Gallery Fifty Six

Thought For Today: Censorship.

There's no small amount of faux moral outrage and indignation floating about of late, accompanied of course by the incessant bullshit that has become a key component in this ghastly affair.

Mitchell's "our" lawyers are keeping close watch, and The Star's "we can't re-print the Ten Questions for legal reasons are but to two that immediately spring to mind.

Whereas we might consider the basic purpose of censorship is to shut the writer/speaker up, it's real purpose and effect is to deny you the RIGHT TO LISTEN.

No matter how vile an organisation is, be it the BNP, the pro-life terrorists or any other off the wall extremist organisation, the RIGHT TO LISTEN to what they say is the fundamental corner stone of any free society.

For those not too familiar with English colloquialisms here's a bit on tripe, disgusting stuff that it is.

It's more years ago than I care to remember and what I can remember is more than a tad vague, but one of the daily's ran a weekly spoof letter from newly arrived to this country "Ali," to his brother in Pakistan where he tried to describe some of the more quirky habits of the English.

Eating "white elastic" (tripe) is one that has stuck in the memory box and the other was "suppedsomestuff," the art of going out on a Friday night and chucking vast quantities of bitter (beer) down one's neck and rolling home legless.



Not like me to invoke the supernatural, but there you go.





Not for one minute do I consider the McCanns are being stalked, but for two arseholes who have hounded every motherfucker and his dog all over Europe and North Africa they've got some brass neck even mentioning the word.

But that you already know.


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"From where Winston stood it was just possible to read, picked out on its white face in elegant lettering, the three slogans of the Party:

WAR IS PEACE

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH."
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McCanns: Shameless Harrassment

Gallery Fifty Five

Of the two I think the top one, but has the bottom one got a touch of the Rod Steigers about it?

It's A Funny Old World

Gallery Fifty Four

Now wouldn't that be something to warm the cockles of your heart. You wouldn't have to stretch the imagination to wonder how much thought the good citizens of Rothley give to all the lives and livelihoods in and around Luz that have been ruined by this pair of no class scallies.

And whatever you do don't accuse me of being jealous, I have lived in such a place, and a far more upmarket and consequently smugger place than Rothley. I can still hear the echoes of "I've arrived, I've arrived" as the latest pair of shallow cunts took up residence.

You can imagine the type I'm sure, the type that go on a European holiday to a wine producing country and drink New Zealand wine, class, real class.

~ ~ ~

'Twould appear the natives of Rothley are a tad upset having come down to breakfast and found Tony Bennett's flyer pushed through the letter box, seems the truth don't sit too well with scrambled eggs.

I wonder how many of those that vocalised about the leaflet don't want to hear the truth because it might just have too much of an impact on their smug little lives and their smug little village to realise that they have as their good neighbours the most despicable, and one day soon, the most infamous pair of criminals in English history.

There are none so blind as those that will not see, or to put it another way......







OK OK I know, good intentions and all that, but there is a limit.
I don't know what galvanised me into action more, looking at Mitchell's "I'm such a bollocks" face or reading the shite that came out of the mouth Dave Edgars lying gob. What a two bit whore if ever there was. What a pair of matching slimeballs, what a pair of disgusting fucking creatures.

This isn't a return to blogging, if it were I would have picked up on the extraordinary amount of very usable material that has been flying round of late like confetti at a double wedding.

The Starsky and Hutch theme was something I picked up on when somebody or other laid the title on this pair of jokers, so that above is nothing more than a personal indulgence.

It has in fact been a delight to distance myself from the continuous bullshit that accompanies this tragic farce, as it has been equally delightful to distance myself from all the shallow cunts that are associated with this ongoing travesty that brings nothing but shame to the two principal countries involved.
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Gerry McCann, If You Really Want To Find Your Daughter

Given the PJ were an ineffectual bunch of sardine munchers and Leicestershire plod never, unlike the sardine munchers of course, even bothered getting off their miserable arses and the collection of clowns that have been in your employ have done nothing other than make laughing stocks of themselves, then don't you think...

Don't you think it's time to do what any father of an abducted girl would do in similar circumstances, get your arse down to the elite police force of this country and play merry hell about the inactivity in investigating the disappearance of your daughter.

That's what any normal parent would do, they would be screaming blue murder to get the case investigated by England's finest, leaving no stone unturned as it were.

But you don't do that, I cannot help but wonder why.


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Hey wee man, your bairn's been abducted and these clowns are your best shot, a fellow could be mistaken into thinking you don't really want her found?

I will leave these two short videos here as a reminder of what truth looks like and there is one thing for sure, it don't look anything like this.




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This isn't a return to blogging, at least I don't think it is, this post is just a vehicle for asking a simple question.
One simple question for which there is no answer, never has been an answer and you can bet the farm there will never be one.

Gallery Fifty Three

I thought something a little more meaningful might be more appropriate to call it time with.
There may be one or two others that deserve the dubious honour of being included in this rogues gallery but it's not by accident that I chose photographs of close family waving their posters about in complete mockery of everything and everybody associated with this case and not least Madeleine McCann.

Again it is not by accident that I chose not to include the older relations of the family with the main protagonist in this ghastly affair. Those older peripheral family members who though are more than likely to be well aware of the status quo, but who are in no position to speak out or influence affairs, then it would hardly seem fair to include them.

And of Kate's mother and father, quite simply they have my sympathy, they are stuck between a rock and a hard place, and to have a disaster such as this visit them at their time of life is I think worthy of such sympathy.

Even knowing Kate's involvement in the whole ball of wax, and even having lost their granddaughter they wouldn't want to "loose" their daughter as well, it's unrealistic to expect them to speak out against Kate McCann.
They, like many others involved in this shabby affair, must lay their heads at night and pray that it will all go away.

But it won't will it, their daughter and their wonderful son-in-law have made sure of that.

It's never going to away, not of course until the inevitable comes to pass, the truth comes out.

~ ~ ~

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Fighting Crime In Gotham City: Spot The Imposters

Some company for Twatman and Knobin who you may have met previously.




Rucman and ?


Woftman and batshit crazy woman.



And that's the end it for a spell, time to embrace the summer, and who knows, with a bit of luck something might transpire between now and the autumn that would allow me, and one or two others who feel the same way, to put the pen away, sit back, and read all about it.

But I won't be holding my breath.
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