Stavely J Benchtatler from Wyoming cited indisputable evidence that an ice cube placed into a glass of water doesn't increase the water level or something, proving with a single decisive masterstroke that climate change is just a big nihilistic fantasy dreamed up by drunken geography students:
Fellow expert of hypothetical deludoscience Andy from Lancashire calmly reminded the class that of course the world is melting because there's a massive nuclear fireball right next door to us duh:
...while simultaneously revealing that Mars is coated in cool, cool ice. Bookies are giving odds of 13-1 of Andy receiving the Nobel Price for Everything later this year.
Melodramatically named evolutionary bioligist 'Uk is DEAD' stunned the global warming hippies with with his facts, screaming:
But it was left to Tony from Buckingham to lay the debate to rest, cooly pointing out that it was the volcanos what did it, you know, those ones in Antarctica like St Helens:
A scientist told The Quail: 'I despair'.
Sunday, 5 April 2009
Aren't they just awful? They parade around in their smelly woolen hats, faeces smeared on their faces in protest at whatever it is they've decided is bad for their beloved "Earth" this week (cars and factories are bad apparently - ha!), sleeping with each other like it's the most natural thing in the world as their millions of grubby tots run around licking trees and hugging hedgehogs - they believe contraception is bad for the environment.
They're always smoking drugs too, too busy getting high as multi-coloured crusty kites to realise the hypocrisy of campaigning against global warming while releasing billions of tons of CO2 into the atmosphere from their crack pipes and bongos. Not only that but they drive around in those ridiculous 'shagging wagons', old, polluting VW campers kidnapping middle class, nicely dressed children to put to work on their opium fields. I bet they only drive those rust buckets because they can't afford a nice, big, black BMW like mine. I've had the interior customised with a fluffy trim and a lipstick holder installed in the gear stick - I'm so busy shooting off to important meetings with powerful older men I never have time to do my make-up in the morning. It's gogogo for me! Teehee.
I heard that when those unwashed, bandana wearing grubsters go on holiday, they like nothing better than visiting dirty third-world countries like Africa or one of those Eastern European ones because they're so cheap, and they're really poor because they don't have proper jobs like me. I've actually watched a herd of crusties in India or somewhere stealing sweets from the hands of a poor little brown boy living on the streets, and kicking his bony dog. Scum! I quite like those poor foreign children though, they're so cute with their big eyes and funny little shoes. I've been thinking of doing a Madonna and getting one to go with all my lovely horsies and bunnies. Oh! My millions of glamorous friends would be so jealous! I can only imagine what Piers would say as I turn up for my interview with a little Indian in my Prada handbag. It would be deliciously ironic.
As for those silly-billy Earth Mothers, well I simply detest them. Imagine having children when you earn anything less than £50k like me? It would be squalorous, and is downright irresponsible - these disgusting mothers send their little ones off to school without a hope in the world. I'm sure they're the bullies first target when they see them scurrying around like weavels in their hemp shirts and no-brand plimsolls. 'Haha, look at Bungle there, wearing a poncho! He's got twigs in his hair!', the bigger boys would shout. 'Isn't he a fool!', and they'd all laugh. And I'd be right behind them, pointing, laughing and throwing stones with the the rest of them, because I'm down with the kids. The cool mum. I've heard some boys even call me a MILF, whatever that might be. I dread to think! Hehe!
I went to that Glastonbury last summer and the place was teeming with dreadful people who thought nothing of the state of the loos, defecating in little pits outside their tents before wallowing in it and using it as facepaint. Of course, none of them thought anything of allowing their tiny rat children to stand next to the horrible great big speakers spewing out silly dance 'indy' music at 125 decibels because they're all neglectful (usually single) parents. Too busy worshiping their pagan gods and sacrificing goats to notice as their offspring, some as young as three, were mainlining behind the dance tent.
I received lots of odd looks from the crusties as they regarded the square of black bin bag I took everywhere just to stand on, clutching my Prada handbag, scampering around in terror at all the noise and kerfuffle. I think they could tell I was superior and felt envious of my radient loveliness - most people do. And secretly I knew that they all wished they were me, with my BMW and designer clothes, and fashionable adopted third-world child, and horses. The whole silly event was an illustration of the worst aspects of hippiedom: cheap, misguided rubbish dressed up as something soul-enriching, cultural and caring. All it did really was smell.
