Fools' Gold

Ahead of the Crewe and Nantwich by-election that nu-labor are shit-scared of losing, Bogeyman's robot has gotten his pocket calculator out and rewritten the budget that, just a month ago, "cannot be rewritten".

However, his announcement to partially compensate some of the people hit by Brown's stealth-tax contains a vital nugget which has of course been virtually ignored by the toadying beeboids: compensation is for one year only. The tax-grab goes on for as long as the arsewipes feel they can get away with it.

Because, let's be clear: nu-labor have not rediscovered compassion. They created the mess, assuming we ordinaries can't do arithmetic any better than these "excellant" idiots can spell. Only because they've been rumbled as the dissembling fucking turds that they are have they been forced into this, in a bid to save Bogeyman's skin.

Too little too late. And, yet again... yet again... they try and hoodwink us through tricksy semantics, delivering another con-trick. Because they really do think us stupid.

Nu Labor Fucked

Meltdown. A worse local-election result even than the arseholes scored just after bombing defenceless Iraq. Third place, behind the Illiberal Dupeocrats. 24% of the minority who bothered to vote at all. Great mandate, that. Real moral and political authority.

Gordon Brown has declared the result "disappointing". Twatty Minibland is spinning that everyone's "worried about the global credit-crunch". Deposed nulab councillors blame the national party. The national party blames the councillors.

As I said: Fucked. Utterly and completely fucked.

Know this you nulab fucking automatons: you are hated. Despised. And finished. But I'm sure you still Know Best really.

HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa and hardy fucking har.

Now kindly fuck off and await your police-arrests. That includes you, Leninslime.

Bogeyman's Not For Turning

Nope. Sorry Frank Field. The half-promises to refund some money to some of the people negatively affected by Bogeyman's tax-grab should not be enough to appease. Anyway, we've seen his half-promises before. The man's a greasy fucking charlatan. No honour. Feels no obligation to stick to his word or to manifesto commitments.

And, instead of giving people the means-tested ability to claim back in "benefits" what you're grabbing from us in taxation, why not do something simple and meaningful? Something to help everyone? Like raising the tax-threshold to, say, £10,000 p.a.

Or won't the chancellor's calculator perform such rudimentary arithmetical tasks?

Good to see on the NuLabor site yesterday that you're promoting "excellance" btw.

"The trouble is that Gordon creates his own reality."

Fatty Twatty Brown has truly lost it.

According to the Telegraph, he threw a tantrum [typical behaviour for this immature sociopathic buffoon, we understand] on the plane because journos weren't reporting his tax-grab "properly" or giving sufficient attention to his US Look-at-What-a-Statesman-I-Am jolly. Awwwwwwww.

Brown's robot Alistair Darling has claimed it would be "too difficult" to rewrite the 2007 budget. Perhaps his calculator only works when the sun is shining.

But I think he daren't. Gordo is very proud of his 2007 budget. In his little world, he's getting away with it and everybody loves him. In his little world, record numbers of pubs aren't closing because of NuLabor's undemocratic neo-fascist smoker ban [another kicking for the poor]. In his little world, he got a great deal by flogging off the UK's gold-reserves at a knockdown price in order to sustain his "economic miracle" past the next election. In his little world, we've all forgotten how he voted to invade Iraq and kill innocent people. We don't care that he and his kin voted against any investigation into aforementioned atrocity. A nation's grateful voters will send Gordo a ringing endorsement next month. And don't you dare tell him anything different, or he'll be Very Cross and throw his mobile phone across the room again.

Oh deary me

Oh dear oh dear. What a shame. Nu Labor don't seem to have gotten away with their little Double Taxes on the Poorest wheeze. And the backbench lobby-fodder* are turning on their dear fuhrer, Mr. Fuckwit Arsehole Bogeyman Brown, cuz they're shit scared of losing their well-padded marginal seats. Knives are out.

Fuckwit the Bogeyman announced his tax-hike over a year ago. Why has it taken so long for the creeps to do the arithmetic? I did it 10 minutes after the wankers and wankerettes cheered their heir-apparent in the house.

But now the first wage-packets since the hike have been received. Makes ya feel great dunnit, that these overpaid over-expensed fucking clowns applauded doubling taxes on those who earn less in a year than a typical MP claims in travel-allowances.