Unfortunately there were an awful lot of horrid hippies in London last week, ruining any chance I might have had of sharing a nice mochacinno with my famous friends at a funky cafe in the city. We go there sometimes to meet the handsome bankers - since my divorce I spend most of my time on the prowl for a prime piece of well-aged rump to get my teeth into, and there's no better hunting than the Square Mile. But - tsk! - I was prevented by the skankoids waving their poorly painted placards, shouting and making love in the streets, while the brave police battled to keep them away from the lovely rich men, who, I must say looked even more fabulous than usual, all dressed down in chinos and brogues under orders to leave the suits at home lest the jealous tie-dye wearers pelt them with bottles and bricks. I just wish the police had used tear gas on them, at least then some of the scum would have been washed off their grimy lefty faces.
While real people around them were trying to get to work, they set up meditation camps. We all know that meditation is just laziness. How inappropriate, when what we need to get the world on its feet is hard work. Bloody hippies. How is meditating ever going to change anything? Not that it needs changing anyway - it's quite clear that everything is going swimmingly in Britain. I mean, I can still afford my Pret a Manger sandwich each day and a nice smoothie, and I haven't yet had to fire a single servant. I honestly don't know what all the fuss is about.
We don't need anything to change. Everyone knows all you need to do is make yourself as lovely as possible, find yourself a nice wealthy man, and life is peachy. Why is that suddenly so hard to see for all these lice infested free lovers? A washed out Peace sign will never make you attractive to high powered business men. All we need to do is get into bed with them, not smash their windows. That's never going to make you rich!
It's so obvious. Sometimes I find myself amazed that Gordon hasn't called me on my sleek Prada phone to ask me to be a government advisor.
But if you squint a bit, and close one eye, and don't look at any of the other photographs, the evidence is plain to see: Carla and Michelle kissed each other - on the lips - in a sensual display of steamy female intimacy behind their husbands' backs in front of a throng of journalists and photographers.
Reports that there may have even been some tongue involved and perhaps even a quick squeeze of the bottom have so far not been confirmed - or denied - by French or American spokesmen.
Rosalind Ryan, a real journalist, acknowledged that the image was simply 'a trick of the camera' thanks to the shot being taken 'at the wrong angle', but decided it would be in the public's best interest to publish it anyway and suggest some sort of inter-racial sapphic shenanigans taking place amidst the otherwise dreary meeting of powerful old men.
It is unknown whether or not Ryan, who has a male surname, is secretly a repressed lover of other ladies and sees latent lesbianism barely managing to control itself from bursting into throbbingly alluring scenes of full-blown lady-loving action in all photographs featuring two or more women not doing anything.
Saturday, 4 April 2009
Google Street View, the online website that allows burglars to rob your house without even stepping outside, came under fire today as The Daily Mail issued a rallying call to middle-class curtain twitchers to 'Stop it in it's tracks'.
Applauding the heroic actions of the furtive residents of Broughton in Buckinghamshire who martyred themselves at the wheels of a Google 'spy car' so commoners wouldn't be able to look at their lovely mock-Tudor houses and manicured bushes, The Mail asked plaintively why Parliament is taking so long to ban the sick service and protect us from 'The Google monster'.
Sources at Google revealed that the monster, a purple seven bellied frog-like creature with modems for eyes and keywords for arms, is kept chained up deep within the bowels of the Californian company's central lair and fed on a diet of usernames, passwords and internets.
In an exclusive interview with privacy crusader Paul Jacobs, who led the resistance force against the terrifying spymobile as it attempted to photograph his property, luddite Robert Hardman conveyed in vivid detail the epic battle of Broughton as the little Englanders repelled the invasion of their local town for local people by minions of the 'smug California-based cyber empire'.
Finding the 1984 style eye-wagon parked at the end of a cul-de-sac, Jacobs called for reinforcements to force 'matey from snooper command' to turn back and get off their land. The fearless band of men and women - a couple of housewives, a nurse, a Tory councillor and an energy consultant - stood firm as the sneering, dark eyed driver vainly attempted to squirm his way past the resolute human chain. Some witnesses report seeing the driver smacking his lips with a forked, serpentine tongue and scratching at what appeared to be a tail within his trousers.
After an hour and a half fighting with the man and poking him with pitchforks, the residents successfully ejected him from the village and he was forced to drive away in humiliation, as the victorious villagers cheered the removal of another threatening 'out-of-towner'.
Rebel leader Jacobs, who suffers from a lisp, told Hardman: 'I rather lost it, I'm afraid, and I used a word that I don't use very often.' It is thought the word was susurrus.
Hardman, without a shred of irony, described Jacobs as an 'international freedom fighter' and, predicting a forthcoming war against the Google machines, said that 'copycat rebellions now seem inevitable.'
But the Broughton incident has led to threats from cyber terrorists of a day of rampant unchecked photography in the small village as retaliation for Jacobs's successful counter-insurgency.
Organised on the hyperweb site 'Twitter', internet people are planning to descend upon the area to take hundreds of their own photographs in an attempt to force webocracy upon the brave little Englanders.