And now they claim to care.

* I do not include MPs such as Frank Field and Kate Hoey in this attack. Principled members such as these, who put country and conscience before party interest would get my vote every time, regardless of the colour on their rosettes.

Was Icke right?

Hillary Clinton experiencing an involuntary attack of shapeshift-itis.

Interestingly, she appears to be going through a Patricia Hewittoid phase before achieving Full Lizard. Witness the bug-eyes and that mouth.

Colibri Stop-Smoking Aid

Oh, I wuz bored. At that special stage of boredom which leads, inexorably, to Ebay.

Why had it taken so long to realise how my life would benefit from a wind-resistant torch-flame cigarette-lighter? A post-ban prezzie to self. No huddled hands over an expiring match for moi. No. I would cope in style, with a gentleman's accoutrement of a leather and chrome Colibri torch-flame lighter which would make the social non-smokers jealous. A snip, a veritable "bargin" at a tenner with post from the Land of the Free.

Didn't disappoint in the actualitay either. Nice black leather, good chrome on the metalwork, well-proportioned, comfy in the pocket. Would only flame into being if the gas was turned up to nearly full-whack, but it worked and for nearly a week I enjoyed first or second-click blue-flame action. The gas did need topping up a few times, mind...

But then disaster. A stray strand of tobacco must've loosened itself on ignition and posited a speck of ashy-detritis into the burning-chamber. Click, click, click, whoosh of gas, no flame. Again and again. Tried blowing into the chamber. No action. Tried shaking it, tapping it, blowing it again. Nothing. Refill with gas and repeat. As a last resort, I got the vacuum-cleaner out and administered full-suction. Joy and rapture, that did the trick.

Until next time I fumbled slightly and another speck of tobacco landed on the burner. Here, I mused, whilst giving it another dose of 1000watt Electrolux suction, is the cigarette-lighter that hates smoking. The lighter that throws a hissy-fit [quite literally] should it come into contact with a cigarette. It could have Mandy Sandford's wizened old face on it.

Not least because, although smoking is very low on the list of potential distractions for drivers, someway behind talking to a passenger for example; with a torch-lighter, the risk-profile surely changes. Ferra start, in most light-conditions, you can't actually see the flame. At night, the illumination from the thin blue jet is insufficient to guide one's peripheral vision in making the judgement as to where the cigarette's end may be. In bright daylight, it's just invisible. The only way to be sure it's ignited is by the sound. A failed-strike gives whooshing-gas sound, success gives a roar. It's quite loud, but the difference is too subtle to be of much use whilst driving.

And did I mention the gas-consumption? In order to achieve the perfect conditions necessary for combustion, the butane is forced out under considerable pressure. Considering the lighter now needs anything from 4 to 50+ presses to ignite and that, should a rogue butterfly beat it's wings somewhere in Bolivia, the flame will expire again in a second, the half-gramme of stored-butane needs replenishing at least every other day.

So ferra properly windproof-lighter, I'm considering Zippo again. Petrol in Your Pocket they may be but once again, I am confirmed in my old-gittery: tradition over innovation.

Now, have I told you about my experiences with the vintage Gillette Super-Speed?

Eurocracy

On Simon Clark's blog, he relates his experiences attending an EU meeting convened under the catchy moniker "EU experts, civil society and social partners to support the Commission's Impact Assessment on the forthcoming initiative on smoke-free environments". If you've nodded off by the time you've got to the end of that title, that's because you're supposed to. The meeting's in-built 95% majority of anti-smoking groups together with their corporate sponsors representing the interests of the nicotine-patch industry were not happy that a representative of the smokers' lobby group FOREST had also been invited.

He was forced to leave the meeting when several other attendees objected to his very presence there, threatening to withdraw themselves unless he went. He was then, not privy to the bulk of the discussion and only able to state the case for tolerance and choice once the other participants had left. What kind of "democracy" is it that refuses to even acknowledge a dissenting voice? That refuses to debate, or even let their opposition hear their arguments? As our decision-making processes transfer to Brussels, into the hands of self-appointed "experts" with secretive agendas and away from British voters, what hope is there for any of us?

Read Simon's post here.
The story has also been picked up by Iain Dale here.