They have already begun posting pictures of the village online and used the photographs to post burglary masterplans and images of middle-class residents running in fear from the savage glare of their cameras. It is thought house prices have already begun to tumble as a direct result, while crime levels may have risen by a certain amount as well.
The organised orgy of aggressive imaging has led to increased calls for Twitter, which exposes children to pornography, prostitution and drugs, to be banned along with Street View and all other new things.
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
As simmering collective anger finally boiled over and transmuted into a bellowing cry of rage from over 4,000 demonstrators in central London today, bewildered Daily Mail journalists saw the true face of genuine fury, and were afraid.
One hack, who wished to remain anonymous, said: 'I wasn't prepared for that. I thought I'd seen fury when the BBC launched a Scottish TV channel, or when some school banned playground games because of 'elf 'n' safety guidelines, and that time a video game said some rude words, but it turns out that was actually mild irritation that nobody cared about. I must buy a dictionary.'
Public outrage at the systematic failures of government, banks and big businesses to prevent malignant economic decline reached a climax as world leaders arrived in London for the G20 summit to discuss the global recession and other vital issues such as what to call Barack Obama's dog, and why Gordon Brown does that funny thing with his bottom lip when he speaks.
But, while it was universally agreed that some of the vehicles patrolling the streets around the Square Mile were pretty awesome, many had difficulty in deciding whether the protests were A Good Thing or A Bad Thing.
On the one hand, multi-trillion pound bailouts are undoubtedly bad - primarily because they are paid for by middle-class taxpayers.
Similarly, semiotic bankers like Sir Fred 'Shredder' Goodwin receiving enormous pensions as a reward for destroying Britain's economy is plainly unacceptable, mainly because he is richer than you.
Thefore, it would seem reasonable to side with the thousands of protestors expressing their disapproval at the bloated institutions that have squandered so many of our tax pounds on absurd bonus payments and outrageous champagne parties.
But, worryingly, many of the protestors are little more than misguided youths enamoured with the silly, un-British ideals of communism, which is most definitely a bad thing. Capitalism is, of course, the only workable economic system - without it, disgusting poor people would be given more opportunities in life and the middle-classes (that's you) would earn less money.
So the target of many of the demonstrators' ire is in fact a good thing. It is needed to keep all of those work-shy, grubby-finger nailed liberals down, away from your children.
However, the bastions of the great lord capitalism are the banks. Which are bad. But they are also good, because without them we would be left only with horrible, horrible socialism which is one of the worst things in the world.
Should we, therefore, side with the enemies of our enemies to give those dastardly bankers, who are bad, but who work for banks, which are good, a lesson?
Upon first glance, the answer would seem to be no. Many of the protestors are hippies, who are bad, or hoodies, who are entirely responsible for knife crime, which is very bad, students, who take taxpayers' money, a bad thing to take, or homosexuals. To side with such a rascally assortment of devients must surely be a bad thing.
Additionally, anti-establishmentism is a bad thing; without the iron-clad fist of the law to keep immigrants and benefit scroungers in check, Britain would surely go to hell in a handcart, which of course it already has. Therefore, it follows that the front line symbols of the establishment, the police, are good and those who oppose them are bad.
But this is not the case. The police are in fact bad as well. Obviously, criminals like paedophiles are bad, as are burglars and some rapists, which would suggest that we need the police to stop them. But in reality, the police are only out to arrest middle-class white people, hand out fines for ridiculous 'offences' like speeding and littering, and to monitor your evey movement via an ubiquitous network of all-seeing CCTV cameras. This is bad, and, thus, the police are bad, meaning that anti-establishmentism can be acceptable when directed at sections of the establishment we don't like.
This simple to grasp truth would make it appear that it is indeed acceptable to support the protestors, even if swathes of them are ill-advised climate change campaigners and unemployed people. In standing up to the madness of the police and the moral decreptitude of the banks, they must, surely, be a good thing.
Their values, bug-bears and the targets of their wrath, surprisingly, are common with ours.
However, there is one irredeemable feature of the protestors that makes them fundamentally bad.
They are led by this man, a being so inexcusably bad that anyone in his company is automatically beyond reproach. All 4,000 of them.
So bad are they for colluding with this depraved harasser of the elderly that, with one sweeping decision, as improbable as it may first have seemed, we have no choice but to side with those who stand against the hippies, students, foreigners and gays, and cry in strangled, solitary tones: 'Up with the banks! Bigger pensions for the bankers! Long live RBS!'
We encourage you to do the same at the next 'summer of rage' protest. We would join you, but, unfortunately, we're busy rewinding some video tapes that day.